Greer> You climb the board ladder up to the treehouse.
Greer> Clara is seated on the far edge of the treehouse, legs dangling over the edge, and her Complex jacket tugged over her shoulders to ward off the cool that would easily cut through running shorts and a t-shirt. Her usual baseball cap is on, and she's resting folded arms on a railing, chin settled on them.
Greer> Greer blinks, coming up rather short at the top of her scramble up the ladder. "You're not a kid," she states, rather startled.
Greer> Clara starts out of her thoughts, blinking back and obviously surprised not to have realized she was no longer alone. Still, a child is a child, and she offers a warm smile, shrugging. "Not really, no. It's been a long time. Hello, there."
Greer> Greer cocks her head, regarding you for a long silent moment, then she comes up the rest of the way. "Hello, there," she echoes in perfect mimicry. "Why are you here then?" She moves slightly to the side as footsteps sound on the ladder.
You climb the board ladder up to the treehouse.
Wildy Painted Treehouse
This is not merely a treehouse, but a labor of love by a connoisseur of such constructions. The massive porch is made of a criss-crossing lattice of such boards, close enough to be entirely safe, but enough of a space so that water does not collect, and so that the realization of height is not spoiled. The railing is built of spaced balustrades and a sturdy caprail painted in a wealth of dizzying colors and patterns. The small house itself is set back against the tree itself, and is a schizophrenic pattern of chaos. One side is painted in metallics akin to a spaceship, another in variegated paisleys. The third and forth sides are done to look like an ancient sailing ship and a jungle's greenery. The roof is yet another platform with another railing, and form it the view of the park is tremendous. Inside the house it is cozy, with low benches near the walls and large round windows. The floor is solid, and the walls painted with an ocean vista hilighted by mountains in the background. It is a small cozy space in the expansive tree.
Contents:
Greer(#1048pq)
Clara
Obvious exits:
Ladder Down
Clara doesn't visibly react to the mimicry, but does seem to shift to an air of professional observation, although between the running clothes and no makeup, she could still easily pass for a teenager. "Because I like this place," she replies easily. "A friend of mine made it, and I think he did a good job. What do you think?" As another woman comes up the ladder, she does smile, somewhat startled. "Tara...good evening."
Tara gives a wave, dropping a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Clara... didn't expect to see /you/ here..." The child's soprano interrupts her. "It seems to be sound. It's a long way down to the ground though."
Clara's gaze flickers rapidly to take in the scene, no look of idea dawning on her, although she does continue to smile warmly. "I like this place," she repeats, then tilts her head at the girl in a slow nod. "It is, but that's why there's railings. And it's very sound. Do you like the paintings, Greer?"
Greer blinks, and takes a deliberate step back. "How do you know my name?"
Tara's eyes flick between the doctor and her daughter, and she casually makes her way to the farthest railing, leaning on it.
Clara doesn't rise to approach the child, but instead shifts around to lean against the railing rather than lean on it from where she's sitting. She casts a quick look of understanding at Tara, then notes to Greer with perfect equinamity, "I know a lot of things, actually. Do you know a lot of things?"
Greer shrugs, letting her blue eyes flick toward the various paintings. "It depends on what you mean by 'a lot'," she remarks vaguely. "The paisley," she answers the earlier question, "Is rather garish. I like this one." She gestures slightly toward the jungle wall.
Tara is trying hard to pretend not to listen.
Clara considers the paisley for a moment, then nods. "I'd have to agree with you. It really is quite loud. The jungle is nice, very much so. I'm personally partial to the sailing ship, but only because I like to sail. Why do you like the jungle?"
"Jungles are warm, and you can hide, and they've got aminals in them," Greer states firmly, tilting her head to consider this strange woman. "Why do you like to sail? I don't like ships."
Clara peers at the various walls thoughtfully, then offers a faint smile, somewhat lopsided. "Because I grew up on an island. We were entirely surrounded by water, and learning to swim and sail and other water sports were normal. Being warm is good, and everyone likes to hide now and again. What kinds of animals do you like?"
Greer considers that for a moment. "Growing up on an island would necessitate sailing, I suppose. Otherwise you can't go nowhere. Kittens," she answers without skipping a beat. (A soft snort comes from Tara's direction, but it goes unheard by her daughter. "They're soft and sharp all at the same time. Hamsters. Birds."
"It very much did necessitate sailing, you're absolutely right," Clara agrees, something flickering in her eyes unreadably at the mention of kittens and the reaction from Tara. "Kittens...hamsters, and birds. Those are all soft and sharp. Are you like that? Soft and sharp at the same time?"
Greer blinks. She casts a sharp look toward her mother, then turns a charmingly cute smile on Clara. It doesn't reach her eyes. "Now why would you say something like that? I don't have claws."
Clara returns the smile right back, her own eyes utterly calculating. "I would say that because you seem like a very nice person who is quite intelligent enough to be sharp when it pleases you. If I'm incorrect, I do apologize," she adds, obviously sincere.
Greer's chin comes up a few inches. "You're very observant. Not incorrect, however." Casually she moves a few steps forward toward the woman, sending a stormy look in Tara's direction. When she looks back to the doctor, however, the smile is back in place. "Either that, or very well informed."
Clara tugs her knees in casually to rest her hands on them, seeming utterly at ease. "Slightly informed, extremely observant," she answers, so matter of fact it can't seem like bragging. "And very, very good at guessing," she adds, a hint of smile quirking. "Would you like to come sit near the wall? You can see the lights of the Complex from here," she offers.
"I don't care about lights." Despite this, the child steps forward to take the indicated seat. "Your name is Clara?"
"That's right," Clara responds, smile warming a hint at the question. "My name is Clara, Clara Aleron. I take it Tara told you about me?" She tilts her head with a kindly expression. "Are you surprised that's who I am?"
Greer shakes her head, gesturing toward her mother. "She said your name, when she came up the ladder. Clara means 'bright', did you know that?"
Clara glances at Tara with a warm smile before inclining her head at the unique child. "That's right, I'd forgotten. And yes, I did, actually. My mother told me when I was a child." She rubs at one dusky arm in amusement. "Not quite accurate, is it? What does Greer mean, do you know?"
Tara hastily looks away- she'd been watching surreptitiously. Greer either doesn't notice or ignores it. "Bright refers to people who guess well too," the child notes, then nods. "Tara says it's a girl version of Gregor, which means 'alert' or 'watchful'. That's how I knew about your name, cause I looked that up." Tara turns slightly red.
Clara processes this information without a change in expression, but the air goes oddly muted around her, like someone had sucked the ions from it. "It's a lovely name, Greer is, and Gregor is certainly a fine name as well. I happen to know someone named Gregor, and he is indeed both alert and watchful." Unless he's at home and not being shot by water guns. "Do you like to read, then?"
Tara gives Clara an inquiring look, feeling the change, but keeps silent. Greer nods, a mite eagerly. "Reading is the best way to get information. If you have books, you can learn /anything/. You really know a Gregor? I never met one."
"And knowledge and learning are the key to almost anything," Clara adds with a real grin. "Information is the best defense a girl can have." She ducks her head with a quiet chuckle, nodding. "I do indeed. Actually, his middle name is Gregor, but he's a dear friend. And a very good man."
Greer 's eyebrows rise. "I don't need a defense." She scoots a little closer to the doctor, glancing toward the nearest railing. "My friend is Charlie. He's a very good friend, but he's not a man, he's a boy."
"Good for you," Clara offers at the comment, completely placid. She glances over her shoulder at the railing she's leaning against as well, still utterly relaxed, gaze flickering reassuringly at Tara as she looks back to the child. "Charlie, hmm? That's another good name. Short for Charles? What's he like?"
Tara seems a bit tense perhaps. "Not Charles," Greer shakes her head. "Just Charlie. He likes everything I like, and he helps me do stuff." Tara's mouth quirks slightly in something akin to wry amusement.
Clara's brows quirk ever so slightly as she lets another glance flash at Tara, then nods affably at Greer. "That's helpful, that's for sure. Even the Gregor I know doesn't like everything I do. Where is Charlie now, if I might ask?"
Greer wraps her arms around her knees. "He's watching us. But he doesn't want me to tell anybody where he is. He can't spy if everybody knows where he is."
Clara aahs softly, looking just as pleasantly serious as she did before, and not a hint of condesending or patronizing about her. "I can certainly see his point. When I've had to go in with my platoon, we try to stay out of sight too. Why is he spying though?"
Greer pauses. "Platoon?" The word is unfamiliar, but she pronounces it easily. "He has to spy. That's his job. He hears things for me."
"Platoon is a group of soldiers in the AF Infantry," Clara defines helpfully. "So he spies to hear things for you. He sounds like a rather good friend indeed," she muses, glancing around thoughtfully. "What does Charlie look like? Or would he rather I not know?"
Greer absorbs the information, repeating it to herself softly. "You were in the AF?" She shrugs. "You'll never see him, so it doesn't matter. He's thick. And he's got black hair that falls in his eyes a lot."
"Were?" Clara actually looks faintly amused at this and tugs her jacket out from behind herself to allow the small gold leaf at the lapel show. "Still am, actually," she offers affably. "I'm just not fighting on the front lines anymore." She nods at that latter part. "I won't try to find him, then, if he'd rather not be found. What sorts of things do you and Charlie like?"
Greer looks surprised, for a split second. "You're a major. And you fought." A slight frown appears and there's a pause as she rearranges information in her mind. "Is Gregor in the AF too?" At the doctor's question, she whips up that charming smile again, reciting, "We walk, and we explore, and we climb trees. You can watch a lot of people from trees."
"I'm a major in the AF, and yes, I fought, although my function at the front lines was as a field medic, to heal injured soldiers," Clara clarifies alliteratively. "I didn't fight personally unless I had to. And yes, Gregor is in the Navy," she adds, then grins at the recitation, although it doesn't quite touch her eyes. Still, the air of reassurance is almost palpable. "You most certainly can. Trees are lovely, and fantastic places to watch from. You like to watch people?"
Greer's eyes light up. "Medic? Like with needles and tourniquets and stuff?" She nods absently, almost impatiently, at the question. "People are fun to watch, their faces especially."
Tara casts a faintly alarmed look toward the pair, but relaxes when Greer seems to take the news of Clara being a medic in stride.
"Major Clara Aleron, Complex Cheif Medical Officer and xenobiologist at your service," Clara offers, sweeping a slight bow from where she sits, hand splayed over her chest in a distinctly Edreeni fashion. "I do have some needles, yes, and tourniquets. Not -on- me, though. I have..." She pauses to rummage, coming up with a chocolate bar. "This? Want one?" she adds offering it over with a grin. "And faces are fascinating, I agree. You can read what a person is feeling in their face if you know how."
Greer reaches for the chocolate eagerly- she /is/ six, after all. A faintly disappointed look is cast toward Clara as she unwraps the treat. "Thank you, Clara," she intones. "Chief Medical Officer. So anybody who... gets hurt has to see you? Are you reading what I'm feeling right now?"
"You're most welcome, Greer," Clara offers, rather pleased at that brief burst of childish eagerness as she settles back to sit tailor fashion and nods amiably. "Somewhat? There's three other doctors that work for me, actually. We all help anyone who's hurting." She pauses at the phrasing of the question, then shakes her head slowly. "I'm not, no. Would you like me to?"
Greer considers that for a moment, fastidiously licking a trace of chocolate from her fingers before she bites into the candy. "Three other doctors. I would like to meet them." Vryce vs. Greer... now there's a scary thought. At the question, she starts to shake her head, then shrugs casually, schooling her expression to perfect neutrality. "It doesn't matter to me."
"I can't see why you shouldn't," Clara agrees with a warm smile, shrugging. "Vryce is a little older and perhaps not as cheerful, Jones is a big bear type man and quiet but -very- nice, and Lieutenant Foster is a brilliant woman." She considers the reaction thoughtfully, then notes with extreme care, "I don't think I will then. I don't read people that would prefer I didn't, unless I have to."
Greer glances toward her mother. "Tara says I'm brilliant. Maybe I can be a medic someday." She pauses to finish off the chocolate- she's a very fast chocolate-eater. "Good. That wouldn't be polite."
"That's what she told me, too, and I'd have to agree just from us talking here this evening," Clara decides musingly, then quirks a faint smile. "Terribly impolite. Tell me, why did you phrase it like that? Why did you ask if I was reading you right now?"
Greer sends a scathing glare at her mother, who merely smiles, thin-lipped. "I didn't," the child counters. "I asked if you're reading what I'm feeling. Because you said 'you can read what a person is feeling in their faces if you know how'. You probably know how, since you know it can be done."
"You don't like Tara to discuss you, do you?" Clara asks, not addressing the other subject, and perhaps not even hearing it? Odd, infantry people tend to have excellent hearing, it's required.
Tara notes the omission with a raised eyebrow, though she says nothing. "No, I don't," Greer confirms reluctantly, then she clamps her mouth shut.
"I see," Clara remarks quietly, lifting a hand to toy with one of the curls escaping from her baseball cap. "Most people don't like it when others say bad things. Do you not like it when someone says good things about you?"
Greer blinks, confusion flitting over her expression before she regains control again. "People say good things about me?"
Clara looks honestly surprised by this, brows shooting up. "Why wouldn't they? Saying that you're brilliant is a good thing."
Greer shakes her head slightly. "Not when they mean it in a bad way."
Clara tilts her head, honestly puzzled at this. "I'm afraid I don't follow. Could you help me? How can someone say you're brilliant and mean it in a bad way?"
Greer glances toward Tara before shaking her head. "When they say you're smart when it comes to doing bad things, then /that/ is a bad thing."
Tara winces slightly.
"Are you smart when it comes to doing bad things?" Clara asks simply, ignoring both the glance and the wince, expression utterly bland and amiable.
Greer says simply, "I'm smart when it comes to doing everything."
"Aaah, I see. That's rather a big claim to make, young lady," Clara notes, raising a brow slowly, but along with a smile that significantly softens the words. "I'm smart too, but not in everything. Gardner's theory of multiple intelligences, you know."
Greer's chest swells with pride. "It's true though. Sort of. Everything I do, I'm good at." She pauses. "What's that? I'm still smart, you know, I'm not dumb just cause I don't know that. I just haven't gotten the chance to learn it yet."
"You most certainly aren't dumb, even if you don't know that. I didn't learn the Gardnerian theory until college," Clara assures gently. "Gardner was a man that lived a very long time ago, and he theorized that everyone has certain areas they're intelligent in. For example, I'm musically smart, spatially smart, verbally smart, and smart in all the social skills. I'm not as smart with physical skills or mathematical skills."
Greer looks confused, then frustratedly angry, and then calm again, all in the space of a few seconds. "I'm good at science," she offers. "And math. Beat ya there."
Clara observes the emotional shifts with intense interest, then shakes her head soothingly. "It's not a competition, though. And if you're wondering, I'm exceedingly good at science. I happen to be a scientist," she adds with a wink. "But like I said, it's no competition. If you wish to compete, compete with yourself. Run the race against where you were a year ago, a month ago even. If you can say, 'I know more now than I did then, and I learned from my mistakes,' then you're winning."
Greer looks at Clara like the doctor's out of her mind. "Of course I'm winning. I always win. I'm better than any of 'em." Tara arches an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly as her daughter goes on. "And I /get/ better all the time too." She pauses to take a deep breath. "Of course you're good at science. Medics have to be. You might," she allows grudgingly, "Be better than me even. You've had longer to read."
Clara is used to people thinking she's nuts. Smile: it makes people wonder what you're up to. And smile she does, quiet enigmatically. "I don't know who 'them' are, but I doubt they're trying to compete with you," she notes, then nods affably. "Getting better is good, and yes, I have had longer to read. And practice. And work very, very hard."
"Them." Greer gestures toward the sky. "Back home. Work's not so bad. You can learn from work, you know."
"You most certainly can learn from work. Some things, you might read them, but until your hands have done what you've read, or you've lived through the experience, you don't understand it," Clara agrees and expounds upon. "Back home, then? How do you like Linnae so far?"
Greer considers that for a moment. "Home, yes. I do plenty of work back home." The latter question earns a shrugs. "I haven't seen much of it. Tara won't let me out."
"What kind of work? If I might ask, of course," Clara adds on with a comforting smile, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Well now. You haven't been here long, and Copper Hill isn't the safest. That's understandable."
Greer tries the innocent look again. "I play with animals, seeing how they do stuff." Her eyebrows rise. "Not the safest? Are there those of the lesser element about then?"
"It's a city, it happens," Clara allows with a slight inclination of her head. "You play with animals, hmm? Animal testing can be very useful. Wha sort of things do you see how they do?"
Greer nods slowly, keeping her expression neutral. "Yes, I... play with them." She shrugs easily, offering a bright smile. "I test their endurance."
Clara folds her hands over her knees, lifting a brow with bland interest. "Do you indeed? And how do you think the animals feel about that?"
Greer shakes her head. "They're just animals. They don't /have/ feelings. Even if they did, it doesn't matter, so long as knowledge is obtained."
Clara steeples her fingers now, one brow lifted. Despite the attire and the lack of makeup, now she -looks- like a doctor. "Animals don't have feelings. That's a very broad assumption, my dear. Would you use a human to obtain the same knowledge? What about an Edreeni?"
Greer fixes the doctor with an annoyed look. "Don't call me that." Her eyes light up, though, at that notion. "A human... I had not considered that. Still, as long as knowlege is achieved, humans can be sacrificed. Edreeni too."
Tara winces, grimaces, all at the same time.
Clara goes perhaps even more solemn, brow quirking higher. "Would you feel the same if someone wanted to use you to attain that knowledge?"
Greer cocks her head, frowning a bit. "That would be bad. /I/ can't gain knowledge if I'm sacrificed."
"This is quite true," Clara agrees affably enough, and if she's ruffled at all, it's entirely impossible to tell. Although you can just -bet- her biological clock is now smooshed. "But other people would. Then again, there are people who would never try to hurt you. Did you know that?"
Greer glances toward her mother. "There are some who wouldn't dare, that's true."
Clara shakes her head, somewhat vehemently. "No, Greer. Not dare. Some who would never -consider- harming you. Do you believe that I, a fully trained combat infantry office and doctor, have the ability to harm you just to attain knowledge?"
Greer nods immediately. "If it'd benefit. The good of the many outweighs the good of the few, or the one."
Clara shakes her head with a somewhat amused smile. "Wrong. I don't care who it would benefit, I can't harm another being, sentient or no. I took a vow in medical school not to, and I abide by that vow stringently. I would rather harm myself, first."
Greer's eyebrows rise. "Then you aren't dedicated enough. Sacrifices often need to be made. The means justifies the ends."
"Dedicated?" Clara seems -vastly- amused by this. "Perhaps. I simply happen to disagree. Of course, there's a reason I made that point. You see, I realize you probably really hate trips to the doctor, am I right? Most people do. Even the Gregor I know doesn't like it."
Greer shudders, in unison with her mother. "Doctors... Whether they like it or not, needles /hurt/."
Clara actually laughs at that, shaking her head. "No doubt! Needles are -awful- things. I don't use them unless I'm drawing a pint of blood or more from someone. Otherwise I use hypos, and they're painless. I do my best to make everything painless, actually."
Greer looks a bit surprised at that. "You don't like needles either?"
Clara's nose wrinkles in a grin. "Are you kidding? I don't like hurting almost as much as I don't like hurting other things. Nope, hypos for me, thanks very much. Besides, how many doctors do you know that keep chocolate bars for people instead of lollipops?"
"Just you," Greer admits. "Do you have any more?"
"What, more chocolate bars?" Clara shakes her head apologetically. "Just the one, and I keep that for Gregor. The man's a chocoholic. But I have more in Medbay," she adds. "But those're for patients. Now, if you want to let me give you a onceover, utterly painless, guaranteed or you get two chocolate bars..." she adds, eyes dancing.
Tara's eyes widen slightly. "That was the Admiral's candy you gave her?" Her daughter ignores that, perking up. "Painless? For chocolate? That would seem an equitable bargain."
Clara glances at Tara with a faint smile and shrug. "He has more," she assures, then nods affably at the child. "I figure it usually is. Most of the stuff I do never even touches you physically. The worst is...hrm. The neural scan, and it doesn't hurt. It just tickles. Think you could put up with a little tickle for chocolate?" she offers with a wink.
Greer nods a fervent affirmative, puffing up proudly. "I can do that! I can do /anything/. Chocolate, that helps, though."
Clara claps her hands together once, then climbs to her feet nimbly, tugging her cap straight. "There you have it. Did you want to go now while it's nice an quiet in Medbay?" She adds a brief glance at Tara, as if attempting to get permission from that corner as well, but without words.
Tara's eyes flick toward Clara, and she nods slightly. Greer doesn't seem to notice whether her mother gives permission or not. "That would be beneficial, I think," the child notes thoughtfully.
Clara grins affably enough, nodding after another brief chin-dip at Tara. "I think you're right. 'Cept I'd be laughed at if I tried to do a physical looking like a teenager. Let me change into something doctorish, and I'll meet you there? Or you can walk with me, if you like, if you don't mind waiting for just a few in Medbay while I change."
Greer cocks her head, and finally nods regally. "We shall meet you there. Tara will have to get us something to drink on the way up."
Tara rolls her eyes, but nods an agreement.
Clara isn't quirking her lips at that, nope. Not a bit. She inclines her head affably. "I'll meet you both in Medbay in perhaps fifteen minutes, then. I'll run home and change into a uniform, then be there ASAP. I only live upstairs from it, anyway." She offers a bright, encouraging grin at both mother and daughter, then abruptly swings onto the ladder and slides down it commando style before loping off down the hill.
Clara climbs down the ladder to the ground.
Clara has left.
Tara does look hopeful for that encouraging grin. and she offers her daughter a smile as well as her hand, leading her toward the ladder.
***** Travelspam deleted *****
You head towards the Medical Bay.
Medical Bay
Even the circulation of air can't quite keep the antiseptic smell from this room. Immaculately clean, the tiles of the floor are the same pristine white as the walls. Gadgets and gizmos abound. The highest medical technology available for all the races that might conceivably come to the station are present. A pair of beds near the door provide places for emergent cases, their bioscan devices ready for monitoring. Doors lead to rooms for surgery, short-term care, and long-term care. (OOC note: To set your room doing, try 'I'm <doing>'.)
Contents:
Tara, standing by the door.
Clara, standing by the door.
Obvious Exits:
Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge
Greer has arrived.
Clara is innocently putting together a new chart, looking supremely innocent. Never mind that the head nurse is patiently ignoring that he's now draped with silly string. She glances up at the ex-smuggler and small child with a benign smile. "Well, there you are. Ready?"
Tara's eyebrows rise at Kramer's appearance- she's trying so hard not to laugh as she pushes Greer encouragingly toward the doctor. "You ready, Greer?" "We're talking chocolate here, Tara," the child retorts as she strides slowly forward, her fascinated eyes examining everything. "Of course I'm ready."
Clara inclines her head affably and gestures for you both to follow, almost an entirely different person in full uniform and lab coat, hair pinned up and sans baseball cap. "Chocolate is the plan, yes," she agrees. "This way, please."
Clara passes through the swinging doors to the Short Term Care ward.
Clara has left.
Greer passes through the swinging doors to the Short Term Care ward.
Greer has left.
You pass through the swinging doors into the Short Term Care ward.
Short Term Care Ward
All is quiet here, save for the occasional moan alerting a nurse more pain medication is needed. Impeccably clean, the ward stretches for quite a ways from the door. The nurses' desk, always manned, is tucked to one side inside the door, facing the corridor. Opposite that is the large cabinet holding medicine and supplies. Half a dozen beds line each side of the ward, separated by temporary partitions.
Contents:
Greer(#1048pq)
Clara
Obvious exits:
Out
Greer's eyes widen once again as she gazes around, her eyes focusing particularly on the nurses' desk and all the supplies stacked up in the cabinet behind it. Pretending not to notice that, though, she merely gazes around politely. Hey, it's for chocolate, man.
Clara actually murmurs a greeting to the nurse behind the desk, a tiny little wrinkled green man in a khaki beige uniform, and gathers up a tray of supplies before heading to a bed surrounded by instrumentation. "C'mon over here greer," she suggets, patting at the bed. "I need you to sit here." She flickers another gaze to Tara, then nods almost imperceptibly at a chair nearby.
Greer head over amiably to take the indicated seat. Tara herself drops into the chair fast enough to bruise her bum. "You get to work here all the time?" Greer asks curiously of the medic.
"Every day I don't take off, which isn't a whole lot," Clara agrees affably, switching on various devices so that the area is lit up like Christmas before too long. "This is my Medbay, I love it here," she adds with a fond smile, snapping on her scanner. "Okay, this first part you won't even feel. I'll let you know what to expect with each part, okay?"
Greer nods. "I'd love it here too." And a second nod. "Thank you." The thanks is sincere- advance knowledge is good. Tara, in her chair, keeps her fingers crossed.
Clara settles onto a rolling doctor's stool to wheel around to the side of the bed and start her initial examination with the scanner. "It's a wonderful place. Far better than working out on the front lines. It's like a hospital, but without the headaches of a huge staff."
"Wouldn't a huge staff be more useful?" Greer questions thoughtfully, looking down at the doctor. "It would seem more efficient." Yes, efficiency is a major thing with this kid.
"Nope," Clara answers amiably, eyes tracking the readout of the scanner with interest. "With a larger staff, I'd have more people to help me make decisions, and with too many people, it's a mess. I'd have to actually be a real commander. I'd rather just encourage my people to do their jobs well. And they do."
Greer nods, tilting her head as she considers that. "Too many cooks spoil the broth?" she quotes an oft-heard saying. "So your people have initiative on their own?"
"Too many cooks spoil the broth. Or doctors set the kitchen on fire, yes," Clara agrees with a quiet chuckle, snapping off the scanner and reaching for a hypo before holding it up. "I believe in self-fulfilling prophecy. Tell people they're a great staff and do a fantastic job, and the are and do. Now...this is a hypo. I need to press it to your neck to collect a blood and tissue sample. You'll hear a slight hiss, but not feel anything more than the metal of the hypo touching you and maybe a faint puff of air."
Greer draws back slightly before sitting up proudly. "You wish to learn information. That is a worthy goal. Collect away." She peers at they hypo, then starts. "It doesn't have a needle!"
"I do, and it doesn't," Clara agrees with a quiet laugh, reaching in to take the sample, then feed the result into the computer at the wall. "Hypos don't have needles. They work with a mix of air and electromagnetics."
Tara seems to deflate with relief, grinning a bit. Greer takes notice of that, but she turns away to peer at Clara. "May I see one sometime, to play with?" Not that a refusal would stop her from trying to acquire one.
Clara considers the request, then turns to rummage on a tray to do a few things to a hypo there, hands moving far too rapidly for the actions to be really taken note of, then hands over a completely inert hypo. "There you are, Greer. One of your very own. Now, the next bit, I need you to lie down for. Would you like a blanket, or is it warm enough for you?"
Greer lies down absently, her small fingers moving quickly over the hypo with fascination. "I've never seen anything like this before," she murmurs in awe before blinking up at the doctor. "I'm fine," she says stoutly, despite the goosebumps on her arms.
Clara isn't in her position for no reason, and reaches over for a blanket to shake out and settle over the girl, offering a warm smile. "Yes, you're fine. But comfortable too is a lot better." She turns to a large machine to pull electrodes from it and start fastening them to Greer's head. "This is the odd part of the exam. Again, it won't hurt, but it will feel weird in places. I'll still tell you what to expect, okay?"
Greer nods, not noticing as her mother tenses a bit in apprehension. Odd as it may seem, even Tara has maternal jitters. "Okay," the girl responds, still examining the hypo. "Will you tell me why afterwards? I may as well learn something for my troubles."
"I'll tell you why as I'm going along," Clara promises, finishing wtih the electrodes and flashing Tara a reassuring smile before turning to start powering up the machine. "This is a neural scanner, and it's going to activate the various parts of your brain. For this first part, you'll feel nothing but a slight tingle in your scalp every now and then."
Greer arches an eyebrow in fascination. "Will it make me kick, or make sounds or anything?"
"Not really?" Clara continues to fiddle with the machine, then murmurs, "Initiating phase one. It'll make you -feel- like you're kicking, or running, or waving your arms, but you won't be. And that's not until phase three. Phase two will test your symbolic patterns, so you might see odd images. Phase four will test your pain threshold, but you won't feel more than a slight tickle."
Greer's eyes widen. "Neat! I never thought to experiment on myself before." That last makes her blink a bit. "A tickle? You promise?"
"A tickle," Clara assures with a soothing smile, letting phase one run before the machine makes a few audible clicks and shifts into phase two. "Initiating second phase, mnemonic and symbolic stimulation. What are you seeing, Greer? In your head?"
Greer blinks in confusion- she knows it's just illusions, but it seems so real! "Boxy stuff. Cubes and trucks and... garden? I think it's a garden."
"And what's in the garden? Anything you remember?" Clara's eyes flicker from the child to the monitor on the machine, back and forth. "This part is pushing at your memory to make images that are symbolic for you. Things you attach words and ideas to."
Greer shrugs a little. "Trees. Almost nothing but threes. I mean trees. Everything's green."
Clara glances up at Tara with a hint of curiosity, then nods thoughtfully. "Trees are good. Green is the color of life," she murmurs, then glances back at the machine at more clicking. "Initiating phase three. Gross and fine motor control stimulation. You're going to feel like you're moving, but you can't. Don't try to."
Tara shrugs slightly- she has no idea. Greer, in the meantime, looks thrilled despite the momentary panic that crosses her expression. ""Feels like... you're right! I need one of them things!"
Clara chuckles lightly, shaking her head. "I wish I could help you there, lady, but Regulus would have my hide. I only got one of these machines because I had a patient who needed testing." She pauses to frows slightly at a result from the test, then murmurs, "Initiating phase four. Emotional and pain threshold tester." She grins back. "Get ready for the tickling. Want to hold my hand to squeeze?"
Greer tenses, but shakes her head. "I will be fine. I don't need anybody."
Clara considers the answer, but doesn't take the child's hand. Likely because she's heavily concentrating on the readout at this point, face solemn. Thankfully, this is probably part Greer will have to close her eyes for, and the doctor is able to give Tara a rather concerned headshake, as if to say, 'not good'.
Tara grimaces, her eyes fairly heartsick, but she struggles to school her expression before Greer opens her eyes again.
Clara clicks off the machine after saving the results, then leans forward to start unhooking the electrodes. "Excellent job, Greer," she offers, voice totally normal and amiable. And yes, it's all an act, but this is one act she does -well-. "I got a lot of really detailed information. Want me to explain it over chocolate?"
Greer nods, sitting up smoothly to slide off the scanenr. "I would appreciate that. And how you interpret the information from the machine as well." Tara gets to her eet, smiling weakly. Normally she's quite practiced at hiding her emotions, but this is her daughter- it's different.
Clara clicks open a drawer on the wall to tug a trio of chocolate bars from it, offering two to Greer and one to Tara. "I can't tell you how to interpret the data unless you've had several statistical analysis of neurological data classes," she notes apologetically. "But I can translate what it says. It does say you have an amazing retention rate, and that you process symbols easily. Your pain threshold is average, and your gross and fine motor control just right for your age. There's something else, though."
Tara chuckles softly, accepting the chocolate. Fresh out of prison, she's not about to pass up a treat like that. Greer doesn't look at her own candy as she unwraps it, instead focusing a curious gaze on the doctor. "I daresay. And what's that?"
Clara folds her hands on her knee as she crosses her legs. If she wore glasses, she'd push them up on her nose. Serious, though, she takes a slow breath before tilting her head. "You've shrapnel in your brain, Greer. It's depressing your ability to process several types of data. You will never fully process and understand certain types of information if that foreign matter remains lodged in your head. So I ask you now...would you like me to remove it? I can, and without pain to you. You will merely feel like you've gone to sleep, then when you wake up, you'll be sleepy for a few days."
Greer frowns, chewing on her chocolate. "You mean I could actually think /better/?"
Behind her, Tara drops her hands to the girl's shoulders with a fairly relieved chuckle, giving the doctor a hopeful look.
"Think better, and more efficiently, that's right," Clara agrees, very carefully leaving the emotional references out of it. "Now, before you say anything, let me tell you what I'd do. I'd laser your scalp and cranium open to work with the duramatter underneath. Using a sonic probe, I'd locate the foreign matter and extract it with an electromagnetic Pellin's device. Then I'd repair the injured parts, reseal your head and skin, and you'd be in Medbay here for a week after that, where my staff and I could care for you. And spoil you rotten," she adds with a wink.
Greer nods slowly, absorbing and dissecting the information. "And this will help me think better? Messing with brains usually screws up an organism." One hand rises to touch her ponytail. "Will you have to shave my head?"
"Messing with brains if you don't know exactly how is -very- bad, yes," Clara agrees, clamping down desperately on her urge to gasp in horror, and remains pleasantly calm. "And I won't, no. I'll part your hair where I'll be lasering, and I can do a fine enough job that no more than a few dozen hairs will be lost."
Tara's eyes flick toward Clara as the doctor mirror's her own tightly-repressed reaction. Greer doesn't seem to notice. "Only way to learn how is to try," the child says softly. "However, this seems like a logical course of action. I was not aware of this debility. When can you do it? Now?"
The merest flicker of relief flashes through Clara's eyes as she shakes her head with a chuckle. "I can't, not now, no. I'm exhausted, to tell the truth, and need a night in bed asleep and out cold. But I can tomorrow, if you'd like?"
Greer nods amiably, tucking one of the chocolate bars away in her sleeve after she's finished with the first. "That would be acceptable. Begging your pardon, Clara, but I do not wish you to play with my brain while exhausted." Tara lets out a little chuckle.
Clara waves a hand before rubbing at her eyes, grinning. "Greer, I would never do so. I wouldn't cut into -anyone- right now, let alone a very interesting girl like you. But what I will do is let a nurse shut all this down and go upstairs to bed. Tara...can I have a word with you for a moment? Greer, why don't you go out and bamboozle another chocolate bar out of Kramer, the fellow with the glasses?"
Greer nods agreeably, even grinning before she turns to hunt down Kramer with a charming smile. Poor Kramer. Tara herself perks up a little from her slouch.
Greer heads out the swinging doors into the Medical Bay.
Greer has left.
Clara exhales a heavy sigh, rubbing her hand through her hair. "Saints, Tara, you weren't kidding at all. That child..." She shakes her head, exhaling another sigh. "She has no conscience. No sense of compassion. And has no clue what they are."
Tara nods slowly. "That sums it up well. That's why I've hidden her where those things don't matter for so long."
Clara shakes her head slowly, sagging just a bit. "I -think- this operation will help. It may kill her. I couldn't tell her that, Tara, but I did tell her the truth. It won't hurt her at -all-. Do you still give permission?"
Tara's eyes widen. "Kill her...?" She shudders, struggling to pull herself together. "Good thing you didn't tell her that," she mutters. "She values her own hide above any efficient thinking." The pilot falls silent for several moments before taking a deep breath. "What're the odds of her coming through it at least alive?"
Clara dips her head to close her eyes, doing the odds in rapid mental calculation. "I'd say at least ninety percent rate of success," she finally replies, looking back up. "Much more for survival. The chance of death is -low-, but there."
Tara's eyebrows rise, and she brings up a faint grin. "But the chance of death is there for lots of procedures, isn't it?"
Clara inclines her head, rubbing at her eyes again before shutting down various bits of equipment. "They are, yes. I operate on folk often with higher mortality chances. But I wanted you to be aware of the possibility. What do you think?"
Tara lets out her breath with a soft hiss, her eyes dropping slightly as she gives the matter due consideration. Finally, she whispers, "Do it."
Clara nods slowly, hiding a yawn and looking serious. "Bring her by tomorrow afternoon about 1700. I'm off normal shift then and can focus all my attention on the procedure. Don't tell her the full truth, please? If she thinks this will let her attain compassion, I think she'd say no."
"1700," Tara mutters as a reminder to herself. "No, of course not, I won't tell her..." She arches an eyebrow, frankly scared. "All the more reason not to. Clara... thank you."
Clara climbs to her feet slowly, rubbing at her face again as if this will keep her awake. "You're most welcome, of course. If I can find a way to bring that child back to the land of those with emotions, then we'll rejoice. Until then, try to see that you and she both get some sleep, hmm?"
Tara nods, her mouth quirking with wry amusement. "Aye, ma'am, I think I can see to that. And you get some sleep too, eh? I'd advise that even if you weren't going to be operating on my daughter tomorrow."
Clara flitters her fingers, nodding affably before another yawn racks her frame. "I'm going to do just that. Sleep well, hmm?" she offers, then gestures for you to precede her back into Medbay.
You head out the swinging doors into the Medical Bay.
Medical Bay
Even the circulation of air can't quite keep the antiseptic smell from this room. Immaculately clean, the tiles of the floor are the same pristine white as the walls. Gadgets and gizmos abound. The highest medical technology available for all the races that might conceivably come to the station are present. A pair of beds near the door provide places for emergent cases, their bioscan devices ready for monitoring. Doors lead to rooms for surgery, short-term care, and long-term care. (OOC note: To set your room doing, try 'I'm <doing>'.)
Contents:
Tara, standing by the door.
Obvious Exits:
Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge
Clara emerges from the swinging doors of the Short Term Care ward.
Clara has arrived.
Tara nods to Kramer with a tired smile before turning her head to nod to Clara as well. "Sleep well. Well, I promise I'll try, eh?" Snagging Greer's sleeve gently, she herds the girl out the door.
Greer heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Greer has left.
You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
