This post's authors have general content warnings that might apply to the current post.
View Flat HTML
View Metadata
Search Post
Isabella's videos (and their transcriptions, and their translations) are not instantly the topic of conversation in every household in the Federation over breakfast or its local equivalent, but they gain traction, and the Federation is still scrupulous enough not to send Starfleet to get her in the middle of the night for recording her opinions.
(Her opinions are limited here to the subject of her "repatriation" and to the Prime Directive. Her thoughts on genetic engineering are confined to the "polarbear" handle on long-dormant accounts on old, in some cases defunct, fora.)
It is a few months before she's invited to a speaking engagement by an activist club at a university on Viarat, a moon inhabited by predominantly human colonists but some Vulcans.
She accepts the honorarium, writes a speech, and (in the recovered Prometheus, which Renée has been holding for her) goes to Viarat, accompanied by her husband.
They get a hotel room; a liaison from the activist club shows her to where she's giving her speech, she gets as far as thanking them for inviting her and beginning to outline her planned topic before someone in the back row pulls a phaser pistol and squeezes off a burst that hits her in the sternum.
She collapses, exhaling all her air voicelessly. Someone next to the shooter tackles her and gets the phaser away.
+ Show First Post
warpfairy
or-the-broken
"Well, yes and no. As long as out of bed doesn't mean out of this room, you can miraculously recover and then stick around until your week is up, and I can say my low estimate was right and send you home. I've already been keeping a close eye on you in case somebody tried to shoot you again; if I keep doing that, there'll be no reason for anybody else to wander in unannounced and see you acting suspiciously healthy."
warpfairy
"That would be lovely. I suppose it would be too much to ask that this... set of circumstances... also constitutes a safe way to figure out why his blood works that way for the advancement of medical science, wouldn't it."
or-the-broken
"Could be. Can't promise anything. It might not be a question I can answer by myself, and I'm not about to draw attention by getting anyone else involved. But we'll see. You want to do that now? I'll go get you what you need."
warpfairy
She is still holding Lalita's hand! What a convenient way to inquire if he is hurt after all the flinging-around. He doesn't look it, but perhaps it is not visually obvious.
dream-me-up
Nah, he's just fine. Dr. Hall was only very briefly trying to kill him; after those first few moments, they were both holding back. He's a little sore but not significantly impaired.
dream-me-up
Nope! She is welcome to as much of his magic blood as she needs. (He doesn't expect it'll take that much; Dr. Hall did good work.)
warpfairy
He did! She is pretty comfy as long as she doesn't move anything above the elbows/waist. But that's a pretty annoying constraint.
Maybe Dr. Hall will be able to determine what it is about Lalita (that was apparently doable with technology available in the nineteen hundreds, albeit near the turn of the century) that is so very magic, and then appropriate synthetic equivalents will be standard issue and if she is shot in public again it'll be fixable much quicker.
Maybe Dr. Hall will be able to determine what it is about Lalita (that was apparently doable with technology available in the nineteen hundreds, albeit near the turn of the century) that is so very magic, and then appropriate synthetic equivalents will be standard issue and if she is shot in public again it'll be fixable much quicker.
or-the-broken
Dr. Hall returns with appropriate supplies, assists in transferring some of Lalita's blood to Isabella and some to vials for him to study, and leaves. Apparently his talkative mood was a strictly temporary condition.
This Thread Is On Hiatus