Adapt, Improvise, Overcome

Posted on Wed Aug 11th, 2021 @ 11:53am by Caithlin t'Leiya & Tal t'Leiya & Cornelius Warner MS & Lieutenant Gunnar Arnason

4,595 words; about a 23 minute read

Mission: Frizzle
Location: Outside Kocoa Caverns
Timeline: MD 02

When Tal and Arnason finally reached the little support area set up for the rescue operation, enough distance from the main fray for separation, but not enough in her judgement for relaxing, Caithlin swept her eyes over things rapidly, then back again at the scenes behind and around them, before taking up a guard stand of sorts, but more of a standby sort that she'd had in the heart of the riot: Near the relief supplies and the medical area were also several Federation Marines nearby, no doubt armed, which should hopefully deter anyone who somehow found a reason to split off from the chaos they'd left behind.

One eyebrow crept up ever so slightly noting the bar owner from before seemed to be running the relief area (she suspected in a moment or two, Arnason would be running the medical side of the operation...in actuality even if not officially); but Caithlin firmly reminded the reflexive paranoia at this appearance that this was, in effect, a small village - it was not unusual for the same man to appear multiple times in her proximity, given such.

"We will require access to your medical supplies; I believe." Caithlin indicated Tal, and by association, Gunnar, who was close behind him. Cornelius nodded to this, turning to look in his collection of things, as any good bartender would keep knowing full well that a bar fight was ever a moment away.

"I have my medkit," Gunnar said, catching up and opening his med-scanner to confirm what he had already visually assessed of Tal's injuries. "If anything more than that is needed, the medical tent is right there." He nodded in the direction where it stood a short way off. Given a choice, he'd have taken them there to begin with, but Caithlin had made for this spot and it was possibly a better choice since in his experience Romulans could be more easily persuaded to take a drink than a regular pain killer.

"Mostly bruises and contusions," he pronounced after checking the readings. "The only serious injury is the shoulder. It's dislocated. Clean, so I can pop it back into place, but it will hurt." He looked at Tal, raising his brows slightly. "At the medical tent we could give you a brief nerve block beforehand."

"But where they will no doubt insist on a thoroughly unnecessary observation period." Now it was Tal's turn for an eyebrow to turn up slightly for a moment, clearly not a fan of the idea of being removed from the ability to keep tabs on an unstable situation...and especially one involving his children. "Do it. I can assure you I have had worse." All wounds in Tal's life since paled in comparison to those he had taken as a young sublieutenant, separated from his team in a boarding action and overconfident against smaller, weaker species: Bested by the Doptarian pirate captain who had shattered an arm and leg so badly the bones had to be replaced, and stabbed repeatedly; had the alien known more of his anatomy he wouldn't have survived.

"I'm sure you have." The statement was matter-of-fact. Gunnar knew enough of the family to be sure of it even if he hadn't seen the evidence in prior medical scans. "But I'll be observing you here anyway," he remarked wryly. "Since I intend to take care of those cuts and bruises. When we get the girls back, I'd prefer they not have see you looking beat up."

Tal shrugged, human-style with his one "good" shoulder at the moment. "By all means do so. But there is no shame or danger in exposing the young to seeing the realistic consequences of combat, or life in general; regardless of the fact that a good deal of Federation entertainment or news seems to shy away from it. And certainly not by their age."

This conversation again... Gunnar thought, resisting an urge to roll his eyes. But he had no intention of even trying to argue that point right now. "I was more concerned with girls who may need some medical care themselves deciding that going after classmates' parents was more a more pressing concern," he stated evenly. "Now, brace yourself," he advised, getting a grip on back and shoulder to relocate the joint.

Tal look a measured breath, but everything after that was an interesting demonstration of just how exactingly and stringently the Romulans trained their young to master themselves, even while eschewing the techniques now used by their Vulcan forebearers to do so: Rather than what one might expect of most humans given a similar command, there was no tensed muscles or tightly gripped or fisted hands. Instead, as if on command with that breath, every muscle in Tal's body seemed to relax, eyes fixing forward in tight focus (well, the one that wasn't half swollen shut in a black eye, that is).

It wasn't often, but every now and now Romulans actually made his job easier, Gunnar thought as he felt the muscles go slack. He tipped a nod toward Cornelius in a quiet 'get this man a strong drink' before quickly and expertly popping the shoulder back into its socket. "There." Grabbing he hypo he applied it as he explained, "This is to keep it from swelling."

"Thank you." As Tal came out of his self-enforced focus and muscle laxity, now certain bits tensed with the hiss of air through his teeth; specifically the slightest tight pull of his already injured face, taught around his split lip, but the effect was subtle and would be easily missed by most. Caithlin, meanwhile, was still nearby the pair at a cautious but ready rest stance, seemingly more relaxed than when Arnason had earlier seen her in the early heart of the situation, nearly pulled back mentally to a hundred instances before, during, and after the fall of the RSE--perhaps with the way things had now played out, the situation had been filed in her mind comparison wise more now to "nasty bar fight" than "collapse of civilization".

Cornelius now appeared around the back of his stand with a collection of coffee cups. He knew full well that the group was already stressed enough - he'd been watching the conflict from afar as the events played out. He also knew with the collections of injuries present meant there was going to be some shock coming down from the whole event, and nothing fought that off quite like a warm cup. Walking up, he held one of the cups out to Caithlin first. "I assure you, you can relax here a little," he nodded to the Marines. "If they're dumb enough to move this way, they won't make it within fifty meters."

Caithlin took the offered mug, and as usual the tiny scanner built into the bracelet on her left wrist assessed it, chirping the signal for a safe object to her via the tiny transponder placed deep inside one ear, inaudible and invisible to any others. Seamlessly, quickly enough that it seemed as if nothing had occurred, she took a small sip. "Almost certainly. Though; considering their actions already, my assessment of their being "dumb enough" is going to fall on "dumb", yes." She paused for a moment and took another sip. "If this event spawns any charges; they will need to find another lawyer; professional ethics prohibitions and recusal obligations aside; I would also have a difficult time taking the cases without finding myself arguing instead for the prosecution team."

"Since you're a potential witness, they only need to avoid any lawyers who might know you. Though that probably leaves them having to go off world," Gunnar observed with a small wink, as he switched to repairing Tal's lip so he could enjoy the coffee. "Thank you for the coffee, Mr. Warner. It smells wonderful." It really did. He lived on coffee and only the ethics of putting a patient first kept him from taking what was obviously the good stuff.

The brewmaster turned to smile at Gunnar, placing the coffee on a nearby crate so he could grab it when ready, same for Tal. "The real stuff too, no replicated coffee here, which means I actually know the proper measurements for coffee to water," he said, his own tone leaking through with pride. "I don't know if you'd have to get witnesses, the green and grey gaggled around watching the fight say their birds record everything. Bet you'd just have to play back their sensor logs, do it like one of those holodramas, have the whole thing take place in one big court and just BAM 'guilty'," he said while making a mock gavel motion with his hand.

"Only to have the defense call into question the veracity and integrity of the recording." Caithlin said wryly, well versed in the endless array of tricks an attorney might have up their sleeve. "Verdict overturned on appeal while a forensic analysis is conducted."

Cornelius laughed at the comment. "If anything you'll have to remove the off colour remarks the Marines inside no doubt made the entire time." He shook his head, and looked out over the mess of people as he waited to see what happened. "Wild to see a bunch of people lose control like that, won't help. Just look at it," he paused to sip from his own coffee cup. "All the Starfleet types, regardless of brand, now just standing around and waiting."

Gunnar shrugged. "I've gotten used to anxious stressed people yelling at me - happens in healthcare more often than you'd think - but it takes a mob to go that crazy. Most people aren't at their best when they're worried and uncertain, but they'll largely behave. Put them in a big crowd that's all on edge and it only takes a couple..." he paused, considering the comment about colorful language and picked a word other than the first one that came to mind, "...jerks to set everyone off." He swapped instruments to a small protoplaser to work on Tal's swollen eye. "I imagine most of them will feel ashamed of it tomorrow."

"If the...'edge'...has passed, perhaps." Caithlin said carefully. "If it has not, the dynamics will remain the same, regardless of a temporary pause or not. A single fire extinguished in a pile of dry kindling does not preclude the conditions that will cause the rest of erupt again; especially not if things continue to smolder." She considered the crowd in the distance. "The question becomes whether this is indicative of such conditions, or a true aberration." Her tone was truly questioning, inquisitive and without conclusion; having not been on the colony long enough to feel she could yet draw a proper conclusion.

"Always going to be folks in colonies that don't want Starfleet around. Something goes wrong, its easy to point a finger and say 'they did it' in hopes you get them off world. A bunch of kids go missing, and everyone wants someone to blame, so they blame the people that should have made is safe. But there isn't anything safe about a cave, and there isn't anything safe about a frontier colony." Cornelius stopped, staring out over the space, as work lights were adjusted and moved to light up new areas, and a couple engineers hoofed their way over to the new waiting area to give the gathered people at least some decent light. "You hear it a lot around bars, someone who has one beer too many and wants to go looking for a fight." His eyes swung to the other yellow uniforms, putting down security equipment. "And you'll always have someone looking to end a fight."

Finishing with the visible bruises on Tal's face and neck, Gunnar put his medical instruments away before allowing himself some of the wonderful coffee. Not quite as strong as he brewed it himself, but Gable used to complain that what he made was more sludge than coffee. He smiled as he took a sip, a smile meant as much in appreciation of Cornelius making this about reaction to Starfleet rather than Romulans as for the coffee itself. "I've seen it before. Starfleet makes a good target, especially for people confident we won't shoot back." He shook his head with a small chuckle. "But half the time they're the same ones who'll be the first to go on about us being 'heroes' at a parade for Federation Day."

"I aim to ensure it is well known that I will, in fact, shoot back." A rather edged smile spread onto Caithlin's face. "Tends to cut down on the attempts and the need to, really."

Cornelius shook his head at the comment of the proud types calling Starfleet personnel 'hero' on certain days of the year. Most nations had some degree of that, Holiday Patriotism, and it was even prevalent on some planets inside the Federation for their own heroes. Andoria jumped to mind. It was the Romulan's comment that drew him back. "Out here that kind of attitude is going to draw some resentment. I know there are plenty of backwater regulars who will find any excuse to make an 'us versus them' argument. Not saying you're wrong, but the local patriots might be just stupid enough to try something." His eyes fell back to the Captain, as he watched the crowd more evenly dispersing. "Though I must say, the fact Captain Mahone didn't jump at the chance to roll some force down the middle. I think if anything that will have some good will from the most folks here - it's hard to miss the heavy presence of military hardware and that it didn't get pointed at them. Makes me feel safer, that's for sure."

"Captain Mahone is a good man," Gunnar agreed neutrally, though he was glad someone else had made the point about restraint. His own aversion to using violence was well known to the t'Leiyas - so well known that they tended to discount any such perspective he offered because of it. "He may have switched to command, but he didn't discard 'Do no harm'." He tipped an eyebrow at Caithlin. "And in this case I think escalation would have ultimately resulted in a great deal more harm."

"True escalation; likely. But a few more guards standing by to protect him once the fighting started would not have been remiss." Caithlin frowned. She had seen many a Commander of the Empire as well over the decades eschew guards occasionally when needed; and they tended to come in two flavors; those who foolishly believed they could defend themselves on their own or that a threat was overstated, and those who realized they might find themselves unable to, but felt the need to display a show of personal strength due to a variety of other, more nebulous threats, often of the political variety. From her one conversation of note with Captain Mahone, however, Caithlin wouldn't have pegged him really for either of those camps necessarily, leaving her puzzled; as she flitted her glance from Gunnar to Cornelius for his earlier point.

"As for resentment from neighbors knowing I will defend myself when struck, quite honestly from what I was told of this place and it's...what were the words used? Ah: "frontier mentality", I don't expect the fact that someone would defend themselves when attacked to generate much 'resentment' at all; my understanding is that tends to be the prevailing attitude in such places. I would most certainly expect the same from them--not as any sort of 'us vs them' but as quite simply the need of anyone to defend themselves from anyone else who mounts such a strike."

That the crowd had struck Tal and Gunnar at first, not Caithlin herself until after she had moved in their defense seemed from her phrasing to be irrelevant to her as if they had moved to strike her; and from a Romulan viewpoint, the difference was perhaps moot: They had moved to strike those she counted as members of her house; of whom she was it's theoretical head; bound to lead, to discipline, to protect those in her charge; to her way of thinking they had moved first against her, indeed.

"As long as you're on their side, and not the other I don't imagine too many people will really bug you too much," the brewmaster noted, looking down at the man currently slumped against a crate. "Though I imagine tomorrow morning he might not share in that mentality." A call from behind him drew his attention as a group of Marines had approached, eyes still cautiously towards the crowd, but looking to grab a quick snack before heading back to help with the rescue efforts. "If you'll excuse me," he said, all the practiced grace of a waiter on full display, before he broke away from the crowd.

Gunnar sighed inwardly. If he had ever used frontier to describe this place to her, the North American Wild West was absolutely not what he had meant, but there was no point in arguing that; particularly when what the crowd had done to Tal proved she had a point with respect to defending her family. While he wouldn't presume to think he was counted among them, it also wasn't lost on him that she had first stepped in to defend him. Touching in a way, but potentially problematic as well especially if he had read her initial reactions to the crowd correctly. "As one of your neighbors, I appreciate that you stepped in, but as a Starfleet officer, I'd prefer a civilian not risk herself because I got sucker punched," he explained gently, hoping that she might see there was another framing at play in their relationship. "The mentality here is not entirely analogous to the RSE, or the states that rose after it. Drawing a phaser at a fist fight is as likely to result in escalation as deterrence."

"When the fist fight is nearly a hundred against three?" There was a chill in Caithlin's voice now; not of derision or condescension or insult or pride, just a deadly seriousness. "I do not think many of anyone anywhere--including not only most of the Federation, yes; but also many at the time before in the Empire and it's aftermath--who has not been in such a situation before understands what the situation and mentality are or are analogous to. A crowd of that size, once reaching the point it had? It did not need to escalate further to risk leaving both of us corpses, perhaps quite even without deliberate intent to on the part of those responsible, for that matter. Until we had the option and a route to withdraw, it was essential to hold at bay odds that went far beyond 'not in our favor'."

She frowned at the last shadows of bruises now fading on Tal's neck; well aware if the injuries had come about in any of the first few possible ways to cross her mind, a less durable species might well have left the scene with a snapped neck; and if the crowd had been allowed to continue beating her brother in law, the situation could have gone downhill quickly the moment someone's lucky strike snapped the wrong rib or such. "Ascribing control of their actions to a mob, or assuming the survival of a much smaller group or an individual against it simply due to a lack of weaponry in play is the sort of thing that gets people killed, whether intentionally or not."

"I make no assumptions about safety when interacting with crowds. I think you know that I've been in the position of facing mobs before, and I know they can be dangerous irrational beasts. However, drawing a weapon is as likely to provoke it - either to attack or to panic and trample people caught in its midst. It worked here only because this was at base a group of overwrought parents, and none of the rest brought a side arm. That may not be the case in the future." Gunnar resisted adding 'now'. He understood why she'd acted as she had and didn't want to put her on the defensive, but she was operating from assumptions that could lead to trouble. Everyone carrying at least knives had (more or less) worked in Romulan society, but earth's history was full of counterexamples to any claim that an armed society was polite society. If everyone on Haumea started carrying he feared the hospital would become a lot busier. "And that can also get people killed."

"Perhaps." Caithlin nodded. "Hopefully not. Unlike if we had left ourselves to the whims of the mob, however; at least we now will live to see whatever follows."

Perhaps it was an inevitable attitude, from a proven and tested survivor: Against the Dominion in the war; against the typical risks of life in the Romulan upper echelons; against being left alone with no family or support and soon two newborns to protect when her father had arranged for her to survive beyond him, without her advance knowledge in the nova, and all that come after that; inheriting his seat in the Senate and the turbulent few years the Empire had survived afterwards and her attempts to save it, with all the dangers during and the fallout afterwards. In having to sit across the table from women and men who were desperate to kill her and skilled in trying, each day when she sat on the Continuing Committee, near the end. No more than a meter from the Chairman of the Tal Shiar. And perhaps most of all, against the conventions of her society that feared and abhorred disgrace and dishonor far more than death; instincts and deeply held beliefs ingrained in her since childhood and even still, but that had when the time came been overruled in her desperate, determined, and defiant quest for her children to survive: Practically on bent knee begging a former enemy to take her in, and one whose more recent actions had given her no reason to trust they would approve her request rather than casting her out despite.

"I don't think we were in serious danger of not living to see it either way. Security was there and would have acted if things got that out of hand," Gunnar admonished, though softly. He had a sense of where her outlook came from, and his heart went out to her because of it - he had also once been very much on his own and surrounded by enemies. But they hadn't actually ever been '3 against 100'. Perhaps he took too much confidence from the presence of his fellow Starfleeters, but he did trust them, and just as her lived experience lead to her worldview, so his gave him reason to believe that trust was not misplaced. "And, as Mr. Warner pointed out, there were plenty of marines ready to step in if necessary as well."

"As serious a danger as a deliberate attempt specifically on our lives? Definitely not. But any one of those strikes made without thought and only with anger could in fact have been serious danger, intent or not, if it landed right. So if security did not find that already "out of hand" enough to step in and defend my brother in law, then it clear we cannot rely on them solely." Caithlin had, in fact, begun the incident with a good deal more faith in the Federation personnel than she perhaps had now at this moment: Watching security and others standing by and doing nothing to defend Tal as the crowd swarmed him, burying him with strikes and attacks that could in fact have been life threatening with any blow too hard or unlucky in it's placement had removed any faith she might have had that they would move to defend her or her family's lives in time, necessarily. "So yes, security was there. Things got out of hand, and they did not act. That is a choice. Whether it was the correct choice or not depends on the desired outcome; but regardless I will not stand by while--" Caithlin's next word was in her native tongue and didn't translate at all, nearly; the device's best attempt conveying a meaning perhaps of those bound to her charge or protection; --"are left to weather danger alone because the authorities are disinclined to move in their defense."

Recalling his own uncharacteristic flash of temper at seeing how the crowd had attacked Tal, Gunnar couldn't entirely disagree. However, though not in a Command discipline, he had enough officer's training to understand the balance between threat and need for restraint. Still, it also wasn't lost on him that he was part of the authorities who hadn't acted. Even if his inaction had been partly due to a sense that someone with Tal's training and experience could handle himself (and might be insulted by a human medic trying to step in to defend him) he was the authority closest and should have tried. "There is a calculus to that command decision there that I won't question. However," he turned to look at Tal, because it was strange to discuss this as though he weren't sitting right there, and properly he was the one owed an apology, "for my part in not acting your defense, I apologize. I should have pushed in to try to shield you when the first punches were thrown."

Tal gulped the last of his drink down, setting the glass on a nearby crate top, and shook his head; belying his nearly 50 years in Federation space with a human style gesture. "No; several layers of rioters separated us rapidly. I doubt you could have reached my position without taking more serious damage yourself; and as a medic, it is your duty to ensure you remain fit to treat any wounded from an incident, whether that incident is a riot or a combat action."

It had been meant graciously, but Gunnar couldn't help feeling a little called out given his history when it came to not getting injured in those situations. "Yes, well," he pulled at the back of his neck, glancing down, then up with small self-effacing grin, "That's never exactly stopped me before."

"If we believe this situation is now under control here...What is the status of the search operation?" Tal's next words were a bit of a non-sequitur, and the tone was ever so slightly off as well--not the straightforward query of the school principal inquiring as to missing pupils; but the father half of whose children were among the missing.

"A good question," Gunnar said, glad to change the subject. "One I'll be better able to answer once I get back to the medical station." He finished the last of the wonderful coffee and bent to sling the still unconscious rioter over his shoulder. "I should get this one over there anyway. He isn't badly concussed, but better he comes around under someone else's care." He straightened and adjusted his hold, and muttered. "Maybe Lizzo. She has Gable's touch when it comes to belligerent fools."

 

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