doctor beverly (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dancingmd) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2017-10-11 07:58 pm
dancingmd) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-10-11 07:58 pm
memory share: network + action; ota
who: Beverly Crusher and you
what: Memory Share Event
when: October 9-23
where: anywhere around the city
warnings: This is a Borg-centric post. For those who aren't canon familiar, the Borg are a race of cyborgs who add to their numbers through forced assimilation and operate on a hive mind - nothing will get too graphic though!
One evening this week, a sharp warning sound hits the network, followed by what appears to be a video announcement:
The memory ends as abruptly as it began, but as the days go on, more memories associated with it will crop up, whether it's during the day as a first person vision or in a shared dream at night - and it will slowly become more obvious who they belong to.
a. Borg Vessel
Endless rows of half-machine, half-organic beings - The Borg - line the walls, almost coffin-like. The ship is dark and eerily silent, except for a threatening mechanical whirring sound. Four people, all dressed in similar uniforms, huddle with backs together and weapons out. Borg march down the corridor towards them as others detach themselves from their alcoves to join in the attack. All four people fire their weapons, beams of light hitting their attackers and sending them crumpling to the floor. However, the next wave of Borg throw up some sort of force field around themselves, scattering the rest of the shots harmlessly.
One of the four, a blonde Human woman and the only one wearing red, calls for help. Prepare to beam us back. The others barely seem to register her words. For there, at the end of the corridor is a familiar face - the one who called himself Locutus.
But that’s not the name that’s called out to him. “Jean-Luc!” He turns, fixing a beam of light on the group like the laser sight on a gun. The woman who called out instinctively moves towards him, her own weapon lowered, but she’s stopped, first by a hand on her arm, then by the pull of the transporter.
b. Science Lab
A young man, half machine, half bewildered teenager, stands inside some sort of scanner at the center of the room. Facing him with apprehensive expressions are a man and a woman. The teenager blinks slowly, first at the woman, then at the man. “What is your designation?” he asks him.
“Designation?”
The young man brings his hand to his chest, in order to indicate himself, prompting them with, “Third of Five.”
The woman looks at him with no small amount of wonder. This is not how she expected him to act. It pleases her, but worries her as well. “You mean our names. We don't have designations: we have names.” She gestures first to herself, then to her fellow officer. “I'm Beverly... this is Geordi.”
Third of Five considers this for a long moment before asking his next question: “Do I... have a name?”
Beverly and Geordi look at each other, both surprised. Geordi asks, “Do you want one?”
Though he remains uncertain, Third of Five is clearly intrigued by the notion. So, after some discussion, they settle on a name: Hugh. Beverly smiles with genuine warmth. Let's try this again.
“All right... I'm Beverly.” She points to Geordi. His turn.
“I'm Geordi.”
Beverly then points to Hugh, who responds, “We are Hugh.” Beverly's grin grows wider and Geordi chuckles.
c. Bridge of the Enterprise
Klaxons are sounding and there's a sense of urgency among the crew, an element of fear just under the surface of their professionalism. Beverly stands in center of everything, very clearly in command based on her stance, her tone, and the way the others defer to her. There's talk of evacuations and missing crewmates and then the man standing at the computer console behind her announces, “The Borg ship is powering up its weapons array.”
Watching the approach of the other ship on the large view screen in front of her, Beverly's next words sound almost like a prayer. “Come on, Chief. It's now or never.”
Another crewmember, a woman this time, reports, “They're preparing to fire!”
Beverly takes her seat in the captain's chair, bracing for impact. “Raise shields!”
Too late. The whole ship shakes with the ensuing explosion. The port nacelle has been hit and their warp engines are down. Running is not an option. Tense with the knowledge that the entire crew's lives are in her hands right now, Beverly nonetheless remains calm, in control of both herself and her officers. She runs through the standard options in a situation such as this: shields, evasive maneuvers, phasers. Nothing works. The Enterprise shakes again and again, their shields failing further with each hit. They are no match for the Borg, not going head to head like this. If only they had a place to hide, time to regroup - that's it!
“Helm, set a new course, heading three four four mark six. Full impulse.”
“Sir!” The crewman stares at her for a moment in disbelief. “That heading takes us directly into the sun!”
Eyes forward, hands clutching the armrests of the chair, Beverly doesn't answer. All she is right now is pure determination.
(ooc: If you want a personalized memory for your character/just not something Borg related, send me a PM to this journal or on plurk at curiouslyenough and we'll work stuff out!)
what: Memory Share Event
when: October 9-23
where: anywhere around the city
warnings: This is a Borg-centric post. For those who aren't canon familiar, the Borg are a race of cyborgs who add to their numbers through forced assimilation and operate on a hive mind - nothing will get too graphic though!
One evening this week, a sharp warning sound hits the network, followed by what appears to be a video announcement:
The memory ends as abruptly as it began, but as the days go on, more memories associated with it will crop up, whether it's during the day as a first person vision or in a shared dream at night - and it will slowly become more obvious who they belong to.
a. Borg Vessel
Endless rows of half-machine, half-organic beings - The Borg - line the walls, almost coffin-like. The ship is dark and eerily silent, except for a threatening mechanical whirring sound. Four people, all dressed in similar uniforms, huddle with backs together and weapons out. Borg march down the corridor towards them as others detach themselves from their alcoves to join in the attack. All four people fire their weapons, beams of light hitting their attackers and sending them crumpling to the floor. However, the next wave of Borg throw up some sort of force field around themselves, scattering the rest of the shots harmlessly.
One of the four, a blonde Human woman and the only one wearing red, calls for help. Prepare to beam us back. The others barely seem to register her words. For there, at the end of the corridor is a familiar face - the one who called himself Locutus.
But that’s not the name that’s called out to him. “Jean-Luc!” He turns, fixing a beam of light on the group like the laser sight on a gun. The woman who called out instinctively moves towards him, her own weapon lowered, but she’s stopped, first by a hand on her arm, then by the pull of the transporter.
b. Science Lab
A young man, half machine, half bewildered teenager, stands inside some sort of scanner at the center of the room. Facing him with apprehensive expressions are a man and a woman. The teenager blinks slowly, first at the woman, then at the man. “What is your designation?” he asks him.
“Designation?”
The young man brings his hand to his chest, in order to indicate himself, prompting them with, “Third of Five.”
The woman looks at him with no small amount of wonder. This is not how she expected him to act. It pleases her, but worries her as well. “You mean our names. We don't have designations: we have names.” She gestures first to herself, then to her fellow officer. “I'm Beverly... this is Geordi.”
Third of Five considers this for a long moment before asking his next question: “Do I... have a name?”
Beverly and Geordi look at each other, both surprised. Geordi asks, “Do you want one?”
Though he remains uncertain, Third of Five is clearly intrigued by the notion. So, after some discussion, they settle on a name: Hugh. Beverly smiles with genuine warmth. Let's try this again.
“All right... I'm Beverly.” She points to Geordi. His turn.
“I'm Geordi.”
Beverly then points to Hugh, who responds, “We are Hugh.” Beverly's grin grows wider and Geordi chuckles.
c. Bridge of the Enterprise
Klaxons are sounding and there's a sense of urgency among the crew, an element of fear just under the surface of their professionalism. Beverly stands in center of everything, very clearly in command based on her stance, her tone, and the way the others defer to her. There's talk of evacuations and missing crewmates and then the man standing at the computer console behind her announces, “The Borg ship is powering up its weapons array.”
Watching the approach of the other ship on the large view screen in front of her, Beverly's next words sound almost like a prayer. “Come on, Chief. It's now or never.”
Another crewmember, a woman this time, reports, “They're preparing to fire!”
Beverly takes her seat in the captain's chair, bracing for impact. “Raise shields!”
Too late. The whole ship shakes with the ensuing explosion. The port nacelle has been hit and their warp engines are down. Running is not an option. Tense with the knowledge that the entire crew's lives are in her hands right now, Beverly nonetheless remains calm, in control of both herself and her officers. She runs through the standard options in a situation such as this: shields, evasive maneuvers, phasers. Nothing works. The Enterprise shakes again and again, their shields failing further with each hit. They are no match for the Borg, not going head to head like this. If only they had a place to hide, time to regroup - that's it!
“Helm, set a new course, heading three four four mark six. Full impulse.”
“Sir!” The crewman stares at her for a moment in disbelief. “That heading takes us directly into the sun!”
Eyes forward, hands clutching the armrests of the chair, Beverly doesn't answer. All she is right now is pure determination.
(ooc: If you want a personalized memory for your character/just not something Borg related, send me a PM to this journal or on plurk at curiouslyenough and we'll work stuff out!)
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"And this is your Nana. She's lovely, Beverly." So kind, and warm. A lot like Beverly herself.
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"How long did you live with her?"
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"You look happy, though. I'm glad."
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"I was." She glances over at Lucretia and amends, "Am. My childhood wasn't... exactly normal, but I had someone who loved me and that's what mattered, in the end."
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"You were an only child as well?" She gives Beverly a little grin. "Were you a handful?"
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"You know what it means– you're a very vibrant person, that's all."
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She smiles. It's nice, to think that in time Beverly will come to raise her own child and mimic the kindness of her grandmother in doing so. "How did she feel about you, and Starfleet?"
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"We'll find a way to get you back to them." She wishes she could give this to Beverly above all things: a way for her to get home, to be with her child again. Even though it involves her leaving.
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"But I'm not– I couldn't ask you to stay, Beverly. I wouldn't. You have people to return to, people who need you." That will always be more important.
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"I'm glad that I got to see this. I can't say that I agree with this memory sharing at all but this is different. It's actually nice."
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"Like what? Paint me a word picture."
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"I would have liked to see that," she admits. Both Wesley, and Beverly as a mother. "If I could have picked one thing to show you..." Actually, she might have to think about something for a moment. She does agonise about the bad times to Beverly more often but there were a lot of good times, too.
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"Maybe the beach year..." she muses. "I think I've mentioned it to you before: the cycle where we found the light of creation so early we were able to take the rest of the year off? I don't think I've ever been so relaxed... And I painted this, uh, portrait–"
She raises her free hand, gesturing to indicate the size of it. "A portrait of myself and the rest of the crew. It took a couple months to get everything just so, but presenting it to them at the end of the cycle made me so happy."
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