Taeval tr’Sienelis - And the Cold of Space Seeps In
Quinn Reynolds
((Sickbay, USS Gorkon))
Sickbay had been empty and quiet. The current emergency saw routine appointments cancelled for later rescheduling, and the staff preparing for casualties. Efficient, organised, and practised, they were ready when the bridge told them an escape pod had been located, a single occupant headed their way.
His arrival had shattered that peaceful readiness. The young Denobulan ensign was now backed against the distant wall, caught somewhere between hysterical sobbing and shouting at them to keep away. The dark rust of dried blood painted the bright gold shoulders of his uniform, smears flaking and cracking on the ridges of his face.
But as best as Taeval could tell, it didn’t belong to the young man. It looked dried on the surface of his uniform, rather than soaked through it, and there was no obvious sign of injury. No wounds, no restriction or awkwardness in his movements, no sense that the young man was feeling pain.
Physical pain, at least. Clearly, the same couldn’t be said of his emotional state.
The curly-haired Romulan breathed out a sigh and shook his head. As tempting as it was to break out the hyposprays and wade in, as easy as that would make the medic’s lives, it was unlikely to be beneficial to the poor young man in front of them.
Taeval: I don’t think sedating him is an option. He won’t be able to tell us anything, and getting pinned down and knocked out is only likely to make him more agitated when he comes back around.
Loxley/Fortune/Saralai: Response
Taeval: We need his name, at least. ::He paused for thought, and looked at his colleagues.:: We have the Triumphant’s manifest, yes? Could one of you check that? I don’t have the authorisation.
Loxley/Fortune/Saralai: Response
His slanted brows pulled together, forming a neat delve at the bottom of his forehead ridges. Rubbing his jaw in thought, sounding a light scratch at the first hints of stubble threatening to break through, he lowered his voice to suggest a plan.
Taeval: ::Low,:: He’s got more agitated each time we’ve taken any equipment near him. Maybe Corliss could distract him, try to talk him down while we try to take some basic scans? I don’t think he’s hurt, but I’d hate to be wrong and only find out when he collapses.
Loxley/Fortune/Saralai: Response
--
Physician Assistant
USS Gorkon
simmed by
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0