"Provoked to a Responsive Reaction"
[Previous Post "Overloaded" by Jayson ]
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Seven, Counselor’s Office
Stardate: 30149.1651

"I will not allow you to make any decision that may risk Shar'El's life," Seska stated, rather blatantly and forthright, being the one to advocate for Shar’El and her life.

"Doctor," the Counselor continued, turning her attention solely onto the ACMO, "Shar'El's odds of making it through this in one piece would be much greater if you are here with us.  Should you wish to uphold your objection I will have no other choice but to have you removed from this room and proceed without you.  So, for Shar'El's sake, please reconsider your position. We all need you here to help her."

Seska let slip a low growl, as she did her best to push her disapproval to the background for the time being. Soon as Eve gave her ultimatum, there was an instant or immediate rift, as if some unbreachable personal and moral chasm now separated the Bajoran Doctor and Cardassian Counselor. "Fine. I want it on record that I am against doing this.” the ACMO eventually said, knowing that time had been of essence.

:: You ever pull anything like this, even remotely close or similar, ever again. There will be a swift and decisive reckoning forthcoming, of that one can be sure. I swear it. :: Seska aimed a glare at the Counselor, so cold, it would almost chill the blood or kill from a distance.

Now that it was unquestionably obvious and apparent, that while Dalziel may have been in part, Bajoran raised, her Cardassian self interest was now and would forever be noticeably present somewhere in her genetic traits, which not only sickened Seska, had shut down and single handedly destroyed any future interest in social interaction with the woman outside any official capacity either Starfleet or the Federation required or demanded of her.

The fact that the new Chief Tactical and Security officer was even in attendance, much less had anything to speak of, had not even registered to the ACMO. As if for one moment, there had only been Dalziel and Mizore warring over the state and life of Shar’El.

While Mizore may have acquiesced to the operation, she did so, and remained, only for the sake of Shar’El. Her expression pointed harshly, that she made no allusions otherwise. She would not, by any means short of taking the ILO’s place, lose Shar’El now, even as she had only started to know and develop a newly forged connection to or with the woman. If or had the events been altered, or changed in any way, and it was Eve in the role of the Ullian, this would have been a very different situation.
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Seven, Counselor's Office
Stardate: 30149.1801

When it was over, Seska knew all that had really been accomplished or achieved was nothing more that accessing the information, a mere copy of whatever rested or resided within the ILO’s mind. Leaving whatever the ancient machination had done, or placed there, still lay in that of the Ullian’s mind, and still had the potential to affect her memory or the chance to threaten her thoughts or possibly complicate, even terminate her existence.

As she escorted Shar’El toward Main Sickbay, when the door slid open to the corridor between the Counselors office and the Medical facility, Eve’s voice rose to chime in. “Thank you for staying, Doctor.” The ACMO stopped dead in her tracks, for a time not a word was spoken in reply or response. Seska stood in complete silence before allowing herself to give a slow turn of her head with a surprisingly dark and gritty look, she locked eyes with Eve. “This is hardly, more specifically to the point, neither the time or place for me to give you any sort of real, honest answer. So I take my leave of you with a simple ‘goodbye’.” Keeping her words short, though her intonations of her last words had been given with a definite spite, and emphasis of derisive contempt. Reserving the full entirety of her wrath and outrage for a more appropriate moment, she returned to the task at hand, where she guided her patient across the corridor to Main Sickbay to recover, for both Shar’El as well as herself.
Setting: USS ANUBIS, Deck Seven, Main Sickbay
Stardate: 30150.0620

"I was not truly given a choice.” the Bajoran repeated again, continuing to drive the point, knowing within that her argument had already been a losing one.

When she looked away briefly, she cursed under her breath. :: The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. :: Every Vulcan knows this, even those that are connected to Vulcan’s understand this aspect of their philosophy. :: Still, I cannot accept that, not in this case. :: There was no clear threat nor had there been any present danger to anyone, to the ANUBIS, or any member of the crew other than Shar’El. :: A life for for a few thousand of years of intelligence is not a worthy cause or sacrifice, especially considering it could be anything from inter dimensional warp travel theory, to simultaneously existing temporal paradox star charts, to a sugarless gluten free chocolate chip cookie recipe. ::

Seska had become so lost in her thoughts, that they had been given voice, attempting to resolve the realization as she verbally mused it to herself. In a low whisper gave way to a logical stream of words. “Though what I fear most, is that it was a self preservation algorithm or process. The very real and legitimate possibility that we have have somehow released this ancient machines own sentient consciousness and existence in to the ships computer.” As one of only a very few who had any direct connection to the machine, her mind tried to reconcile the validity of such a thing happening.

She paused for an instant, snapping her attention back to the CO, as she looked back at the Native American as if trying to make sure that she had correctly understood what had been said.  "Doctor Doyanne is in charge of ‘this’ Sickbay," the Bajoran Doctor stated, her words having been spoken with a certain hesitation and degree confusion.

"Doctor Doyanne has taken on new responsibilities leaving the position of Chief Medical Officer open," the Captain explained. "I was hoping that you would accept taking over. I don't need an answer now. Think about it and advise me before the end of the day as I will need to know if we have a new CMO when we arrive at NEW ALEXANDRIA."

Seska, with some hesitation, nodded to the CO, a light smile on her lips. As the Native American made his way out of Sickbay, her attentions turned once more to her new friend, Shar’El. She understood what he said, and wondered first if she had actually heard the right of it. Having been offered the position of CMO, which took her by shock initially. She had always wanted to become a Chief Medical officer somewhere in Starfleet.

:: The current CMO withdrawing from the position, having been personally invested in overseeing her own research on some foreign fragment of alien technological hardware. Is this really how one, let alone I myself, would want rise to, or achieve such a position. ::

While the whole scene with the CNS seemed to play repeatedly on a cycle. It had at least proven one thing, Seska knew she could perform the role, could hold the position and do so quite well. She could be counted or relied on, completely separating her personal issues from the professional responsibilities required  and expected of a CMO. That was all Mizore needed, it was decidedly settled then and there, at least on her side. That she would take the position and accept it graciously, honoring in some small form, one half of a promise made nearly four decades ago.

Seska would patiently withhold her answer however, as Morningstar had expressed or implied, for any number of reasons, many of which where valid, being rather personal, quite private, deeply religious or philosophical.
Gwen Spellblade

Ensign Mizore Seska
Assistant Chief Medical Officer