Pistols at Dawn

Posted on Fri Nov 11th, 2022 @ 11:31pm by Beya & Evelyn Reynolds & Oliver Lucas

Mission: Mission 16: Hysperia
Location: Science Lab
1974 words - 3.9 OF Standard Post Measure

"That's a fairly basic principle," Beya noted as she went over the latest lesson. "Bases will have almost no conductivity., while the conductivity of acids will be proportional to the level of acidity."

Evelyn, who had spent the best part of the last fifteen minutes making adjustments to the holographic diagnostic unit, glanced up and smiled. "I expect you'll find quite a bit in these early modules that you've already covered as some sort of practical encounter."

Or past lessons. You are the fourth doctor who's offered medical training. Beya didn't say it, not wanting ot jinx things. "I have had some course work to qualify as a med tech," she replied instead.

Whilst she couldn't speak for the previous physicians, Evelyn had approached the establishment of a remote learning post on board with the same kind of tenacity she showed most things. In the absence of a better place to be, she certainly didn't intend to abandon her two students, at least not until they had finished their accreditation, though she'd be the first to admit the whim of the universe wasn't currently something she had much control over. The tap of fingertips over the holo-bed's controls brought up the prone form of a seemingly middle-aged human male and, glancing upwards, Evie checked her input one last time before calling the Orion over.

"Okay, so to get used to the diagnostic unit's protocols, the best advice I can give is to treat it as much like a real scenario as possible. It's an older model, it hasn't got all the bells and whistles of the newer builds, but it is still a sophisticated medical tool. Right now, we're using it to fabricate a medical emergency. In the case of an actual emergency, Errol can take a patient's scans and use them to replicate a holographic interpretation that allows for non-intrusive investigation. A guinea pig, I think they used to call them." She patted the unit's overhead scanner. "Just a lot less furry. Errol, commence initial analysis."

The system was far and away more sophisticated than anything Beya had had in her prior training, which had been primarily hands-on (often in fact 'just do sometihng - this guy is bleeding out!'). She took a moment to orient herself to the options and screens as the data began to appear, though out of habit she was also evaluating the physical representation of the patient - pale waxy skin, a slight blue cast to nail beds...

Stumbling in through the door, a very distracted, pale-faced young man almost bumped into a cabinet before noticing he wasn't alone in the room. Placing the PADD down very carefully on the side, he cleared his throat, mumbled a barely audible apology and let his haunted eyes flit between the two women already in the room.

"Oliver," Beya said, abandoning the holographic patient for the friend who looked to be experiencing a real crisis. "What's wrong?" she asked, wrapping an arm around him for support, even as she ran eyes over him in the same sort of scan for physical signs of disease or injury.

Evelyn, who had been content to consider her own notes whilst Beya explored the first impressions of the case study, likewise looked up with consternation that deepened to a frown as she took in the other medic's composure, or lack thereof. Setting aside her PADD, she moved to directly in front of him, leaving Beya to the task of physical support whilst she reached out a hand to lift his chin so she could check his eyes. "What happened?"

Oliver glanced at the PADD he'd deposited on the counter, and touched it with his fingertips. "So...remember...the other day? With the thing at the bar?" He swallowed, nervously making eye contact with Evelyn first, then Beya. "The guy I hit was some sort of local noble. Or relative of one, I don't know. But...he's sent us some sort of challenge. I...I think he mentions a duel?"

It wasn't even close to an anticipated response, though Evelyn was unsure what she expected in the first place. Dropping her hand to gift him back the personal space she knew he preferred, the doctor frowned and turned her attention to the PADD. Picking it up, the flick of a thumb scrolled through the contents as mounting disbelief dominated the stunned blonde's expression. "You've got to be kidding me."

Reading over Evelyn's shoulder, Beya frowned, a perfectly shaped brow lifting as the corners of her mouth drew down. She understood duels - it wasn't unheard of among the men on Orion ships, and generally considered a better option than the more traditional 'knife him in a passageway' or 'poison his meal' response to insult since with things in the open even if both parties killed each other (which observers would usually try to prevent so they wouldn't have to make up the work from down crewmembers) it tended to end there, rather than spiraling into a cycle of friends revenging friends. However, she couldn't imagine Oliver as someone who would or even could give the kind of offense claimed in the flowery overblown language here, which frankly reeked of the kind of privilege that considered anything short of someone from a lowerclass licking their boots as a personal affront. "This is complete rubbish. Who does this guy think he is?"

"It's signed 'Ser Crispin Cuthbert Gerald Rufus the third'?" Oliver said, styling it like a question since he had no idea whether all the names actually denoted some sort of station or prestige. He ran a hand over his temple, willing the stress of it all to go away. "Maybe...I shouldn't go to the festival. It might be best if I stayed here, out of the way. So I'm not causing trouble."

"He was the one who took it upon himself to interfere where he wasn't wanted," Evelyn pointed out, guilty and frustrated at the part she'd played in this, albeit unintentionally. "I also think, if his method of conflict resolution is pantomimed violence, that you already bested him in that regard." There was the fainted twinge of humour to her tone, and a certain amount of relish at the recollection of the man's snivelling retreat. "If he was so concerned with settling a score, he could have stepped up at the time instead of cowering in his weskit." Handing the PADD back to Oliver, Evelyn concluded in a tone that declared victory without a fist raised, "I don't see why you should let a coward dictate your movements." Her raised eyebrows were meant as a show of support. "His impudence already set us back a lunch date that has to be rectified. I believe you owe me some pottage."

Beya nodded firmly. "I agree. You can't let this worthless snarga make you miss out on the festival. If he insists on trouble, you leave him to me." An almost anticipatory smirk formed on the Orion's face. "If he's worried you made him look bad, just wait till I'm done 'making a spectacle' of him."

Without any true intent, Evelyn's expression of agreement forged a united front that merged the two women's potential for opinionated assertation into one, indomitable force. An open hand gestured towards Beya to both acknowledge, and support, her sentiments. "There you go. I'd have an Orion fight for me any day. And," she pointed out, "if he's so intent on evoking the code of honour, a nominated Second is practically a requirement."

"Second?" Beya tilted her head thoughtfully. "So that means I get to be go between and tell him his challenge is frivolous and not worth your time and effort. And if he won't accept that and decides to bluster or call you a coward, I can claim insult and challenge him!" she said with a mischievous chuckle. "Ooo, I'm going to enjoy slapping him. I'll bring my new dragon scale gloves."

A pair of forlorn eyes flicked between the two women. "I couldn't ask you to get involved...it wouldn't be right. I think I should just forget about the whole thing," Oliver protested, somewhat weakly. He'd mostly given up even before entering the room anyway.

Though she reached out to lay a reassuring hand on his elbow, Evelyn's attention was directed at the excited Orion. "Without knowing how much liberty they've taken with the original code of honour, I'd say there's a reasonable chance you could work it that way. I think it's important we don't make it seem like Oliver isn't prepared to turn up himself though."

Her blue eyes shifted to meet the melancholy medic's and Evie's toned dropped to a more gentle logic. "His reaction to you was motivated by more than pride. His entire reason for believing I needed his assistance at all became blatantly obvious when he started alluding to your implants. This is prejudice, pure a simple, Oliver. If we let this kind of sentiment fester here, it's only going to be harder for others like you to visit in future."

And there it was indeed. The prejudice faced by anyone 'liberated' over the years. Of course she was trying to understand that experience, and sympathise with him, but she would never really understand it. Not truly. His heart skipped a beat when she referenced the implants; his not-quite-hidden-enough shame. "I don't see how it can get much harder," he admitted. "It's hardly just 'here' anyway. Try walking through Freecloud..." he sighed.

Unlike many sympathisers, Evelyn had at least gone out of her way to befriend one of the most intricately complex people she'd ever met. Morcan had always been very open about his experience, the impact it had on his telepathic foundations and what reintegration felt like from a physiological, emotional and societal perspective. She would never profess to know what it was like, but neither was she content to remain silent and leave the battle for acceptance to those already vulnerable and isolated. "Maybe we can do that one day," she replied stubbornly. "And if anyone tries to stop us and contest my right to make my own choices over the company I keep, I'll break their nose myself." She offered him a faint smile. "But right now, this bully needs putting in his place. Besides," Evie added with a deepening mischief. "If I don't see his reaction to Beya wearing nothing but dragon-hide gloves, this entire trip will be ruined for me."

"I wasn't going to wear only the gloves," the Orion chuckled. "I want him able to pay attention to watch I'm going to say to him. Which is that his challenge is nonsense and even if it weren't, he's not a worthy of facing Oliver." She lifted her chin haughtily, rolling her eyes with dismissive disgust. "I mean, how many times should he have to humor frightened little boys trying to prove their nonexistant manhood by fighting a former Borg? It's tiresome."

Oliver's reaction to having two women want to fight this battle for him was mixed to say the least. Ignoring the pain of the prejudice he was having to experience, there was something culturally uncomfortable to have other people put themselves into harms way like that, especially on his behalf. "I don't understand why you would put yourself through all that. If he hurt you...either of you...I wouldn't be able to forgive myself." It was a last, desperate plea. He wasn't going to win this conversation, he was coming to conclude.

"You're so sweet." Beya patted his arm. "But don't you worry about me. I doubt he can even lay a hand on me, and if he did, well," she smiled, "then I get to really enjoy making him cry."