[JP] Ens Hiro Jones and Cmdr Yogan Yalu - Yogan's Phantasmagoria (pt 1)
notyourfrog
(( Yogan Yalu’s quarters, 03-0201, Deck 3, USS Artemis ))
The rings of Meranuge IV glowed in the sunlight, in stark contrast to the blackness of the surrounding space. The greenish-golden halo around the Da’al homeworld reflected into Yogan’s quarters and distracted him from reading. Anslem by Jake Sisko was a favorite of Yogan’s; he thumbed through it two, sometimes three times a day.
Seated in the chair by the window, Yogan reached forward to pick the book up off the coffee table and felt something—weird—behind his knee.
Yalu: Gah. ::beat:: What’s that?
(( Sickbay, Deck 7, USS Artemis — Ten minutes later ))
Hiro crawled out from under one of the examination beds. One particular Ensign had come in earlier, and complained of a “wobble” to the bed. Hiro assured them he would look into it and they’d used a different table. For the last 5 minutes, he’d been crouched, squatted, and lain flat on his back at various moments, adjusting absolutely everything that could be adjusted. There hadn’t been a wobble. Hiro knew there wasn’t a wobble. The ensign’s inner ear infection was to blame, and he’d been perfectly aware of that, but a promise is a promise. At least now he could look the ensign in the eye the next time they came in, and assure them he’d done his due diligence.
At the sound of the doors hissing open, Hiro scooted out from his makeshift fort to see who the new arrival was. Commander Yalu was there, dressed in the short-pant uniform some of the crew adopted for warm-climate away missions.
Yogan disliked starflorts. There was something about the way the ship’s recirculated air tornadoed about his shins that made him feel underdressed. On display. Too informal for duty. Of course, back on Resolution, he was the one who’d shown up to Molly Malone’s for a night-on-the-town…in his uniform. The only one dressed for work among a group of crewmates who were dressed for play. Still, the presence of a weird… thing… on his right knee-pit made Yogan overcome the awkwardness of strolling the corridors in starflorts to make the trip to Sickbay. Any uninformed so-and-so who still wondered just how far down Trill spots go would get their answer.
Jones: Hey there, Commander! What can I do for you?
Yogan rotated his hip a quarter-turn and pointed to the top of his calf. He couldn’t see what he was pointing at, but he’d felt it and knew it didn’t belong back there.
Yalu: Hello, Doctor. I’m hoping you might have a free moment. ::beat:: I got a… thing… on my right knee-pit. It’s driving me crazy and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind checking it out.
Jones: Oh yeah? Knee-pit things happen to be a specialty of mine. Let’s take a look. ::patting the newly “adjusted” biobed.::
Any awkwardness Yogan might have felt evaporated as soon as he sat down on the biobed. Hiro Jones had been part of the crew long enough that Yogan could no longer think of them as “the new doctor.” Jones was just one of the gang. After their shared experiences on the Da’al planet, Yogan had the impression that Jones possessed scientific acumen and bedside manner in equal proportions.
Yalu: I noticed it earlier today, Doctor. It’s not painful or anything. I don’t feel sick. ::beat:: Just weirded out. ::grins:: Yogan and Yalu are a done deal, there’s no room for a third.
Hiro’s mind flitted back to camping trips back on Earth. It was pretty much inevitable to come back after a weekend in the woods of northern Illinois and not come back with a tick or two hitching a ride. But Hiro was human. He knew Trill had a greater sensitivity to insectoid bites than Humans, so any bug bite was worth taking seriously. Added to that was all the weirdness they’d experienced on the Da’al homeworld. Hiro silently hoped it wasn’t a mutant meteorite tick.
Sure enough, there was a small, six-legged critter tucked into the crease in the back of Yalu’s right knee. It looked amazingly like a Terran tick with the exception of the markings. This one was dark brown with a stripe of color matching exactly Yalu’s skin tone.
Jones: ::absentmindedly:: I wonder if that’s adaptive…
Yalu: You found something? I Rube-Goldberg’d a series of mirrors in my quarters but I couldn’t see what it was. ::beat:: Wait, what do you mean by “adaptive?”
Jones: Sorry. I was indulging my inner entomologist. Yeah, you made a friend at some point. Let me scan this guy before we do anything.
Yalu: Entomologist. ::beat:: Don’t tell me. I got bit by something?
Yogan tried to mask the rising concern in his voice, but it was hard. Why hadn’t he noticed it right away? Joined Trill and insect bites usually went together like chalk and cheese. Best keep them as far apart as possible, or suffer the consequences.
Jones: Not just a bit-and-run. He’s set up shop.
Yalu: Oh, gross. ::tries to get a look at it:: I’m surprised I didn’t start feeling it right away. Sure, we all had our hands full on the Da’al planet. It’s understandable that I was a little distracted. But with all the training I got from the Symbiosis Commission about avoiding insect bites—— ::beat, mock-serious-Trill-Supervisor-voice:: at all costs! —— you’d think I’d have passed out the moment I got bit.
Jones: Well, based on my experience with similar-looking arachnids on Earth, they don’t always bite right away. I’ve known people who …
Yogan winced. Hiro stopped talking. The look on Yalu’s face was enough to convey his discomfort at the thought of a bug crawling around on his leg for who knew how long before finally picking a place to dine.
Jones: Sorry. Yes. The point: they don’t always bite right away.
Hiro reached for the tricorder resting on a side table, and began scanning the unknown bug.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Kingdom - Exoanimalia
Indigenous Planetary System - Meranuge
Phylum - Arthropoda
Class - Arachnid
Order - Unclassified
Family - Unclassified
Genus - Unclassified
Species - Unclassified
Known biological hazards
- Incomplete data.
Treatment
- Incomplete data.
\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Jones: ::reading the display:: Well darn. oO I could just treat it like a tick and pop it off. As long as I get the head out, we should be fine. Oo Ok, no worries, sir. We’ll evict this fella in a jiffy.
The procedure was simple. On Earth, or even with another Human, Hiro would have taken a good old trust pair of tweezers and yanked the tick … or whatever it was … out. He had two reasons now though for being more careful. One, he wanted to study the intruder. The computer hadn’t gotten very far on identification, which was always an exciting opportunity. Hiro doubted it was sentient, so this didn’t count as a First Contact event, but still - one does not simply kill the first specimen of new life one came across. The other (and more immediate) reason for care was his patient. Yalu was Trill.
With a deft twisting motion of the extractor (Hiro liked to think of it as a handheld tractor beam), the arachnid came floating smoothly out, leaving a tiny bead of blood where it had been. Hiro was careful to not let Yalu see the parasite wiggling its little legs futilely in the air as Hiro transported it to a containment dish.
Jones: There we are. ::spraying butyltriclosan on the tiny puncture:: How are you feeling?
TBC
Ensign Hiro Jones, MD
USS Artemis-A, Medical
E239510KD0
Second Officer & Strategic Operations Officer
USS Artemis NCC-81287
D238804DS0