Confrontations & Lacerations

Posted on 12 Sep 2014 @ 11:57pm by Lieutenant Oren Idris Ph.D. & Lieutenant Olsam Mott

2,574 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Episode 06 - Legend of Souls
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 7, Observation Lounge
Timeline: MD09 - 1300hrs

[ON]

It was day three or so of the tribble infestation and Oren had finally had enough. They were literally getting everywhere and he was sick of finding dead tribbles in his quarters. On the one hand, he was happy Landi had something to entertain herself with, but on the other he couldn't help but feel incredibly sad each time he found a literal bloody mess in his quarters. In the end, he'd had to put Landi into her large carrier, which broke his heart. Her whining noises didn't help, either.

Reluctantly, he'd left her in his quarters when he decided to take a walk and stretch his legs. Of course, in the sea of tribbles, it was more of an obstacle course, but Oren eventually made his way to the Observation Lounge and promptly sat himself down on the table to look out at the stars.

Olsam looked up from his PADD and let out an audible gasp. He couldn't believe his luck! Right there sauntering into the Observation Lounge, parting the sea of tribbles like the Great Mokkses, was the ship's resident slut, home wrecker, two-timing hussy "Doctor" Oren Idris, who he'd personally seen (or heard about, whatever, same thing) trying to shack up with no less than three different crew members in a two day period. That sort of behavior was just outright unacceptable, especially when some of it had been carried out in Sickbay.

"Hey!" Olsam shouted. He tried to get up in a dramatic fashion but got his gut hung under the lip of the table, nearly causing him to fall over and sending the table into a dangerous wobble. Four tribbles that had been sharing the table with him went unceremoniously sliding off on to the floor. Recovering with all the dignity he had, he made a show of stomping over near Oren. Or, really, sort of high-stepping in an angry fashion to keep from smashing tribbles beneath his feet. It really undercut the drama of the move, but it still looked better than slowly making your way, apologizing to each and every tribble as you went. "I know about you! I know what you've done! I know all about it. All. About. It."

Oren had briefly scrambled on the table to make sure he remained on it when he suddenly felt the rush of emotions coming from the Bolian. Instinctively, he shifted away from him on the table, the look of surprise quite evident on his young features. He looked around briefly because it couldn't be him that Mott was talking to! It was absurd. He hadn't done anything. At least, nothing to earn such a visceral and emotionally charged outburst from the doctor.

When it became obvious that it was indeed Oren that the rotund man was talking to, the El Aurian looked lost, his green eyes shifting around for some kind of solution until he finally focused his gaze on the doctor in front of him.

"Excuse me? I'm not sure what you're talking about." Oren tried to make himself sound calm and collected, hoping for a diplomatic solution to his current situation, but he could feel the emotions from the Bolian slowly starting to seep under his skin with each rough word.

"Ooooh, gonna pull that act, eh?" Olsam said, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "The old 'I didn't do anything, I'm too young to be guilty' trick. Like I don't know that one! I know what you've been doing. It's all over the ship - just. like. you." Olsam said, punctuating each of his last words by jabbing his finger at Oren. As to emphasize the Bolian's anger, the tribbles gathered around his feet began to rapidly shuffle back and forth. "I know you're sleeping with M'Ressa, and that's not the least of it! Did you even know she's romantically involved with someone else but demonstrates an appalling lack of self-control and so has just been waiting to fall into the arms of another, younger, more virile man? Huh? Did you even know that?

"And I heard from Crewman Yatano who heard from Ensign Flores who heard from Warrant Officer Jackson that you were in the supply closet with that quartermaster, too, and everyone knows what happens when you go into a supply closet with him." Olsam paused for breath, but was sure to hold up a finger to make sure Oren stayed quiet. The tribbles at his feet were now moving around like highly excited atoms, bouncing off one another and throwing in the occasional cooing sound. "And then I saw you - I saw you - kissing that Ensign who just had a baby! In my Sickbay! How dare you take advantage of a hormonal, emotionally charged crewmember like that! If you think I'm going to sit around and let you sleep with half the ship and wreck our lives, then you've just got another thing coming. And on top of that, you're supposed to be helping to care for that baby! Is that just a ploy to get into her pants, huh?"

Olsam huffed and folded his arms across his chest, which rose and fell rapidly from the effort of spilling all that information. As his monologue came to a close, the gathered tribbles seemed to calm down, too.

Oren's eyes grew wider at each accusation thrown his way. It was decided - Mott was absolutely insane. He felt his own irritation levels rise as time passed until he felt properly riled up when Mott finally shut his mouth.

"Alright, you listen here then," Oren said to him, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn't handle conflict very well and the Bolian had caught him off guard.

"Even if all of what you just said was true, which it isn't, that's none of your business!" He pushed himself forward until he was sitting with his legs dangling from the table. Or at least, they would be if there wasn't a foot high pile of tribbles pillowing his feet.

"First off, M'Ressa and I aren't sleeping together, we're roommates. Personnel put us together because we're both civilians. Second, nothing happened between Ellsworth and me. We're just friends." Thinking on the last accusation, Oren considered telling the truth for a moment, but decided against it. Mott was clearly a gossip, so having him believe their little lie would be beneficial for their little experiment.

"And finally, what happened between T'Vanna and me, that's none of your business. I didn't take advantage of her and if you don't believe me, go ask her for yourself. But like I said at the beginning. None. Of. Your. Business." He finished with the same tone Mott used earlier, hoping to get his point across.

Olsam scoffed dismissively, as if the word of a street-walking strumpet of a Jezebel could be believed for a moment. He should have known Oren couldn't be trusted the minute he tried to pass himself off as a secondary school student on a field trip in Sickbay. Once a liar, always a liar. He was just the sort of disruptive influence that made civilians on starships seem, at times, ill-advised. Strutting in among all the stressed and frustrated officers, tossing beautiful blonde locks and casting furtive green-eyed glances to and fro, upsetting the delicate balance of ship-board relationships by making everyone get all hot and bothered.

"Oh, it's my business," Olsam gasped, getting worked up again. The tribbles, sensing the rising emotion, set about their slow build-up of movement again. "It's definitely my business! I'm supposed to see to the well-being of this crew, young man. You two were practically engaged in coitus right there on the biobed. She just had a baby, didn't you know that? That is medically ill-advised. Now far be it from me to legislate when people should and should not be engaged in that sort of thing, but right in the middle of Sickbay mere days after she's delivered a baby? Not appropriate, not appropriate at all." Olsam wrinkled up his nose and shook his head for added effect, looking absolutely disgusted with Oren's behavior. The tribbles, in unison, added what sounded like coos of disapproval, too.

"And how do I know you aren't sleeping with M'Ressa, huh? Goodness knows you can't trust her word for it, poor weak delicate thing that she is. She'd probably be 'roommates' with any man that looked at her twice! And for the record I don't believe you're just friends with Petty Officer Hudson, either, because if you are, then why would you be hanging out with him in the supply closet, huh? Warrant Officer Jackson said he was all flushed and red-cheeked when he got back from your little meeting. Flushed and red-cheeked - verifiable evidence of your promiscuity if ever there was any!"

"Of course he was flushed, he had to run back so that people like you wouldn't start stupid rumours," Oren argued. "And I don't really care whether you believe me about M'Ressa or not!"

"Ah-ha!" Olsam said, striking his finger into the air; one of the tribbles actually jumped into the air at the exact same moment. "So now the story is you don't care what I believe. Interesting, very interesting." The Bolian doctor began pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. The sea of tribbles now gathered around him in a radius of one or two feet began shuffling along with him, giving the effect that Olsam was floating on a cloud of fur. "Before you were patently denying it - insistent, even. Perhaps..." He turned on his heel to stare at Oren; the tribbles all whirled in unison. "Too insistent. Now the story's completely different - 'It doesn't matter if we're sleeping together or not.' Well I'm here to tell you it matters a great deal! It's upsetting the balance. Rocking the ship. I don't like a rocked ship. Not one bit." Olsam shook his head vehemently. "Someone's going to get hurt from all this...this...philandering."

"No one is going to get hurt because nothing is happening between M'Ressa and me or Ells and me. As for my relationship with T'Vanna, we didn't do anything wrong. We kissed, and we'll be seeing each other again," Oren explained, beginning to get fed up with Mott's attitude.

Olsam gave Oren a skeptical look and considered for a moment that he might be telling the truth. Maybe he really was just M'Ressa's roommate, a caring young man who'd seen fit to accompany his shipmate to Sickbay to ensure her health and safety. And who knows why he was actually in the storage closet with that Betazoid. The Ops crew did have a tendency toward idle gossip, after all, so maybe they'd just been retrieving something together. And perhaps he was romantically involved with Ensign Murray and Olsam simply hadn't heard about it, yet.

But...that all seemed so very unlikely.

"Well, listen, you just refrain from engaging in sexual intercourse for the next four to six weeks, got it?" Olsam jabbed his finger toward Oren. "She needs time for her cervix to close and to avoid any complicating issues with postpartum bleeding. I swear, if I have to repair vaginal lacerations, you're gonna be in big trouble. Big trouble!"

Oren could feel himself growing more and more red with each passing word and wondered when the conversation took such a drastic, and gross, turn. "Uh..." He looked around, desperate for a way out but with the large Bolian just standing there, any kind of graceful retreat was out of the question. So all he could do was stutter and shake his head or scramble across the table, over the tribbles and to the door. In the name of keeping his dignity in tact, he chose the former.

"Um...no...no vaginal lacerations....promise," he said uncomfortably, wishing, like Grayson before him, that the tribbles would go feral and attack them right then and there.

"I'm serious! Tearing is a very real problem during postpartum recovery," Olsam said, fixing him with a serious doctor-like look and rambling on completely oblivious to Oren's comfort (or lack thereof). All of the tribbles seemed to be turned in one direction and staring at Oren, too, despite the fact that they had no discernible eyes. "You can't go jamming things in there after something like that has just come out. Not to mention the uterus is highly susceptible to infection in the weeks after delivery, so you make sure to take a long thorough sonic shower with plenty of attention paid to the cleanliness of your genitalia before you engage in sexual intercourse. And you're going to have to monitor the quality of vaginal discharge on your own, got it? I'm not going to come make house calls to tell you whether there is or is not too much blood in the lochia for you to get about your business. You make that judgement on your own, young man."

'If I wasn't asexual before, I definitely am now', Oren thought, thoroughly disgusted and embarrassed. For the first time in his life, all seventy-five years of it, he actually felt unable to look someone in the eye. Why was he saying these things to Oren? It was just way too much information for the young El Aurian to process. Or want to process, actually. Now all he would be able to think about when looking at T'Vanna was her lochia, whatever that even was (Oren was afraid to ask).

"Um...I'll be sure to be careful," he managed to stutter out, still unable to look at the Bolian properly. He just wanted him to go away!

"Okay, well, good," Olsam said, shuffling a bit in place now. The big Bolian looked like a pebble that was constantly being dropped into a sea of tribbles - every shuffle he made caused a corresponding wave of activity in the fur surrounding him.

This hadn't quite turned out the way he'd expected. He'd expected there to be a big argument or that Oren would march out of the room. Now they just seemed to be trying to awkwardly navigate around one another. He shuffled his feet to the side, trying to move around the table to give Oren room to leave. But then halfway around started taking steps backwards, thinking he could just be the one to leave. The tribbles seemed to be baffled by the movement and began colliding with one another. "Um, well then. Okay. You just... Watch yourself. And I'll be... I've got some things. To do. Some things to do. Medical things."

"Oh..." Oren nodded enthusiastically, looking completely understandingly at Mott. He was a doctor, after all, so it made absolute sense that he's so busy!

"I have to go as well. Anthropology things," Oren agreed, hopping off the table and coming awkwardly close to Mott now only to jump away nervously, nearly falling down into a tribble pillow. Recovering quickly, he cleared his throat. "I'm gonna go. Have a nice day, Dr. Mott." With that, Oren just about ran out of the Observation Lounge and towards his quarters.

[OFF]

Oren Idris, Ph.D.
Archaeologist/Anthropologist
USS Galileo

&

Lieutenant Olsam Mott, M.D.
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

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