Reporting to the Skipper

Posted on 13 Oct 2016 @ 12:53pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD & Lieutenant Naomi Manera M.D., Ph.D.
Edited on on 16 Oct 2016 @ 10:13pm

Mission: Prelude; Breakfast at Curmudgeon's
Location: USS Arizona
Timeline: MD -1 1235 hours

After settling in and getting everything initially sorted out in her quarters Naomi walked onto the Bridge to report to her new Commanding Officer. She had heard some stories but didn't quite know what to expect. As she didn't see the Captain on the Bridge she proceeded to the Ready Room and pressed the chime to announce her presence at the door.

"What?" came the predictable call from within the Ready Room. Several of the officers at various stations around the Bridge rolled their eyes as they heard it. Most of them had been on the bridge at least once to hear it, while some of them had been standing watch for two or three of the new department heads to arrive on the bridge and get the same answer.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Paul Akron turned away from his station and noticed that none of the other members of the bridge officers had any plans to get involved. He even caught sight of one of the crewmen snickering to themselves, though they weren't making a very good show of hiding it. Paul felt sorry for the woman, and decided to come to her 'rescue'.

"You can go on in, ma'am," Paul spoke up finally, "Ringing it again will get you the same response."

She nodded at the Lieutenant. "Thank you Lieutenant, Naomi Manera," she said introducing herself and extending a hand.

"Oh," the young man said, quickly taking her hand, "Paul Akron."

Once the rather swift introduction with the Flight Control Officer she pressed the button and walked in.

"Lieutenant Naomi Natalia Manera reporting for duty, sir," she said formally.

Nathan looked up from the book he'd had in his hand and gave the woman an appraising once over before letting out what sounded like either a groan or just a very hard exhale. It was had to tell which given the man's advanced age. The Captain set the book onto the desk and slid some manner of strip off the desk surface, tossing it haphazardly into the ancient looking manuscript before slamming the thing closed.

"Let me guess... you're a shrink," the Old Man said finally, his tone far from pleased.

Naomi nodded. "Yes, that would be one of the terms used for it," she responded calmly.

Nathan's face continued to devolve into a frown. He didn't much care for people from the mental health section of Starfleet Medical. Half of them were quacks and the other half were quacks in training as far as he was concerned. He had yet to really find one in Starfleet that didn't think they knew everything they could possibly know about a person just from a few rigged tests and a couple conversations. Nathan drummed the desk for a few moments before finally motioning to the chairs in front of his desk.

"Can't be helped I suppose..." the Captain grumbled, "A billet is a billet and they all need to be filled. You aren't one of those shrinks that believes in all that holistic spirit energy horseshit, are you?"

Naomi took a seat while shaking her head, "No, sir. While I do believe the spirit is a key element in treating people I do not observe the school many of my colleagues do."

Nathan's frown seemed to ease just slightly, "Well that's something at any rate."

The Captain sank back into his chair and rocked in it a few moments before speaking again, "I'm going to level with you. I don't care for your kind of medicine... not one little bit. Never have, never will. But this boat isn't just about me. I've got seven or eight hundred other bodies roaming around and some of them might not be as mental stable as me. Fact are fact and there's not a damn thing I can do to change them. What I will say is that I'm not going to come see you in any professional way... ever. Don't ask, don't hint, don't even think it. I've lived long enough to see things that would stop another man's heart dead. Some of these people, though, they're fresh to the frontier lifestyle and they have more water behind their ears than a tadpole. They might need you to hold their hand. Focus on them. This boat goes where most people wouldn't dare to have nightmares about, and I want everyone to come out of those nightmares in one piece. And I can't have that if I have a bunch of basket cases."

"Getting around to the point of all this," Nathan said before letting out a long breath, "We're not going to be chummy, you and I. Not on a professional level. If I see you in the Gulch, maybe we can be drinkin' buddies as long as you don't try to make sense out of everything I say. But that's about as far as I'm willing to go. You stick to your side of the medical curtain and stay out of mine, we'll never have reason to have any other words than the greeting of the day."

Naomi could already think of a few conditions that might apply to her new Commanding Officer but she opted to remain silent. "Of course, Captain. Psychiatry is not for everyone and personally unless the situation is incredibly dire I have always opted to let people come to me when they need help rather than actively seeking out patients," she said.

"As for drinking, I prefer to leave the career at the door so I won't end up analyzing myself after the fifth shot," she added jokingly.

The Old Man continued to stare her down for another moment before his features finally went neutral, "I recommend the 'green'. Gives you a nice buzz after one shot, but doesn't make you hit the ground after the tenth. Already done the research on that one."

Naomi smiled, "Thank you, sir. Green it is."

"You have anything for me, Lieutenant?" Captain Cowell asked, leaning back in his chair once more.

Naomi shook her head, "Not at this time, sir."

"Well then, welcome to the Arizona, Miss Manera... now get the hell out of my office," the Old Man said before picking his book back up.

"Thank you, sir." Naomi said before standing up and walking out of the ready room. It was definitely something.