“Then she goes, hunny this ones eating my popcorn!” he said in an amateur imitation of the wife in his story before wiping his face with a serviette, “Thanks for the egg rolls kid. But I think you need to lay off the sauce.” he said as he departed, leaving at the table a junior officer notably swaying back and forth at the table.

I sat there contemplating that joke. As a student of psychiatric medicine, I am often drawn to loud conversations, a guilty habit of mine but much more especially when one is telling a joke or a personal story.

My ear is then drawn to yet another conversation here in the ship’s galley amongst the hustle and bustle of morning tea with crew members trying to eat and socialize as much as they can before leaving and resuming their shifts.

“And then Ensign Harvey told him pon’far,” but mid-sentence the blonde Human lieutenant then moved closer to her colleague at the table and whispered into the ear of the Bajoran woman.

This is when I realized the private nature of the conversation and turned my attention to my own cup Raktajino, Klingon Coffee, and not for those without an adventurous palette.

I raised it taking a careful sip as it was much too hot to fully drink of.

As I hold my cup my focus is pulled towards a verbose and seemingly obnoxious Lieutenant, a human male with black hair recanting a tale about some of his recent exploits. “And then I was like, get down!” he said as he imitated sounds that I believe were that of a Phaser Rifle in automatic fire mode, though I imagine the rest of his shipmates at the table could have done better with less of his saliva being fired upon them during his demonstration.

The sound of shattering glass surprises me and I must nearly turn out of my seat to see someone who was walking toward their table had stumbled and lost grip of their glass. Luckily, others nearer them had already moved over and were assisting them so there was no need for me to include myself.

Shortly after these events the ship’s intercom whistled, this meant there was an announcement from the Bridge being made across the ship. I could recognize it was the senior communications officer. “We welcome aboard the latest additions to the manifest, Ensign Ito Tres,” following this there was a string of other names however I fail to recall them all, then various ship keeping orders. Following those there was that ominous message for the science team regarding a “sample 214 and that omega protocols were in place.”

Not a protocol I am familiar with but seeing how it affected all the science personnel in the galley. I’m pretty sure it’s serious.

“Did you hear that? Omega protocols that means,” I tried to hear the Ensign but he was silenced by the more senior rank at his table with an annoyed, “hush” and couldn’t finish his thought.

After a while I finished my Raktajino and headed back to the medical bay where my specialized office was nearby.

As I walked along the corridors, I am suddenly thrown against the side wall by a massive jolt and fall to the floor. Several other crew members were also lying on the floor, some on their backs some on their stomachs.

Soon after the red alert klaxon blares and an announcement over the intercom by the ship’s Captain, “All hands Red Alert, All hands Red Alert, sample 214 is critical!”

Being a junior counselor I’m not very much use in these situations. I am a standby for first aid if needed but all I can really can do is continue to my office and wait for that call.

Several hours later the call for Condition Green is made. Whatever danger has passed. Not surprisingly, my schedule is now filled with appointment requests, it’s a common thing after an emergency and usually a great way to find out what happened.

My first appointment is Commander Aran the Executive Officer. Now that is surprising. However, upon her visit she just wanted to inform me that discussions regarding the sample 214 incident are not to be discussed. She even rebuffed me after I informed her, “I am a medical professional and will help my patients with whatever they ask of me. Medical overrides Command,” to this she showed me orders on a dataPADD from Starfleet Command.

The rest of the appointments were not very interesting compared to the incident earlier, but I did my best to help with any phobias, insecurities, jealousies and so on. None of the crew would talk to me about the incident though, at least not any of those who knew about it.

Finally, we’re into teatime for the alpha shift. The incident went all the way through lunch.
I’m back in the galley but there’s hardly anyone here this time. I guess most are tired and recovering in their quarters from the excitement brough upon by the incident.

I am treated in first row seat to a lovers quarrel, at least I think it was. Ensign Yamanashi a Human Female with red hair and Ensign Trask a Tellerite male had been going out for a few months now. Yamanashi loves to talk about their life and visits me and the other counselors regularly. Some of my colleagues see it as an odd pairing, but I’ve been around for a while, being from Ba’Ku and all. I’ve seen all kinds of “pairings”.

But this might be the end of it. Yamanashi through her serviette down and called Trask a “Pig” then left. Trask was sitting there stirring his meal with a fork, obviously deep in thought. My first impulse was to lend him an ear but I know him, he’d see my kind gesture as a challenge and nothing good would come of it.

It was now approaching time for me to go to my quarters. I’ve finished my Terran big breakfast consisting of Bacon, Eggs and something called Harshbrowns. I assume because the surface of them is rather crunchy.

I’ve been a fly on the wall here all day. However, I must admit I’m leaving disappointed. None of the stories I’ve heard do I have any real context to not have they had a climax. I find myself wishing I could stop anyone of the crew members involved in them and have them tell me all about it. However, that’s pretty much the antithesis of my profession.

Counselors are supposed to provide advice and hear from their patients when needed. Not proactively use them as informants, despite what information might be mined when it comes up during a session.
Still, I am left wondering what was Sample 214 was or those Omega protocols. What is pon’farr, when did that Human Lieutenant fire a rifle like that.

Oh well, such is the profession and being aboard a ship as a non-mission critical or senior officer. You aren’t privy to everything.

And so I’ll go back to my quarters, write a few notes regarding the sessions today and turn in. Tomorrow is a new day, and fingers crossed, maybe a little more about today’s events will be come to light or maybe more complete stories on new topics.

This is Lieutenant Junior Grade Ryden Nmet, Junior Ship’s Counselor signing off.