Odd Ducks of a Feather
Posted on Mon Apr 11th, 2016 @ 12:13am by
Edited on on Thu Jun 2nd, 2016 @ 11:35pm
Mission:
Time and High Society
Location: SB-332 Office Space
Timeline: After shift
[ON]
Dr. St. Louis dragged herself back to quarters after yet another overtime shift. Monday Starr had virtually moved in, as much time as she spent there.
"Bad day, Doc?"
Ricki fell back into an easy chair, "We're finally wrapping up battle injuries." She closed her eyes and laid back, "I dream of surgeries at night. I get one done and a dozen more are waiting out in the hall."
"You need a break, a vacation."
"I hate biological weakness. I wish I were an android."
"No you don't."
"Can't you just let me be immature?"
Monday sat down nearby with wristbook open, "No."
Ricki opened her eyes and looked over, "Who are you, and what are you doing in my quarters?"
"Sorting through your backlog of messages."
"Wait a minute! How did you log into my system?"
"I fed the console your biometrics."
"Doesn't security get really cranky at that, as in formal investigations and reprimands?"
"Yeah, it ranks right up there with sloppy security. Ricki, you're sad. You might be the perfect surgeon, but the rest of your life is falling apart."
The Thorian sat forward, running her fingers back through her hair. "You're right. I didn't used to be sloppy like this. And suddenly, I am."
"You've been pushing too hard for too long." Monday rested her chin on her hands, "Diagnose yourself."
"Moderate asthenia, persistent stress symptoms, functionality normal but forced..."
"The assault on this base got to you. You haven't dealt with it."
Ricki laid back, "I'll put it on my calendar."
Monday projected a holo-document in front of her face, "You have a deep space dinner invitation."
"No way. Battle cleanup."
"Three months from now."
She groaned, "Ohhh! The piper cometh for payment."
"Problem?"
"No, not really. He gave me entrée to the art foundations. Now I owe him a favor." She noted the worried expression, "No, not that kind of favor... I think. He probably wants me as arm fluff for a social event."
Monday folded her arms, "A rich man can easily find someone local."
Ricki considered again, "Probably... he and his circle of friends want to know how I completely cleared away Ferengi political barriers. Clout craves clout."
"Sounds like trouble. Just say no."
She sighed, draping herself over the side of the chair, "No, I need to attend. Don't slap the hand that helps you with favors. Besides, we Thorians need to dispel cyber-phobia whenever possible."
"You're not a cyborg!"
"No, but I have bio-synapses, and that's enough for Chicken Littles. I don't mind. It won't be so bad."
"Do you even have a little black dress here?"
"Can't do LBD... nano-tats. I'll shroud up with silk."
Monday looked at her files, "Ricki... you have tons of leave time accumulated. Have you ever taken a vacation?"
"How do you spell that?"
"I spell it 'lifestyle change', 'paradigm shift', 'reorganized life', and 'r-e-s-t'." She got up, "I'll fix you dinner."
"When did you become a homebody?"
"Since I didn't have time to eat today and am famished."
"People will start talking."
Monday paused to face her soberly, "I don't have any friends, and I miss that. You and I get along naturally because we're both strange."
Ricki broke out laughing, "No, you and I are normal. Everybody else is strange. Mon, are you wanting to room with me?"
"You wouldn't want me. My quarters are filled up with gadgets. It's so full I have to use floating shelves."
"You're right. I like stylish decor. Clutter ambiance doesn't work for me."
Monday returned with nutrient mixes, "Ricki, do you think that the darksuits will leave us alone?"
"Have they ever? Don't worry, Mon. They got into a big tizzy because we didn't follow their rules, but in the end they got what was important to them. Cheers."
[OFF]
Ens. Monday Starr
Dr. Ricki St. Louis
Starbase 332
Pegasus Fleet
