The Amazing Cyrin Xanth, Tarkalian Pit Fighter

Posted on 24 Oct 2014 @ 3:33am by Lieutenant Olsam Mott & Petty Officer 3rd Class Ellsworth Hudson & Lieutenant JG Cyrin Xanth

3,342 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 3, Sickbay
Timeline: MD10: 1300hrs

[ ON ]

Olsam turned to replace the medical tricorder on the medcart, only to be greeted by a completely foreign arrangement. The place where the tricorder should have gone was occupied by a thrombic modulator of all the stupid things to have on top of the medcart. But those were the rigors of being in Sickbay after those damn fleet people had come through. He resisted the urge to rearrange things his way - the right way - and turned back to Ensign Xanth.

"Well, you seem to be in relatively good health," Olsam said, eyes shifting from side to side. He usually didn't like to pry in patients lives. Mostly. By and large, really. But sometimes (most times) he just couldn't resist. "Except you seem to have been employed as a Tarkalian pit fighter at some point in your life, right? Because there are a lot of broken bones. Or did you have an abusive wife? Boyfriend? Sister? Brother? Mother?"

Cyrin finished fixing his collar after he'd put back his duty jacket on, and responded with a light in his eyes that was downright mischievous, "No, nothing like that, Doctor. Although maybe I'll become a pit fighter someday, could be a fun experience." Satisfied he'd gotten himself properly presentable, Cyrin waved it off like it was nothing, "Sometimes I like to play a bit hard I guess."

Yeah, Doctor, you know like put on an EVA suit, grab a board, and go riding the impulse wake of passing ships in a busy port, he might of said, but saw no need to get to that presumably enjoyable conversation until he had to. Given the danger involved, when ships were moving so fast, if he were hit he would be nothing more than a smear that messed up a paint job. Even without getting hit, those ion forces could shatter a humanoid's body, or at least break it repeatedly like his own had been. "Good thing for modern medicine, right Doctor?" His smile had become far too innocent now.

"Oh, you're one of those, hm?" Olsam asked, lifting a hairless eyebrow.

The Bolian seemed more amused than upset; after all, it was a good thing for modern medicine. But there was always one like Ensign Xanth on every ship, "mysteriously" breaking and bruising bones and getting lacerations and scratches in seemingly impossible locations. Sometimes, if he'd been bored, he would try to piece together an idea of what was going on with the patient using forensics as a little exercise in medical investigation to keep his skills sharp. That is until he accidentally recreated the very adventurous sex life of a young Orion lieutenant chasing after an explanation for a series of pelvic contusions; Olsam had seen things in his medical mind that could not be unseen.

The ensign chuckled and said, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." He already liked this one. It felt good to be able to talk to one's doctor and know they were a feeling person too. Cyrin's former CMO, a Vulcan, hadn't bothered to engage in any banter and had even put a few notations in his file about his inability to not take ridiculous risks sometimes. "So what's the verdict, sir? Pretty sure my collar bone healed up a good two months ago now."

"The key, of course, is to not break the bone in the same place more than once," Olsam said, holding up the PADD in front of him to try to maintain some illusion of being a serious medical professional while at the same time advising his patient on how best to break his own bones. "You're in perfect health. You know, mostly. I think I'm supposed to tell you to be careful. But I counted at least 47 different fractures, so either you're not listening to all the other doctors who told you that or they didn't tell you. I'm not sure which."

Cyrin's smile had grown wide listening to the Bolian. He'd not even stuttered more than once or twice at the beginning of his physical, because he'd been too intrigued and amused by the man's bedside manner. It had put the normally shy and nervous ensign at ease within minutes. "I'm sorry, Doctor, I think I missed that last part," he said jokingly, standing up from his seat on the biobed and tugging his jacket straight. "47? I must have lost count somewhere, I thought I was at 43 still." Did I break three or four on that trip to Rigel? Or maybe it was that time when I wiped out in the wake of that Galaxy Class monster.

"Well, who's really keeping count, hm?" Olsam asked. He paused before replacing the PADD on the medcart, brow furrowed. "I am keeping count. But, you know, it's not really important, is what I meant to say." He casually tossed the PADD on to the medcart, felt a small tinge of satisfaction as it pushed that stupid thrombic modulator out of place, and smiled at the ensign. "You've got a clean bill of health! You're free to go. Just try not to break any bones before the Galileo departs or..." He looked around, making sure the area was clear, before lowering his voice. "...one of these quacks might end up treating you. Starbase doctors...very sloppy."

That brought another laugh from Cyrin, and he responded just as quietly, "Thanks, Doctor, I'll try to keep that in mind." He certainly wouldn't promise though. Starbase 84 was a big place with plenty of sweet-looking traffic out those viewports at times. In a more normal volume he said honestly and gratefully, "It was nice meeting you. See you around, sir." He walked across the Sickbay and through the doors, wondering to himself if Doctor Mott might like to try it out someday. Cyrin was going to have to wait and see what sort of replicator privileges he had. His next stop should take care of that at least.

The computer directed him to Cargo Bay One when he queried it, and it didn't take long to get anywhere on the small ship. Cyrin ducked between various personnel checking in supplies and personal belongings, or carrying crates with antigrav units. He stopped one not far into the room to ask after the Quartermaster and made his careful way through the busy crowd and cargo.

"Petty Officer Hudson?" he asked, just a little doubtfully. The Quartermaster looked a bit young maybe, but then again everyone looked young after dealing with the ageless Vulcans.

It took Ellsworth a moment to turn away from the cargo manifest because "Petty Officer Hudson" was a little foreign to his ears. Galileo was fairly informal, except that stuck up bastard Pieter, and virtually everyone just called him Ellsworth. When he finally looked up, he let the cargo manifest hang limply in his hand. Oh my, another Trill. Those spots...

"Uh, that's me," the young Betazoid said, letting his eyes roam as much as seemed appropriate (which was actually much more than was actually appropriate). "But just call me Ellsworth, please. Or Ells. Whatever! What can I do for you? Are you from 84? I'm moving things as fast as I can, honest..."

The Trill cocked his head to the side and arched an eyebrow ever so slightly at the odd look he was receiving, perhaps another mannerism he'd picked up from the Vulcan. Ellsworth's black eyes seemed rather...observant. Ah ha, Betazoid perhaps? Having absolutely no idea what the look had been about, he chose to ignore it, "Oh, no, I'm Cyrin Xanth." He held out a hand to shake with a grin. "New astrophysicist. I was told I should come to you to see about getting set up here." His own eyes kept darting about, as if looking for something.

"Oh, Xanth, right, I'd almost forgotten," Ellsworth said, somehow managing to peel his eyes away to look down at the PADD in his hand. He cleared out the cargo manifest temporarily, bringing up Ensign Xanth's personnel file and all the various transfer orders that were attached to it. "Sorry, I meant to come find you earlier but with all the decontamination protocols and everything it's just been...hectic." Breathless, he reached up and pushed a strand of two of fallen hair back into place, taking the opportunity to bat an eyelash or two. "So... Looks like we need to transfer your personal effects on to the ship from the station... Hm. You got a lot of stuff?"

Turning his attention back to the friendly Quartermaster when the man apologized, Cyrin smiled again, "No need to apologize. I understand what you mean perfectly, I've been feeling the same way. Not a lot of stuff though. Just one duffle bag, a couple of personal PADDs, and one large item-" Then he saw it, the gleaming silver and red surface of lightweight polymetallic alloy a few centimeters taller than him had just transported in along with the latest supplies. The Trill's eyes lit up with love as he gazed at his surfboard.

Ellsworth gave him an odd look, sensing the sudden onrush of affection. At first he mistook it as being directed at him, which was very strange given they'd just met today. He was having a good hair day, but that wouldn't explain it. Instead, he finally caught on and followed the man's gaze over his shoulder. He laughed and turned back to Cyrin, grinning.

"You surf? I used to surf on Risa all the time!"

Cyrin looked at Ellsworth excitedly, "You too? That's great! You don't happen to know if we have any good programs on board, do you? We could go surf together, it's always more fun with someone else." In a moment he'd gone form maybe a little formal but friendly to energized and expressive; the scientist's hands gestured as he spoke quickly. He'd have to see if the guy was into ion surfing as well. Cyrin practically beamed at the Quartermaster, "How do you feel about soccer?"

Ellsworth naturally began to reflect the exuberance, pleased to be getting along so well with another new cute shipmate. With nice gray eyes, an athletic body, and spots. Lovely, lovely spots. "I haven't been able to check, but I know a really great one that's in a public database I bet we could access on 84; it's not like the real thing but it's close enough. I haven't bothered with it since I've been on board cuz I haven't had anybody to go with, and it's really boring doing it without somebody else." He laughed, he smiled, and he took the opportunity to lean in a little closer. "I don't think I know soccer... What is it?"

"Its an Earth game," he said as Ellsworth leaned closer, "I'm surprised you haven't heard of it!" If Cyrin had seemed excited before, that was nothing compared to the way his face lit up and how animated he grew now. If there was one thing he loved more than mapping the internal structure of wormholes or risking his fool neck with his surfing, it was this. "Hang on!" he said and, oblivious to the Quartermaster's advances, he darted off.

After a moment he'd gathered his few belongings and returned. The duffel bag with his Academy squadron logos was slung over his shoulder and his board tucked under that arm. In his other hand, he held out a sphere of white and black - a truncated icosahedron he supposed vaguely - and offered it to Ellsworth proudly. "You try to get the ball into your opponent's goal only using your feet. Very popular on Earth and in some places in the Federation too."

"Oh, I think I saw some boys playing with this in a holovid one time," Ellsworth said.

He tucked the PADD under his arm and accepted the soccer ball like a revered holy relic, turning it in his hands and testing its weight. It seemed like a lot of work to run around and use only your feet and very limiting to have your hands out of play. He moved the ball to the side to allow a more direct line-of-sight to Cyrin's legs. You couldn't see much definition through the Starfleet uniform, but he had a good imagination.

"You'll have to teach me to play, but I'm not sure I'd be very good at it... I have a lot of stamina, but I'm not much of an athlete." Ellsworth grinned and did his best to look bashful. "I'm graceful on my feet, though! I dance. It's a little like dancing, right? Just more kicking?"

With a laugh, Cyrin shook his head, "Yeah, more like kicking. I'd be happy to show you sometime. There's a match in a week in fact, between Earth and Angosia. If we're not called away from the station before then I bet we'll be able to get a live stream if you want to watch it together. I'm sure we'll get a copy beamed to us on subspace even if we miss it." He was thrilled at the opportunity to share his love for soccer with anyone, and Ellsworth really was very nice.

Ellsworth planned to spend more time counting spots than watching the soccer game, though there was probably plenty interesting to see there, too. Hadn't those boys in the holovid been wearing shorts as part of their uniform? He had a vague recollection of the sort of calves and thighs that made him a little bit weak in the knees. He smiled at Cyrin and handed the ball back, all the while thinking the soccer game seemed more and more appealing.

Cyrin took the ball back and tucked it up under his other arm. It wasn't a lot of possessions, his bag, board, and ball, but aside from his love of science and family far away that was pretty much the Trill's life laid out in front of the Betazoid. He'd calmed a bit, but still smiled broadly, "Holodeck surfing before we go, soccer match wherever we can find a big screen and a quiet room. So, what's next, Quartermaster?"

Ellsworth had the mildest look of shock and delight on his face, as if he couldn't believe his luck. After his disastrous relationship with K'os, his awkward fling with Grayson and his...whatever it was...with Oren, it would be nice to have something to focus his attention on that was a little more straight-forward. Empathically, he didn't sense any ulterior motive or even obvious base attraction but that was about the limit of his abilities unless he pushed it. And when he pushed it, he got the most unattractive look on his face, so that didn't seem like the right foot to start off on with one of the ship's newest members. So the guy was a little oblivious... Oh well, wouldn't be the first time, he thought.

"Um, well," the young Betazoid said, tone rising suggestively as he glanced down at the PADD in his hands. He seemed to enter a few commands before shutting it off. His dark, glittering eyes fixed Cyrin with a look that mirrored his broad smile, though his body language purposely suggested he was a bit shy about asking. "I have my break if you're free for dinner? I heard there's a nice Ktarian cafe on the starbase..."

"Sure, sounds like fun," came Cryin's response, and a swell of affection at least rose in the ensign though he still hadn't had the same sort of thoughts that the other man had been. It had been a long time since he'd made a friend, and Ells seemed to be a bit shy about it too. Cyrin could pick up on that look easily enough. That made things somehow easier to know that he wasn't the only one, despite the fact that his display in the cargo bay so far had been pretty outgoing. "When did you want to meet? I should probably drop off my stuff and finally replicate something to wear other than a uniform."

Cyrin realized how long they'd been standing there just chatting and blushed a little, cheeks growing red, "I'm sorry, here I am interfering with your work when this has got to be one of your busiest times. Offloading, loading, and putting up with officers who can't help but be chatty when he should probably just ask you for his room assignment and maybe some technical gear before getting out of your hair."

Ellsworth's brow creased and he shook his head, making a sort of dismissive sound between his teeth. He took a half step forward and put his hand gently under Cyrin's elbow. "No, no! It wasn't a bother at all. To be honest, I get tired of being in here... Nothing but cargo containers, transporters, manifests, logistics reports and crewmen too busy to spare a moment to chat. It's very boring, very lonely. The company was welcome, really. You're very...engaging."

His brow relaxed and the frown vanished on command, replaced by a genuinely friendly smile. As he said the words, he realized the truth of them. Oren was really his only friend on the ship, but he was away on Bajor. Ellsworth was, in fact, lonely.

"All right, your room assignment is on its way to your PADD, and I'll get some gear to you by tomorrow. Shall we meet for dinner around, hmmm..." He glanced over at the chronometer, put his finger to his chin as he appeared to think, and then shrugged as if it didn't really matter at all. "Say, 1930 hours? And please tell me you'll change into civvies..." His eyes softened, lips parted halfway and brow drew together to make as adorable a pout as he could muster. "These uniforms chafe my thighs and my sense of style."

The physical touch brought the red back to the ensign's cheeks, and for the first time since coming in there he let out a bit of a stutter in response to the compliment, "Th-thanks. It's nice to be able to sh-share interests with someone." Ellsworth was standing really close at that point he realized. Now he couldn't help but think that maybe the man thought he'd been flirting. Ellsworth was very good looking, to be sure, but that hadn't actually crossed his mind until that moment and hence, the blush. It seemed unlikely though, since the Quartermaster had displayed some shyness of his own and he didn't think everyone was going to be as straightforward as Keval had been.

"Tomorrow should be fine, it's a short list too, some tools and the like. 1930 will work perfectly. Gives me time to replicate something, yeah. I didn't get to carry a lot with me on my last posting and didn't see the point of it on the station when my room and replicator allotments were so small." He frowned down at the man's thighs in concern, his own brows coming down. "Yeah, civvies it is then. I could go for something more comfortable too." He looked into the Betazoid's shining black eyes and smiled broadly again. Cryin's tone became a little more serious, but he was obviously trying to mock himself a bit, "Carry on then, Petty Officer. I'll see you soon."

Ellsworth's heart squeezed in panic for just the briefest moment as he remembered he'd been shamelessly flirting with an officer. All of the admonishments of his mentor, Dr. Pieter Van Zyl, zipped through his head and turned his smile a little lopsided. He had to pay less attention to the person and more attention to the pips before he really got himself into trouble.

"Yes, see you soon!"

[ OFF ]

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

&

PO3 Ellsworth Hudson
Quartermaster
USS Galileo
[PNPC - Mott]

&

Ensign Cyrin Xanth
Astrophysicist
USS Galileo

RSS Feed