Ensign Imril - Medbay Chemical Romance
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Chris Taylor
Dec 28, 2024, 10:14:42 PM12/28/24
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((Promenade, DS 224 ))
Back on the Bucephalus, Imril had brought their engineering kit along with them to a scheduled training drill exactly once. Before the sim even began, the drillmaster admonished them for presuming the luxury of being fully equipped when all Hell broke loose. It wasn’t a mistake they made twice on that ship, and it wouldn't be repeated on this station. The Ensign had with them only their tricorder and a padd when they stepped into the turbolift that would bring them down to the next training scenario. Anything else, they’d either be given before the sim or pick up in the course of it.
(( Holodeck 3, Deck 222, DS 224 ))
The Bactrican found a corner of the Holodeck where they could stand in quiet contemplation. They offered quick but polite nods to the others who were already there, and those who arrived after. But stayed mostly silent, staring into their padd and internally running down a list of possible scenarios and stratagems. What was this group about to be thrown against? What unforeseen wrenches were about to be thrown at the manual-mandated methods of dealing with said crisis? After four years and counting of training drills, there never seemed to be an end to the surprises. But that was almost certainly the point.
A trio of instructors and observers arrived in due time. Imril stood to attention and moved to the section of the chamber where everyone was gathering for the debrief.
Ral: ::nods everyone in turn:: Welcome everyone.
Imril nodded respectfully to the dark haired Bajoran.
Lyara / Kel? / Any?: Response
Ral: I’m Senior Chief Ral Shaw, the lead evaluator of this exercise. Thank you for signing up for this training and traveling here on Deep Space 224; your participation is greatly appreciated.
Ral: What we will drill this afternoon is something that I would not wish to anybody, yet it is a part of our duty as members of Starfleet. ::beat:: But if you do, you will want to be ready. Let’s begin.
Chief tapped her combadge twice, and the gridded walls of the holodeck were replaced with a view of the Artemis sickbay. The only sign of activity a red alert flashing on the monitors.
Ral: We are in a faithful reconstruction of Artemis' sickbay. The ship has suffered irreversible damage, and the captain has declared orders to abandon the ship. This is where this exercise will begin. You have five minutes to evacuate yourself and as many others as possible to the lifeboats from this sickbay. ::pauses for a moment:: You may have questions... I know. The answer is - this is an emergency drill. Act like that. Think about what you will do, and what has a priority to do first.
Chief stepped one step back and taped her combadge.
Ral: Computer, start the simulation.
Ral and the other observers disappeared. In their place faded in occupants for the biobeds. Some two to a bed. Some were unconscious, some were moaning, others struggling but failing to move themselves off of their bed. Where there had been a view to a pristine DS 224 corridor, now the door leading out from the sickbay opened out to an Artemis bulkhead. Dark and foreboding, the white lights that lined the walls replaced with red.
The floor underneath shook Across the room, a cupboard with a biohazard sign, full of science experiments, began to fall, and broken vials spilled their contents onto the floor.
A second shake, the inertial echo of an explosion on some distant part of the ship, sent Imril colliding with the nearby wall. They caught it with their hands and used the momentum of impact to lunge into a sprint.
Imril: ::running to the biohazard cupboard:: I’ll lock down that spill.
There was no time to identify the liquids that were mixing together upon the shelves and a growing portion of the floor, or analyse the results of their unguided combinations. They had to be isolated ASAP. Fortunately, sickbays came equipped with plenty of forcefield generators for isolating pathogens and such. A panel for controlling them could be found alongside the Head Nurse’s office. The office itself was empty, of life and of identifiably damaged consoles. Making it an ideal candidate for what the engineer had in mind. They slapped a palm against the office’s emergency control, locking the room down for what was to come. A quick look at the cupboard later, they rapidly tapped in a series of short but precise commands.
A wall of sparking light arose from floor to ceiling, sealing the cupboard and a good bit of space ahead of it from everything and everyone. A few more emergency commands, and Imril had the airflow to and from the cupboard isolated to a route that led only to the nurse’s office, which they likewise isolated from any other sections of Sickbay. Forming a one-way tunnel of air into which they allowed the emergency supply of inert gasses to flow in a deliberately circulated manner. Flushing the sealed area thusly served the dual purpose of driving any lethal fumes into the Nurse’s Office while suppressing any fire before it could start. There were plenty of other nasty things the rapidly mixing solutions could do to their limited surroundings, but this was solely about buying time for the evacuation. Four minutes and fifty seconds to get as many people as possible safely clear of any oncoming chemical reactions. As a last step, Imril programmed the nurse’s office to lock down all vents should the forcefield collapse. That would trap as much of any potential toxins as possible within that room. Sparing the airways of anyone with compromised lungs. Or perfectly healthy ones, for that matter. Four minutes forty-five seconds, more or less.
With that task done, Imril scanned the room with hurried eyes. Looking and listening for any sign of where they might be needed next. If they didn’t receive some notice as to the most critical need they could fulfil, they’d make for the door behind which the anti-grav stretchers were stored.
Back on the Bucephalus, Imril had brought their engineering kit along with them to a scheduled training drill exactly once. Before the sim even began, the drillmaster admonished them for presuming the luxury of being fully equipped when all Hell broke loose. It wasn’t a mistake they made twice on that ship, and it wouldn't be repeated on this station. The Ensign had with them only their tricorder and a padd when they stepped into the turbolift that would bring them down to the next training scenario. Anything else, they’d either be given before the sim or pick up in the course of it.
Imril: Deck 222.
(( Holodeck 3, Deck 222, DS 224 ))
The Bactrican found a corner of the Holodeck where they could stand in quiet contemplation. They offered quick but polite nods to the others who were already there, and those who arrived after. But stayed mostly silent, staring into their padd and internally running down a list of possible scenarios and stratagems. What was this group about to be thrown against? What unforeseen wrenches were about to be thrown at the manual-mandated methods of dealing with said crisis? After four years and counting of training drills, there never seemed to be an end to the surprises. But that was almost certainly the point.
A trio of instructors and observers arrived in due time. Imril stood to attention and moved to the section of the chamber where everyone was gathering for the debrief.
Ral: ::nods everyone in turn:: Welcome everyone.
Imril nodded respectfully to the dark haired Bajoran.
Lyara / Kel? / Any?: Response
Ral: I’m Senior Chief Ral Shaw, the lead evaluator of this exercise. Thank you for signing up for this training and traveling here on Deep Space 224; your participation is greatly appreciated.
Ral: What we will drill this afternoon is something that I would not wish to anybody, yet it is a part of our duty as members of Starfleet. ::beat:: But if you do, you will want to be ready. Let’s begin.
Chief tapped her combadge twice, and the gridded walls of the holodeck were replaced with a view of the Artemis sickbay. The only sign of activity a red alert flashing on the monitors.
Ral: We are in a faithful reconstruction of Artemis' sickbay. The ship has suffered irreversible damage, and the captain has declared orders to abandon the ship. This is where this exercise will begin. You have five minutes to evacuate yourself and as many others as possible to the lifeboats from this sickbay. ::pauses for a moment:: You may have questions... I know. The answer is - this is an emergency drill. Act like that. Think about what you will do, and what has a priority to do first.
Chief stepped one step back and taped her combadge.
Ral: Computer, start the simulation.
Ral and the other observers disappeared. In their place faded in occupants for the biobeds. Some two to a bed. Some were unconscious, some were moaning, others struggling but failing to move themselves off of their bed. Where there had been a view to a pristine DS 224 corridor, now the door leading out from the sickbay opened out to an Artemis bulkhead. Dark and foreboding, the white lights that lined the walls replaced with red.
The floor underneath shook Across the room, a cupboard with a biohazard sign, full of science experiments, began to fall, and broken vials spilled their contents onto the floor.
A second shake, the inertial echo of an explosion on some distant part of the ship, sent Imril colliding with the nearby wall. They caught it with their hands and used the momentum of impact to lunge into a sprint.
Imril: ::running to the biohazard cupboard:: I’ll lock down that spill.
There was no time to identify the liquids that were mixing together upon the shelves and a growing portion of the floor, or analyse the results of their unguided combinations. They had to be isolated ASAP. Fortunately, sickbays came equipped with plenty of forcefield generators for isolating pathogens and such. A panel for controlling them could be found alongside the Head Nurse’s office. The office itself was empty, of life and of identifiably damaged consoles. Making it an ideal candidate for what the engineer had in mind. They slapped a palm against the office’s emergency control, locking the room down for what was to come. A quick look at the cupboard later, they rapidly tapped in a series of short but precise commands.
A wall of sparking light arose from floor to ceiling, sealing the cupboard and a good bit of space ahead of it from everything and everyone. A few more emergency commands, and Imril had the airflow to and from the cupboard isolated to a route that led only to the nurse’s office, which they likewise isolated from any other sections of Sickbay. Forming a one-way tunnel of air into which they allowed the emergency supply of inert gasses to flow in a deliberately circulated manner. Flushing the sealed area thusly served the dual purpose of driving any lethal fumes into the Nurse’s Office while suppressing any fire before it could start. There were plenty of other nasty things the rapidly mixing solutions could do to their limited surroundings, but this was solely about buying time for the evacuation. Four minutes and fifty seconds to get as many people as possible safely clear of any oncoming chemical reactions. As a last step, Imril programmed the nurse’s office to lock down all vents should the forcefield collapse. That would trap as much of any potential toxins as possible within that room. Sparing the airways of anyone with compromised lungs. Or perfectly healthy ones, for that matter. Four minutes forty-five seconds, more or less.
With that task done, Imril scanned the room with hurried eyes. Looking and listening for any sign of where they might be needed next. If they didn’t receive some notice as to the most critical need they could fulfil, they’d make for the door behind which the anti-grav stretchers were stored.
Lyara / Kel? / Any?: Response
-----------------
Ensign Imril
Engineering Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240110I12
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