Lt. Commander Foster - Magic PADD Saves the Day
Jamie LeBlanc
((Main Sickbay Meeting Room - Starbase 118))
He had been travelling to Earth. On a shuttle. No a transport. He had been reassigned and on a shuttle. But this wasn’t a shuttle. This was a meeting room, and there was no high ranking officer giving him a dressing down for lipping off to his chief medical officer (while also doing the legwork to help save a colony, which he was a bit galled that he would never get the accolades for, but those were the breaks when you were raised by Cade Foster, the guy who managed to get himself demoted twice.
Welp, at least Wyn figured he wouldn’t beat his Dad’s record for demotions, he was an Ensign, there was nowhere to go but up.
For a moment he fidgeted, rubbing the pip on his collar.
Three pips on his collar.
Three pips on his very red collar.
Foster: What in the seven layers of Gre'thor is going on here?
And then everybody looked at him and Wyn knew he was out of line.
And yet none of the expressions were that ‘please shut up and go away and leave me to my quiet little sickbay where I do everything inefficiently because I’m the CMO of a California class ship and I never want to move up in life, and I never want to do any mission more dangerous or taxing than removing poison from the atmosphere of a colony’ disparaging look that Dr. Tarenstar had on his face at all times.
Well at least all the times he spoke to Wyn.
No, these expressions were concerned. Worried, and confused. People Wyn felt like he should know.
And for the first time in his young (mentally) life he felt embarrassed for something that slipped out of his mouth.
It felt quite like yelling at someone only to find out they were a child and you made them cry, when you were used to yelling at adult jerks who fought verbally back.
Voss: Yeah. That’s a very good question. Dr. Wethern, did that nurse make it down to Lieutenant Voxa? And should we start running brain scans or something?
Who was Voxa? Why were they scanning her brain. He felt like he should know.
Wethern: Not yet but suspect we are going to find something similar.
Drex: Would you like me to give you a moment to sort things out?
The lady… the Betazoid lady… the Ensign… The science Ensign… did you know her name? He narrowed his blue eyes at her, antennae curling forward. Betazoid Ensign Science Lady stood up and faced him with a far kinder expression that he expected for an interrogative question.
Voss: So, Commander. What do you think is going on here? Walk me through the last ten minutes or so.
Full stop. That was when Wyn realized that his entire thought process felt like his brain had been scrambled into pistachio pudding. He squirmed a bit, nervous energy quavering through his body and antennae, feeling the eyes upon him.
If there was one thing he absolutely hated – it was feeling stupid. He was very good at putting on a persona to show that he was tough, he wasn’t scared, he didn’t need anybody’s help and he wasn’t stupid.
And he was extremely aware that whatever came out of his mouth right now might make him look very stupid.
Foster: We are having a meeting ::context clues!:: that is not about construction or planetary cores. We are hosting a delegation and worried about potential infectious vectors. ::something he remembered:: And there was… ::he trailed off and then words tumbled out:: A flash or an energy displacement, pins and needles, disruption of the hippocampus, traveling through the prefrontal cortex…
His medical mind seemed to be unaffected as he started trying to puzzle this out and diagnose himself.
Wethern: Let's go one step further. Name and rank as well.
That snapped him out of his academic reverie.
Foster: Shar’Wyn Foster, call me Wyn, Doctor, not Doc. Apparently Lieutenant Commander, unless someone is playing a nasty practical joke.
Drex: I am Drex, the architect from Kalus. Lieutenant.::He paused briefly, then continued in a quiet and measured tone.:: From what I have observed in the last several minutes, there has been discussion regarding the delegation and the environmental and medical requirements for accommodating them. Details about schedules and sample handling were also addressed, though the full context remains unclear to me.
Voss: How is everyone else feeling? Confused? Headachy? Anything?
Wethern: Oh wow that's an interesting blast from the past. :to Voss: they seem to have regressed. Have our guests docked?
Drex: I do not feel any physical discomfort. Mentally... there is some disorientation, though I cannot pinpoint the source. :: He kept his voice calm, betraying nothing of the nagging sensation that something was off.::
Foster: Quite frankly I feel like I’ve been on a seven-day bender and drank a full keg of Romulan Ale while being punched in the brain by Klingons. But I think I’m sober, so there’s that.
Voss: Looks like the Ameoneians docked about thirty minutes ago and actually entered the station quite recently. I know we don’t have much information yet, and it might be a bad look, but should we tell the diplomatic team they may want to get everyone into a quarantine zone?
Ameoneians. He had never heard of that species. He was going to look it up, when he looked down and realized he had a PADD in front of him.
A PADD with all of the information about what they were talking about and what they were supposed to be doing! Oh Wyn, you stupid fool, you didn’t look at what you had in your hands and read it until now?
He chastised himself and then immediately got to work reading.
Wethern: Nothing showing up on preliminary scans. Until we get to the bottom of this no one leaves sickbay. Let's call the welcome wagon and see what is going on no need to panic so far.
Sickbay? They were in a sickbay? What kind of sickbay had meeting rooms this big?
Oh and there were donuts? There were never donuts on the USS Kilim. You were lucky if the replicated coffee didn’t taste like bathwater.
He reached for the cup right in front of him, hoping it was his and almost reeled back.
That was the best – and strongest – Quadrotritakalemilk Raktajino Latte he ever had. Who the heck ordered this glorious beverage and where could he find more?
Drex: I’ll let you handle the procedures. ::He returned his attention to the PADD, focusing on the terrain and core data, leaving Starfleet matters firmly to the others.::
Wyn stayed quiet, absorbing the data on the PADD. Ameoneians, an isolationist warrior species that fought the Klingons? Nice! The notes were parsed out in bullet points in order of importance, and Wyn liked that. Easy to read, easy to understand. Nothing like what he was used to on the Kilim.
Wethen: Voss. We need to prepare in case these two are just first and it affects us both. Document everything and lockdown this sector of sickbay.
That got him to look up. ‘these two?’ Thanks… Mr. whoever you were CMO Guy.
Wait a second, why did Wyn and Drex have to give their names when these people didn’t. Shouldn’t they have introductions all around?
Maybe this magic PADD would tell him?
Voss: ?
Oh! Voss! CMO guy just said that name! Betazoid Ensign Science Lady was Voss. Lyra Voss if his magic PADD told him correctly.
Wethern: Also find them an assignment to keep them busy.
Drex: I have enough to do, don’t worry for me. ::He pointed to his PADD::
Wyn merely held his up.
Foster: Give me a moment as I refresh my addled brain on the mission at hand and then I’ll give you my expert medical opinion on the matter.
That had not changed. If anything it was amplified because all Wyn could remember was medicine. Medicine and a driving need to learn more.
Voss: ?
The CMO-guy… magic PADD said “Corey.” Thanks, magic PADD, you wanna give “Corey” a last name? Or is the magic PADD on a first name basis with CMO-guy?
Corey CMO Guy it was.
Anyways Corey CMO Guy walked off to call Fairhug.
Who was Bardeezan.
How did he knew that? He never met Fairhug.
Did he?
Oh, Ensign Lyra Voss, Betazoid Ensign Science Lady, was speaking. He stopped trying to eavesdrop on Corey CMO Guy’s commline conversation (which he could, his hearing was irritatingly good) and focused on her for a moment.
Foster: I do remember Starfleet protocols.
Voss: ?
Foster: I have a magic PADD that tells me many useful things. We’re working on keeping the Ameoneians safe and preventing any infectious exposure for the civilian population. Also apparently there is a parade.
Voss: ?
Corey CMO Guy returned, looking more than a little stressed. Wyn almost felt bad for him.
Wethern: Right where are we up to?
Drex: You were discussing accommodations for the diplomatic delegation. :: Raising his head from the PADD:: Can you tell me how many people you expect? I’ve reviewed some of their physiological data, and I can ensure the sensors and environmental controllers can adjusted appropriately.
Foster: Reports say about a dozen Ameoneians.
Magic PADD told him so.
Voss: ?
Drex: No. That won’t be necessary. ::He rose from his chair, gathering his PADD.:: I think we should reconvene when the geological information is ready.
Wyn turned to Drex and blinked at him. He was wearing a Starfleet uniform, too. Why wasn’t he acting like a Starfleet officer.
Foster: Look… Corey ::he thrust a finger at Corey CMO Guy:: Told us to plant our butts because our brains are scrambled and sickbay is on lockdown. What part of lockdown don’t you understand.
True.
Not helpful, but true.
Wethern/Voss: ?
He was almost out the door, but he paused to look at his reflection in the shiny panels on either side of the door, as if stunned at what he saw.
What did he see? Wyn saw a Denobulan scientist. That was pretty par for the course in Starfleet.
Drex: ::frowning:: I’ll need my clothes back.
Foster: You are, in fact, wearing clothes.
Full points for stating the obvious.
Wethern/Voss: ?
Drex: I don’t know, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Whatever the reason, I’m leaving and I want my clothes back.
Foster: Where will you go?
He asked that because the more he thought about it he realized that he had absolutely zero clue about what was outside of that door.
And as much as he wanted to be the cool, sassy, genius doctor who didn’t need help…
He needed help. Lots of help.
Not that he wanted to admit that. Safer to stay put, within easy reach of the donuts and the magic PADD with all the answers on it. Pretend everything was fine and you knew what you were doing. And maybe Corey CMO Guy would figure out a way to fix this.
Maybe Wyn would figure out a way to fix this.
Who knew?
Wethern/Voss/Drex: ?
Foster: Maybe humor him, let him change clothes and see what is outside?
Wethern/Voss/Drex: ?
That’s when a young Bolian orderly with a pleasant face and a worried expression opened the door Drex was blocking.
Polni: Oh! ::She exclaimed, taking a step back away from the Denobulan:: I’m sorry, Sir…
Wethern/Voss/Drex: ?
Polni: No, I just have the brain scans from Lieutenant Voxa, the ones that Doctor Wethern requested. ::She offered out a medical dataPADD:: Excuse me! I’m sorry!
She looked like she was about ready to run away, and Wyn didn’t know if that was her personality or if her brains were scrambled, too.
Wethern/Voss/Drex: ?
~*~
tags/tbc
~*~
Lt. Commander Shar’Wyn Foster
Pretending to be an Executive Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
~Julian Beck
E239010ST0