LtJG Jocelyn Marshall - Sandwiches Everywhere

[Jo Marshall]

(( Earlier - Main Sickbay, USS Gorkon ))

:: With a hangover the size of a small country, it had taken the Ops Officer a little longer than usual to determine that she needed medical assistance. Steeling herself, and her nerves, she took the giant leap from her quarters on the same deck to the Sickbay and found it to be quite busy; various crew littered the biobeds around the wall and looked her way as she entered. She tried her best at a thin smile.::

:: However, it was notably devoid of Medical Officers.::

Marshall: Err… hello?

:: A head poked from around the doorway of the Office; a head of dark hair and a scowl to match that of the denizens of Hell. She was new, at least Jo didn’t recognise her, and she was chewing.::

Namura: Give me a moment. ::munching sounds:: Find an empty bed.

:: As instructed, and feeling a little brushed off, Jo found a free biobed, the lights already starting to itch at the back of her eyeballs. No sooner had she hopped onto the comfortable diagnosis bench, the Doctor appeared, sandwich in hand. Jo eyed it with a mixture of longing and the sudden urge to vomit copiously.::

Namura: So… ::she glanced at her collar while busying herself with the biobed controls:: Lieutenant. Come down with a case of the Shore Leave Sickness?

:: Jo frowned, then cottoned onto the fact that the woman was making fun of her.::

Marshall: Hilarious. ::she huffed:: But, yes, hangover cure required. Just stick it in my neck and I’ll be out of here.

:: Something about her flippancy for the wonderful world of Medicine seemed to rub the Doctor up the wrong way, who rolled her eyes, finished chewing the last bit of her sandwich, and placed her hands on Jo’s throat, which of course would usually cause alarm in anyone.::

Namura: Look up for me. Into the light.

:: While she poked around on her sensitive neck where all her important blood flowed through, Jo squinted through heavy eyelids at the glaring lights above.::

Namura: Fatigue? Thirst? Headache?

:: Jo shook her head, as best she could, as the Doctor’s thumbs excavated into the tender glands under her jaw.::

Namura: Dehydration? Dizziness? Diarrhoea?

:: At the mention of Montezuma's revenge, Jo shook her head again and looked back down, if only to stop the light from barraging her optic nerve.::

Marshall: No, Doc, just a regular old hangover. Spray me with the thing and let me get to work.

Namura: Hmmm, irritability… ::she glanced at the biobed readings:: ...and rapid heartbeat too. Going for gold there, Lieutenant.

:: She consulted the rack of charged and ready hyposprays, picked one with a nice blue hue, and stuck in the side of Jo’s neck. It fizzed and popped as the life-saving concoction dosed her up. Jo rubbed the area of the injection unconsciously, her hand batted away instantly by the Doctor.::

Namura: Your urine output has increased over the last week and sweat production is up ten percent. You’re going to need some fluids too.

Marshall: That’s a bit overkill. I’m good. ::she moved her neck, opened her eyes a bit wider:: All better. You’re a miracle worker.

:: Making a move to jump off the biobed earned her a flat hand to the chest and the Doctor with a weirdly strong arm pushed her back.::

Namura: No so fast. You see the teal collar? That means you go when I say you go. ::she tapped in a command on the controls:: And I say you need fluids and you’re not going anywhere. Get comfy.

:: Jo groaned. Trust her to get the Doctor married to the job. Her mouth was a little dry, and all she wanted to do now the fluffy hypo flowed through her veins was sleep. If she went then, she could get in a decent hour or so.::

Namura: I’m not going to remind you that this is self-inflicted, or that if you’d drunk the same amount in something stupid like Romulan Ale you’d be dead and I’d be peeling up your corpse off the bathroom floor, or the port nacelle. ::she pushed Jo onto her back and grabbed her arm, roughly rolling her sleeve up to get to the juicy veins:: You’re all the same; we dock, you have a drink, next thing I’ve got ten of you in here complaining of bad breath and anal ruptures. Let’s do this the old-fashioned way.

:: With nary a whistle, the Doctor pressed a control above the biobed this time, and it deployed a length of tube, with a good old pointy needle at the end. Jo swallowed thickly and mildly panicked. She hadn’t been stuck with anything that big in a long time. In seconds, the needle was in her good vein, the nice vein, and fluid was mingling in her bloodstream.::

:: The Doctor smiled. It wasn’t warm; just a few short steps from homicidal.::

Namura: Rest. Relax. Try not to die.

:: Jo nodded and lay back, shifting until her head felt comfortable and her arm fit nicely into the special cavity to prevent dangling limbs. Her inner elbow felt cold, her eyelids heavy, and she wondered where on Earth the Doctor had got her bedside manner from. She didn’t even know her name, let alone her rank. She could’ve been any psychopath in a lab coat.::

Marshall: Yes, ma’am. I’ll just be here… talking to myself…

:: The Doctor had already disappeared in a flurry of white coat and no-nonsense. Jo looked to her side, at another patient fallen foul of the intravenous drip attached to his arm, and a sandwich in his hand that looked very familiar. Jo eyed it up, mouth still dry, stomach still gurgling, headache still there, but hungry nonetheless.::

Marshal: Hey… ::the whisper was near conspiratorial:: Hey! Where’d you get that sandwich?

TBC

Lieutenant (JG) Jocelyn Marshall

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0

 

&

 

(PNPC) Ensign Tali Namura

Medical Officer (Trauma)

USS Gorkon

G239304JM0