Ensign Richard Matthews - It’s Like Starfleet ASMR
Matthew Gough
((Deck 6, Sickbay, USS Khitomer))
With the captain gone to do captain-y things on the bridge. And the medical crew halved between the planet, and sitting up more space for possible patient overflow at certain points on the ship. The sickbay was nice and quiet. Save for the usual ambiance of a star ship of course. A low almost unnoticeable hum of power in the lights, in the walls. The whirling sound of some instrument that he never could quite place.
Matthews: Oh, got something here from your group. Looks like they’re investigating the water. Log that.
Melville-Kilpatrick: Response
Matthews: Right now there’s nothing jumping out at me for causation. Can you make a request for soil and water samples? ::Frowning:: Actually make a request for a full spectrum of samples. When we’re back in contact we can have them sent to the guys in the labs to do.
Melville-Kilpatrick: Response
Richard glanced up to check where MK had sat up to do his thing. Taking it in he went back to his screen. A few of the officers in science were working away at it too. Excellent. When it came to the stuff they did. There could never be too many cooks in the kitchen! Or something.
Ugh, he was hungry, would that he could sneak off for a snack. Maybe he could just tell MK that he was going to the washroom right quick? Yeah. He turned, opened his mouth to speak and.
Naxell: ::tapping combadge:: =/\= Bridge to sickbay. Prepare for emergency transport. One human, infected. Quarantine immediately. =/\=
Matthews: Ach!
Startling, he tapped his badge after righting himself and taking a moment to breath.
Matthews: =/\= Sickbay here, ready for transport to quarantine. Sir, I thought we were already assured that this wasn’t contagious. At worst we’d be looking at a possible disease jumping the species barrier years down the line, if we didn’t get a handle on it now. =/\=
Melville-Kilpatrick: =/\= Response =/\=
Naxell: =/\= We're initiating transport now. Your guess is as good as mine, Ensign. But it sounds like this isn't our only problem. Keep me informed. =/\=
Matthews: =/\= Isn’t our only problem? Wait what? =/\=
And there went the line. Richard craned his neck looking for the nearest window. Had a freaking nebula popped up after all? No, nope, nein! And so forth.
How extreme would it be to activate and unload their full supply of photon torpedoes into it, if there was one?
Melville-Kilpatrick: Response
Shaking his head. Richard turned back to the here and now. There were no nurses on hand. Their doctors were down on the planet. He eyed MK, wishing now that he paid better attention to the things people said. Even when he didn’t think it pertained to him. Had MK said he was a medical doctor? Or a tech? Nurse? He wore their shade of blue dang it.
Matthews: Okay, get to the quarantine lab’s station MK and start talking to . . .
He didn’t know who was beaming in. He did a quick check, then because it was easy enough, brought up the transport logs. Just as the patient was beaming in - he could see the medical transport alert flashing out of the corner of his eye.
Matthews: Ensign Ada Yorke.
Melville-Kilpatrick: Response
Matthews: How’s she doing?
Melville-Kilpatrick / York: Response
Richard kept one ear out for MK and York. Leaving the medical work to the practicing medical profession. He didn’t think he could legally help right now. So he’d just man the equipment and keep research going. And try to handle any other issues that could possibly crop up from having a contagious crew member on board. With something that they shouldn’t be able to be caught.
Maybe he’d just adjust the power to the containment fields they could bring up around the lab if needed.
Matthews: KP do we need to get anyone down here to assist?
Melville-Kilpatrick / York: Response
TAGS/TBC
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Science Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A238908RM0