Dalgliesh's Diversions

Posted on 05/06/2020 @ 8:26pm by Lieutenant JG S'Lace & Ensign Noah LeBlanc

Mission: S1E3: Visit to Starbase 375
Location: Deck 6; Deck 7: Sickbay
Timeline: Day 2 at 1100

S'Lace had discovered early on Dalgliesh's propensity for what some called 'door dashing', attempting escape at every possible opportunity. She had tried hard to make their modest quarters pleasant for the feline, installing a tall structure complete with holes and carpeted platforms to rest upon. Dalgliesh had seemed content.

But it had all been a ruse. A clever ruse. The doors had slid open and S'Lace thought the cat too far away to make it's escape, but what it had done was leap from the structure to the bed, from the bed to the door! But S'Lace did not despair' she had inserted a chip into the cat which allowed her to track it's progress, she would be able to find in almost no time at all. She activated her tricorder...

How had the feline reached deck six already...?

A swoosh of a door was followed by a series of loud sneezes reverberated through the hallway. "Where did you come from?" Noah asked in his thick Canadien accent. He held a small red feline creature in his arms. The young man looked up, through watery eyes as he heard the Vulcan doctor approach. Noah's green eyes were bright red and slightly swollen.

S'Lace trotted down the hall, glancing up from the tricorder as she tracked Dalgiesh's progress, which had momentarily arrested. Likely the cat had stolen upon a turbolift and exited, and now...Was in the arms of a human in clear distress. S'Lace was familiar with allergies and it was obvious the ensign was one who suffered from one regarding cats.

"Thank you," she said as she tucked the tricorder into her jacket and held out her arms, "The cat belongs to m-"

Dalgliesh gave a little 'mew' as it settled into the ensign's arms.

"Dalgliesh and I share quarters. I shall now have to re-think my precautions regarding his proclivity to 'door dashing' as some call it. I am Doctor S'Lace."

"No problem," Noah responded, trying to stop sneezing, "Ensign Nooo-ah... LeBlanc." He held out the cat, "Would you, Doctor," he said. His black uniform was covered in cat hair. A few strands were also visibly mixed in with his brown mop. His pale skin was blushed.

Dalgliesh's breed was not supposed to shed...in theory. But S'Lace realized now she had been delinquent in brushing the cat and this poor ensign was the one to suffer for it. As Dalgliesh settled into S'Lace's arms as if he had wanted to be there all along she said, "My apologies, Ensign LeBlanc. If you would come with me to Sickbay I may administer something to alleviate your symptoms." she paused and added, "And also find something to clean your jacket. It is the least I can do for capturing my rebellious p-"

Dalgliesh mewed.

"-companion."

The young man nodded and sneezed again, "Thank you Doctor," Noah responded, "My sister has a cat... She... Always told me when they are scared they shed. I tried not to scare it, but..." He started to follow her down the hallway towards the turbolift. "This will be an interesting entry on my medical history... Almost killed by a cat," he added. He tried brushing some of the fur off of his jacket, but it only stuck to his hands.

"Depends upon the cat," S'Lace noted as she led the ensign to the nearest turbolift, "The Vulcan le-matya, for example, statistically kills about thirty individuals every year."

The turbolift doors opened on deck seven, "Some seventy five percent of that number are tourists who do not take warnings about the le-matya seriously."

They reached Sickbay where immediately a young nurse's eyes widened at the sight of Dalgliesh she grinned and...began cooing. S'Lace sighed and handed the cat off to her, chances were the young woman's performance would now suffer all day as she would talk incessantly about how 'cute' the cat was. S'Lace said to LeBlanc, "My office is this way, ensign."

"Thank you, doctor," the young man responded in his normal tone of voice as he had finally stopped sneezing. Although his eyes were still burning. He followed her over to the chief medical officer's office in the middle of sickbay. "I've only been to Vulcan a few times," he said, "Learning the language has been on my... List for quite awhile, but it is difficult, even for me."

S'Lace had restructured the office to more her liking. She had removed all the windows; since she would keep the door open if there were any issues she would hear it. She had not yet fully "redecorated" but one wall held a duplicate of a painting: Edward Hopper's Nighthawks. As S'Lace accessed the medical replicator she said, "Vulcan is a precise language, very logical in it's structure," she accessed Leblanc's record to insure there were no medical issues, "I see you are over due for your physical. Or as it would be spoken in Vulcan, 'Du nam-tor abru' due na' ish-veh tukhik'."

"Kling akhlami buhfi, kasemano," Noah responded, literally Nobody's perfect, doctor. He let out a smirk, which was still slightly distorted from his swollen face. He looked at the print. He was quite familiar with it, having seen the original in Chicago. "Very accurate print," he commented, glancing at the painting, "I'm glad they never placed the original behind glass."

"Your enunciation is not bad, ensign," S'Lace noted as she held up a hypo sprayer, "This should alleviate your symptoms. Your wrist, if you please," as the ensign proffered his arm she said, "My first trip to Earth was to Chicago," she depressed the button and Noah felt the drug begin working almost immediately "It was cold and crowded and I was quite uncomfortable as a curiosity. I retreated the museum."

Noah let out a deep exhale, finally being able to breath normally for the first time in about ten minutes. His eyes finally calmed down, "Thank you doctor," he responded, "I can finally breathe." He rolled down his sleeve. His uniform was still covered in cat hair, "If Chicago is cold to you, you would not like my hometown in Quebec... Much colder, although I imagine 26 degrees celsius is cold for you." He sighed, "I suppose if I must sit through a physical, then I must," he responded, "Maybe someone can drop my uniform in the replicator during this."

"Of course," S'Lace accepted the jacket and stepped into the doorway. She caught the attention of an orderly who accepted the jacket and S'Lace's direction. She then motioned for Noah to follow her into the Sickbay proper, "I have heard of Quebec," she pronounced it properly, "but I did not travel that far North; Chicago and San Francisco were cold enough for me," she caught the young nurse's eye, "Place the delinquent in my office and seal the door," the nurse frowned but S'Lace was familiar enough with human expressions to know the disapproval was theatrical. She turned back to Noah and said, "Onto the table, ensign. I will request a stress test at a later time but for now I will establish the preliminary to-"

"Oh no!"

Dalgliesh could be seen dashing out the door, which had just opened to admit Nurse Vurkensh.

"Damn it," S'Lace muttered in a most un-Vulcan like manner...

"Sacrament," Noah mirrored in his native tongue as the feline pounced onto his bare chest, knocking him over. Dalgliesh left claw marks on his smooth pale skin. "se calmer le pompon," he scolded the animal, stay cool or calm down. His face was visbily flustered but he also couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the circumstances. "I think you already found your stress test," he said, "This will probably mess with your results quite a bit, I'm sure."

"I may be able to compensate," S'Lace muttered as she saw the Sickbay doors close, Dalgliesh once more on the loose. She pulled out the tricorder from her jacket and handed it to the mortified nurse, "It is all right; I under estimated his determination as well. Please bring it back before it reaches the bridge and humiliates us all."

As the nurse departed, S'Lace began applying a dermal regenerator to Noah's chest, "So, ensign, I see by your record you are our new Chief of Operations. I trust you met Chief Ch'zorit when you beamed aboard. Did he 'honor' you with his disapproving glare?"

"Yes, that's me," Noah responded and then let out a chuckle, "I assume I was not the only one greeted in such a manner?" The Chief had certainly been gruff towards him, but Noah admired an officer with a singular devotion to his work, although he himself was not one of those officers.

"The chief sees me as a traitor, I am afraid," S'Lace noted, "I used to be a non commissioned officer and I remember when he was a wide eyed crewman younger than yourself, wandering the corridors of. He is quite experienced and you could learn much from him, but if he proves to be too gruff ask him if he ever found the Kingfisher's widget."

"The Kingfisher's widget eh?" Noah asked, somewhat intrigued, "From what I understand, a widget doesn't exist, correct?" He was fluent in English sure, but some metaphors were lost on him. "I am glad to have such a wealth of knowledge to draw from," she smirked. He scratched his side, the antihistamines was working but it wasn't instantaneous. "So, am I going to die tomorrow?" he asked, peering over at the tricorder's small screen.

S'Lace watched the readouts on the wall as the drugs she administered did their work, "It seems you will live another day. Your readings are similar enough to your prior physical but regulations compel me to compel you to suffer through another."

She handed him a monitor disk, "Wear this on your bare chest. I want a five kilometer run from you within the week. And yes, your definition of widget is close enough. However the meaning of 'widget' is not important. What is will be the chief's reaction. You...may want to have three meters between the two of you if you bring it up," a pause, "Make that four. The chief is rather spry for his age."

"Understood," Noah responded as he took the device and set it down next to him. He wasn't looking forward to the run, let alone a five kilometer, but he had to. "Sounds as though the chief would probably beat me in a run... Maybe I should tell him and then when he chases me do your test," he added with a grin.

"Your terror at what the chief might do to you when he catches you may skew the results," S'Lace noted, "Welcome to the Crazy Horse, Ensign. I hope you find your position fulfilling."

A Posting By:

Lt. jg S'Lace
Acting Chief Medical Officer
USS Crazy Horse

Ensign Noah LeBlanc
Chief Operations Officer
U.S.S. Crazy Horse