Chapter 2 Settling In
Sitting in my wheelchair I attempt to soak in every detail of my surroundings as I am pushed to a Starfleet base by a hospital nurse. The reflective surface of sky scrapers disappear far above the clouds. I am constantly reminding myself to clamp my mouth shut. In my eyes, Earth has become a beautiful heterogeneous collage of peoples. Humans from all corners of the earth share the same space as all different kinds of extraterrestrials. However, the bustling of people in the streets rushing to and from their destinations has remained unchanged in the passage of time.
We arrive at the Starfleet base across the street. The particular building I am heading toward is not a skyscraper but a long and beige three story edifice. The majority of the exterior walls consist of enormous glass panels.
I notice a man wearing some sort of blue and black uniform heading my way. "Ms. Luna, please follow me."
The nurse steering my chair obliges for me. I wonder how he knows what I look like. "Excuse me, but where is the ship I am supposed to board, the USS Enterprise? I haven't seen any launching pads or docked space ships."
"Do not worry, Ms. Luna. You are in the right place. You will be boarding from inside this building."
I eye the edifice skeptically. According to my knowledge, space ships are huge. I cannot imagine one fitting inside that building. Maybe they make them smaller now? Though I would imagine a space craft going into space for quite a while would need to be considerably large to fit all the necessary supplies and personnel. Wouldn't it?
I remain silent as I am steered deeper into the halls of the base. We take a right at the end of a narrow, gray hall on the second floor.
This can't be right. The officer opens the door to a small rectangular room. Inside, on the wall adjacent to the entrance is a raised platform. The far wall is stacked with computers from floor to ceiling. In front of that is a raised semi-circle panel covered in knobs, dials, and blinking lights. The three men manning the contraption look up.
"Come in," commands a man in red.
The nurse wheels me forward. I clutch the small box sitting on my lap closer to me. "I am supposed to board the USS Enterprise." I repeat. At this point the nurse nods a farewell and quickly departs.
"Yes, Ms. Luna. They are expecting you. You are the last to board." The two other men in red assist me out of the wheelchair and up the steps to the strange platform. They place my round box atop a circular metallic plate directly beneath a large round light fixture and do the same to me.
"What is this?" I ask while simultaneously questioning my decision to embark on this journey. I feel my knees wobbling under me. I unaccustomed to standing.
"We're beaming you up. Don't worry, someone is waiting on the ship to assist you to the dispensary. I should hurry. You are looking paler by the minute." The other two officers rush back to the panel and begin pushing buttons.
Before I can protest, the light fixture above me flashes on and the lights in the room flicker. I am engulfed in swirling golden light particles. For a few seconds I feel an odd tingling sensation.
I stand facing a group of different men in a room nearly identical to the one I was just in.
"What was that?" I rub my arms though the tingling sensation ceases as quickly as it began.
"That, my dear, was all the particles in your body being transmitted from one place to another." A middle aged man in blue answers, climbing the platform from the side followed by a younger pointy-eared gentleman. "Delightful, isn't it?" He adds, his voice etched with sarcasm.
My knees buckle. Before I hit the ground, strong hands steady me.
"Doctor, the patient is currently in need of medical assistance, not your endless sarcasm." I tilt my head to look at the man who broke my fall. He has to be a good six feet tall. Dark hair, strong features, upward curving brow, and pointed-ears give him an undeniably handsome appearance.
The fantasy geek inside me switches on and I cannot rip my eyes away from his beautifully sculpted ears. Elf ears. I try not to drool.
"Quite right, Mr. Spock." The doctor steers a levitating wheelchair in my direction. "Please, have a seat. I need to get you to sickbay immediately."
Again, the dark haired man, Mr. Spock, helps me to my seat.
"My box!" I don't want to let it out of my sight. Mr. Spock reaches for it and delivers it neatly to my hands. "Thank you."
He nods. "Dr. McCoy will take you from here. Once you are well, please make the time to speak with me. I am the Head Science officer, Mr. Spock. Welcome aboard the starship USS Enterprise." He gives a slight bow and marches off.
The doctor and I take the elevator, or turbolift, to reach his domain. We pass through a long, curved, well lit corridor plastered in a plain, steel paint. Sickbay is located on Deck 5.
"Here we are. My little kingdom." Dr. McCoy adds with a flourish.
I smile.
"There you go!" He beams. "Smiles and laughter are the best medicine, I always say." He helps me onto a metallic bed dressed in orange bed sheets.
"Thank you," I breathe. I am only slightly aware of Dr. McCoy using a medical tricorder on me. In the back of my mind I am glad I insisted on wearing pants. The beds in sickbay are high enough to give any pervert a bird's eye view of panties under a skirt. With this last thought, my consciousness slips into oblivion.
I roll to my side, overly aware of my new surroundings. I look up to study the metallic grey monitor protruding from the wall above my head. The room appears empty except for me. Noting the lack of medical machines, I wonder if it is true I will be receiving the proper medical care. The only thing hooked up to me in sickbay is a stand-alone IV. In the hospital, most of the machines surrounding my bed had been attached to me in one way or another.
I hear a door in the room to my right slide open and shut. "Ms. Luna, glad to see you are awake. I've been reviewing the medical charts sent by the hospital treating you." Dr. McCoy's clear eyes observe me as he continues, "You are making a remarkable recovery. There has been virtually little enduring damage caused to you. From what I can tell, the only long-term ill effect will be on your weakened lungs. But I have hope even that may heal with time and treatment."
"Thank you, Doctor. I'm glad it's nothing too serious."
"Yes. My main concern was for your heart, but that is pumping beautifully." He shoots me a boyish grin and clasps his hands behind his back. "So how are you feeling?
"Fine," I answer honestly. "I still feel really tired and weak, but I notice the difference every day."
"Good, good." A shadow falls on his face as he takes a more serious tone. "Young lady, there is a sensitive subject I must breach with you."
I ask what it is, wondering what could be wrong. He just finished informing me that I am recuperating my health exceptionally well. It takes serious effort not to wring my hands and fidget.
"The Captain has suggested you keep the nature of your origins and your role on this ship private. No one save he, Mr. Spock, and myself have been made privy of the fact that you are the young woman revitalized from the cryogenic state of nearly three centuries. As far as the rest of crew is concerned, you are assisting Mr. Spock on researching Old Earth for a study he is conducting for his home planet, Vulcan."
I process the information. "Why shouldn't anyone know where I'm from?"
"When you are from," he corrects. "It is mostly for your own privacy. You have been made into a media sensation. You are something of a celebrity. The news networks have been in a frenzy trying to get your picture. Thankfully, patient privacy laws have prevented that."
"That didn't stop Starfleet from accessing my records." I remind him.
He makes a sound, something between a chuckle and a cough. "Yes, well." He clears his throat. "I doubt you want the four-hundred some crew members on this ship hounding you for autographs for the remainder of our journey."
I agree.
"It's just about lunch time," he declares. "Nurse Chapel should be arriving any moment now with your meal."
I thank him and he disappears through the opening in the wall and into another section of sickbay.
I lie in the middle of the orange bed wising that for once, I'd get a room with a window. I hear the Doc rustling through papers someplace hidden from my sight.
Remembering my box, I pull myself to a sitting position. The effort leaves me a little woozy, but no worse for wear. My eyes frantically search for my treasure chest. My hunt is cut short when a blond nurse with a swept up bun enters. She wears a short blue dress in the same shade of blue as Dr. McCoy's shirt with the same yellow rocket shaped insignia embellishing the top corner of her uniform.
"Good, you're awake." She ambles toward me with a tray in her hands. A thick green soup and a cup of water is apparently my meal. "Split pea soup. I hope you like it. Dr. McCoy's orders for you is a strict heavy fluids diet. Absolutely no solids."
I know. "Thank you." I stop her before she leaves. "Excuse me, but have you seen a round tan box inlaid with gold and white flowers? I can't seem to find it." I hear the strain in my voice.
"It's right here, sweetie." She bends to reach something underneath my bed. "Here you are. Is that all?"
"Yes. I couldn't see it under me."
She takes her leave and walks out. I debate on whether or not I should open my box here. It contains my prized possessions, everything in it undoubtedly considered historical artifacts or something today. No one is nearby so I decide to reach over and pluck a light square item from inside, careful not to knock over the tray on my lap. Leaning back in a more comfortable position, I flip through my photo album. Something I had been dying to do since waking up in the 23rd century, yet unable to do till today. The hospital had not released my box to me until literally minutes before I was set to leave for the Starbase across the street.
I wouldn't have left without it anyway.
Flipping through photos of Christmas trees and birthday cakes I grow more and more homesick. One particular picture catches my eye. A woman smiles into the camera, her round-dimpled cheeks fuller than usual. She stands beside a noble fir dressed in twinkling lights and golden garlands that sweep across its front with red and gold ornaments dangling from its branches. A golden star tops the festive evergreen. The burgundy long-sleeved blouse my mother wears accentuates her dark hair and light skin. Her eyes are filled with the mirth of the holiday season. I remember her looking over my shoulder after I had snapped her portrait; she had complained about looking chubby. I told her it was all the tamales she'd been eating. She gave me a playful smack and I told her she looked lovely anyway. It was New Year's Eve, 2015.
My breath catches in my throat. It is the last photo in the album. It seems impossible that she is dead. That my little sister and brother are both dead and have been dead for the past couple of centuries.
I heave, but there is nothing in my stomach to return. With trembling hands I quickly shove the photo album back into the box. They needed the help, I remind myself.
I eye the soup still lying on my lap. The delicious aroma that tempted me moments earlier now causes my nose to scrunch in disgust. I shove a couple spoonfuls in my mouth anyway. It tastes like ash, but I am sure my taste buds are not reflecting the soup's true quality. I am surprised, however, that the meal stays in my tummy – though not without complaint.
It is two weeks before Dr. McCoy believes my vitals are stable enough for me to be assigned my own cabin. The doctor requests my quarters be located on Deck 5, the same deck sickbay is located, in order to keep me as near as possible to the Astro-Medical staff.
Because my cabin is also on the deck normally reserved for Senior Officers, I have the pleasure of having no roommates and a private bathroom.
Doc, as I have nicknamed Dr. McCoy, accompanies me through deck five's corridors. Passing a shut door marked Captain Kirk, James T 3F 121, we stop in front of the following entrance. This door bears my name. Luna, Echo Nicole 3C 123. Doc trails behind me as I venture inside. The small living area of the cabin is furnished with a large desk positioned in front of a built-in shelf. Separated by a half-partition screen is an area dominated by a long twin bed in the standard red-orange and gold checkered bed set. The raised alcove behind the bed is empty. The whole room is empty except for the sparse furnishings consisting of a bed, desk, two chairs, and a computer.
"The walls are gray." At least sick bay had a pale mint-blue paint job. This room, on the other hand, oozes depression.
"Yes, well you can fix up your cabin anyway you like." Doc replies in cheery bravado.
"I don't have much to decorate with," I admit.
"Look, someone has taken the liberty to stock you drawers with a few pairs of clothes . . . an extra bed set and towels," he calls from in front of a rotating drawer I hadn't seen. If you spin it, it disappears and all you see is a solid column where the cylindrical vanity used to be. "There's not much you can do to the wall color, but I'm sure you'll be picking up trinkets all along the expedition. You'll fill this place up in no time.
"That reminds me," he continues. "The chief science officer has inquired about your health. I had the special delight of turning down his request to begin interviewing you. In any case, you can now inform him you are well enough to put up with him, or you may continue to recuperate in peace."
I snort. I don't understand Dr. McCoy's aversion to Mr. Spock. From what I have observed from Doc's and Mr. Spock's encounters, both take extreme delight in stepping on each other's toes. It's really quite funny.
"How do I let him know when I am ready to see him?"
Dr. McCoy shows me the basics of using the computer and how to communicate through it. After assuring Doc I don't need anything else, he leaves me to myself.
I open my flower box on the desk and begin rearranging my meager belongings. My perfume collection is set upon the revolving vanity's surface. The snowy-white and green hat and scarf set my mother knit me this Christmas – or rather the last Christmas I was with them, I place in the fourth drawer along with my crotchet hooks, music player, and handheld camera. Neither of the electronic devices turn on. My recipe folder and notebook, my collection of beautiful journals, and my lyric collection find a home on the shelf behind the computer desk. I also add my sketch portfolio to the row of paper goods. On the shelf the bed rests against I place my photo album within reach. I stroke its kelly green ribbon and admire the soft water color design. I decide against opening it at the moment. Lastly, I place the purple knitted blanket my mom knit a few years ago – or many – at the corner of the bed.
I sigh. Only a few things are left in the box I now prop in the corner against the wall inside the same alcove as my photo album. With this done, I plop into bed and cover myself with my mother's lavender hued gift. I fall asleep breathing in its homey scent. My heart squeaks a pitiful homesick sound. Daisy. James. Mom.
Waking up, I have no idea what time it is. Not that it matters. I finally push a message through to Mr. Spock using the messaging system Doc showed me.
I wasn't expecting him to arrive so soon.