Meditating on the Merits of Discomfort

Posted on Sun Jul 19th, 2026 @ 4:58pm by Tavrek Harland & Commander Cressida Vale MD

1,555 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Sickbay
Timeline: Early 2389

Tavrek Harland, Translation Specialist and proud civilian, woke before his alarm went off and knew almost immediately that something was off, though not in any dramatic enough way to justify the sort of instinctive alarm that would have had him on his feet in seconds. It was quieter than that. Subtler. A pressure behind his eyes, not sharp enough at first to be called pain, but present, pressing in around his temples as if his thoughts had to move through something thicker than usual. He lay still for a moment beneath the covers, staring up at the ceiling in the low light of his quarters, listening to the familiar hum of the ship and the steadiness of the environmental systems as if they might offer him something useful by contrast. Nothing out there had changed. Only him.

He inhaled slowly, deeply, expecting the breath and stillness to settle whatever this was. Instead, when he sat up, the room seemed to shift a fraction too late around him, not spinning, not enough to throw him, but enough that he stopped with one hand braced lightly against the mattress beside him and waited. His heartbeat was wrong too. Not erratic. Not dangerous, at least not obviously. Just faster than it should have been for someone who had only just woken. He lifted two fingers to the side of his neck and counted in silence, expression faintly tightening as he confirmed what his body had already told him. Elevated. Mildly. Still enough to notice, at least enough for him to notice who had always been encouraged to monitor his body as if that could somehow keep him from feeling too much.

For a few moments he simply sat there, upright but unmoving, running through possibilities with the same measured discipline he brought to translation problems or tense conversations. It was not something he had eaten. He knew that with reasonable certainty. Nor had he overexerted himself the evening before. The run had been ordinary when he had done it, he had almost meditated. The evening meal simple. No alcohol or synthehol, no interrupted sleep, no emotional upset significant enough to leave this sort of physical residue behind.

Well wasn't that typical. Half-Vulcan physiology made this rare for him. Infrequent enough that it stood out when it happened. He did not get sick. Not often. Not without cause.

His mouth curved faintly, almost despite himself. At least pon farr was still a comfortable distance away. He could rule that out. Meant less awkward questions, or confessions, later.

When he stood, he did so carefully, and the mild dizziness came again, enough to make him pause and rest his fingertips against the bulkhead until the sensation steadied. It passed quickly, but not completely. Just enough that he knew it was not imagination, nor something to be ignored out of pride. Well, there was only one logical route to go.

He went through his morning routine without hurry, though slower than usual, aware in a detached sort of way that even small movements felt slightly imprecise. Whatever it was would be sorted out in sickbay, not here.

The walk there was quiet. He kept his pace even, one hand briefly brushing the wall once as he turned a corner, less out of need than reference. The pressure in his head remained, his pulse still a touch too quick, his balance not gone but not entirely to be trusted either, so he walked like a man decades older than he was.

When the doors to sickbay came into view, bright and clinical against the softer lighting of the corridor, Tavrek slowed just slightly, drew one measured breath, and then stepped inside.

After years of careful sickbay management, the Chief Medical Officer had the routine day perfected. She knew when people started their shifts, when they took breaks, when they went home for the day. She knew the schedule. She knew when the next appointments were meant to arrive. She knew which experiments the medical science and research team were working on and what that meant for their work schedule. She even had a good sense for when Alina was coming for a visit.

So when the door opened when it was not supposed to, it piqued her interest. It always meant that something was wrong. Always.

Before even the sickbay clerk could speak with him, Cressida was there greeting the newcomer. “Mister Harland,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How can we help you today?” She gestured for him to follow her into sickbay, quickly telling the clerk that she was taking him to biobed two.

Tavrek looked at her as he walked, slightly straightening himself out of habit. Projecting Vulcan serenity when there was enough Human in him to want to fidget. “I woke with a headache,” he said, measured as ever when he was interacting with people on duty. “Mild dizziness, elevated pulse, and a general sense that something is not quite aligned.” His mouth twitched faintly, not quite a smile, but there was something...bemused about him. “As I am trying very hard to be a sensible civilian, I thought I should come here rather than wait and see if it developed into something more interesting. Or contagious.”

"Well I appreciate your sensibility," Cressida said. "Take a seat while I give you a scan."

Tavrek looked at her, tilting his head a little at the words before he took a seat. "Of course," he said, finding obeying doctors...easy.

"Did this just start this morning?" the doctor asked. "Was it completely out of the blue?"

"Yes," he said with a nod, watching her before he considered it. "I did feel...rather tired last night. Yet I did not sleep very well." He met her eyes, holding them.

"Hmmm." She kept her eyes on him while she considered this, holding her chin as she studied him. "It's probably linked, but we'll know for sure in a few minutes." She took out the tricorder and brought her eyes to its screen while she scanned him with the hand attachment. "Has anything like this happened to you before?"

"Mm...when I was a child," he said and looked at her, and his eyes shone with sudden warmth. "It was the common cold. Human style."

She smiled at him as she finished her scans. Being knocked out by a cold virus as a child was never pleasant, but in hindsight, it was a time of being cared for by those who loved you most.

"I daresay that's what you have again, Mister Tavrek," Cressida informed him. "A rhinovirus, which has also taken up residence in your inner ear, hence the balance. Not much to do aside from wait it out and treat the symptoms. I'll give you a prescription that you can fill from your replicator. Otherwise, lots of fluids, lots of bed rest, anything to stay comfortable."

"Oh. Lovely. Wonderful." He nodded and his nose wrinkled slightly, with a suppressed sneeze. He cleared his throat and looked at her. "I suppose sedating the patient for the duration is out of the question?" it was a joke, but delivered deadpan.

"Oh you'll sleep plenty without sedation," Cressida replied. "But you'll want to keep your fluids up whenever you're awake, so I can't knock you out for the duration, I'm afraid," she added with a lopsided sympathetic smile. "Be sure to have some extra pillows and prop your head up while you sleep. Let it all drain out of your skull."

"Delightful," he said and gave her a smile back, shaking his head. "I'll...be stoic about this, of course. May even meditate on it..."

"A perfect opportunity to reflect upon the merits of discomfort," Cressida suggested, half-teasingly.

"Oh the indignity..." Tavrek said with a hint of drama before he nodded and stood. "Thank you, Doctor, for your diagnosis."

"I'd say 'any time', but I don't think either of us wants that," Cressida replied. She quickly tapped some commands into a screen on the wall. "When you get back to your quarters, go to your replicator and ask for Prescription Harland-One. It'll be a hypo you can administer yourself. Then replicate some water or tea and take them to bed. Put something soothing on the speakers or a screen and just zone out. You can take another dose every twelve hours. I have a default program that alerts you when you can take more but will stay silent if the computer detects that you're asleep."

"Thank you," he said and smiled, quite happy with the way she was organising everything for him. "That will be most helpful. I...may look fine, but if I could I would swoon like an Andorian opera singer."

“Thanks, I get that a lot,” Cressida joked. “To your quarters, Mr. Tavrek. I’ll see that you’re not bothered.”

"Yes Doctor," he said and chuckled, then stopped a cough and just cleared his throat. "Isolation, I think..." he said and gave her a respectful nod before straightening...and walking out of sickbay with the grace and dignity of a Vulcan ambassador...even if inside he felt like a sulky seven year old human with a runny nose and achy ear.


END

Commander Cressida Vale, MD
Chief Medical Officer

Tavrek Harland
Civilian Translation Specialst

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