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!)
no subject
[ Sometimes that is all you really could say. Cisco might not know exactly what Beverly means by 'assimilate', and he might only have a vague sense of what the collective might be, but none of those are good words, and especially not arranged in that way. It's something he constantly is reminded of, living in this place - that there are people here from worlds where some deeply fucked up stuff is happening. Stuff that makes Central City, with its weather-manipulating bank robbers and shape shifting weirdos look like a walk in the park. ]
You lived here? On a spaceship?
[ Something about the ever so slightly amazed way he says the word spaceship is probably a good indication that such things are not commonplace, to him. ]
Are you, um. A... human?
[ He's met people in the quarantine who looked human and turned out to be Time Lords and any number of other species, so he doesn't want to assume. ]
no subject
I am, yes. But as you can see -
[She gestures at the other people on the bridge, representatives of a number of planets and species.]
Not all my crewmates are.
no subject
Sweet.
[ Good to know that, at least in one universe, in the future, human beings will get their act together well enough to play along nicely with other species from the far-flung reaches of space. ]
In my universe we haven't even gotten to Mars yet.
[ Cisco feels the tiniest prickle of embarrassment, admitting that; he is all too aware that to someone who lives in a place like this, he must seem absurdly, distressingly primitive. ]
no subject
We had to start somewhere, didn't we? All of this is built on the history of those that came before us.
no subject
I like that.
[ It's a very forgiving and optimistic way of looking at things. And of course, Cisco could say the same of the people from times before his - Steve Trevor, and Peggy, and others.
Cisco watches the flurry of activity on the bridge, then turns back to Beverly and asks: ]
What is this, anyway? Are you and your crew... is it a military troop? Some kind of, um, anti-Borg task force?
no subject
Ah...no, not exactly. Starfleet is first and foremost an exploratory organization, focused on research and diplomacy. But... we will fight if we have to.
no subject
[ Far preferable, in Cisco's mind to any kind of military operation. Especially since everything that happened with General Eiling, and Bette, and Grodd, he has a somewhat lower opinion of the military (and it wasn't all that high to begin with). Explorers, though - that sounds like something from the kinds of stories he'd loved growing up. All the optimistic sci-fi stories of a better world, where humans went out into the universe looking for connections with other species, where they used their wits and hearts to save the day. ]
What is it you do for Starfleet?
[ There is something so odd about this, if he stops to think about it. Beverly had said that it all came out okay, but there's no ignoring the panic and distress of the people in the memory around them. They are all handling it well, all remaining professional, but... Cisco can tell that this was a terrifying time. The memory version of Beverly seems like she is particularly distressed. ]
You said... the captain, the guy that you left behind on that ship... he makes it out okay?
no subject
[She smiles softly.]
We were able to rescue him in the end.
[She looks around at the group arguing over what to do about him, her dream self nearly shaking with her refusal to give up on him, to leave him to be assimilated and taken from them.]
Though I admit it doesn't look like that at the moment, I promise, we got him out and I was able to remove his Borg implants safely.
[The psychological scars... that's something else entirely, especially concerning all the lives lost at Wolf 359. There is only so much she can do for him in that regard, other than to be by his side, as always.]
Which to answer your earlier question - I'm a doctor in Starfleet. The CMO of the Enterprise.
no subject
[ Cisco lets out a tiny sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing. Beverly isn't kidding about the situation looking dire, in this part of the memory, but he can't imagine why she would lie about it all turning out okay in the end. Cisco's been in his share of situations that looked dire until the last moment, too. ]
You wouldn't believe how many of these dreams I've ended up in, and a lot of them are realllll bummers.
[ Seeing Hana hiding from killer drones, and Tony flying through that portal in the sky, and Lucretia in Wonderland... the list goes on and on, and most of it had been rather dismal. So it's nice, to know that at least one of them isn't entirely a tragedy. ]
Seriously? That's awesome. My best friend back home was a doctor. Though... medicine is probably pretty different on a starship.
[ Cisco feels a little twinge of sadness, then - Caitlin would have loved to see this, even if her enthusiasm would be more intellectually and a bit less nerdy. And she probably would've killed to be able to talk to a badass doctor from the future, to chat about what advances had been made. ]
no subject
It's a little different - [A lot, Beverly. You cured the common cold for goodness sake!] but there are certain elements of medical care that remain the same, no matter where or when you are.
no subject
[ The sadness in his smile is a bit more pronounced, once he says that. He tries not to think about home, too much. About the place that was his home, that he's decided never to go back to. But sometimes he really, really misses Caitlin. ]
What, um-
[ There's an awkwardness to his voice, now, but Cisco pushes past it, because he likes this woman and doesn't want to have no way of contacting her, after this dream ends. ]
I feel weird asking, since we're kinda in your head, but, uh, what's your name, doc?
no subject
Oh! I'm sorry... I forgot to say, didn't I?
[She sticks out a hand for him to officially shake.]
I'm Beverly Crusher.
no subject
[ He feels like he has maybe heard that name somewhere before, though he can't quite place it. On the network, perhaps? Maybe they had a mutual friend who'd mentioned her in passing. Either way, Cisco reaches out to shake her hand, smiling warmly as he says: ]
Nice to meet-
[ But before he can quite get through the sentence, the memory fizzles out, and he finds himself waking up in his bed. It is still dark, and he rolls over to check his phone. Four in the morning. The middle of the night. Still, the shared dream stands out clear in his mind. He's going to have to stop by the hospital, one of these days. See if anyone knows a doctor by the name of Crusher. ]