" A Race For Time, Against Time. "
[Previous Post - " Mission Analysis " by Esteemed Lady Tiffany Reeve]
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck One, Observation Area
Stardate 30147.0715

As the Captain finished delivering the information and final instructions, Seska could feel her body tense, already her breathing had become light and shallow in controlled rhythm, the unbelievable sense of trepidation hardly showing from her expression. When the sound of his voice had stopped, and every member of the team dismissed at once, her posture lowered itself as it tightened and went into a lean. Before anyone had even the slightest chance to look at her, to react, or adapt, she was gone like some phantom apparition.

::Fifteen minutes.:: The thought repeated in her head, as she raced toward the lift that would take her to deck fifteen. ::Fifteen minutes.:: Almost flying as she navigated the path with a certainty of ease, sliding her way though a narrow passage, or snapped as her entire frame whipped and twisted itself into a turn down a corridor with tremendous agility. Throwing herself in the air over the last few meters as the ACMO vaulted both inside and on to the turbolift, halting temporarily as her hands slammed against the sides of the transport with a resonating slap.

"Computer, Deck Fifteen, increase velocity to four times standard system operation. Do not engage the procedure until I give my mark." Without missing so much as a breath while she issued the command request, dropping her form down, aligned horizontal not far from the floor. Preparatorily bracing herself for the ride. "Initiate." As the means of her conveyance performed the operation, accelerating to specified speed in point zero eight seconds, it whistled through the starship until it had terminated its course. Applying any residual momentum from the trip, Mizore kicked off the surface into a straight chase, rushing toward her personal quarters.
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Fifteen, Personal Quarters
Stardate 30147.0718

The entrance slid open, almost in anticipation of her arrival the moment she advanced on its location, to reveal the comfortable familiarity of her refuge on board the vessel, though this was hardly a time to appreciate the surrounding atmosphere she had created in the short time she had been assigned to the ship. Stopping herself, as she visually scanned the area thoroughly for the few items she hastily improvised, planning for the away mission. Expeditiously seizing the tricorder from the bedside stand in her left hand with a deathly grip, throwing the portable medical kit on the bed, swiftly forcing it open with a flurry of motion, surveying its contents once, examining each apparatus, checking the appropriately assembled and organized materials twice. Waylaid from withdrawing from her quarters, there was one last matter to attend, Mizore deftly rigging the sheath containing her modified Bajoran phaser, holstering it to her left thigh, before lashing the medical kit to her.

Resolving to take the device was something that was never questioned or doubted, even for an instant. ::Some might view it as uncharacteristic or somewhat ironic, a Medical Officer armed with a weapon.:: There was the obvious fact, its original design and intent was to pacify or worst case scenario, kill. However, for every valid reason one could pose to disagree, she knew and was convinced she could counter with another nonlethal point to having it with her or on her person. In her eyes it was an invaluable tool yet still so much more. It had been and always would be a comfort to her, through some belief that links her to her father, that he might still be watching over her, or superstitiously that it might at least possess a little luck.

"Computer, state the current time." As the Ensign broke from the space, reestablishing her former pace, rushing as she rampaged through the interior of the USS ANUBIS, the system responded as it tracked her location. =/\= Current time is 0721. =/\= Resembling scarcely more than a flash of black and streak of Starfleet green. The rigorous conditioning during the reintegration to active status as an officer did little to diminish her physique, leaving Seska inclined to believe she had improved significantly. ::Nine minutes.:: The thought ricocheted inside her mind, resounding in her ears so intensely that she was deafened to anything and everything around her, which effectively affected her by heightening both her awareness and reaction time, though she was rendered audibly blind.

Hitting the turbolift, practically screaming when assuming the position she had taken to traverse the span of distance between decks one and fifteen amid her last flight. "Computer, Deck Twentynine, Specialized Craft Hangar Area, set velocity at four times standard system operation on my mark engage the procedure. On reaching designated destination, delay opening the lift for precisely sixty seconds, notify at ten seconds prior to enacting procedure." exhaling slowly, until there was nothing left, holding her stance hovering ever so slightly off the structure beneath her. "Ready, steady. . . Go."

Seska's eyes slammed shut, her hands in a white knuckled grip on the flooring, along the wild ride she felt the recoil ripple across her as she fought to maintain her composure and virtually prone formation. When the inertia had dissipated, the ACMO elevated to stand upright at her full height. One minute was all she had allowed herself to tend to her mental and physical state. Making use of the polished metallic sheet, plaited her hair, brushed her uniform at the shoulders, and generally collected herself, exuding a serene sense of calm under pressure in mere moments of time. =/\= Ten seconds, Doctor Mizore. =/\=
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck 29, Specialized Craft Area
Stardate 30147.0728

The lift doors released, granting her access or entrance into the docking bay, not so mush as a hair out of place or a single trace of sweat. When a satisfied smirk fell across her lips, one she wore plain and proudly as she slickly joined the ranks, offering the customary Vulcan hand sign with her right to those in attendance that reported for the mission. Seska even went so far as to offer the Intelligence Liaison Officer a wink, which caught Shar'el off guard a bit, causing the Ullian born female a minor sensation of interest, invoking a mild curiosity. Then, she began to think of the Commanding Officer's order, speculating that the imposed limitation he had placed on the team was a challenge of sorts. For her, personally, it would provide a method of testing her medical response time. ::I have not been beaten yet. Compared to the ten kilometer training course on VULCAN, competing against Vulcans, this posed only a relative or slight challenge.::
Gwen Spellblade
Ensign Mizore Seska
Assistant Chief Medical Officer