Stranger in a Strange Room
Posted on Sat Apr 5th, 2025 @ 4:34pm by Lieutenant Commander Zosia & Lieutenant Addison Talbert
Edited on on Sun Apr 6th, 2025 @ 11:10pm
3,431 words; about a 17 minute read
Mission:
Like Sands Through The Hourglass
Location: Sick Bay - Deck 4 - USS Herodotus
Timeline: MD002 1300 hrs
Zosia stepped into Sickbay, her keen eyes sweeping over the compact space. It was efficient, practical—spartan, even by Starfleet standards. A single biobed stood as the central focus, no doubt doubling as a surgical bed when needed. Just beyond, she noted the critical care ward with its three beds and the ICU, tucked off to the side with two additional stations. The room was clean, orderly, yet unembellished—a place meant for necessity over comfort.
It was always fascinating to see how each era, each species, approached the art of healing. Over the millennia, she had witnessed medical spaces that ranged from grand and ornate temples to dimly lit tents on battlefields. This one? Practical. Predictable. Starfleet.
Her purple eyes landed on a woman she recognized from her personnel file—Dr. Addison Talbert. There was something grounding about her presence, something solid in the way she carried herself. A woman shaped by experience, loss, and resilience, yet still here, still healing others.
With a small, knowing smile, Zosia stepped forward, her voice gentle but clear.
"Dr. Talbert, I thought it was time I introduced myself."
A brief pause, then a flicker of dry amusement touched her tone.
"I imagine you’ve had quite a few new faces to catalog since coming aboard. I'm Lieutenant Commander Zosia, Chief Engineer."
Her gaze held a touch of playfulness, but she had little doubt the doctor’s well-trained eye had already assessed her—her petite frame, her unnatural stillness, the weight of centuries resting just behind her expression.
She had dodged a formal examination for some time now, but she suspected that might be about to change.
Addison regarded Zosia for a moment, having warmth and amusement dancing in her blue eyes. Addison got the sense of the engineer having taken a measure of her, much like she had with Zosia. "Wise move, as I would have gone a hunting." an easy smile appearing. "From your personnel file you are, Lanthanite. And you are the first one that I have met, to my recollection. Before we get into the exciting examination, which won't take too long, do you have any taboos as to being examined by Starfleet standard equipment?" This wasn't an idle question, there were some who had their own procedures and protocols as well as racial taboos.
Zosia let out a quiet chuckle, the sound warm but edged with the understanding of someone who had navigated such questions countless times before.
"No taboos, Doctor. Just the usual caution when dealing with a physiology that tends to perplex even the most seasoned of medical professionals."
She tilted her head slightly, her smile deepening with wry amusement.
"But I appreciate the warning—gives me just enough time to consider a daring escape. And what exactly do you hunt with?"
"I would be armed with the trusty medical tricorder and would track you down, even in the jefferies tubes. I would be polite and not barge into your quarters though. There also isn't enough room for me to use my bolas or even a lariat, to capture you." Addison let that sink in for a moment. "Setting some kidding aside, I'm glad that you did come to see me."
Zosia gave a slow, deliberate nod, her smirk lingering. “Good to know, Doctor. I’ll be sure to watch my back in the tubes—though I’d almost like to see you attempt a lasso capture in such tight quarters. Might be worth the escape attempt just for the spectacle.”
Her gaze softened slightly, a quiet acknowledgment of the sincerity behind Addison’s last words. “But I suppose I’ll spare you the chase—for today, at least.” She gestured toward the biobed with a graceful sweep of her hand. “Let’s get this over with before I change my mind. Besides, I’m curious to see how long it takes before the words ‘that’s unusual’ come up.”
With an easy step forward, she perched herself on the edge of the biobed, her eyes gleamed with quiet amusement.
"How many times have you heard that question directed towards you? And are there medical records that I am able to access?" Addison didn't want to ask the same questions that others may have asked. Sure it would be routine much like other medical personnel through the ages but, who wants to be boring? She gave a slight chuckle at her own thoughts.
"Unusual, or could be stated unique." Addison having a playful smile. "Let's have you stretch out and I'll run some scans." waiting for Zosia to do so.
Zosia leaned back slightly, resting her hands on the biobed as she regarded Addison with a considerate look. Then she finished pulling herself onto the biobed. Her small frame easily fit without her feet hanging over the side.
“Oh, Doctor, if I had a bar of latinum for every time I’ve heard some variation of ‘that’s unusual,’ I’d be sitting pretty in a private ship right now.” A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips before she added, “Though I’ll admit, I do enjoy seeing how each new doctor reacts. Some lean into the challenge, others just get progressively more perplexed.”
She shifted, stretching out as instructed, her posture relaxed despite the scrutiny she knew was coming.
“As for records—you’ll have plenty to sift through. Starfleet has over forty years of my medical history logged in the database. Everything from routine physicals to the occasional ‘how are you still standing?’ moment.” Her tone held an easy humor, but there was a flicker of something deeper beneath it—experience, endurance. "And there's more than that if I remember my past aliases."
"I am looking forward to reading them then. Seeing the different perceptions of others on a patient or a crew member can shed light on a matter." Addison went quiet as the scans began, watching the readings with great concentration. "This is fascinating, it shows that your body's cellular makeup, hasn't aged much. And your telemeres, look virtually untouched over the centuries of your life. I do have a question that may have already been asked in the many medical examines you've done. Have you've suffered any allergic reaction to anything?"
Zosia’s lips curled into a thoughtful smirk as she considered the question. “Oh, just the usual things—pollen, shellfish, peanut butter.” She let the pause hang in the air just long enough for it to seem plausible before her eyes sparkled with mischief.
“…I’m kidding. No, nothing that common.” She folded her arms behind her head, settling against the biobed. “But I do have an unfortunate sensitivity to—of all things—replicated Andorian ale.”
She sighed dramatically. “Something about the synthetic compounds causes a rather unpleasant histamine response. Real Andorian ale? No problem. The replicated stuff? Hives, swelling, the works. It’s tragic, really.”
Her gaze flicked to Addison, amused. “And before you ask, yes, I learned that the hard way. More than once. Because apparently, I’m a slow learner when it comes to the suffering of a good drink.”
She paused a beat as she took a trip down memory lane. “Well, there is one other thing. But it’s such an oddity that most doctors don’t even bother writing it down anymore.”
She glanced at Addison with playful exasperation. “I have an allergy to melvian sandrats. Small, rodent-like creatures that—lucky for me—have been extinct for about three hundred years. Or so I was told.” She arched a brow. “Which, given our current mission parameters, is suddenly much less comforting.”
She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. “My reaction isn’t immediately life-threatening, but let’s just say it’s…dramatic. Their dander triggers an extreme neuromuscular reaction—progressive paralysis that starts in the extremities and works inward. First, I lose fine motor control, then coordination, and if I’m exposed too long? Full temporary paralysis. It’s reversible, but not something I’d recommend experiencing.”
She exhaled, shaking her head. “I haven’t even seen a melvian sandrat since the 22nd century, and now I have to seriously consider the possibility of running into one.” Her expression turned wry. “Time travel. What could possibly go wrong?”
Addison gave a grimace towards Zosia when she described the reaction from melvian sand-rats. "They sound as nasty as a Cardassian Vole. Those buggers can pack a rather strong bite, and are so annoying." Addison speaking from a voice of experience. "As for the fake Andorian Ale, I may not be allergic to it but it is foul," a pause as Addison thought over what she has found out in this conversation. "Has any antihistamines been made just for you based on your natural biochemistry?"
Zosia hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head. “At some point, maybe. I seem to recall a doctor—long ago—trying to tailor something specific when the rats infested a grain supply near where I lived. But if those records exist, they’ve likely been lost to time.”
She shrugged, a small, almost wistful smile touching her lips. “Funny, isn’t it? How pieces of our own history slip through the cracks, even when we try to hold onto them.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly, curiosity flickering behind her eyes. “But enough about my peculiar biology. What about you, Doctor? You strike me as someone who prefers a puzzle over predictability. What drew you to medicine in the first place?”
Addison's eyes were filled with some understanding, as well as compassion hearing Zosia's words, catching the emotions behind them in her voice and her body language. A subtle nod as to the change of subject, Addison was willing to segue towards the other path. Besides, it could be classified as a quid pro quo.
"Thinking about it, yes, I chase down the puzzle. Thing of it is, when someone says something is predictable at times there is the teeny little bit of a variable change and the predictability goes out the window. Yes, a viral infection can make a person feel ill, but how ill, that depends on the persons physiology." Addison's eyes went a bit distant as she recalled several cases that had a virus, and different treatments had to be found. Her eyes blinked as she came back to focus. "What drew me to medicine was watching my grandfather come up with treatments for his patients. It fascinated me and I also noticed that his work in the medical field made him happy most of the time. And there was the evident joy of the patient being able to be brought back to health. And medicine drew me in, it felt like it was my calling."
Zosia listened, her expression thoughtful as she considered Addison’s words. There was something deeply grounding about the way the doctor spoke—practical, insightful, but with a genuine warmth that wasn’t always easy to find in their line of work.
“A calling,” she echoed softly, as if weighing the word in her mind. “That’s something I’ve always admired in people. Those who find the thing that drives them, that gives them purpose.” A small smile played at her lips. “It’s a rare thing to be so sure of one’s path.”
She stretched slightly before sitting up, rolling her shoulders with ease. “Did your grandfather live to see you follow in his footsteps?”
Addison just beamed as she recalled that day. "My grandfather is alive and yes he was able to see me following in his footsteps. He got to see the ship that my husband and I had. My husband Thomas, he was a veterinarian. He took care of the animals, while I took care of other patients. He was really proud of me and my husband in the care facility. A converted Antares Cargo ship."
Zosia’s expression softened at the warmth in Addison’s voice. It was a rare thing, to meet someone who spoke of their past with such clarity, such rooted connection. Family, legacy, a shared purpose—it was a life many dreamed of, and one that, for Zosia, had often been out of reach.
Her gaze lingered on the doctor for a moment before she asked, her tone measured but curious, “And now, here you are. Starfleet. This mission.” She tilted her head slightly. “How does it feel, leaving them behind? Not knowing what comes next? And them not knowing what happened to you?”
There was no judgment in her voice, only the quiet weight of someone who understood the uncertainty that came with stepping into the unknown.
With a soft sad smile, Addison answered, "I am dead either way, Zosia. And I am sure they will be able to confirm that, I am dead in their timeline. A last communication to my crew when I was at a farmhouse. My crew was at an aid station, a storm, a bolt of purple lightning killing all power to the runabout, and the runabout heading towards the side of a mountain's stony rock face. I was plucked from the runabout before it hit."
Zosia studied Addison for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with quiet insistence, she asked again, “But how do you feel about it?”
Her voice was softer this time, without its usual teasing edge. “Knowing they believe you’re gone. That their lives are continuing without you. That you’re here, but to them… you’re a memory.”
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady. “I know what it is to leave people behind, Doctor. To watch time take them while I remain. And it’s never as simple as just surviving.” She emphasized her question, "How do you feel about it?"
Addison matched Zosia's gaze, emotions playing in her eyes. Her voice was husky. "I feel grief, guilt, heartache. It does break a person's heart the fact that I will not be able to interact with them anymore. However being dead I wouldn't be able to do so either. It's a catch 22 situation. My mind also tells me that perhaps that those who have departed the mortal world feel the same, which would explain ghosts and such stories of spirits staying around. I choose to take a pragmatic stance of dealing with the cards that have been presented to me, or that I have chosen as well."
Zosia regarded Addison with quiet understanding, allowing a moment of silence to settle between them. It wasn’t the empty kind of silence, the one people filled with platitudes or rushed words. It was the kind of silence that acknowledged loss without diminishing it.
When she finally spoke, her voice was soft but steady. “That’s a heavy truth to carry.” Her purple eyes held Addison’s, steady and unyielding, but not unkind. “Grief, guilt, heartache… those don’t just go away, no matter how pragmatic you are.”
She leaned back slightly, folding her arms. “I’ve met people who would tell you that time heals all wounds. That you’ll adjust, move forward, find new purpose. And maybe that’s true.” Her lips quirked in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “But I’ve also met people who know that some losses settle into your bones. They become a part of you, woven into the fabric of who you are. And that’s okay too.”
Zosia let out a slow breath. “You don’t have to be alone in it, you know.” Her voice was lighter now, laced with the kind of reassurance that came without expectation. “I don’t have all the answers, but I can listen. And sometimes, that’s enough. You may not need it right this second - but I'm around when the weight of this mission hits.”
"I know those emotions won't leave, my pragmatism is a skill learned, and I will not ignore the offer that you've made, and the support you've offered." The pain that was in her eyes, slowly gave way to a more serene expression then an acknowledgement of not being alone in what may come up in the future. "And you have a listening ear in me as well, I may not have been around as long as you have but, we both have suffered losses. I do not believe in the addage of time heals all wounds instead time allows you to learn to weave it into the tapestry of ones life. I lost my husband a few years back, and it wasn't a pretty sight to behold. He died a hero though, saving a child from being trampled by cattle."
Zosia inclined her head slightly, a quiet gesture of understanding and respect. "A hero’s death," she echoed softly, her voice holding a weight beyond simple words. "But that doesn’t make the loss any easier, does it?"
She exhaled, her gaze distant for a moment before settling back on Addison. "You’re right. Time doesn’t heal, not really. It just teaches you how to carry it differently." A small, knowing smile touched her lips. "And some days, the weight shifts easier than others."
She let the moment linger, then—perhaps sensing the need for balance, for something lighter in the wake of heavy truths—she tilted her head with a wry look. "Well, Doctor, I’d say this examination has been far more enlightening than anticipated. But since I suspect you’re not the type to get distracted from your work, should I brace myself for another round of scans, or do I get a reprieve?"
A playful smile, and a teasing twinkle in her eyes, Addison gave a wink."Well I could come up with some excuses, however, I am done with the scans." as the computer beeped to confirm her statement."You can now escape from the wicked doctor's lair."making a mime of twirling an imaginary villain's moustache, a brief over dramatic "heh heh heh." Dropping the small act, Addison added. "Thank you though for the conversation as well, it has been enlightening for me and comforting." reaching out to touch Zosia's hand. "When we do get back from missions,I will be running comparitive scans on all those who went. And if I am included in those missions, I will also be having my own scans done. No one will get a pass from having the scans." her mouth going into a firm line.
Zosia looked down at Addison’s hand on hers, the gesture simple but sincere—grounding, in a way few things had ever been for her. Her expression softened, her sharp edges smoothing just slightly in the quiet that followed. Then, with the faintest touch of wry affection in her voice, she offered the closing thought:
“Then it’s settled—we’ll hold each other accountable. For the scans, and for the weight we carry.”
She gave Addison’s hand a small squeeze, her purple eyes steady and warm. “It’s good to know there’s someone else aboard who understands that surviving is just the beginning.”
And with that, she slid off the biobed in one smooth motion, already reclaiming that unhurried grace that cloaked centuries of experience. As she made her way to the door, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“See you soon, Doctor. Try not to go hunting in the Jeffries tubes just yet.”
Then she was gone, leaving behind a presence that lingered like the soft hum of warp engines—always in motion, always watching, and now, just a little less alone.
Addison stood there in medical, chuckling softly and marveling at how those she has come into contact with seemed to change the atmosphere. She was a firm believer that those who a person comes into contact with can be someone who permeates the air with either a positive or a negative energy. Zosia was someone who gave off postive energy, despite what has happened in her long life. The connection that was made, an interweaving of a sort in this new tapsetry of this new life. It did give comfort, and she wasn't feeling alone. "Thank you, Zosia" Addison uttered, even though she was alone in medical. "Thank you."
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Commander Zosia
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Herodotus DTI-30656
Lieutenant Addison Talbert
Chief Medical Officer
USS Herodotus DTI-30656
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