Reparations

Posted on 13 Nov 2023 @ 4:51pm by Lieutenant Commander Cintia Sha'mer & Lieutenant Commander Harva Taliborn

1,884 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Miranda
Location: Planetside, camping site 1
Timeline: Post Gone Gamping

It was no small undertaking, establishing camping facilities for several hundred crew. Pre-fab shelters had been beamed down - or at least, separate parts thereof that still needed to be put together. Walls that clicked in to roofs, doors that needed to be slotted in - all physically demanding work. So that was where Harva, the ship's largest and strongest officer, could be found. He still looked rather haggard, but he was doing a lot better, after spending far too long cooped up in his quarters under quarantine.

Ah, yes, his quarters. He knew he'd have to go back and fix those up again when this was all over, as well.

Sha'mer tried to be in twenty places at once, it seemed, which was half directing people what to put where, and half frustration that her own contribution was limited to that. It was good to see people active again, people were busy, working with a determination which varied from grim because of the situation, to happy that they were back on their feet and moving about.

Now that the stitches were gone she could at least wear a brace again, though with the straps of the good one still broken she had taken an older one and just dealt with that. It meant she could ditch the crutches and settle for a cane at least, leaving one hand free. At least she could hold a PADD and use the plan to direct people and goods to the right locations. The first of the shelters was already standing and people were moving around in it, changing it into a temporary sickbay – for not everyone had recovered enough to leave, and from what she'd heard there were still some cases where it wasn't certain if they would make it or not.

Even though he was doing better and could do work, that didn't mean that he was doing well, and as such the big, fuzzy engineer with the bushy tail - at least it would be bushy if he were healthy - decided to take a break after holding up a roof so others could click in the walls. He looked around, and spied a certain someone - someone he'd been wanting to see anyways. As such he headed down to the beamdown site and gathered a box, before lumbering over towards Lieutenant Commander Cintia Sha'mer, heavy footfalls announcing him as he did. "Hey Sha, got a moment?" he rumbled.

"Of course," she said with a smile. She looked him up and down, or rather up and up and down, taking him in. Like many of the people around them, he had looked better. But also, like many others, he had definitely looked worse. "Good to see you back on your feet."

"Thanks," he offered. He sounded remarkably subdued. In part because of the after-effects of the disease that was still in his system, in part because he felt terrible about what he'd done to her, and shuddered to think what would've happened if it'd been someone who couldn't smack his brain with a freight train like she had. "People seem - a bit less than trusting of me, since what happened," his basso profondo resonated. "Not that I blame them, mind you. C'mere a sec, got something for ya," as he motioned to a somewhat quieter space off to the side.

"I can assure you, most people don't even know what happened. Actually, most of the people here are happy enough that they're able to actually do something. Instead of either lying in sickbay, not knowing whether they'll get better or not, or outside and in isolation while hoping not to get sick themselves. Or the in betweens like you were." She followed him to the place he had indicated and lowered herself onto a crate with a sigh. She didn't want to admit it, but she, too, might have been more active than had been wise, perhaps.

He found a crate to sit down on as well, though his complained with a creaking sound as he did, and placed the box he'd collected earlier in between the two of them. "Made you something," he began, motioning towards the box. "By way of apology. Figured I owed you at least a little something something. Now you might say that's not necessary, but I don't wanna hear that, you hear?"

"Well, it isn't-" she began to say as she opened the box. It took a few moments to register what it was. She took it out and examined it closely. It was a brace, to replace the one which got damaged when he attacked. The difference between what she had wore then and what she held in her hands right now was much like the difference between a shuttle and a captain's yacht: the one would get you places, the other would get you places much faster, and in style.

The difference between Harva's gift and what she wore now was even larger still. The brace Harva had crafted – and there was no other word for it – was far lighter than what she had used before. The colour was a dull black which would make it almost invisible against her uniform pants, and – she tilted it in the light of the harsh light of this world's sun – there appeared to be a subtle engraving in it, stylised markings which could be decorations or some kind of unknown script. She ran her fingers over them. The metal felt cool under her fingertips, but not cold, and the inside was lined with a thin layer of a softer material which ensured that she could also wear it on bare skin.

She had no doubt it would fit perfectly.

Sha'mer looked up, momentarily at a loss for words.

He remained silent for a few moments too. An ear flicked, then he chuckled. "I had a lot of time on my hands," he offered, before pointing out the engraving. "That's ancient Sirrahi. It reads, Deyr fé, deyia frændur, deyr sjálfur ið sama. Eg veit einn að aldrei deyr, dómur um dauðan hvern, or, in modern Federation standard, 'Animals die, friends die, you'll die yourself one day, I know but one thing that never dies, the memory of a good friend'."

Sha'mer ran a hand through her short hair. "I, ah… don't really know what to say, other than 'thank you'. It hardly seems enough. It's beautiful." She had never thought she would call a brace beautiful. She had hated the previous versions at times, had been grateful for them at other times because without one she wouldn't be able to move around at all. They had been necessary evils at most. This was so much more than just a medical device. This was a work of art. She was almost afraid to use it. "Um. Would you like to help me put it on?"

"'Thank you' works. I figured you deserved something nice. And, like I said, I had a lot of time on my hands," as he knelt down on the ground in front of her and reached for the brace. It would take only a few moments to put on. "Turns out, titanium alloy is a bit of a handful to work. I wore out quite a few rotary tool bits engraving the words. But I didn't have anywhere else to go, so~"

She handed him the brace and began to undo the fastenings of the old one. "I can only imagine," she replied. Engineering wasn't her strong point, though she had picked up some bits and pieces of it along the way. Enough at least to know that titanium alloy wasn't one of the easiest materials to work with by far, certainly not hand-crafting it. "It's amazing you could even find the focus to do it in your state."

"Only off and on," he muttered. "I also have some oil for you, for maintenance. Down here you should rub oil on the surface every day. Up there on Odin maybe once a week. Keeps dust and particles out of the hinges, keep it from squeaking, maintains the finish. The replicator has the recipe, if you need more," It was more maintenance than her old one needed, but not by that much, and arguably a small price to pay for something that light and strong. It didn't take long for the new brace to be put on, though he left the final tightening of the straps to her; only she knew how tight was comfortable.

"Been doing some thinking about your offer," he spoke as with a wince he rose to his feet again and sat back down on his crate. "About you putting up a firewall in my mind? Ran it by the Captain, he's for it. So I've decided I'm gonna accept your offer. Though - you'll learn things you're not supposed to know. But the Captain had a saying for that, something about cats and bags? I forget."

Sha'mer tightened the straps, tested it by sliding one finger under them and nodded to herself. The brace was very light indeed, she could hardly feel it. Such a difference with the one she had before, it was amazing.

Her fingers found the activation button in the logical place, recessed and seemingly part of the engraved words. She touched it and felt the support field begin to form, felt the slight tingle which indidated it was making contact with the damaged motoric nerve system to pick up the faint signals and perform the movements she wanted to make.

She got up with slow, careful movements, and made a few movements. Then she smiled up at him again. "It fits perfectly." She took a step or two, still holding on to the cane for her balance. "We can schedule it whenever we have time… once the camp has been set up and everyone has been brought down," she said then, finally answering his comment. "Cat's out of the bag already, something like that? Means that the secret is out anyway. And well, there's some stuff in here I don't want anyone else to know either."

"Cat's out of the bag, that's the one. I swear, they have the weirdest idioms," then a tired chuckle. "Though I suppose some of ours might seem that way to them. Different kýr, same hunt, I suppose. I'll find you when everything's calmed down, we'll get it done."

Sha'mer nodded, flashing a brief grin back. "Oh, I'll bet they do. Can't think of a Vo'Sh'un equivalent right away, but I'm sure there must be one." Not that this was relevant in any way, for as far as she knew she was the only one serving in Starfleet right now. "Just let me know when you're ready and we'll do it. And, um… not sure if you want it, but… would you accept a hug?"

"Certainly. But, thank you for asking," as he stood up again, with a wince, and showed Sha'mer why Sirran were the best huggers in known space.

As she was enveloped in his warm, furry embrace and attempted to wrap her arms around him, too, she replied softly: "You're welcome. And thank you, again… frændur."

 

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