<USS Avalon> Talea and Her New Home

From: Raymond Danner III <rdanner3@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
To: USS Avalon PBeM List <avalon@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Date: Mon, 13 Nov 2006 22:42:47 -0600
"Talea and Her New Home"
by
Ens. Talea Genot Erridim, incoming Ops officer, /USS Avalon/

After leaving Sickbay, Talea realized she had no idea at all where her
quarters were, so came to a stop, confused, not sixty meters past
Sickbay's doors. Leaning against the bulkhead, she burned with shame.
She'd not asked, so how was she to get to her quarters? Good memory or
no, if she had no information, she was stuck and stuck hard.

This new setback just made her want to hide. Her humiliation was high in
her mind, and she was once again having trouble keeping her emotions
under control.

She saw another tap the black strip along one side of the corridor and
saw how it lit up. She was just too far away to hear what the person
said, but she noticed the person hurry off, apparently following
something she'd not noticed.

She warily moved toward the same place, unaware that in the process, she
had passed three more of the same sort of command panels. Tapping the
place she'd seen the other tap, she saw the panel light up. She spoke
then, her voice not entirely steady. "Talea Genot Erridim, requesting
directions to her quarters." To her annoyance, the panel blinked out,
but then she noticed a silent chase light that seemed to keep up with
her. She raised an eyebrow and strode toward it, and the spot became a
three-chevron strobing arrow, pointing toward what she now realized was
a turbolift shaft.

She strode in that direction, and just before she got to the lift, the
arrows flashed out, replaced by what she realized was a deck number.

She entered the lift-car, then spoke the deck number aloud. Seconds
later, she was on that named deck. She wondered if she'd have to ask the
same question again, but on the wall opposite the turbolift was another
of the chase lights, this one strobing from a small dot to a dot nearly
half the width of the strip. She strode forward, curious, and the dot
blinked out completely for several seconds before it turned command-red
and arrowed off to the right.

She followed it to starboard, but was increasingly nervous. This wasn't
at all like the auto-guides aboard a RSDF or RSMC vessel, which were
avatar-based. Uncertain, she first slowed down, then all but stopped,
and the arrow started spinning with occasional spikes toward the
direction she'd been walking in.

She stopped entirely, and the arrow went to a pulsing dot again, this
time looking remarkably like a 12-pointed star on the last two strobes,
which amused her slightly. Moving deliberately to port, she noticed that
the light instantly went to a recognizable emblem for wrong-way, a black
dash in an amber circle. With a faint chuckle, she headed the proper
way, still wondering why the corridors seemed so empty.

When the cursor, for that was what it was, a guide cursor, suddenly
changed to an arrow bent to show the point uppermost, she frowned and
tilted her head. In response, the arrow started flashing urgently. On
her turning to look at the quarters door she was beside, she noticed a
card on the door with her name on it. "Curious." She placed her hand on
the scan plate, and felt the scan happen, along with a slight nip. She
jerked back as a result.

Noticing the door seemed to be open now, she walked forward cautiously,
all of her remaining senses at high alert. Was this a trap? She couldn't
be sure.

The main room's lights came up and she blinked. She recognized all her
duffels and cases. The duffels were neatly arrayed and the cases were
stacked in a triangle formation, two cases on the deck, with the third
case on top of them. At a glance, she could tell all three cases' locks
were not tampered with. The duffels' locks, on the other hand. . .She
sighed. Someone had tried to get into at least one of them.

She coded the duffel to the far right open and began inventorying its
contents against the sheet that was hidden in a compartment on the
inside right of the duffel.

As she realized everything was still there, she closed and carried it
into the bedroom, since it was most of her off-duty clothing and two of
her RSMC uniforms; the Federation duty-uniform boots she'd had made were
in one end of the duffel, and she took those out and the boot
maintenance kit.

Within ten minutes, the boots were at such a high gloss that she could
see herself relatively clearly in the boot's reflection. She grinned,
then set the boots aside. She'd not have any trouble with that, at least.

She made certain the door was locked securely, then stripped down to the
minimum needed for modesty, then stated, "Computer, take appropriate
measurements and replicate Starfleet uniforms in natural fibers to fit
me, save for boots."

The replicator chimed in response, then shimmered, pinging impatiently.
She walked over and removed the uniform, which was her working uniform,
and the replicator shimmered again, depositing her dress-mess uniform.
She set aside the first uniform, then lifted the second out. Placing it
on a nearby chair, she had missed the third shimmer, but there on the
replicator stage was a Starfleet full-dress uniform. She nodded, then
placed it aside, grimacing as she noticed it was pure white!

True, the trousers weren't, but the tunic, which she could tell would
hit her about lower-mid thigh, was white, trimmed in places by
command-red. She made a face of disgust and hoped she'd never have to
wear the thing in the presence of other Regellians!

All three uniforms had Ensign pips in the proper place on the proper
piece, so she sighed. Unpleasant as the idea was, she was effectively
back five full sub-grades thanks to this transfer. She didn't like it
one bit, but she could deal with it, as she'd told the Captain the day
she'd been recovered and revived.

She placed the remainder of that duffel's contents in their
Fleet-sanctioned places, then put on one of her more comfortable
off-duty dresses, one she'd not worn since before joining the RSDN at
eighteen. Granted, she'd switched to the RSMC the following year, but
even there, she'd not felt comfortable allowing anyone to see the ruin
her back had been at the time. And very few had known of the arrow wound
and its effect on her ability to tolerate goosing.

After nearly two hours of reading, both serious and fiction, she decided
enough was enough; everything she'd done since entering her quarters had
been avoidance of the real issue, which was, simply put, how effective
the nerve regeneration had been. A shower would show her what effect the
nerve rebuild had had, although the inescapable fact she was no longer
in any pain pointed toward her fear being baseless.

She'd never been able to stand the pounding of even a light shower
before; the few times she'd been caught out in rainstorms had been
ordeals if the rain was past a light drizzle, in fact. She rose
gracefully, then walked toward the in-suite bathroom with resolve. It
was high time to give the theory a real test.

Eight minutes later, as she entered the shower, she called for it to
start at 1/4 power, at just above 90 degrees Fahrenheit and increase to
full power and 106 degrees by the same scale over 15 seconds unless she
called to stop. As the shower began, she shivered, but not in pain. The
initial temperature seemed brutally cold for a very short time. She
turned away from the spray, all but daring her back to betray her as it
always had in the past.

All that happened was that she felt blessed heat and a massage-like
effect that began to relax her tensed muscles as the heat ramped to the
higher temperature. Quickly, she wet her hair down thoroughly, then
called, "Shower to off." With efficient movements, she washed her hair,
then called, "Shower, resume." She rinsed her hair, then again turned
off the shower, washing her hair again before scrubbing her body down.
All she felt, to her amazement and glee, was how good it felt. No pain,
even from the arrow wound.

She switched the shower on one final time, rinsing down thoroughly, her
senses and body alive like they'd not been in many years. She was still
guarded, her heart most of all, and she knew it would be a long, uphill
battle to defeat the demon her own brother had set on her shoulder, that
of total mistrust of all men.

This time, on switching off the shower, she ordered the air-drying
system to activate, and she dried her hair and body to barely damp
before stepping out of the shower stall. Walking over to the sink, she
couldn't help a peek at her back, courtesy of the fact the mirror over
the sink had a view of the full-length mirror behind her. Aside from
some darkening from the heat that she recognized would be reddening in a
Human, there was no adverse effect, and the skin was still smooth.
Shaking her head at her own folly, she brushed out her hair, then put a
terrycloth robe on before padding into the living room area and the
other two "safe" duffels. Within a short time, she had them unpacked and
their contents placed properly around her quarters along with setting up
the armor rack.
<USS Avalon> Talea and Her New Home

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