"Electrolytes it is...  I could sure use a Guinness..."<br/><br/>Dun took the bottle and swallowed as much of it down as he could in one go, knowing that the best place for this was within his system.  He needed to focus, even though he felt like a good ole stout and a holiday.  There seemed to always be a need for knowledge and problem solving when things were at there worst, but it usually meant that his ship was the one suffering, not him.  All he could think about was the capabilities of the Gatekeeper system and whether or not they could be used to aid their situation.  It was not, however, his field of expertise.  The use of power and fields was meant to protect them from exposure.  When it came to correcting exposure, he needed a diagnostician.<br/><br/>He sighed heavily as he tossed back the last of the bottle.  Looking up at the ceiling aimlessly, he imagined a farm that he had always dreamed of.  Growing old was a thing that usually took time.  Yet, he found himself in that place now, on the edge of Romulan space.<em>Cant grow cabbages here</em>, he thought with mirth.<br/><br/>"Well, we cant a keep the Capt'n waitin'."  The dialect was sneaking back in without so much as a thought, or maybe that was it.  He could not keep it at bay.  There was too much slipping through his cognitive process to keep it at arms length like he liked.  Too much to fix and it seemed like time was under assault by the very thing they were sent to investigate.  He wondered for the first time why it was exactly that they were here and why he had decided to give the Federation a platform with which to expose him to such insidious effects.<br/><br/>"Damn, I am old.  Computer, I need a cane."  There was a familiar whirring somewhere as his request was replicated.  With some innate inner guidance, he eased himself from the table and found it, tried it on for size and found that it aided his stability.<em>So be it, best to embrace that which you cant change and endeavor to discover how to fix it, for the sake of all of us.</em><br/><br/>Sahara.  She was such a beautiful lass.  He could almost focus on the fact that she had said he was to do something or go somewhere.  Or had she.  He couldnt recall.<br/><br/>His life was one of abandonment, the mother of his children had decided that a life free of Starfleet was more important than their life together.  The weight of his children being fatherless hit him hard.  The good doctor and his fellow crew represented to him a family that would never leave him of their own accord.  Theirs was a dedication above such desires as personal freedom.  They all strived to serve above and beyond themselves.  He knew he needed to embrace this, pay heed to Sahara's advice, if he could only remember what it was.<em>Best not to look stupid in front of the pretty lady, man, act like you have a spine.</em><br/><br/>Dun berated himself, as he always did.  He knew his wife leaving him was a complication of his own desires to be where his insight flourished.  Maybe if he just stayed strong for them all and found a solution, it would be enough, preserve<em>her</em>way of life, that which she had decided to serve...  Yes, if not for himself, for the beautiful lass.<br/><br/><em>What was that?</em>His brain skipped from thought to thought.<em>Oh!  The observation lounge, yes, that was it...</em><br/><br/>With cautious steps, Dun made his way from the sickbay, already feeling a bit of energy seeping back into his body.<em>Best a not to keep the Capt'n waitin'</em><br/><br/><strong>Holding steady at his quickly assumed age, Dun moves towards the observation room.</strong>