Previous Next

Morning Hatred Blues

Posted on 19 Jun 2020 @ 3:38pm by Lieutenant Almir Cyrus
Edited on on 19 Jun 2020 @ 3:40pm

Mission: Ohuna - The Secret
Location: USS Mercy

0528:
Almir’s eyes open, the vast darkness of his room shielding his eyes for a moment. He laid there, just staring into space, keeping his head on his pillow. Was it time to get up? No, it couldn’t be. It was just another dream. Another thing to lull him awake from the thing he craved the most these days. Sleep. It was still hard to get a full night’s rest. Even though he had spent more time on fleet side than his time with the Marine’s, it was those times that always haunted him. For the first year he was hazed quite extensively due to this Romulan heritage. He had been used to it from his younger years, and it’s not like the kids on his Parrises Square’s teams were nice to him. There was just something different about how the Marines did it, and it was always when he was asleep.

A small, soft chime started rumbling low, and got louder every few seconds. Fvadt he cursed to himself. It *was* time to get up.

“Computer,” he called, awaiting the typical chime. “Turn off alarm, set lights to 20 percent,” he groaned to his electrical friend.

He waited in bed a few more moments, as was customary for the Doctor. A few more groans were audible, and he finally withdrew himself from the comfort of his sheets. As drug himself over to his sink and stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. Almir grumbled again, shaking his head this time.

He disrobed himself and stepped into the sonic shower, waiting for a moment. “Computer, active Sonic Shower,” he called out before closing his eyes.

This was a daily routine for Doctor Almir Cyrus. “I hate mornings,” he grumbled to the air.

0615:
The Romulan half-breed, finally being dressed and clean, stopped at the mess decks for a moment, grabbing his typical cup of black coffee. He actually found the taste quite repugnant, but the caffeine sure did the trick in the mornings. Always a cup of coffee, no real food. He would sit by himself for the few moments it took him to drink it, and usually off to the corner. No one really bothered Almir unless they needed too. Something about him being Romulan was always prevalent. No matter to him though, he had learned to enjoy the solitude since he was younger. It just made him feel more at ease instead of watching over his shoulder.

0630:
Almir walked into his office, which was adjacent to the Medical Bay. On a typical morning, he would go in, read the reports from last night, send a few messages, and then start his day. He *hated* being an assistant department head, however, he knew that this was his only change for forward movement. He just hated the paperwork. He wanted to do medicine, treat patients, teach the young Corpsman that were coming in who were eager to learn by almost any means necessary.

This morning was different though. As he walked into his office, he immediately noticed that his Department Head, Command Kitscher was sitting in a guest chair on the opposite side of the desk from his own chair. His head tilted a little as he walked in to his side of the desk and kind of staring at the older man in front of him, the one person he had found to actually be a mentor.
“Sir, am I late or something?” he asked, curious if he spent too much time drinking his coffee this morning.

The older humanoid with salt and pepper hair laughed a little. “Not at all my friend. I’ve only been in here a minute before you came in. I always hear of your punctuality in the morning, but I wanted to see it.”

Almir gestured a whisking motion with his hand, dismissing the comment, a slight crack on the upper right corner of his lip. “You know I’m either on time or early Sir.”

“Oh now,” Commander said shifting. “I distinctly remember one instance in where you were late to your duty that morning. Something, something, something, too much ale, something, something.”

A small glare peering through Almir’s eyes, but the playful crack in his upper right lip never wavered. “If I remember, Sir, you were late that morning as well. I also needed to give you some fluids.” He shrugged. “You started that night, I just finished it.”

“You and your damn Romulan Blood,” Kitscher said laughing. “It’s not fair that you metabolize alcohol differently.”

Another shrug came from Almir, “Should tell you something when my species Ale is banned in the federation.”

They both smiled at each other for a few, letting the moment pass.

“I’m sure you’re not here to reminisce Commander,” Almir finally said. “What can I do for you?”

Kitscher shifted in his chair, this time looking a little uncomfortable. “Almir Cyrus. You’ve done amazing things here on the Mercy, despite the odds being stacked against you. Your teaching program for the new Corpsman is top notch, you ascended to being my number two, you are in line for your own department on a ship.”

“I’m sending a ‘but’ in there Commander,” Almir stated. His expression turned neutral, even though he was fairly certain he knew what was about to happen.

“But,” Kitscher said with a nod. “There are some – concerns – if you’re really ready to take over a medical department on a vessel for exploration and not medical.”

“I don’t think I could roll my eyes hard enough for you to understand,” Almir said, keeping his expression as stoic as possible. It wasn’t really needed because Kitscher was the first person to really get to know Almir, and the first person he’d really call a friend.

“I know,” Kitscher said sighing. “I fought as hard as I could for you, but I’m being overruled right now. However, there is some light at the end of the tunnel.”

“There rarely ever is when it comes to me,” he commented.

“You’re being given the department head position at the Diplomatic Compound on Bre’el IV. And before you say anything,” he said putting his hand up just knowing Almir was going to say something. “This is not a death sentence. Yes, it’s smaller, but you won’t have resources. It’ll be you, a few nurses and some Corpsman and that’s it. If you can make this work, a ship is yours next.”

Almir shook his head just a little and sighed. This was always an issue when it came to him. He was never good enough in the eyes of most of his superiors. He was part Romulan. That was a death sentence for him, but he knew that coming into this. He knew he was going to have issues, he had just hoped that by now some things would blow over. Apparently not. After he left a few moments go, he nodded.

“Then it’s settled,” Kitscher said, “even though you don’t have much of a choice. You leave on a shuttle in three days at 0600 hours. You’ll be at Bre’el IV at the end of the week. Start strong, keep that place a float, and one of these days you’ll have your own boat to deal with.”

Almir nodded and reached out a hand. “Thank you Sir,” he said with the extension and shaking.

Kitscher smiled, “You got this Almir, I know you do.” He smiled at his friend for a moment then nodded. He stopped up and exited the office but stopped and made sure the doors closed behind him. He heard the obvious thud of a PADD being thrown against a wall and broken. A small sigh escaped his breath as he continued on.

Inside the office, Almir was fuming. Again, the boiling over of emotions had peaked as he had, indeed, tossed the PADD at the door and it shattered. He placed both of his elbows on his desk and dropped his head into his hands.

“Have I mentioned, I *really* hate mornings.”

--

Lt Almir Cyrus, SF, Incoming CMO
USS Hawaii

 

Previous Next

labels_subscribe