Inside the Subtext (Part 3)

Posted on Wed Jul 2nd, 2025 @ 1:15am by Captain Remy Johansen & Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Crewman Emiliano Echevarria & Commander Irene Seya

1,696 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: How to See in the Dark
Location: A Shop and an Infirmary
Timeline: After Part 2

Inside, the shop was a maze of floating fabrics--silks and organza that caught the dim overhead lights like water, half-hiding the figure hunched on the floor at the back. Jean-Baptiste glanced up when he heard her voice, his eyes nearly swollen shut but showing unmistakable relief.

"Commander," he managed, trying to push himself up before immediately regretting it. One hand clutched his side, the other braced the floor. He tried to give her a half-grin through the ruins of his face. "Told you... I'd stay in one piece."

He sank back, breath catching in his chest. Then slowly removed his right boot with one hand, turning it upside down. Something small and shiny hit the floor with a tiny ping. JB scooped it up gently with a trembling hand and holding it up in front of Irene.

Irene took in the lieutenant's injuries with regret, wishing that she had chosen to follow the trio and had ordered Dorsainvil back for resources.

She gave the Yridian a once over, then knelt down beside the lieutenant. "Thank you for helping him."

Turning to Jean-Baptiste she asked. "What is that? Who did this to you? What happened?"

The shopkeeper continued his ministrations, gently wiping the blood from JB's spattered face.

JB nodded stiffly to Irene. "I followed the trio as best as I could, but as soon as I lost their trail, I was jumped--two perpetrators. They were ready and waiting for me. It wasn't a simple street assault--they knew I was following that girl." He drew a sharp intake of breath as the Yridian dabbed around the bridge of his broken nose. "And I don't know what that is," he replied, turning over the shiny object in the palm of his hand. "It looks like a pendant of some kind--maybe Romulan? The girl--she was wearing it around her neck in the bar. I found it in the alley just behind here."

Irene looked at the shop owner, "I'm sorry, what was your name? I'm Irene."

"Did you see who did this? Do you know of any surveillance cameras in the area?" She asked.

"You can call me Eshrius. And the city only maintains them on the public ways, your friend here was dumb enough to walk into the back alley. Could have been anyone," the Yridian shrugged. "Yeah, I saw them, but I can't help you. They took off when I walked up."

"Your best bet is some of the business owners like to keep an eye on their back entryways, but I'm guessing it will cost yous."

Irene nodded. "I understand."

"Jean-Baptiste, can you walk if I help you?" she asked. "We need to get you to a doctor. There's a transport not far. But I can call for a transport if you want."

He wiped at a fresh streak of blood crawling over his lip, then shifted forward with a grunt. He hooked an elbow onto the sink edge and pushed himself upright, gritting his teeth.

"No," he said, voice raspy. "We'll lose time if we start patching me up. Whoever set that ambush is already moving again--I don't want to lose the trail." He took Irene's hand between his, placing the pendant into her palm. "That pendant is a clue--hold onto it, Commander."

He wobbled for a moment but caught himself, steadying on the counter. "Lead the way."

Irene chose to not say anything more in front of the shopkeeper. She took the pendant and slipped it into her bag, and thanked the shopkeeper as he let them out of the front door.

Once they were outside, Irene pulled him aside. "You're no good to me if you aren't at your best. Not to mention, your face is going to draw a lot of unnecessary attention looking like that," she told him. "It would be one thing if the trail was hot, but we need to regroup anyway. It won't take long for a doctor to clean you up, and in the meantime we can try to hack into any security systems in the area and see if we can find anything useful."

"Consider it an order, Lieutenant."

He nodded at Commander Seya. "I won't argue with an order, ma'am." He slowly and carefully slipped on his stained undertunic, ensuring the collar came nowhere near the puffy protuberance that remained of his nose. He noticed Irene had some of his blood on her hands and felt a twinge of guilt.

Jean-Baptiste turned away, tilted his head forward slightly, gave one sharp, wet exhale, and two thick wads of clotted blood shot from his nostrils onto the ground. He sniffed hard afterward, grimacing. "Better out than in," he muttered, wiping his upper lip with a piece of fabric from the shop. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

Irene tapped her communicator, "Commander Seya to Starfleet Operations Transport Control."

She paused and waited for a response, watching Dorainvil with concern. Moments later she heard a female voice on her commbadge.

"Go ahead, Commander."

"Two to transport to our medical facility."

"Understood, Commander. Stand by for transport."

Moments later the two dematerialized from the city street, and found themselves reappearing in reception at the on planet Infirmary.

A pair of nurses at a nearby triage station glanced up briefly, but before they could react, a flicker of blue light coalesced in front of Jean-Baptiste and Irene--an Emergency Medical Hologram. She was a red-haired human woman, tall and lean with fiery locks pinned tight in a crown braid. Her ageless face was fixed in a neutral expression as she studied the Infirmary's latest visitors.

"Hello," she said, voice crisp and breathy. "What seems to be the problem?"

Jean-Baptiste exhaled shakily and lifted a hand halfway, as though to wave it off. "Just a few bumps. Nothing too serious--"

The EMH cut him off immediately. "Your nose is shattered in at least three places, and your ribs are compromised. 'A few bumps' is a laughable understatement." She tilted her head, examining him as though he were some misaligned data file. "Remove that bloody tunic and sit on the biobed. Now."

JB hesitated, glancing at Irene as though hoping for some backup.

"The sooner you comply, the more quickly we can get back to work," Irene reminded him.

He blew out a resigned sigh and peeled the tunic off gingerly, revealing a patchwork of angry bruises blooming across his ribs and shoulders. He moved stiffly toward the biobed, one hand trailing along the edge of a nearby console for balance.

The EMH watched him like a hawk, no doubt compiling a mental inventory of every contusion. She fetched a bone knitter and a dermal regenerator from a nearby tray, her motions brisk but methodical.

"Lie still," she commanded, her tone serious and commanding. She applied the regenerator over his face first, each sweep drawing a slight shimmer of blue light across his swollen nose. Slowly, the cartilage began to slip back into place, the angry swelling around his eyes also beginning to deflate.

Jean-Baptiste sucked in air through clenched teeth, his fingers curling over the edge of the biobed. After a moment, he exhaled again--this time with relief that surprised even him.

"Don't get used to it," the EMH warned. "I'll be setting your ribs next. You might want to brace for that."

He gave Irene a sideways glance. "So much for an after-work drink."

Irene's face showed little reaction to his remark. "I'll be in security operations looking into what we discussed. Find a fresh change of clothes before you join me. No uniforms."

Jean-Baptiste grunted softly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile despite the pain. "No uniforms, got it," he echoed, voice raspy by clearer now that his nose has been mostly restored.

The EMH glanced at him, pausing her work just long enough to arch one brow. "You'd think he'd try harder to avoid repeated blunt force trauma," she commented dryly, sweeping the bone knitter across his ribcage in very slow and controlled passes.

Irene acknowledged the interaction with a simple head tilt, and turned, walking briskly out of the medical facilities.

JB winced and let out a low hiss like an espresso machine might emit. "I didn't realize avoid fists was in the Starfleet survival manual," he shot back, breath shallow. He could feel pressure along his broken ribs as if they were growing and becoming fuller by themselves. The pain was dull and constant but he endured it.

The EMH's lips curled into something that almost passed for amusement. "Chapter one, page," she replied in a crisp tone. "Right after don't antagonize your physician. Hold still."

A faint pop echoed under her instrument, and Jean-Baptiste let out a strangled curse in Creole that warped into a a half-laugh, half-groan. He sucked in a cautious breath, testing the new stability of his ribs, then exhaled--slow, measured, a touch relieved.

"See?" she said, pressing the regenerator over the final bruises along his side. "Nearly good as new. Try not to ruin my handiwork before your next appointment."

His eyelids fluttered, and he finally settled back on the biobed, exhaustion seeping into his bones now that the adrenaline had begun to ebb. "You sound like you enjoy this," he murmured, somewhere between a tease and a true observation.

The EMH straightened, setting her tools aside. "I've been programmed with an autonomous emotional subroutine that can grow and evolve. As such, I enjoy seeing patients walk out in one piece," she said. "Especially the ones who come in thinking they can talk their way out of dying."

She regarded him for another moment, then gave a curt nod. "You're clear to leave. Try to stay from anything or anyone that might break your face."

"Yes doctor," he replied. "And thank you."

For just a heartbeat, the EMH's expression seemed to soften enough to suggest that somewhere behind her subroutines, there might be something akin to fondness that wasn't simply artificial.

JB slid gently off the biobed, his feet cushioning gravity's pull. He felt almost one hundred percent again and left the medical bay in search of some new threads.

~tbc~

RSS Feed