In the darkness of the empty cabin she had taken as her own, Lieutenant O'Hara stirred quickly from her uneasy sleep and threw back the jumbled blanket. She barely made it to the adjacent bathroom before she keeled over the toilet pan and threw up. A second wave of nausia would not provide any respite and it was a good ten minutes of kneeling shakily against the head until she slumped back into a more relaxed sitting position.
Having swallowed back a good deal of saliva, she rose unsteadily to her feet and activated the sink unit's small, creamy overhead light. O'Hara raised her pale face and stared, almost unknowingly at the crazy-red-headed person looking back at her. She reached for her supply of drinking water and tipped it over her hands, splashing her face vigorously and rinsing out her mouth with several throat-ripping snorts.
She had hoped the reaction to be a remnant of sickness from the aliens they had encountered less than a week ago. But having missed her last period, and having been sick for several consecutive days, she knew the reason was something else entirely. Besides, Ambassador Narli had stared at her so oddly when they had transported back from the Romulan vessel – he could well have seen something on the transporter bio scan.
Instinctive denial fuddled her normally matter-of-fact attitude, but there was no getting past it - she had to face up to the fact she was in a truly abominable predicament. Hopeful cynic that she was, she reminded herself that until she made a tricorder scan, there was still a possibility it was indeed something else. Gazing deep into her reflected bleary eyes, only one thing became clear - she’d put it off for long enough.
O’Hara stumbled back into the main area of the small quarters, gloomily lit by the streaks of starlight passing beyond the long, thin tinted windows of the junior officer’s cabin. Her nearly replenished medical kit lay open on the floor, her tricorder sitting ominously on a broken chair beside it. Taking a deep breath the Lieutenant braced herself and flipped open the device. Carefully she entered the specifics of the scan, making sure the result would be as conclusive as possible. Twisting the whirring mechanism toward her she let the kit perform the myriad sensor sweeps in the matter of seconds it needed. She did not need to read the results, in fact, as the single flashing green light and steady, repetitive beeping confirmed her worst fears.
O’Hara stood in the corridor leading to the Captain’s office, momentarily paralysed by indecision. There could be no further delay, she thought, even though she hadn’t got the right words or the rational explanation to convey what she needed to. She cast a look back up the ramp toward the bridge, and wondered about putting it off for just another day – perhaps the task would be easier tomorrow. No, already Ambassador Narli may know about her, and any rumour or suspicion could lead to an even more embarrassing exposure later on.
Spurred on by fatalism, she hit the entry button. “Come,” Christian’s slightly croaky sounding voice came through the conventional speaker as if he were right in front of her.
*
Having just relieved himself in the privacy of his now functional private bathroom (much more relaxed and a lot less smelly than the hitherto shared toilet on Deck One), Captain Christian felt lighter, metaphorically, and his mood more up-beat. His face still ached from the previous day’s physical assault, but the Romulan medical equipment O’Hara had stolen from his attackers had brought him back to almost full health. They had also put right what tissue damage and resultant horrific scarring the young girl had suffered from the attack by the spider. What irony.
The doors parted to reveal, coincidentally, Nurse O’Hara. “Ah, Nurse, come in. I was just about to send for you,” the Captain’s face contorted to a look of obvious displeasure.
“Your injuries…?” the Lieutenant walked quickly towards him, concerned that the Romulan medical equipment she’d stolen had done a less than efficient job.
“I’m fine…” the Captain said flatly.
“Then Murak-?” she began.
“He’s fine too,” Christian nodded toward the private corridor on the opposite side of his office that led to his personal quarters. Because the brave young Romulan had near collapsed on the bridge shortly after their escape, Christian had ordered that he be taken to to the nearest bed, in his own quarters below, in order to sleep it off. “Thanks to your unethical actions…” the Captain added mercilessly. O’Hara stopped several paces short of his desk, taken aback by his displeasure.
“Captain we needed those medical-“ O’Hara began to argue.
“…but that’s an issue for Starfleet Medical, not for me,” Christian finished and stood to face her – a bad move considering she was a few inches taller than he, even at this distance. “No, what I’m more concerned about is your rank insubordination.”
He was referring, as well she knew, to her ignoring his order to leave the Romulan ship during his rescue several hours ago; she preferring instead to go deeper into the enemy ship and plunder the Romulans’ already depleted medical stores.
“Not only did you disobey my order-“ he continued.
“You were delerious-“ O’Hara tried to justify herself, but stopped when he raised an eyebrow sharply.
“…but you also put yourself in grave danger,” he snapped. She was about to react once more, but stopped herself as his eyes narrowed. “Please," he growled, "don’t interrupt me again, Lieutenant. And by that action, you put the lives of Murak and Ambassador Narli in danger also.”
O’Hara frowned at him, aggrieved to be so berated having put herself in such danger for him in the first place. And as for Murak and Narli – she hadn’t asked them to follow her. “I was helping to rescue you,” but her words sounded hollow to her own ears.
“I know,” Christian blinked slowly, “and for that I’m grateful. But you still acted more than inappropriately. Despite your not quite yet being a full doctor, you are the ship’s Chief Medical Officer, being the most fully trained medic among several hundred survivors. We simply cannot afford to lose you.”
The Lieutenant straightened, about to say that risk was a part of both their jobs, ship’s commander and CMO alike. But she also realised this was one argument she wasn’t going to win. Technically he was right, after all, but then again what could he possibly do to her out here, thousands of light years from a board of enquiry? “No, Sir,” she bowed her head. “I apologise, Captain. It won’t happen again.”
“Hmf!” Christian dropped heavily into his seat, a smirk on his face. “That remains to be seen." He looked up at the firey red head and studied her Amazonian features in the cool light. While he’d first thought of her as a strong, stubborn, youthful ex-army type, he now saw in her emerald eyes her vulnerability when it came to choosing between ethics and the lives of the people now in her care. Nevertheless, duty needed to be done. “You’re on report, Lieutenant,” he barked. “For two weeks as of now, reporting to the Commodore before and after each duty shift,” he noticed her face flush at this. “And I’m making an official note in your record about your misconduct. Dismissed.”
O’Hara found herself saying “Yessir!” and charging out of the office, her face almost numb from the humiliation and hurt. In the corridor outside she faltered and slumped against the wall, a tear rolling down her cheek despairing that she hadn’t even said what she had intended to – something that she’d now have to try and do all over again.
* * *
ACT 1