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First Posting

Posted on Jun 30, 2019 @ 2:34am by Ensign Allison Samson
Edited on on Jun 30, 2019 @ 5:49am

Mission: Last Days of Empire

"Welcome Aboard"

(Continued from "The Plot Thickens")


Location: USS Phoenix
Stardate: [2.19]06.29.2215
Scene: Main Sickbay, Research Bay 1

Allison Samson pulled off her glasses, squeezed her eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of her nose. Why wasn’t it working? She had run the calculations a hundred times, double-checked her formulas, and verified the viability of all samples being used. She was always concerned about transporting specimens, never confident how they would react to the dematerialization/rematerialization process, but this time everything had been moved by shuttlecraft and those worries had been put aside.

So, why wasn’t it working?


The deep, thoughtful voice came behind her. Allison let out a long breath, already shaking her head. “Frustration.”

There was silence for a moment, then the sound of a chair being shuffled into place. Another whisper of movement, a body settling next to her, and then a familiar, contemplative silence. He was not the first advisor/mentor/what-have-you to employ this tactic.

Allison finally tilted her head, bringing her emerald eyes to his kindly hazel ones, tucking a few stray strands of blond hair behind her ear. Dr. Bartlett made a gesture to her microscope. “Do you know how many other specialists have tried to cure this disease?”

“Yes,” she replied quietly, her fingers toying restlessly with the glasses she held in her lap, mind still half on the samples she had been looking at.

“And you think you’re going to solve it in a few months?”

“I’m not trying to cure it, Doctor, not yet. For now, I just want to slow it down.”

“And in the meantime, you have spent the last three days huddled over this station, not bothering to meet the crew, or settle into your new office,” he commented.

Allison glanced over her shoulder to where the CMO’s office stood, currently devoid of any personal touches. Her things remained in a crate at her feet, where she’d tucked them upon arrival. She frowned at the room and turned away. “The crew doesn’t need me, at the moment,” Allison finally replied. “If they do, I am ready. You’ve walked me through the current setup – Starfleet standard. I know where everything is. There has to be something I’m missing that is driving the cell division,” she ended on a mutter, replacing her glasses and rapidly changing slides in the microscope.

“You are missing the point,” Dr. Bartlett all but scolded.

"It’s disrespectful,” Allison mumbled, not really paying attention to what she was saying. If she had been focused on the conversation, and not the microscope, she never would have been so openly honest.

Bartlett sighed. At least he now had the truth from her. She felt as though he were being usurped, despite the reassurance that he was ready for retirement. He had his own personal project to start, and galivanting about the galaxy no longer held the allure it once did.

Pushing to his feet, he took one last look at the bent the form. Tomorrow Bartlett would push her, force her to take over. In the meantime, he wondered if he should let the Captain know the best way to get a straight answer from the new CMO. He’d think about it. Another thing for tomorrow. Until then, he’d just keep an eye on the new doctor, make sure she actually ate something this evening, besides those energy bars she seemed obsessed with.


Shauna Dean
Writing as
Ensign Allison Samson
USS Phoenix


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