CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Fri Mar 07, 2014 8:11 pm

Great log, James! Love seeing Dremel working through this.

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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby James Greenman » Thu May 01, 2014 5:30 pm

Commander Kymar Dremel, Stardate 11404.24

The Doctor ran the micro steriliser over his hands slowly, a tired look in his eyes. They'd come across these Outcasts, and it was a dire situation all around. They had no representation, no hope, no support or supplies or safety except for what they dug out of the caves themselves. They also didn't have much in the way of medical supplies...He glanced at his open kit with a slight wince, noting the low cartridges lined along one face, knowing he was going to need to request more from the Hooke if he kept fixing every injury he saw.

The Hooke...his orders had come through, but he had the luxury of being able to ignore them. Starfleet Medical had always operated somewhere outside of the normal Command structure. As a Doctor, he could give aid without violating treaties, heal the sick across a battlefield whether friend or foe, and more important he could tell the 'brass' when to shove it. Obviously he'd used less brazen terms, and thrown the Hippocratic Oath around. They always hated that, after how can you be at war with someone you're actively giving medical attention to? His scowl returned with a little more ferocity.

He had a duty. It wasn't to Starfleet, it wasn't to the Federation, it wasn't even to himself. It was to anyone that was sick or injured, anyone that was in need of his skills. He'd been a Doctor too damn long to ignore those feelings, and while he could shake his head and spot the Prime Directive until he was blue in the face onboard the ship or in his Sickbay, coming down here and seeing it in person had left him feeling hollow. Had it really been him saying these things?

It'd been a broken arm first, then a sprained wrist. There was a mild outbreak of Tarkesian influenza that he'd nipped in the bud, and that'd killed his supply of broad-spectrum antivirals. He really was going to need a resupply, perhaps he could cosy up to the Diplomatic corps and get them to airdrop a few crates of medical supplies and a shuttle. He still had enough pull for that, he was sure.

Replacing the steriliser back in his kit, he closed it up with a quiet snap and threw it back over his shoulder. He caught a sight of Henry talking with some of the children, and he knew how hard this must be on the man. The Lieutenant was like a dog that couldn't let go once he had a bit in his mouth, and it wasn't exactly a secret that staying here and helping these people was first on his mind. Dremel admired him for his commitment. But that's the way it went sometimes; What could he do here except get the attention of Starfleet, who would drop on him like a bulkhead the moment they found out about a rogue Security officer making a nuisance of himself on an unaligned planet.

Sometimes you had to do things by the books, and sometimes you had ways around them. Here he could be a Doctor and not a Starfleet officer, and that was something he knew all to well. It'd have to do.
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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby Jack Lucas » Thu May 01, 2014 6:54 pm

Really enjoyed this one. Probably didn't hurt that something quiet and sappy was playing on the radio.
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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Fri May 02, 2014 12:37 am

Nicely epilogued, James. :)

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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby James Greenman » Mon Sep 08, 2014 5:14 pm

Commander Kymar Dremel & Kesh Suder, Stardate 11408.08

A disjointed, jangly tune struggled to be heard over the heavy din of the bar. Voices were deep here, she noted with a resigned interest. No-one laughed with their heads thrown back or smiled with their eyes. She advanced despite the hairs on the back of her neck warning her to retreat. She knew when to pay attention to her instincts, and when to ignore them.

She stepped into a pool of light, revealing her blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail, an ornate braid encircling it. Her clothes were all dark, a tailored gun-barrel grey jacket and fitted black cargo pants complimenting her neat figure. She walked past the bar without a glance and over to a small table in the corner occupied by one man. His back was to her; his first mistake, she thought with a smile. Removing a small electronic device from her jacket pocket swiftly, she rested it on the nape of his neck. "Don't make any sudden moves", she said, her voice barely audible over the ambient noise.

The man very slowly raised his hands, spreading his fingers to show that he had nothing hidden away. His entire body looked rigid and tense, his dark hair grown out just a little too long to look neat and his clothes dusty from travel across the barren ground of the planet outside.

A hand appeared almost out of nowhere from behind her, wrapping around Kesh's hand and the small electronic device with a firm grip that belied the almost delicate fingers. Dremel's quiet voice sounded in her ears; "You didn't think I'd make it that easy, did you? I'm not dead yet." Just a hint of good humour came out with his words.
Kesh smiled as she turned her head a little towards him and leant imperceptibly back.
Dremel addressed the man sitting at the table, roughly the same height and build as himself. "Get out of here, Baskin." Needing no further encouragement, the man scooted out of his chair and disappeared into the crowd.

Kesh ignored the decoy's retreat. Instead, she turned a little to examine Kymar. "Why do you always pick such seedy places to meet?" she enquired with fake disgust. "I mean, what's wrong with Paris, exactly?" She pulled her hand free from his grasp, the small one-charge phaser hidden in her fist.
"I like the ambiance." He smiled faintly, letting his fingers drag across her hand as she pulled away. He slipped around the table and took a seat. Kesh grabbed the recently vacated chair opposite and pulled it out to sit.

Dremel studied her for a moment, a ghost of a smile on his lips. She looked...neat. Like a dignitary, almost. No...Like an operative. He felt a pang of regret, a remembrance of old times when they'd both been dressed as Starfleet Officers. A little dinged around the edges, but crisp and clean. He shook it out of his mind.
"Besides”, he added, “I know the bartender."

"This is no place for a nice betazoid like me..." she said, dragging the chair closer to Kymar, so she was afforded a better view of the bar, the clientèle and the entrance. Tugging her jacket off her shoulders, she arranged it on the back of her chair with some care and, satisfied with her meticulous arrangements, she finally sat. "... too many minds, too much clutter..." she tilted her head to the side and looked at him intently, "but I suspect you knew that already."
Kymar nodded once and looked away, whistling for service. "That trick wouldn't have worked anywhere else, you know," she continued.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his lips quirking into a humoured grin. "Okay, maybe there was another reason I chose this place."
A young Bolian woman strolled over with a PADD, and quietly Dremel rattled off an order. Kesh noticed the Bajoran discreetly palm a few strips of latinum into the woman's hand before he turned back to the table.
"You still like Krada legs, right?"
"Sure", she replied, watching the young woman retreat from their table with a swish. "You wanna tell me what that was about, or should I just start guessing?" she asked. Her jet black eyes watching his expression, she waited for an answer.

He smiled briefly, shrugging it off. "Never hurts to pay for good service, Kesh." She didn't believe him, obviously, but that wasn't the point. Everything would be revealed soon. "So tell me, what's been occupying your attention since our last meeting?"

"Medical research," she replied quickly, ignoring his sceptical look. "I'm heading up a team dedicated to improving field-treatment of critical and near critical trauma patients." She leant on the table, closing the gap between them a little. Despite the gloom, Kymar could clearly make out the jagged scar crossing her shoulder and chest. "A building falls on you, you get inspired, you know?"
Dremel shrugged, smiling as he leaned on the table with his elbows in a relaxed gesture. He didn't believe her story any more than she would believe his. He was getting a little tired of this cloak and dagger stuff, but he had to keep up appearances.

"Maybe I should try it sometime, I could use a little inspiration. I hear Daystrom manage to snag Rick Doherty from Starfleet Dental and have him working on a wide spectrum analgesic - interesting stuff."
"From what I can remember," she said as the waitress returned, "Rick himself made a pretty effective wide spectrum analgesic..." She laughed a little at her own joke, Dremel flashing a quick grin remembering how many times Doherty had managed to corner one or other of them at Starfleet functions. The man could talk for hours about advances in dental hygiene.

"What's keeping you busy?" she added as she picked up her drink and examined it.
The waitress took that moment to step over to their table carrying a heavy platter, placing it down and pulling off the tops one by one. Heavy boiled krada legs filled one bowl, stacked hasperat on another - the spicy, sweet aroma strong enough to bring tears to the eyes - and a third contained a souffle. In the centre of the tray sat an isolinear chip.

Dremel thanked the waitress again, a handful of latinum slips disappearing from the table in a blink as she stepped away. He turned to give Kesh a smile, avoiding the centerpiece for now. "This and that. I was on Ira IV for a little while, until I managed to convince Starfleet Medical to send a properly equipped trauma team to each of the outlying settlements. Then I was posted back to Earth. Medical Research, you know the kinds of things they make old doctors do these days."
"Hm," she replied, only half listening to her companion. The chip had caught her eye straight away. She outstretched a hand and ran a finger over it, curling her finger tip underneath it and lifting it up. She shot Dremel a sidelong glance and held the chip up.
He met her eyes with a rueful smile. "Always looking at dessert first, huh?"
“I have a sweet tooth.”
Quietly he leaned forward, reaching over for one of the Krada legs and pulling it to his plate, his voice a quiet whisper. "There's some data on there that I need decrypted. You have no idea how hard it was to get it, but nothing and no-one can read it - and trust me, I've been everywhere." He reached over and calmly pushed the chip towards her side of the table, holding her gaze. "It's SFI, and it's locked up tight."

Kesh stared at him incredulously. For a lingering moment all was silent between them. Then she blinked, dropped the chip, shook her head briefly and slowly stood up. She concentrated on her chair, picking her jacket up and preparing to pull it over her shoulders, but she paused.
"I've called in all the favours I had in the past, Dremel," she said, her voice low and hoarse, "I can't believe you'd..."
He reached across the table, lightly resting his hand on hers as he looked up at her. He hasn't expected such a visceral reaction.
"That I'd what, Kesh? Go to my closest friend for help when I needed it most? I haven't asked anything of you since....since that time."
He briefly remembered their incarceration together, and how she'd almost done the unthinkable at his request. She'd come so close to ending his suffering and taking his life. A shudder rolled up his spine.
"Please, just listen to me. Sit down and eat the Krada legs and listen."

She let his hand rest on hers without complaint. The heat from his palm radiated through her fingers, a contrast to the freezing weather they had both battled through to get to this place.
"Dremel, I'm not in that game any more... I'm working with Medical again..." she started to lie, the same lie she always gave. But then she looked at his hand, remembered how close she had come to murdering a good friend, a Starfleet officer. Instead, she sighed deeply, pulled her hand away, sat down once more, ran her now free fingers over her bowed head and relented. "Tell me what you know and I'll see what I can do..."

Quietly he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, glancing from the chip and up into her impossibly black eyes. "Have you ever heard of the Phi Theta system?"
Tilting her head with a slight shake, Kesh answered; "No, should I have?"

He shook his head. "Not unless you were out near Tholian space doing star system mapping like the Pendragon was six years ago. After that, nothing. There are no records, no surveys, no probe data whatsoever. If you do a search you won't even find it on a star map. But I know it's there; I've been there, I rescued a geological survey team from some crystal caverns on the fifth planet. I've spent the last few months tracking down people, asking questions, and none of them remember it. Not a single person, and Starfleet hasn't sent a ship out there since."

His fingers touched the edge of the isolinear chip, nudging it closer to her side of the table. "The only thing I could dig up was this."

Kesh listened without a word, still making no move to pocket the chip. She remained silent and read him the best she could in this emotionally charged and chaotic place. She held his gaze and waited for him to continue speaking.
Quietly, Dremel met her gaze, letting the information sink in. "The system was removed from star charts and anyone who knows of it have had their memories altered. Kesh, don't sit there and tell me that doesn't seem strange to you."
Kesh let her body sag, and her weariness show. "Hell, Dremel, everything looks strange to me in this job." She sat back, grabbed her drink and took a large mouthful. "Tell me what this is about and what it has to do with me."
"Nothing, Kesh. It has nothing to do with you, everything to do with me, and that's why you're going to be safe. You have access to tools and more importantly equipment that I don't...at least on my budget." He gave her a brief, rueful smile, a touch of his old self shining through for a moment.

"I'm...shipping out soon. Starfleet gave me my transfer orders last week, I was supposed to have been aboard the Hyperion by now and I have a feeling that they're not going to wait much longer. I need you to find this information for me, without it....Well, this isn't just about..." He glanced discreetly around, leaning in. "...about my condition anymore. I think there's more to it now, more than either of us expected, more than it would be sane to expect, and the answers are there."

"Please."
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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby Aoibhe Ni » Mon Sep 08, 2014 6:50 pm

Gigantic log? Right before mission?
You are welcome, CJ! :D

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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby Einar S » Mon Sep 08, 2014 7:03 pm

Amazeballs! Good to see Kesh too :)
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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby C. J. Short » Mon Sep 08, 2014 7:30 pm

Just know that you're the reason there won't be a prologue until after this mission :P
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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby James Greenman » Mon Jan 05, 2015 2:26 pm

Commander Kymar Dremel, Stardate 11501.05

The starscape was pretty from the Titan Lounge onboard the Hyperion. He sat in one of the chairs, his feet kicked up onto the table nursing a mug of tea in both hands, feeling the warmth of the liquid through the cup. Minutes would go by between sips like an autonomic function, barely moving except for his arms raising the cup to his lips, tilting it slightly for a sip and then cradling it back in his lap.

Everything was peaceful, for the first time in a while.

He'd expected as much. The Federation ideals of peace and prosperity for were always hard won with violence and death, and any Doctor that told you they expected nothing but smooth sailing on any space-faring mission was lying to you and themselves. He was on a warship, regardless of how high tech the science labs are or how well advanced the sensor arrays, the Prometheus class was born out of war and violence and destruction. A fitting capstone to the current legacy of Starfleet vessels.

Six casualties, over a hundred injuries from minor scrapes to organ or limb replacements, and what did they have to show for it? Some Orion syndicate station destroyed, with countless more casualties on that side, bitter rivalries allowed to continue festering like an open wound and everyone patting themselves on the back like they'd just won a foot race. He'd been young once before, he knew how it felt when the adrenaline was pumping and you were fighting for your life, your freedom, or just because it was what you had to do. Yesterday you were on the brink of death, today you are alive and that's worth celebrating. As an old man, victory had never tasted so bitter.

Steady hands held the cup of tea to his lips but he didn't sip, the liquid rippling with a fallen tear.
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Re: CMO Commander Kymar Dremel

Postby Einar S » Mon Jan 05, 2015 4:13 pm

brilliant log James!
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