Little Lives

Posted on Fri Sep 1st, 2023 @ 5:29am by Ensign Henry Ivo & Ensign Anya Bagh
Edited on on Fri Sep 1st, 2023 @ 5:33am

1,508 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Sim Logs
Location: Ivo's Quarters
Timeline: Set just after the events of "What in the Wolrd...?"

Anya straightened back her braids as she chimed the door to Henry Ivo’s quarters. It was shortly after her shift guarding their new Arumanigatan guests.

“Come in!” Henry’s voice called from within. When she entered the room, she found him standing at a waist-high incubator filled with soft blankets and a stuffed bear. He turned and saw her. “You’re just in time! I was about to feed them, want to help?”

“Umm… yes?” she nervously stepped forward. “But how do you feed them? Are their eyes even open?” She placed a hand on one of the kittens backs, softly petting in the rhythm of its breathing. “Human children are a little different from these.”

Henry laughed. “Yeah, I would think so! Not that I have any experience with human children, but I have looked after kittens this young before, so Doctor Hazeline asked me to help out with them. Here, sit down over at the desk where I have that towel set up, and I’ll get their formula ready.” He went over to the replicator and gave it some fairly specific instructions on what exactly to create, from a list of nutrients needed that the medical staff had given him. It was a little different from earth felines, but not by much.

“Maybe you should program that in the replicator for the future since they’ll be here for a few days. Especially if you have others help you” Anya made her way to the desk and sat down. “Do they really feed every two hours? When will you sleep?” She innocently quizzed.

“Oh, I will, but I have to get it into the computer the first time before I can,” Henry assured her. Then he laughed. “Sleep, with newborn kittens? You’re funny.” He told her cheerfully as he brought a small syringe filled with a warm white liquid and a tiny bottle nib fitted over the mouth, which he set next to her. Then he brought her a tiny little calico whose eyes were still indeed closed. It was mewing pathetically. “Here, hold her in one hand like this, with her head between your finger and thumb, and give her the syringe with your other hand. She’ll make a mess, don’t worry about that, but she had a good feeding response in sickbay so you shouldn’t have a problem getting her to latch.”

She took a deep breath, then carefully picked up the fragile kitten. Anya’s left hand awkwardly held the kitten in place, cradling it like she was shown. She then reached for the syringe and prodded the kitten’s mouth open with the end. As soon as the kitten latched, she gently pressed the plunger to get a little in its mouth. “How do you make sure you aren’t feeding it too much at once?” As soon as she asked, a bit came dribbling out the side of the kitten’s mouth.

“The amount in the syringe is about the amount they should have at feeding, but most of the time, they’ll stop when they’re full.” Henry assured her, feeding the other one now, standing at the incubator still. He’d put a towel down to protect the blankets, but otherwise seemed comfortable enough.

Anya smiled as the kitten kept suckling away. “They certainly do have an appetite at least.” The plunger steadily kept going down. “It’s a shame we didn’t get to know more of their culture before the ship’s demise. Do you think they have names already?” Anya stared wistfully at the tiny kitten, noticing a small orange spot on its ear.

“I don’t know, most of them are too young to speak,” Henry replied sadly. “I haven’t wanted to presume, so I haven’t named them.”

“I don’t think I can call them just ‘it’... it makes them feel less humanoid to me. If the older kittens can communicate, we could ask them or maybe we could give them nicknames until we know their real names?”

“Problem with that is that they might imprint on their nicknames, which interferes with their culture, but I can see your point. I’ve been calling them ‘babies’, which seems to work for these two.” He smiled as the kitten he was feeding stopped, and he started cleaning him up with a warm, damp towel, trying to emulate a mother’s licking.

Anya watched Henry then tried to clean the little calico kitten the same way after she finished the syringe. “Do we need to burp them?” Anya asked after cleaning the kitten as best she could. “We should also ask the captain how long until we can return these little ones to their home. Especially at this young, imprinting might happen anyway if they don’t get back sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, they do need to be burped. Put her on your shoulder or on her belly and pat her gently until you feel her burp,” Henry instructed. “You’re right, and really this should only be for a few days.”

"I hope so, for their sake." Anya sighed as she slowly turned the kitten and gently tapped the fuzzy girl's back with two fingers.

Once the kittens were cared for and returned to the incubator for a nap, Henry turned to Anya. “So, what’s your fancy for lunch?” He asked as he headed for the replicator.

"Not kitten formula… but I don't really feel like anything in particular." Anya tapped her chin. "Surprise me." She grinned while making her way to the table.

“Hmm. You like sushi?” Henry asked, thoughtfully.

"If we're going to embrace this cat parent thing, I better." She absent mindedly brushed a loose strand of ebony hair behind her ear. "How'd you learn so much about raising cats?"

Henry paused for a moment. “Remember when I said I used to dance professionally, but after an injury I couldn't anymore?” He asked quietly, not turning around.

Anya slightly nodded "Something about an arrow, right?"

He looked embarrassed. “Yeah...I was teaching some kids how to shoot. Guess I didn't teach them well enough.” He chuckled. “Anyway, the arrow completely shattered my kneecap, and the tip broke off in the joint. They were able to remove it, but they had to replace the kneecap and part of the joint, too. Good enough job for most people but not for a professional dancer. You need that range of motion, and I just didn't have it anymore. Not without excruciating pain, anyway.” He sat down without getting their food yet. “I...didn't take the news well. It felt like my life was over, y’know? I couldn't do what I felt like I was born to do, so what was the point?” He ran one hand through his hair and sighed. “My therapist got me to look after some tiny kittens for a fostering program. I thought it was a waste of time, but I promised my sister I’d do what the doctor said for at least six months, so I agreed. It was the best thing I could have done for myself.” The shadow of old pain left his eyes as he spoke about the kittens. “They were so little. Even smaller than these two. If I went away, they’d die. Suddenly, sticking around was worth it. So, I stuck around. Looked into some retraining options, and a few years later I enrolled in the academy. Still love cats, though.” He added with a wry smile.

Anya placed her hand over his and squeezed gently. "I'm glad you stuck around. I know the babies are glad too." She half smiled. "It's funny how life changes direction like that sometimes. Besides, if you'd never taken that arrow, I would have never learned how to dance…"

“That's true.” Henry smiled at her and held her hand back. “It's not what I would have chosen--and given the option to go back, I wouldn't have volunteered to teach that class--but being out here, meeting you... it was worth it.”

"That means more to me than you'll ever know." Anya blinked a few times, hiding a few tears. "Before being assigned to the Potemkin, not many people would have said that."

“Well, I'm glad you’re here.” Henry informed her brightly. “Shall we have lunch, then?”

"Yes, let's." Anya brushed her thumb lightly over the back of Henry's hand before letting it go. "I haven't had sushi in ages. Hopefully my chopstick skills are still there."

“I'm not sure you can forget those,” Henry chuckled. He glanced behind him at Anya as he told the replicator what he wanted, thinking about how far he had come from those dark days after his injury, and how little lives were perhaps the most precious. More importantly, it had been easy to tell Anya about something he had never been able to talk casually about before. There were really a lot of things worth sticking around for.

~End Log~

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