CMO Lieutenant (JG) Komkor bim Thur

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CMO Lieutenant (JG) Komkor bim Thur

Postby Travis D » Sat Mar 08, 2014 6:05 pm

Stardate 11403.06

"Great galaxy," Komkor growled as he stepped out of his temporary office. The promenade of Deep Space 4 was dripping with blue and white bunting and packed with noisy revelers getting a jump start on Federation Day.

With a sigh, Komkor pushed into the hallway, shouldering through knots of celebrants with his fast, clumping walk. "This is a public walkway!" A Bajoran and a Human in cadet uniforms were laughing as a Bolian shipmate leaned over a railing and loudly vomited, the puddle sizzling slightly as it reacted with the floor. Komkor shook his head as he moved on. He paused and turned back, bringing up the medical tricorder hanging from a strap across his chest.

"Betaine hydrochloride," he said into the medical replicator. After a moment there was a quiet beep, and Komor withdrew a full hypospray. He took two quick steps towards the Bolian and jammed the hypospray into his arm.

"Hey!" The cadet whirled around, stumbling. "Whazzat for?"

"Tulaberry wine is basic, you fool. Your body acid levels are low."

"I'm a fool?!" The Bolian thumped his hand against his chest with a look of confused anger. A moment later, a second hypospray hissed and the Bolian leaned back against the railing, his eyes closing. Komkor turned to the other cadets. "Take him back to his quarters and make sure he gets plenty of fluids." The cadets looked at each other. "And I don't want to see any of you in sickbay tomorrow complaining about headaches."

The Bajoran sniffed. "Or what?"

"Or I won't waste any more resources on idiots. I can prescribe you regulan bloodworms, though. We just received a new shipment. They'll clean out your system just fine - and it's only a matter of weeks before they find their way out through your intestines." The cadets looked at each other again, warily. "Thoughts? Arguments? None of the above? Good." He turned and resumed his course.

Komkor wound his way through the crowds, grumbling the entire way. Finally he reached the replimat, blessedly deserted during the festivities. He stood on his toes to reach the replicator - what idiot had designed everything on this station? - and spoke to the device. "Tellarite coffee, smooth." The replicator beeped and moments later a thick mug appeared. The steaming, viscous contents, heavy with coffee grounds, nearly sloshed over the sides as Komkor gingerly lowered it from the replicator.

Komkor slid into a booth, placing the mug and his PADD on the table. This booth was his favorite place on the station - right next to the replimat's massive viewing port, the stars beyond drifting lazily as the station turned.

Komkor sighed. He had been on DS4 for weeks, a temporary posting assisting in the creation of a vaccine for this year's strain of Levodian flu. It was necessary work - but it wasn't necessary for him. He had been a doctor for years! He joined Starfleet to see the galaxy, to defeat strange new diseases, to treat life-threatening injuries. Not to sequence vaccine projections that a first year student could handle! But his permanent assignment had yet to come.

Komkor was just taking his first sip of coffee when his PADD beeped. He sighed again, placing his mug back on the table. Wasn't that just always the way? He activated the PADD to check his messages.

TO: Cadet Komkor bim Thur

By order of Starfleet Command you are hereby assigned to the U.S.S. Saturn as AUX, as per Starfleet Transfer Regulation SFR-02-0933-3440, on Stardate 11403.06. Congratulations, Cadet. Starfleet Command wishes you the best of luck in your new assignment.

Admiral Ralph Berlin
Starfleet Command


Aux? AUX?! Great galaxy, was he going to be shuffled around Starfleet until he was a graybeard? His stubby fingers stabbed at the PADD, opening up the information packet. A Kressari Commander - well, that was interesting. He had never treated a Kressari before. As he began downloading the Boyce's Anatomy supplement on Kressari, Komkor's eyes ran over the last line of the packet. "Extended chronaton radiation exposure has caused chronal anamolies in some crewmen, long term effects unknown."

Chronaton exposure? Unknown effects? Now here's something worth sinking my teeth into! Komkor slid out of the booth, his cooling coffee forgotten. He had to pack!
Last edited by Travis D on Mon Mar 10, 2014 5:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby Riccardo Fabris » Sat Mar 08, 2014 6:15 pm

Wow, that's some really good stuff! I can't wait to read more of your logs in the future :)

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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby Riccardo Fabris » Sat Mar 08, 2014 6:58 pm

Oh god, I just realised, you do realise that Sadin feels better self-medicating rather than relying on doctors? :V

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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby Travis D » Sat Mar 08, 2014 11:49 pm

Riccardo Fabris wrote:Oh god, I just realised, you do realise that Sadin feels better self-medicating rather than relying on doctors? :V
:D

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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby James Greenman » Sun Mar 09, 2014 2:50 pm

Travis, that was a damned amazing log! I think you're going to fit in here just fine. :toot:
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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby Travis D » Sun Mar 09, 2014 10:36 pm

Cadet Thur, Stardate 11403.08

"Auxilliary Officer's Log, Stardate 11403.08. It appears the Nova class's many innovations were made at the expense of heating capabilities, because this ship is even more frigid than Deep Space 4 was. And my quarters - based on their size I thought I was being put in the brig! Which is where the designers of this sickbay should be; as usual, everything is designed without the vertically challenged in mind.

Cadet Bramley of Engineering welcomed me to the ship by aging a century and passing out, which was courteous of him. Exposure to dilithium radiation, normally harmless, is stimulating the chronatons which the crew absorbed, and hyper-accelerating aging. Fortunately, standard radiation flushing has restored Bramley to his old self - or, rather, to his young self. Unfortunately, his cells immediately begin to age again when exposed to dilithium radiation. The Engineering crew is now following emergency radiation procedures, but they can't stay in their rad suits indefinitely, especially in enemy territory - or, strike that, 'Cardassian territory.'

End log."

"Do you know what an Earth gull is?" Komkor said, turning back to the bald man grumpily studying the dom-jot table in the center of sickbay.

The man cocked his head as Komkor picked up his cue and began to chalk it.

"Gulls: Seabirds of the Laridae family, endemic to Earth."

"That's right. They were all over San Francisco when I was in Starfleet Medical. Dirty, squawking creatures who get their sustenance through scavenging or theft. They spend their spare time fighting one another, eating fish, vomiting up fish, and eating fishy vomit." Komkor lined up a shot and took it. The ball flew across the table, striking two bumpers. "Sound like any other Guls we know?"

The man picked up his own cue. "My medical knowledge was transferred directly from the databases of over two hundred worlds. Unlike a biological doctor, I was not presented with opportunities to neglect my studies in order to observe the vomiting habits of seabirds."

"Great Galaxy, no wonder you haven't replaced real doctors yet."

"Ughh..." It was Bramley, stirring in his medical bed.

"Computer, end program." The bald man, raising his finger as he prepared his rejoinder, disappeared instantly, along with the gaming table.

"Steady, Cadet. You've done a lot of living today."

"I should get back to Engineering," the Cadet groaned, pushing himself into a sitting position. "If ... the anomaly ..."

"You're not going anywhere, Cadet. You suffered extensive cellular damage, and the regeneration process is still working."

"Can't it work while I'm on duty?"

"It can, but it can't do anything if you age to two hundred and seventy five in a Jefferies tube and drop dead before I can get to you."

"But -"

"And that's if I don't age you myself, just so you'll stay put!"

After a moment, the Cadet spoke more quietly. "Isn't there anything I can do, Doctor? I'll go crazy sitting here while we investigate an anomaly in foreign territory."

Komkor tugged his beard as he considered. His dour countenance slowly brightened. "Do you know anything about dom-jot?"

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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby Shawna F » Sun Mar 09, 2014 11:44 pm

I am definitely loving this character and the way you write him. :allears: So looking forward to even more logs.
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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby Jack Lucas » Mon Mar 10, 2014 3:11 am

What an amazing log. Kudos, Travis. I look forward to writing with you when we serve together on the same ship. Hope I can keep you busy down there in sickbay!
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Re: AUX Cadet Komkor bim Thur

Postby James Greenman » Mon Mar 10, 2014 12:28 pm

Outstanding log, Travis! I love the gruff little fellow.
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Re: AUX Ensign Komkor bim Thur

Postby Travis D » Mon Mar 17, 2014 2:12 am

In the Whale Moonlight

Komkor sits in the small chair in his quarters, he uniform jacket unbuttoned, exposing the Starfleet-issue vest and turtleneck below. A glass of thick coffee sits on the table in front of him, untouched. Wearily, he begins to speak.

"Acting Commander’s Personal Log, Stardate 11403.16.

It’s only been two weeks.

I need to talk about this, to justify what’s happened, and what I've done - at least to myself.

Maybe if I just lay it all out in my log, it'll finally make sense... and I'll see where it all went wrong... where I went wrong.

I suppose it all started two weeks ago when we set out to study a xenozoological anomaly...

The Commander had temporarily put me in command considering the dangerous nature of the mission. We found a pod of cosmic whales, lingering between the stars. They seemed peaceful, and remarkably advanced biologically. They were so remarkable, it was almost unsurprising when they demonstrated the amazing capability of biological warp drive.

Almost.

My crew was still basking in the awe of the event when we returned to the ship, but I was troubled. I asked Acting Science Officer Rakshama for her sensor readings from the whales, and took them with me to my lab. The whales had seemed peaceful, intelligent - could it really be that such magnificent animals did not speak to one another? I thought not.

In the confines of the shuttle we had been able to do little analysis of the whales’ song. In my lab, though, I was able to follow an idea I had - a mad idea, some would say. I converted the subspace eddies the whales’ warp fields created into phonetic energy pulses, and applied the universal translator. It took hours of effort to ensure the interface was correct, but finally my trials were rewarded.

The whales.

They spoke.

I was filled with the glow of pride, knowing that I had successfully overseen possibly the most important first contact since Vulcans came to Earth. Then the thought struck me - first contact hadn’t been completed. The whales had seen us, but they might think we were only a strange item in space, as we once thought they were. I knew I had to contact those whales, before we lost them forever. And I knew only one man who could help me.

Cadet Bramley was back at work after his infestation of chronaton particles had been successfully nullified. I called the engineer to my quarters after hours and explained the situation - and what I needed from him.

'I must say I'm flattered, Acting Commander.' Bramley said slyly. 'I had no idea you held such a lofty opinion of me.'

'When it comes to getting yourself in trouble and not knowing when to quit, I consider you one of the best,' I said. The engineer laughed sarcastically.

But he owed me. Together, we turned one of the ship’s remaining probes into a transmission buoy, keyed to the whales’ frequency, with a prerecorded message in their 'language'. Claiming I needed the probe for chronaton study, we dropped it not far from where we first found the whales.

It was only a day later when my PADD beeped, waking me hours before my alarm. A response! I keyed excitedly through the contents of the message. It was amazing. The whales were open about themselves, their history, their culture - their civilization spanned millennia! And they were extremely powerful - the ability to take themselves into warp was only the smallest of their powers.

But when the whales described their system of travel - their 'warp streams' - I began to grow concerned. This is what Starfleet would be interested in. Paths through the cosmos, where a ship could move with even more speed than our most advanced vessels.

But at what cost?

The whales only survived through the use of the warp streams. I could envision a future, Starfleet ships clogging the streams, their warp signatures blotting out the whales’ song, as primitive fossil fuel shipping had once done on earth. And what then? The death of a beautiful, ancient culture - or war with them?

That was the moment I made the decision. It was like I had stepped through a door and locked it behind me. I was going to save the space whales. I was absolutely sure it was the right decision - that's the frightening part - how right it seemed at the time. And now... now all I can do is learn to live with that decision. And I'll have to live with it for the rest of my life...

'If you want to guarantee that we obtain evidence that the whales are nothing but dumb beasts, and that their streams are inaccessible to our ships ... I suggest we manufacture that evidence ourselves.' Bramley was in quarters again, minutes after I pinged him.

'The Taylor Institute for Cetacean Studies is up to their necks in this, and they’re sending a representative,' I said. 'He’ll want to examine it.'

'Of course,' Said Bramley. 'And he’ll discover, to his amazement, that it's completely genuine. At least, so it will appear.'

All I could do was agree. I couldn't stop now. And there were no other options.

I don’t consider myself an impatient Tellarite. On the moon of Kinal, I might spend hours in a primitive airspeeder, flying on autopilot to a remote compound to deliver medicine, with nothing to do but stare into the howling white horizon ... but the days awaiting the representative from the Taylor Institute may have been the most trying in my life.

Finally the scientist - an Andorian named Thrat, arrived. But my concern only intensified. If the Institute discovered the data-rod we prepared was a forgery, if they realized that we were trying to trick them into ignoring the whales, their interest would only intensify. When the scientist called me into his temporary quarters, I had the distinct feeling that victory or defeat would be decided in the next few minutes.

But only moments after I entered, Thrat held the data-rod aloft: 'It’s a fake!'

So it blew up in my face. The lies and the compromises, the inner doubts and the rationalizations -- all for nothing. Thrat was furious. I can't say I blamed him. I'd have reacted the same way. After telling me in no uncertain terms that he intended to expose this 'vile deception' to the entire xenozoological community, he got back in his shuttle and headed home.

There didn't seem to be anything more to do... so I went back to work.

Two days later we got the news. Upon arriving back on Earth, Thrat had immediately returned to the Taylor Institute. He was walking along one of the Institute’s cetacean medical bays, on his way to greet Dr. Taylor herself, when a Denobulan Stinger Whale impaled him with its tail. He was dead in instants.

Dazed with a reprieve of unimaginable horror, I mindlessly turned to my console. If I could clear all the records, no one would ever have to know. My eyes shot past the recent activity log - then shot back.

That’s when I saw. The same day Thrat had left, the same day I told Bramley what happened, there was another probe requisitioned. By Bramley. And when I checked the telemetry, I knew it could only have been broadcasting to one place. Earth

'You killed him!' I burst into Bramley’s quarters in a rage, ready to dispense Tellarite justice. 'You signaled the whales on Earth, and they UNDERSTOOD! They murdered Thrat to keep their secret safe.'

As ever, Bramley was smug 'Don’t forget, Acting Commander, it’s our secret. That is why you came to me, isn't it? Because you knew I could do the things you weren't capable of doing yourself? Well, it worked. And you'll get what you wanted - you saved the space whales. If your conscience is bothering you, you should soothe it with the knowledge that you may have just saved the entire Alpha Quadrant. And all it cost was the life of one whale biologist, and the self-respect of one Starfleet Officer. I don't know about you, but I'd call that a bargain.'

So it's a huge victory for the good guys. But I lied. I cheated. I was an accessory to murder. But most damning of all... I think I can live with it."

Komkor stood from his couch and began slowly pacing his quarters.

“And if I had to do it all over again... I would. Bramley was right about one thing - a guilty conscience is a small price to pay for the safety of an entire species. So I'll learn to live with it.”

Komkor almost takes a drink, then firmly sets the glass aside and pushes it away.

"Because I can live with it.

I can live with it."

He stares into space for a long moment, then seems to come to a decision.

"Computer -- erase that entire personal log."

"That’s not the way ANY of that happened!" Bramley, sitting across the room from Komkor, looked horrified. "You were only Acting Commander - you weren’t even Acting Commander! You were in charge of a shuttle for an hour! They let teenagers in pilot’s ed. do that! And I didn’t say that stuff. Jeez! Don’t put that in a log, you don’t know they don’t record that anyway. Jeez. Well, who would even believe it? Why would the whales speak the same language? How would they even receive the transmission? How do you come up with this stuff?"

"Come on, Bramley," Komkor said, chuckling and hoisting the glass and downing its contents in a single gulp. "Haven’t you ever heard of a big fish story?"

"Whales are mammals!"

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