TITLE: Dear Annie ("A Night in Sickbay")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, others, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home to a friend after the events of "A Night in Sickbay."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: I know TPTB feel no need to bridge from the last episode's angst, but I obviously have higher standards :) (BTW, scarification is a real word, ask me if you want to know what it is.) Thanks again for the beta to Captain Average, the superhero who is a wizard with an em dash.
* * * * *
Dear Annie,
Yes, I can certainly see how getting my last few letters all at once would have been a surreal experience, but if you think it was a roller coaster ride *reading* them, you should try living them. I thank you for your good wishes and all the desperately-needed virtual hugs. I will especially treasure the collection of cliches, aphorisms, and other generally mindless inspirational sayings. It must have taken you days to come up with a list that comprehensive and banal, and I appreciate the effort!
I'm glad to hear all is well at home, and that you and Amanda are so happy. I just got a letter from Tracy, too, so it's been a nice day for nostalgia.
You'll be glad to know that things are a bit better out here, as well. I managed to pour all my weepiness out on you before I went to see Travis. He was pretty shaken, but Phlox says he's fine. It's fortunate, I think, that he doesn't remember much of what happened.
(The minute he was up and around, Trip and I sprang our joke on him, and it went great! It took him almost a day to figure out how to shut off the strange comm signals, and we got Malcolm to give us some surveillance pictures of Travis standing in a corridor, looking confused. I'll give one or two of those to him for his birthday.)
In a way, the Captain was more shaken by the whole repair station experience than Travis--probably because he was awake and aware the entire time--and he's been acting strangely ever since.
He's usually very laid-back, but he got so angry when Travis nearly died, and he didn't seem to be getting over it. Then, yesterday, we had this encounter with the Kreetassen. We've met them before--remember when I told you about the aliens who were offended we ate in public?
Well, Trip insisted they had the most compatible plasma injectors around and we went to parley with them. Unfortunately, before we could even start negotiating, they sent us back to the ship because we'd offended them again. Once again, we had no clue why.
So, there I was in decon, rubbing that dratted blue gel all over, with T'Pol (calm), the Captain (frothing), and Porthos (adorable). I have mentioned Porthos, the Captain's dog, before, haven't I? Well, the Captain decided Porthos deserved some shore leave, so he brought him down to the planet with us.
Unfortunately, Porthos picked up some sort of infection on the planet, so the Captain was annoyed with the Kreetassen for not checking Porthos' gene map, the Kreetassen were annoyed at us for some unspecified reason, and the Captain was bugging Phlox for hourly updates, while T'Pol and I dealt with the Kreetassen. Not the most fun late shift I've ever had.
And let me tell you, plasma injector or no, it was a mighty close call on a few occasions whether we were going to tell the Kreetassen to just take their courtesy and shove...Okay, I'm obviously *not* recovered yet.
While the Captain was hovering over Phlox, T'Pol and I were exchanging sharply-worded messages with the Kreetassen. This time, practically everything we did offended them, and I was on my last nerve. Thankfully, I convinced T'Pol that *she* should be the one to tell the Captain that we offended these people when his dog piddled on their sacred trees.
I kid you not. I almost laughed when I they informed us of the grave offense to their dignity.
So, the Kreetassen were sitting around and trying to decide exactly how the Captain should apologize, the Captain was sleeping in Sickbay, and T'Pol was working out in the gym. I called down to her when I got the list of demands, excuse me, requests. I said the Captain wasn't going to believe what they were asking, then to my embarrassment, I discovered *he* was in the gym, too. Someday, I'll learn to keep my mouth shut. Honest.
The strangest part was the ritual they wanted the Captain to go through. I've certainly sat through more than my share of cultural rituals--powwows, bar mitzvahs, scarifications--but this one struck me as a little odd. He defiled a tree (or at least Porthos did) so they had him cut up a tree? It's going to take some study of Kreetassen culture before I can make heads or tails of that. It didn't help that the ritual words were in an ancient form of the dominant language, so the translator simply gave up the ghost, and I didn't have the time to fix it.
I can't imagine where the Captain learned how to use a chainsaw, but I have to say he did a very good job, and he learned the words he had to say very quickly, once he got his mind off Porthos.
That came later. First, around midnight, he and Phlox somehow managed to let Phlox's Pyrithian bat out of the cage, and when I walked in they were trying to kill it or something. You should have *seen* the looks on their faces when the cute little guy landed right on my hand. You'd think the doctor would have learned the trick to taming it by now, but I suppose he's got quite a few other animals to deal with.
I was in Sickbay to let the Captain know that the Kreetassen were getting antsy for a response. They were even offended that we hadn't synchronized our time with their capital city, and when I said I didn't know that was required, the response I got was "It's not a requirement, just a courtesy." Someday, someone is going to teach these people that courtesy is *not* universal. I wish it could have been me, but Trip swears we needed the plasma injector. (I stand by my contention that what the universe needs most is a really good cultural anthropology class, delivered simultaneously to everyone. Perhaps Dr. Chambers explaining cultural relativism?)
In any case, I delivered my message, but the Captain really didn't seem all that interested in apologizing to the Kreetassen. I'm glad to say that somewhere along the line, some combination of T'Pol and Phlox managed to convince him. Porthos recovering, with the aid of some kind of surgery, probably helped as well.
I'm not entirely sure what went on in Sickbay that night (besides letting bats loose) but I know that every time T'Pol spoke to the Captain, she came away actually looking disturbed. I mean, visibly disturbed in some way, which is strange. Maybe she was just unable to block out his turbulent emotions? I don't know and I couldn't quite ask her.
So, the Captain agreed, T'Pol and I coached him intensively in the ritual, and he performed it almost flawlessly. If he hadn't been in such a bad mood lately, we might have surreptitiously snapped a picture of him, in the braids and the temporary tattoo, with the chainsaw in his hand. Sad to say, it was all we could do to not laugh at him. But his mood seems to have evened out, and I'm not sure if it was succeeding in getting the plasma injector, or the shock of almost losing Porthos. Whatever the cause, we have our Captain back, and that's good.
The one thing you can say about everything we're going through, it's certainly creating closer relationships. It seems as if the Captain is getting along with Phlox and T'Pol much better now, and everyone's been making the effort to get know other people.
But the last 24 hours have been quite bizarre--not bad, per se, just odd. Everyone acted as if they were short on sleep, even T'Pol and the Kreetassen, and I had rather the feeling of being caught in a slapstick movie. You know, doors slamming, people yelling, running around in circles. Very odd. Now, I'm in need of sleep, as I'm meeting Trip and Travis for a late meal. I don't remember whether it's breakfast, lunch, or dinner, though. I never *did* like shift-work, did I?
I hope this reaches you before you head off to Norway, because I know how terrible you are about checking your mail when you're in the midst of fieldwork. Make sure that if you don't respond to my mail, at least you respond to Amanda's, hmm? (And explain to me again why you're going to Norway and you don't even eat fish? I wish you could send it to me.) Long-distance, virtual hugs back to you.
Love,
Hoshi
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, others, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home to a friend after the events of "A Night in Sickbay."
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: I know TPTB feel no need to bridge from the last episode's angst, but I obviously have higher standards :) (BTW, scarification is a real word, ask me if you want to know what it is.) Thanks again for the beta to Captain Average, the superhero who is a wizard with an em dash.
* * * * *
Dear Annie,
Yes, I can certainly see how getting my last few letters all at once would have been a surreal experience, but if you think it was a roller coaster ride *reading* them, you should try living them. I thank you for your good wishes and all the desperately-needed virtual hugs. I will especially treasure the collection of cliches, aphorisms, and other generally mindless inspirational sayings. It must have taken you days to come up with a list that comprehensive and banal, and I appreciate the effort!
I'm glad to hear all is well at home, and that you and Amanda are so happy. I just got a letter from Tracy, too, so it's been a nice day for nostalgia.
You'll be glad to know that things are a bit better out here, as well. I managed to pour all my weepiness out on you before I went to see Travis. He was pretty shaken, but Phlox says he's fine. It's fortunate, I think, that he doesn't remember much of what happened.
(The minute he was up and around, Trip and I sprang our joke on him, and it went great! It took him almost a day to figure out how to shut off the strange comm signals, and we got Malcolm to give us some surveillance pictures of Travis standing in a corridor, looking confused. I'll give one or two of those to him for his birthday.)
In a way, the Captain was more shaken by the whole repair station experience than Travis--probably because he was awake and aware the entire time--and he's been acting strangely ever since.
He's usually very laid-back, but he got so angry when Travis nearly died, and he didn't seem to be getting over it. Then, yesterday, we had this encounter with the Kreetassen. We've met them before--remember when I told you about the aliens who were offended we ate in public?
Well, Trip insisted they had the most compatible plasma injectors around and we went to parley with them. Unfortunately, before we could even start negotiating, they sent us back to the ship because we'd offended them again. Once again, we had no clue why.
So, there I was in decon, rubbing that dratted blue gel all over, with T'Pol (calm), the Captain (frothing), and Porthos (adorable). I have mentioned Porthos, the Captain's dog, before, haven't I? Well, the Captain decided Porthos deserved some shore leave, so he brought him down to the planet with us.
Unfortunately, Porthos picked up some sort of infection on the planet, so the Captain was annoyed with the Kreetassen for not checking Porthos' gene map, the Kreetassen were annoyed at us for some unspecified reason, and the Captain was bugging Phlox for hourly updates, while T'Pol and I dealt with the Kreetassen. Not the most fun late shift I've ever had.
And let me tell you, plasma injector or no, it was a mighty close call on a few occasions whether we were going to tell the Kreetassen to just take their courtesy and shove...Okay, I'm obviously *not* recovered yet.
While the Captain was hovering over Phlox, T'Pol and I were exchanging sharply-worded messages with the Kreetassen. This time, practically everything we did offended them, and I was on my last nerve. Thankfully, I convinced T'Pol that *she* should be the one to tell the Captain that we offended these people when his dog piddled on their sacred trees.
I kid you not. I almost laughed when I they informed us of the grave offense to their dignity.
So, the Kreetassen were sitting around and trying to decide exactly how the Captain should apologize, the Captain was sleeping in Sickbay, and T'Pol was working out in the gym. I called down to her when I got the list of demands, excuse me, requests. I said the Captain wasn't going to believe what they were asking, then to my embarrassment, I discovered *he* was in the gym, too. Someday, I'll learn to keep my mouth shut. Honest.
The strangest part was the ritual they wanted the Captain to go through. I've certainly sat through more than my share of cultural rituals--powwows, bar mitzvahs, scarifications--but this one struck me as a little odd. He defiled a tree (or at least Porthos did) so they had him cut up a tree? It's going to take some study of Kreetassen culture before I can make heads or tails of that. It didn't help that the ritual words were in an ancient form of the dominant language, so the translator simply gave up the ghost, and I didn't have the time to fix it.
I can't imagine where the Captain learned how to use a chainsaw, but I have to say he did a very good job, and he learned the words he had to say very quickly, once he got his mind off Porthos.
That came later. First, around midnight, he and Phlox somehow managed to let Phlox's Pyrithian bat out of the cage, and when I walked in they were trying to kill it or something. You should have *seen* the looks on their faces when the cute little guy landed right on my hand. You'd think the doctor would have learned the trick to taming it by now, but I suppose he's got quite a few other animals to deal with.
I was in Sickbay to let the Captain know that the Kreetassen were getting antsy for a response. They were even offended that we hadn't synchronized our time with their capital city, and when I said I didn't know that was required, the response I got was "It's not a requirement, just a courtesy." Someday, someone is going to teach these people that courtesy is *not* universal. I wish it could have been me, but Trip swears we needed the plasma injector. (I stand by my contention that what the universe needs most is a really good cultural anthropology class, delivered simultaneously to everyone. Perhaps Dr. Chambers explaining cultural relativism?)
In any case, I delivered my message, but the Captain really didn't seem all that interested in apologizing to the Kreetassen. I'm glad to say that somewhere along the line, some combination of T'Pol and Phlox managed to convince him. Porthos recovering, with the aid of some kind of surgery, probably helped as well.
I'm not entirely sure what went on in Sickbay that night (besides letting bats loose) but I know that every time T'Pol spoke to the Captain, she came away actually looking disturbed. I mean, visibly disturbed in some way, which is strange. Maybe she was just unable to block out his turbulent emotions? I don't know and I couldn't quite ask her.
So, the Captain agreed, T'Pol and I coached him intensively in the ritual, and he performed it almost flawlessly. If he hadn't been in such a bad mood lately, we might have surreptitiously snapped a picture of him, in the braids and the temporary tattoo, with the chainsaw in his hand. Sad to say, it was all we could do to not laugh at him. But his mood seems to have evened out, and I'm not sure if it was succeeding in getting the plasma injector, or the shock of almost losing Porthos. Whatever the cause, we have our Captain back, and that's good.
The one thing you can say about everything we're going through, it's certainly creating closer relationships. It seems as if the Captain is getting along with Phlox and T'Pol much better now, and everyone's been making the effort to get know other people.
But the last 24 hours have been quite bizarre--not bad, per se, just odd. Everyone acted as if they were short on sleep, even T'Pol and the Kreetassen, and I had rather the feeling of being caught in a slapstick movie. You know, doors slamming, people yelling, running around in circles. Very odd. Now, I'm in need of sleep, as I'm meeting Trip and Travis for a late meal. I don't remember whether it's breakfast, lunch, or dinner, though. I never *did* like shift-work, did I?
I hope this reaches you before you head off to Norway, because I know how terrible you are about checking your mail when you're in the midst of fieldwork. Make sure that if you don't respond to my mail, at least you respond to Amanda's, hmm? (And explain to me again why you're going to Norway and you don't even eat fish? I wish you could send it to me.) Long-distance, virtual hugs back to you.
Love,
Hoshi