Kainga

Posted on Tue Jul 9th, 2024 @ 5:00am by Lieutenant Commander Atarangi Renard-Aukai MD

1,153 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Mission 0: In the beginning....
Location: Aukai's Quarters, Deck 3
Timeline: MD 0 2140

On:

Atarangi lazed on her bed, a pile of padds tossed haphazardly across the bedspread. She was mostly out of uniform, her jacket tossed haphazardly into the seat of a nearby chair under the desk, with her uniform pants nearby - swapped out for loose and comfortable shorts and her uniform undershirt. She read over a few medical crew members' profiles to end the day, eyes scanning to try to get a feel for the team as a whole. She was a bit overwhelmed with just how many team members she had to go through. She was going to have to delegate to her ACMOs pretty heavily. She simply couldn't be at all three medical bays every day.

Her ears perked up as her computer chimed. "Incoming personal communication." The bland voice of the computer chimed in.

"Who is it?" She asked softly.

"Commander Nicholas Renard."

The CMO blinked and stared at the ceiling. "Did I forget to upload my preferences for your interface, computer?"

"No preferences have been updated."

"Remind me to do that. For now, update Nicholas Renard to Dad," The computer chimed in response, but Atarangi sat up quickly, "Oh, wait, is it an official Starfleet channel or civilian?"

"The communication is on a civilian channel."

"Okay, good, Dad for civilian, Dad at Work if he ever chimes with a Starfleet channel." The computer chimed again as she sat up and stretched, before adding, "Put him through."

She was still spinning around to face the nearest screen when her adoptive parents popped into view, "Hey, kiddo, we were just about to give up," Her father said, an older fellow - still with the classic Starfleet shaves, but growing a bit older - his hair was near stark white, he'd gained some weight since she was a kid, but his smile was as warm as it had ever been.

"We reckoned you were buggered," Her mother chimed in. She was a Maori woman, and a respected one at that, bearing the traditional tattoos and all, still proudly serving her community as a doctor with no signs of wanting to retire.

"Sorry, still getting set up."

"Oh, we've been there," Her dad smirked. "Starfleet standard issue quarters are bare the first night. You'll have it all set up before long."

"How's the medbay?" Her mom asked.

"We're still setting them up."

"Them?"

"There's three, primary sickbay, a secondary down near crew decks, and a tertiary near the hangar bays. Still retrofitting them, but we'll be up an' running like a veritable hospital before you know it."

"She have civvies?" Nicholas asked, his tone belying a bit of curiosity on the response to the recent events and Starfleet decisions on how to move forward.

Atarangi shrugged a bit, "Not sure. Space for about five hundred, but I don't know if its specialists, family, or what. I haven't seen any yet, but we're still outfitting everything here. I've got weeks of work to fit into days, you know, the usual."

Her dad nodded. Her mother on the other hand blurted out what both were thinking, "You sure this is what you want to do, Ata? After all you've given the Fleet, no one would fault you for taking some time to come home, surf..."

"I'm sure, mum," The hybrid spoke with a little smile. "I'd love to spend time at home, and I will, I promise - but, the Fleet needs people up here, and out there making sure that spirit in us is still burning bright."

"It's okay to let others carry that torch you know,"

"I know... but the Fleet saved me, brought me loving parents, helped me learn about myself, my heritage, and then gave me a way to pay all of that forward."

"I told you so," Her father said softly, warranting a playful pat from her mother.

"We worry, is all."

"I know," Atarangi said with a warm smile, "Knowing you guys are worried about me will keep me grounded. Gotta make sure these kids get home safe, right?" She sighed, "Try not to worry too much. We're carrying the torch, repairing some of the damage done, but even though this ship is built for war - we're a response vessel. Not much of a safer place to be. And besides, I don't know this captain well enough to expect they'll let me on away missions too often - at least none like the old pararescue days."

"Rapid response sounds like a more dangerous type of ship," Her mother argued, "That doesn't help."

"We show up after the other ships get into trouble, which means we know a lot more about what is going on and we have the equipment to handle it." The CMO argued back, though she knew it was a stretch, to say the least. Still, it assuaged her mother somewhat.

"Fine. Try not to worry us too much though. Still, plan on calling...?"

"Yes, every week. Three times if I can, but at least once a week. And I'll let you know if we're going out of range for some reason," Atarangi added with a smile. "How else am I going to get second opinions on whatever comes up in my medbay, or as a Commander?"

Her parents groaned a bit at her joking and then her father leaned forward, "You get set up and we'll talk to you again soon. Just wanted to check in. Be careful out there, and we love you and are proud of you," He added with agreeing nods from her mother, who echoed the statements as he spoke.

"Thanks. I love you both too. Soon it'll look like home here and I'll give you the tour on our next call - maybe even sickbay if I can get things done before the crew arrives fully." She added.

Her parents waved, and the screen flickered off after quick goodbyes, and she was alone in her quarters once more. There was a quiet to that moment that was hard to explain. She hoped that she wasn't lying to her parents, that this was where she needed to be, and that it was a safe place to keep carrying out her work - or at least as safe as Starfleet ever was. But part of her - that medical-minded cynic always looking for a source to symptoms - was worried that she was making this move for the wrong reasons. This is what she knew, and if she took time off if she sat down and waited for even a moment, she'd have to face the wounds from the past, and exactly how well she was healing from them. She couldn't risk lingering there at the moment, though. For now, work...

She groaned and stretched. "Computer, let's get my preferences, right? First, let's make this sound a bit more like home. Can you add a New Zealander accent to your subroutines?"

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