Days on the Audacity had turned into weeks, the tedious routines passing time for most until they could lose themselves in the more enjoyable activities of getting to know their new crew. While everyone struggled in their own way, most of them had formed some tenuous personal bonds to help sustain them in the vast nothingness of space. There was one among them however that struggled beyond the normal constraints of their misfit crew, one among them that had more of a relationship with the hunk of metal and beautiful machinery that held them in her protective hold, than she did with her flesh and bone crew.

In truth everyone on the ship had gone out of their way to make Teagan feel like she fit in, they were all impressed with how the mechanic handled the ship and knew that her ability to bring out the best in the Audacity, bordered on the impossible. Some tried not to laugh at her obvious social awkwardness, although when they did, she would further show them her inner freak by laughing along with them, seemingly oblivious to the most simple of human emotions. She did her best to catalog the correct response in her database by observing when others laughed or became angry, taking note of every emotion, heavy and light and trying to understand what the cause and response for each one was.

Teagan's dreams were filled with shades of blue and in the morning she could taste an emptiness within her, but by the time she began each morning, she was void of any emotion. It was only the most extreme situations that would bring the sweetest taste of a remnant feelings, like the time the Audacity's warp almost tore the ship in two. She had wanted to do it again to feel that stark red streak of energy that had shot up her spine, but her strong desire for survival quickly stemmed the fleeting desire to be brash.

Now that things with the Audacity were in order, she was a quirky ship, but most of the bugs had been worked out, Teagan decided that it was time to work on some of her own malfunctions. The first thing on that list was a trip to see the medical officer and make sure she was aware of her special circumstances. As any good mechanic knows, it is important for someone to have an owner's manual, of sorts.

Leeda sat back from the task in front of her, finding a way to rearrange her belongings to maximize the space in Sick Bay. It wasn't an overlarge room, roughly oval shaped with a line of beds along one wall, the exam table at one end and the exit at the other. The ceiling hung with wires and pipes that Leeda hoped were functioning properly, though they occasionally made odd noises. Everything was as clean as she could get it, at least, though it didn't make the surfaces any brighter.

There seemed to be a dull residue on all the metal walls and floors of the ship, one that had less to do with cleanliness and more to do with the passage of years. The beds were better, looking bright and crisp with the white bedding that she had bought, all the corners tucked in and the pillows invitingly set at an angle. The exam table was surprisingly comprehensive; every function she'd come to expect of such a unit, from her years at the University, was in fact there, if perhaps not in the same places she was used to seeing them. Most of the instrumentation hung overhead, instead of along the sides, which as it happened Leeda liked much better. It made it easier for her to get up close to the side of the table, to get in close to the patient, and with her handheld unit, it didnt' matter that she couldn't reach the buttons. The control panel did most of what she needed, and in a pinch she could levitate herself up there anyhow.

Getting all of her and Qamala's things, bought perhaps a bit rashly but with no regret, to fit in the smallish space was an excercise in spacial engineering. She liked puzzles. One of the first thing's she'd placed had been her uncle's gift; she placed it up on a table where she could see it from every corner of the medbay. It made the whole of it, dingy surfaces and pipes and wiring, seem more like home. The rest of her things were less easy, but she was almost enjoying the challenge of figuring out the best way to place this box or that bag so that everything would be out of the way, but easy to access. If she should need to.

She looked up as the door beeped and then opened. Qamala was still out somewhere, getting to know the crew, possibly, or simply exploring the ship, so Leeda hadn't been expecting anyone. She was even more surprised when she saw the slim, solemn figure of Teagan stepping through, taking everything in with eyes that were bright, but disconcerting. "Oh, hello there. Is there anything I can help you with? I'm sorry for the mess, I'm still trying to figure out where to put everything. I was thinking maybe I should put some of these wraps out, they're so pretty, hang them on the walls over the bed. Away from the surgery, of course, but... maybe it would brighten up the room?" Leeda knew she was babbling, but the other woman made her a little nervous, and she talked when she was nervous. She grabbed two of the pieces of fabric she'd been considering and carefully sent them up to hover over the beds, letting the colors show. "What do you think?"

Shortly after the medical officer had said hello, Teagan's head had tilted to the side as she processed the rest of what Leeda had to say. She waited several moments to make sure the loquacious woman was quite done before she answered her question. "I think about many things. Sometimes I think of two things, my data streams in one part of my mind, but the other part is more abstract." The pretty brunet's lifeless brown eyes met Leeda's gaze evenly.

Leeda stared at Teagan, nonplussed. The answer had apparently had nothing to do with what Leeda had asked, but from a purely logical standpoint, it made perfect sense. She let the potential wall hangings drop down to lay over the beds below and crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she moved in closer, keeping her eyes on Teagan's. "Abstract? Like, less well formed? Or harder to access? Or emotions? Do you feel emotion? I only ask because I noticed that you don't emote very much, but not everyone can be like me, of course, and I know I over-emote all the time so that's probably a good thing..." She stopped herself, not wanting to overwhelm Teagan, but so curious she was practically vibrating. "Abstract how?" she asked, trying for a more concrete question.

"Abstract. Fourteen possible definitions. Number Three. Theoretical, not applied or practical." Teagan blinked twice and continued. "Thoughts I don't need for basic operation or survival, unnecessary ...but..." She paused and a slight flicker lit her eyes for a moment. "...but desirable."

Leeda chewed on her lip for a second as she processed what Teagan had said; once again, an almost non-linear, but perfectly logical response. "So, you recognize these... feelings? But... whatever conditioning you've received makes them... outside your parameters, I suppose. You know there's more to your thoughts, but you can't put a name to these other parts, can't process them... that's very interesting indeed. And promising!" Leeda moved even closer, breaking eye contact as she began talking more animatedly, gesturing for punctuation. "You see, if the emotions are still present, just... unaccessable? Then... then, there's no reason to believe the process couldn't be reversed!" She grinned, then sobered for a moment, looking back up at Teagan and meeting her eyes again. "If you wanted it to be. I... I don't know what was done to you. It's possible... well, all the emotions might not be good. And, I can't promise anything. And, really, I suppose, we should figure a few things out before I went poking around... ok, let's start with this. Would you mind terribly staying here for a bit, letting me run some tests? Nothing invasive, I promise, just... general physiology and response, that sort of thing." She quirked an eyebrow, head tilted to one side.

"I came to see you today for this reason. I am broken and since you are the crews medic, it is necessary that you understand my malfunction. I have no expectation of you being able to fix me, however restoring me to correct human function is...is....is....is....is...." Teagan stopped speaking for a moment, her face and eyes void of emotion. "...is highest abstract priority."

Leeda felt a twist in her stomach as Teagan spoke, sympathy and pity and a pure sort of sadness, that such a thing could be done to any creature for any reason. She opened her mouth, but paused, sensing that Teagan should not be interrupted during... while she was imparting the information she saw necessary.

"I have an implant in my brain, it is cybernetic in nature and it is suppressing my emotion and pleasure centers. I am suffering from acute emotional cyberphsychosis."

Leeda began making notes on her data pad, quickly retrieved from the counter with a thought. She set down the facts and put in addtiontional notes about possible procedures, tests that might prove helpful, research she might need to make. All the while, the sadness grew, though Leeda tried to supress it, not willing to let it hamper her efforts to fix the problem.

As she continued her voice became droning and dropped an octave, making it clear that she was repeating letter for letter what she had heard someone else say. "Cyberphsychosis is caused by an imperfect interface between the human(oid) brain and mentally-controlled cybernetic implants. Under stressful conditions, feedback from the implant can affect the emotional and logical centers of the brain. This condition suppresses emotions to the point that she will act in a manner which comes off as cold, unfeeling, and sometimes inhuman. She will have difficulty handling strong emotions in others, won't be able to empathize with other people's emotional states, won't understand what consists of an appropriate emotional display, and will have problems with understanding what causes an emotional display."

Teagan paused for a moment and when she spoke again it was in her normal voice. "That is my malfunction. I am broken."

Leeda couldn't hold back a small noise. She could hear, in Teagan's voice, the scientists who had altered her, their remote interest, intellectual curiosity with no empathy, no care for the practical result of their experiments, beyond the desired parameters. She swallowed, and though she felt an anger growing, she knew a small shame, because she had been that person, that scientist with no understanding of practical concerns. With a small step beyond her boundaries, she could have been in the place of that voice behind Teagan's, making observations to another scientist, or a console: making a report, or just making conversation.

Leeda looked up at Teagan again, her mouth firming, and she set her pad down with a click. She was not that scientist, and she needed to be concentrating on the victim of that uncaring, not feeling sorry for herself. She swallowed, smoothing down her tunic and taking a deep breath before speaking. "You are not broken, Teagan. You function. You are a useful part of this crew, and we could not have gotten this far without your efforts. You are damaged, yes, but we can repair the damage. I can fix you. I will fix you." She stepped forward resolutely and took Teagan's hand, which lay unresponsive against her palm. She fought back tears and looked up. "I'll help you feel again. I promise."

"Feel. 23 possible definitions. 13 verb. Number five. To be emotionally effected by." Teagan's monotone voice sounded tired. It was no secret that she spent more time plugged into the Audacity than she should. "This is of the highest abstract priority. I have time now for tests."

"Ok. Ok, good. Let's... here, come over here, and lay down, please?" She indicated the medical unit at the far end of the room, walking with Teagan as she moved over and laid down. "Good. Um... ok, the tests we're going to be performing, they're going to be rather long, and a lot of times patients can find them stressful. Would you like for me to administer a mild setative before we continue? It won't affect the tests and it would help the patient maintain a more relaxed state while we are scanning you." Leeda's tone was slightly sing-song. This would be the first time she'd done this as a primary doctor, and while she had no intention of letting that show, her words were rote; the only time she'd heard them had been from a computer screen. She said them as she was preparing the scanner, routine, and it was obvious she was slightly distracted by the task at hand.

What struck Leeda when she looked down at Teagan, waiting for her decision regarding the sedative, was the blank look in her eyes. It occurred to her that the woman had completely surrendered herself to her care, whatever ability she had to exercise distrust had been laid to the side. "I'll accept your recommendation on the sedative. The implants are sensitive. There is a self destruct mechanism, the casualty will be limited to my body if it is triggered, very low probability of accidental firing." Her tone remained as flat as always as she explained the possibility of her demise.

Leeda froze as Teagan spoke, jolted from her preoccupation. "Oh. Well that's... that's good information to have. Definitely no poking around in your brain then." She smiled weakly down at the other woman and finished her calibrations, instructing the unit to adjust for height, weight and certain parameters, blood pressure, respiratory rate, basic medical baseline measurements. "Ok. Can you tell me how old you are, Teagan? And, as far as you're aware... other than the, um... other than the obvious... alterations, have you undergone any genetic or physical manipulation that might affect test results?" She placed a hand on Teagan's arm, a reassurance she wasn't even sure was required. "Anything you can remember about... what happened to you, it would help me zero in on the relevant data."