Thanks to anyone who takes the time and trouble to read, reviews are welcome and appreciated. A massive thanks to Mia Cooper who managed to make sense out of my nonsense. Writing plot scares me and me being me…the rating is certain to change.
I own nothing except my own characters.
It's nearly January…
Erin tried to walk purposefully down the utilitarian corridor of the space station towards the dock, consciously forcing her head up every time her eyes wanted to focus on the ground. This was it. Her gait concealed a thousand doubts. Discovery sounded like an exciting prospect; it sounded a terrifying one in equal measure. She scanned the faces of uniformed bodies milling around the docking bay, seeking something kind or familiar to quell the discontented rumble in the pit of her stomach. Nothing came. She wondered which of the faces belonged to new crewmates and which she may never see again. Her shuttle was called and she boarded gingerly, her feigned confidence slowly evaporating away.
There were four other faces aboard the cold grey box, three glancing awkwardly at her as she made her way to a seat. The other gazing firmly at the floor. She instinctively reached to her cheek, imagining some unseen blemish or smudge, then patted nervously at the tight band holding her long, dark hair in place. The fourth face still avoided all eye contact, but it at least triggered a distant recollection of a lecture. Clinging to even the vaguely familiar she sat down beside him, taking sanctuary from the eyes that still seemed to be scanning her.
The shuttle took off, out into space for the short journey to Erin's new home. The emptiness of space seemed a warmer and more welcoming prospect.
"Paul Stamets?" she said with a question and a stiffly extended arm to shake his hand. The eyes all focused on the scene. "Erin Powers, I saw one of your lectures a few years ago. I thought it was really interesting that you thought…".
"You may well find it interesting, I very much doubt I will" he snapped, cutting her off abruptly. The watching eyes widened.
He raised his head from its position rested on his elbows. "So who did you upset to wind up here? Wife? Husband?"
"Nobody," she said rather taken aback, "I applied."
"Good for you, at least one of us had a choice in the matter." He finally took the hand that still half hung in the air and gave it a single shake.
"You'll have to excuse my lack of enthusiasm, I'm finding the wisdom of splitting up a great research team hard to process, though there are…positives to being assigned to Discovery." He gave a weak, but genuine smile. The eyes had given up watching and started to whisper amongst themselves as the shuttle made its way into the hanger.
Erin hadn't had any expectations of success. She knew the fleet were desperate for medical staff with field experience. She knew she was a decent nurse. The post on Discovery just seemed too good an opportunity to miss. Perhaps, she was alone in that view. Her interview seemed unreassuringly brief. She had spent hours preparing answers, giving examples to her mirror and reading every paper and case study, yet she was asked very little. The interview wasn't even conducted in person. The hollow figure from Starfleet Medical Personnel curtly cut her off as she started to describe the experience that made her the right candidate. Only two questions seemed to hold any weight.
"What do you know about Discovery, Nurse Powers?"
"That she is a flagship vessel in the fields of science and technology. A valuable asset in the war effort and it would be an honour to serve aboard her." The man nodded satisfied. It was a disinteresting stock response.
"You understand that the activities and missions of this vessel are strictly classified. You will not be able to discuss anything you experience or witness outside of the crew, including restricted, limited and monitored external communications? You may not be able contact loved ones for some time."
"I understand fully, Sir, we are at war."
"Then I would be delighted to offer you the position. Your transfer will be arranged in the next few days."
The communication ended. She didn't even have time to thank him, let alone accept. No delay, no deliberations, no other candidates to speak to. Her unconventional interview and Stamets' lack of enthusiasm, coupled with the strange looks of disapproval made her wonder if was too late to change her mind. It was. The shuttle had landed by the time she had replayed the strange recruitment process in her mind. Her legs felt weak as she pushed through nerves to rise to her feet and take her first steps into the unknown.
She was the last to disembark. The others had scattered in an instant, seemingly knowing where they were going and what they were meant to be doing. In the hustle and bustle of the busy landing bay, she still had the uneasy sense that she was being observed; if she wasn't convinced someone was actually pointing at her she would have sworn it was extreme first day paranoia.
"Hey Medical!" In the absence of another crisp white uniform in a sea of navy blue, she took it to be her. She looked around for the owner of the voice, as crates, containers and bodies all jostled around.
"Over here, Boots!" came a second shout. This time she honed in on a small girl with short spikey hair waving enthusiastically.
"I'm Dasha," she said, "you must be bunking with me, they said my roomy was a nurse. It's gotta be you. What's with the boots though? You're going to get some looks."
Dasha's was the first warm and friendly face. Erin had begun to wonder if there were any on this ship. The culture shock seemed stark when she remembered the camaraderie, the safe and secure work family she had left behind after four years, but then they were different times, before everything changed. Maybe her old ship had changed too. People had seen things, done things, everyone in Starfleet knew someone who was gone. At least this girl still seemed young and full of life. Her hazel eyes twinkled with mischief and she was just tall enough to slide her arm around Erin's shoulder.
"Come on, Boots, I'll show you to our palatial quarters."
"It's Erin, thanks. I was starting to think everyone here was pretty mean."
"Oh they are, bunch of assholes. See this one," she gestured towards another smiling face, "this is Rhys, asshole." She chuckled and so did he.
"Nice to meet you. So…the uniform I'm guessing Constitution class. People are going to notice that. You just don't see that on Discovery. I mean I think we should. I'm all for it, but you just…"
"Shut up Rhys. See told you, asshole." She playfully punched him on the arm. "Anyway, did you notice Franks has taken a shine to our new girl. Could not take his eyes off you. This, my friends, is the 'in' we have been looking for."
"The…'in'? I'm not sure I like the sound of this, but I also suspect I'm in like it or not."
Erin looked perplexed as the other two nodded in agreement, worried at just what she was agreeing to, yet oddly pleased at the inclusive charm of her new friends. She was a new face, in what seemed like a cold and harsh environment. If being in was what it took, then maybe it was worth the gamble. There was something instantly likeable about Dasha, kind eyes and a genuine smile. She was trouble, but in the nicest possible way.
Rhys was right, people were noticing and it was starting to become evident as to why. The jovial company of the other two helped Erin to lift her head. As each passing person scanned her, she scanned them in return. Every uniform made up of a jacket and trousers. She was rapidly realising she was more than likely the only crewmember in a dress. The stares at least made sense;, whether it justified them was a matter of opinion.
"This is us," Dasha said, announcing their arrival with a flourish and a bow. Their room was typical, if a little bare and less comfortable than Erin was accustomed to. The ship felt stripped down, more military than she expected.
"Grab a bunk, Boots, and make yourself at home." Erin dumped her case on the left hand bed. Rhys lingered at the doorway.
"Tomorrow, ladies, plan brew," he tipped a mock salute and disappeared.
"Plan brew?" she questioned.
Before any answer was forthcoming the computer announced that Erin should report to Dr. Culber in sickbay.
"Plan brew," said Dasha, tapping her nose then pressing a finger to her lips with a gentle shush sound. Erin didn't have time to probe any further, or to worry about what exactly she appeared to have agreed to be involved in. If it was as harmless as it sounded, minor acts of rebellion held their appeal. Now she was heading to meet her new boss. New corridor, new eyes.
Dr. Hugh Culber gave a reassuring smile. "Welcome, take a seat Nurse Powers." She perched rather formally.
"Thank you for this opportunity, I'm really excited to be here." She tried her best not to look overly eager and fought the ridiculous grin that threatened in the corners of her mouth, as she took in the state of the art medical facility around her.
"The wellbeing of every member of this crew is my responsibility. I have high standards for myself, for the patients I care for and expect the same from my team. I can see you have an exemplary service record and some real front line experience. I also know it can be tough being new, so if you need anything, you can come to me."
She felt reassured, compared to the shuttle journey, things didn't seem so bad.
"Discovery is…" he chose his words diplomatically, "an unusual place to work. You might find things are done… a little differently. You've only served on Constitution class ships, right? Things like, say… your choice of uniform might raise a few eyebrows."
Before she could respond, Stamets arrived.
"That's that done." He rolled his eyes. Erin smiled, but she went unnoticed as his attention fell on the Doctor.
"Where are we sleeping? Please tell me our room isn't one of those grey metal boxes with two intolerably hard mattresses. I'll get rid of my bags and find out exactly what I've got to work with. By the way, Puss in Boots, you're up next."
Culber and Stamets had a conversation in the corner of the room, before Stamets turned to leave. "Try not to get eaten by the wolf," was his parting shot, paired with a slightly wicked smile.
The doctor apologised.
"Wrong fairy tale I think. I didn't expect even the senior crew to share a room. Good luck, he's a bit…" Erin searched for a word, "aloof."
"Yes, Paul is… an acquired taste." Culber's knowing smile giving away the obvious connection.
Erin squeezed her eyes shut tightly and bit her lip as she pieced together the relationship between the two officers. "I'll just pull my foot out of my mouth now, if that's ok. Sorry." Her eyes opened slowly and thankfully gauged a lack of offence. "Up next?" she asked tentatively.
"Captain Lorca likes to welcome all new crew personally. He'll be in his Ready Room. I know he has a reputation, but he really isn't that scary. I wouldn't keep him waiting too long though."
Erin felt mildly sick. She'd heard all about that reputation, heard the rumours; the stories were rife. It felt like a long journey. The lift seemed like the slowest she had ever been in, stopping and starting constantly. The final walk along the corridor was like dragging her feet through syrup three feet deep. At least her worry distracted her from the odd glances of people she passed. She stopped at the door. Patted her hair and cheeks, as if mirrorless she could sense and correct dishevelment, and took a final breath before announcing her presence.
A pause. Then a deep voice beckoned her inside. He stood with his back to her at the window of the darkened room. Little more than a silhouette in the dim glow, he still cut an imposing figure. She could almost make out the stern face peppered with stars, reflected in the glass. He turned slowly. He was just as intimidating as everyone said.
"Nurse Powers, welcome to Discovery." He stopped and cocked his head. An eyebrow shot up. Her only conscious thought was 'shit'. She swallowed and licked her lips, it felt like her tongue was glued down and she had to force herself to speak.
"Thank you, Captain. I was pleased to be considered for the transfer I…" she trailed off as he stared intently at her. His eyes fixed on the narrow space between the top of her boot and the hem of her dress, before swiftly returning to her worried face. She was being silently assessed, weighed and measured. His expression gave nothing away.
"I see you studied Klingon health and physiology."
"Yes, Sir," she squeaked, trying to conceal her shaking hands behind her back.
"So if I needed information, you know how to cause them pain?"
"If you are asking me if I could administer effective torture, then the answer is no. I am a Federation nurse, it would be unethical. It goes against everything I stand for as a health care professional."
He huffed. She studied his still blank response, before digging deep.
"If you are asking me if I can keep your prisoner alive long enough to get the information you need…then the answer is yes."
Erin wasn't even sure how she had pushed the words out, or why. Perhaps it was in part, an effort to impress him, to sound even a tiny bit tough or fit in. It wasn't a lie. She imagined Dr. Culber would be disgusted, but Captain Lorca gave a tiny flicker of approval. Desperately seeking something to occupy and conceal her shaking hand s, she tugged at her hem. He watched with mild amusement.
"Dragging at that skirt doesn't make it any longer."
Her cheeks burned.
"While you might not be in breach of any uniform regulations, you may find things a little rougher around here. You might want to rethink your choices. There is little time for frivolity in a war zone." He was testing for a reaction.
She felt offended. However nervous she was, she felt a deep sting at being written off. Everyone was so fixated on her appearance.
"Sir, I can assure you I see nothing frivolous in my work. I have served in frontline situations, treating casualties under fire. I have more direct field experience than the rest of the medical team put together and I am, in my own humble opinion a damn good nurse. I'm confident both my record and references will attest to that. I chose this uniform because I feel comfortable like this. I will change it if you order me to, but I can assure you my appearance has no impact on my ability to carry out my duties and it is not my preference to change it."
She almost stamped her foot down with the final word and balled her now still hand into a fist. The silence gave her a moment to soak in the fact that within a minute of appearing for the first time before her new captain, this particular captain, this was what she had done. She braced herself for impact. He drew out her wait.
"Why not?"
That was it. No raised voice, no putting her in her place. Quiet curiosity.
"Permission to speak freely."
He granted it with a wave of his hand.
"Since I arrived here less than two hours ago people have starred at me, sniggered, pointed. I feel judged. I would be changing to fit in. That sounds an awful lot like bullying and I was taught to stand up to bullies. I might not the toughest or most confident person in the room, but I'll be damned if I'll be bullied."
"You seem like a brave girl to me. Wear what you like," he showed his teeth and Stamets' comment came back to her.
"Thank you, Sir. I hope I didn't speak out of turn. The last thing I would want to do is make a poor impression," she was back to nervous babbling, while he seemed to flow with comfort in his own space.
"Stop apologising. I can respect someone who stands their ground. Fortune cookie?"
She sheepishly took one and nibbled at its edges.
"What's your fortune, Powers?"
"In my opinion, what you make it, Sir."