The First Casualties
Posted on 19 Apr 2023 @ 4:15pm by Lieutenant Commander Lance Quinn (*) & Commander Calliope Zahn
Edited on on 16 May 2023 @ 12:18am
Mission:
M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Pathfinder, Sickbay
Timeline: MD09 Following "Overqualified"
1404 words - 2.8 OF Standard Post Measure
On approach to the Pathfinder, Wiser's report of Ensign Jup's condition triggered an emergency medical protocol. Sickbay initiated a site-to-site transport while the shuttle was still out in space. Quinn found himself at a loss, watching the disfigured Ferengi twinkle away before his eyes, like a ghost. Should he have thought to call for the transport himself? He felt outside of himself, as if his thoughts were stretched out and sluggish, the world spinning around him, the only thing in focus was his own pain. As he grimaced against it, it was all he could do just to choke back his own involuntary tears. They were landed in the shuttle bay in a matter of a few minutes, but Quinn had lost sense of time, just breathing in and out with the pain.
As soon as he could he opened the loading ramp to exit. A man in a sciences uniform with a medkit met him at the bottom, a hypo already in his hands. Quinn turned his head to bare his neck for the medic to administer the medication. The pain of his arm went from all consuming to a numb sore. Quinn blinked as his vision also seemed out of focus. The pain blockers had to be interfering with his nervous system, as such things were designed to do.
"I'll walk you to sickbay, Sir."
"I suppose I shall be tended by a nurse," Quinn griped. "Seeing as Doctor Wagner is as yet unaccounted for."
"Yes, Sir. The nursing staff is real capable like."
"Of course they are." Quinn grated at the poor use of standard. "But they haven't advanced degrees."
"Sir, if I may," the medic ventured. Perhaps others would have found his slow southern stateside drawl soothing, but to Quinn it was patronizing and overly familiar. He wanted to tell the medic he very well may not, but his teeth were still grit too tightly. The man continued with his annoying calm. "The support staff down in Sickbay are mostly long in the tooth their own selves. And you got yourself plasma burns. Not exactly a mysteriously undiagnosable case of cellular selective temporal displacement callin' for advanced research."
Quinn ground his teeth at the insufferable man. Lucky for him, the turbolift doors happened to open just at that moment. Sickbay wasn't terribly occupied with patients, in fact there was a dearth of them in the general area, but the medical staff seemed to be quite busy opening additional beds and lining up carts. Quinn's medication addled brain wondered if they knew something he didn't. There was just himself and Mr. Jup to be seen to... Worry grew for his wife again and he grasped for the right question to form.
The medic tried to guide the Commander towards a bio bed by his good elbow, but when Quinn caught on to the contact, he broke from his deep distraction of worry and retracted his arm from the unwelcome touch. "I can, in fact, manage for myself, if you would permit me some space." He insisted, waiting for the medic to take a step back before lifting himself to the bed and presenting his injured arm. A nurse joined the medic and they put some kind of spray preparation on the damaged skin and took some scans, discussing the depth of the tissue damage and the settings to input on the deep tissue dermal regenerator arch emitter. Quinn just looked at the arm. It didn't seem like his own, singed of all hair, swollen and discolored and weirdly, if thankfully, numb.
"Are there more patents incoming?" He finally managed to ask the medic as the nurse went to wheel the emitter arm to his bed.
"Not sure, Sir. But we're gettin' geared up for the possibility."
"What possibilities? Update me on all you know!" Quinn was irritated. clearly something had transpired while he had been away from the Pathfinder in search of the Acamas.
"Commander, the Marines who deployed to the surface, for one— we don't have a clue what their outcome will be. And the Acamas, we still ain't heard from. Their conditions are unknown. Then there's the probability those survivors of the Sunrise will be in a bad way. The Theseus also deployed a runabout team, as you know. That's a lot of potential casualties, worst case scenario. We have all medical staff and cross trained medical from other departments on ready; Theseus is likewise preparing to receive any casualties and exchange needed medical personnel." As he spoke, the medic prepared an IV drip and took a swipe of disinfectant over Commander Quinns good wrist.
"What are you doing?" Quin asked, stopping short of pulling away.
"Pickin out a vein for your nutrient line. Heavy dermal regeneration ain't magic, Sir. It'll suck the body dry of nutrients as it stimulates your tissue healing."
"Oh."
By the time the nurse returned with the long-arm dermal regenerator unit, the Medic put a port into a vein and got the line started. After pulling the biobed into a reclined seating position, the nurse adjusted the height settings of the armature for Quinn's posture and then motioned for the commander to set his arm inside the unit, between the top and bottom plates. She custom set the support straps and then set the machine. Emitter arrays whirred and clicked beginning a slow spiraling of mechanisms orbiting the damaged limb. Ultra violet colored guide lights began to scan out a pattern.
Quinn stared at the machine. His brow pinched as his mind worked out how the mechanisms were probably manufactured, assembled, programmed, calibrated, and powered. But where the machine ended and the biology it tended to began, he lost all understanding. "How long is this to take?"
"Settle in, Commander. You'll be here a spell. We'll get you some reading material. and somethin' to whet the whistle. Best to stay hydrated. It ain't a real visit to sickbay without gnawin some ice chips."
"What if I should be called on in Engineering?"
"You been called on in Engineering at the moment, Sir?"
"That's beside the point!"
"We can cross that bridge when it comes up. You're not critical. So if you gotta up and get? Go an get. We can suspend the regeneration protocol until later."
The medic moved to the side of Quinn's monitor to enter his vitals and send an update to the bridge about Quinn's condition and service availability. The Captain was going to want to know the status of her Chief Engineer, after all. Quinn looked on and something occurred to him to ask.
"What of Mister... Jup?" He surprised himself as he recalled the Ferengi officer's name. "What is his status?"
"Ensign Jup was admitted in critical condition. It's not good, Commander. The damage was so extensive and his shock was so extreme, I hear they're puttin' him in suspended animation rather than risk losing him. Technically that makes him stabile '-ized' for now, as the docs figure out if they can salvage what's left and what Mr. Jup's quality of life might be if they even think they can reconstruct him, but I wouldn't really call him stable. Might take some experts back at base to really decide how to handle his case."
The medic finished updating the file. "Commander," he excused himself, leaving Quinn to sit, looking around at sickbay and wondering, nervous for fear Calliope might be next through the doors. His nostrils flared, as he heated from within with an irritated, self-loathing, helpless feeling. Unbidden, and with nothing else to call upon in his own strength, something Calliope had said about prayer and the petitioning of the some kind of personification of supernatural will came to mind. But it only made him angrier at the idea of false hopes and imaginary deities whom always seemed to demand all the praise and none of the blame! Calliope had been falling for the swill of the weak minded masses— but far be it from him! He would hold to the knowable truth of matters rather than take false comforts and resort to desperate bargaining with invisible friends.
He stared bitterly at the dermal regeneration machine as if his scorn with its pace would spur the damnable thing to hurry up already so he might carry on trying to reach his wife.
