JP: LT Mirra Ezo & Ens Phrik -- The trouble with bipeds

[dan.prior1701]

((IKS S'Tarahk - Makeshift Medical Bay))

::Phrik ached. Every single part of his body seemed to shout in pain. His muscles torn, bones fractured. Today had not been a good day. Even death didn’t seem to have helped matters much. The climate was much nicer, he was warm, the lights were dim, the air was humid and sticky. It felt much better than his previous life ever had. There was no noise, no Starfleet, no explosions. He could get used to this, if this was what death was like. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind. It’d have to ease up eventually, and then Phrik would have peace. Time to relax. There was however, one niggling thought. He still felt Edosian. That had to be a mistake. Moving on to the next life meant he couldn’t be an Edosian, he’d be some sort of unimaginable life-form in an unimaginable new universe. That was how these things worked. You die on one plane of existence, you move on to the next. There would be no Edosians, or Humans, or Starfleet. There’d be, well, he wasn’t sure what there’d be. That was the whole point. Another thought struck Phrik, the only way you could die, and remain an Edosian, was to become a God. He couldn’t exactly think of anything he’d done to deserve being a God, he hadn’t invented warp drive, or revolutionised agriculture, like the other Gods had. But surely there must be something. God of medicine? No, couldn’t be, there already was one. God of xeno-biology perhaps? No, no, that’d fall under Gartrus, Goddess of aliens. The Doctor pondered this for some time, struggling to understand why he’d become a God without having done anything important.  An idea suddenly struck him, if he was a God, he was omnipotent, which meant he could make the pain disappear. It was worth a shot. Phrik summoned every ounce of his concentration, urging his broken body to rejuvenate itself. It didn’t. Then, he felt a soft hiss against his neck. A cool, soothing feeling slowly spread across his body, like an oncoming tide washing over him. Phrik let out a soft sigh of relief as the screams of his muscles were satiated. Perhaps he was the God of pain?::

::Phrik’s eyes snapped open. His surroundings sharpening from a dull blur to what looked like a dim, red room. Someone stood over him. A ginger-haired biped, in a teal Starfleet uniform. Comprehension finally began to dawn on him. He let out a deep rattling breath of disappointment. His voice came out hoarse and rough.::

Phrik: I’m not a God am I?

::So many responses sprang into her mind, none of them were really appropriate for the time being. Checking herself mentally, she realized she had been around more delirious patients in one day than she had been in months. Placing the spent hypo-cannister aside, she continued on with her tricorder sweep.::

Ezo: ::evenly:: I am afraid not...but you are conscious, so that’s an improvement.

::And it was. So many patients still lay in various states of consciousness. Most worriedly, Tatash was still relying on machines to keep him breathing. It wasn’t entirely shocking, but somehow she had expected him to wake up and start barking orders from his forced confinement. The sooner they got back to base, the better. For the time being, they were wounded and limping back via the kindness of their Klingon allies. She strongly suspected that the manner of their ships destruction was enough to keep their current hosts satisfied and keep war off the table...for now. Finishing the sweep, she was pleased to see the cranial swelling on the battered Edosian going down.::

Ezo: I’ve given you a mild analgesic,  you’ve taken quite the beating…

::So he was still alive, he wasn’t sure whether that was incredible luck or a terrible misfortune. But it didn’t matter anymore. He was conscious, which meant he was wasting time that could be spent doing his job.::

Phrik: ::Muttering:: I’ve had worse. Thank you Doctor, but there is work to be done. ::He sat up to his immediate regret. Pain racked through his chest and the injured doctor collapsed back onto the cold steel of the Klingon biobed. He let out a light groan.:: Nothing, ::cough:: 5 CCs of triptocederine won’t clear up. You wouldn’t happen to have any :cough:: on hand would you?

::Mirra suppressed the urge to eyeroll,  keeping her gaze straight and steady on the stubborn physician.::

Ezo: ::flatly:: Fresh out. Sorry Doc, looks like you’re bedbound for the time being. ::raising an eyebrow:: Let me ask you something...if our positions were to be reversed...what would be your instructions for me…?

::This gave him slight pause, stubborn patients were the bane of his existence, and generally he’d sedate them before they got a chance to do any more damage to themselves. Then again, Phrik wasn’t a patient, he was a Doctor, and he liked to think he knew a thing or two about his own biology.::

Phrik: It would depend on your wounds. But, as a fellow doctor, young as you are, I would trust your own input. I know my own limits a hell of a lot better than most patients do. ::This was flat out not true.:: And considering we’re not on a Starfleet ship anymore, you need all the help you can get. ::He began to sit up again, albeit much more slowly this time::

::Mirra found it rather difficult to keep the amusement off her face. She hadn’t expected a reasonable response, considering doctors of all creeds made the absolute worst patients, herself included. She nodded absently at his clearly fabricated logic, while reaching for the previously prepped hypospray. With a gentle hand firmly on his shoulder, she hindered his further progress at getting out of bed, and administered the stronger sedative with a practiced hand.::

Ezo: Well Mr. Phrik, lucky for the both of us, Federation ship or not, I still outrank you. Nothing personal, but you are in no state to be upright. You need to give your body time to heal. ::smirking:: And I did not for one second believe you about trusting my own limitations…

::Whatever it was she’d given him, it certainly seemed to be acting quickly. He felt his thoughts slow down to a crawl, basic concepts being much more difficult to grasp than they should be.::

Phrik: That’s the thing ab… ::he paused, fishing for the right words:: about bipeds, you don’t understant some people hab, have more legs. Of course I’m in no state to stand, if I wassh some wobbly 2-footed terror. But I’m not, I have three, we’re, we’re, ::he groaned:: much… better… at standing... ::Phrik’s head hit the table again, and his eyelids drooped slowly.::

::The amusement clear on her face, Mirra waiting for his breathing to even out, indicating the sedative had taken full effect. She patted his shoulder gently, shaking her head with quiet laughter.::

Ezo: ::quietly:: Rest well, Mr. Phrik.

::The discontent doctor now safely resting and not about to injure himself further by means of stubbornness, Mirra moved away from the reclined Endosian to make the rounds with the rest of the hitchhiking Starfleet officers.::

Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MD

Chief Medical Officer

Starbase 118 Ops

C239205ME0

Ensign Phrik

Medical Officer

Starbase 118 Ops

O239308P10