Dig Your Ditches, Count My Stitches
Posted on Thu Jan 20th, 2011 @ 6:48am by Lieutenant Gumalt Poxx & Lieutenant Commander Andreus Kohl
1,584 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
Looking for the Future in all the Wrong Places
Location: Sickbay, U.S.S. Ranger
Timeline: Current
ON:
For one brief panicked moment, Andreus Kohl was relatively sure that he was back on the transporter pad and his eyes – rather than simply opening – were in the process of forming bit by bit from the ether. Certainly the sensation was remarkably similar as he could not move his arms or legs, even though his retina had started to pick up hazy shapes and his cochlea indistinct sounds. A few purposeful blinks brought what appeared to be the overhead of a standard Intrepid-class sickbay into focus as one of the hazy shapes took the form of a broad blue forehead that eclipsed his view of the sensor cluster. Dark blue eyes met his light blue ones and they seemed study him intently.
"And how many bones in my right hand?" the inverted Bolian face repeated his now distinct question pleasantly, flashing a smile and wiggling his fingers centimeters over Kohl's face.
As if to escape from the writhing appendage, Kohl whipped his head to the left. He buried the side of his face into the pillow, but there wasn't very far he could go considering he was laid out on a biobed with the medical support frame locked into place. "What?!" asked Kohl sharply. There was a mad edge to his voice, as if his mind were bending and the laws of physics didn't apply anymore. His eyes were darting about frantically, trying to find understanding. When understanding wouldn't come, he ignored everything except the puzzle placed before him. He stared at the hand, and glimpsed the man on the the other side of it. Kohl closed his eyes and visualized an image from a medical reference document.
"Twenty-nine," said Kohl as steadily as he could manage with the pain gradually churning in his stomach again. Then he squinted at the hand and his nose crinkled. "Your hand," said Kohl, "it smells like jam."
"Keen olfactory senses to be sure," Dr. Poxx agreed, smelling his own fingers for a moment. "But you're one off on the bones - the carpal and metacarpal in my minimus has been fused since my twelfth solar circuit." He wiggled his pinky finger a little to show the limited range of motion at the base. "Still, I don't suppose you could have known that," he added, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"Are you Ranger?" Kohl asked. Despite being flat on his back, there was an intentness to his question. He set his jaw, and the tendons in his neck flared. But then he looked uncertain and his eyes crossed. His focus rapidly drifting, Kohl murmured, "No, that's not..." And then, "Am I aboard Ranger? Is that what's happening?"
"Indeed, you are," Poxx affirmed with a smile as he moved to a better vantage point for the support frame sensor screen. "And one of the better entrances if what I'm told is true. Our poor transporter operator thought regurgitation might be part of a standard greeting for your species until you fell into your swoon." A quick glance at the readings prompted him to ask, "Argelian, are you not?"
"Yes, I am of Argelius II. My name is Andreus Kohl." He spoke slowly and over-enunciated his words. He breathed out a, "Tt," between his teeth. The Bolian may have thought he was being patronized, but the pain in Kohl's abdomen had increased, and he couldn't be sure he wasn't slurring his words otherwise. "You... contact Fairfax and request my medical records..."
"Very often the very first thing we do when a new officer collapses upon arrival," Poxx pulled out a PADD from his light blue lab coat side pocket and flashed the business side at him - Kohl briefly saw his own standard Starfleet portrait staring at him dully - before flipping it over. "Viraj reported that you shouted out something indecipherable to the universal translators just before you hit the deck. He assumed it was some manner of extra-colorful profanity but looking at your background, I'm guessing a self-diagnosis. I think I've ruled out transporter psychosis but what is it you suspect?"
"Guesses, one of many," said Kohl. He resisted the urge to grab the PADD for himself, and access the sensor scans of his own body. Instead, he sank back into the biobed. His presence visibly deflated. Listing the possible sources for his affliction, he said, "Could have been a patient on Fairfax; Cardassian strain of influenza. Or the away mission to Deeva Kalo. Team was exposed to a bacteria, deindum pylori, but weeks ago. Or it was my breakfast, an egg scramble. Cooked rather than replicated."
"Eggs? Terran eggs from the ever elusive Gallus gallus domesticus?" Poxx asked excitedly, stopping his reading and hugging the PADD to his chest. "Aren't they just wonderful...especially those first few days when they've just started to spoil and--"
For the first time, Kohl was thankful for having emptied his stomach on the transporter room floor, and the transporter operator. When he started retching, all that came up were dry heaves.
Dr. Poxx re-pocketed the PADD quickly and retracted the support frame with the push of a button. "Sit up slowly, Commander," he advised, turning towards a nearby medcart. "It wouldn't do to have you asphyxiate your first day on board."
As he curled himself up into a sitting position, Kohl reminded himself to breathe deeply. He braced one hand against the side of the biobed, and then another. His arms made sloppy, lurching motions, but they were going where he wanted them to go. "Thank you, Doctor," Kohl said, and he appreciated the added comfort it brought. Considering the busied Bolian, Kohl asked, "What do I call you?"
"I'm Dr. Poxx," the Bolain turned back with a smile as he used his thumbnail to program the hypospray. "Given your species, deindum pylori seems a far more likely candidate than the Cardassian Flu and your preliminary scans show no trace of food poisoning. The problem is that it is a bacterium that loves to mill about with the beneficial bacteroides common to Argelians. Very, very hard to find. Exactly how many weeks since your exposure?"
Kohl's right eye squinted at the edges, and then he said, "Three."
"The timing is right to become fully pathogenic," Poxx nodded. "But we won't know for sure without an intensive scan. My best guess is the transport process stirred up the little blighters." He showed Kohl the hypospray. "Assuming that you don't want to stay positioned in the biobed for another hour, I could attempt a corophizine regime with a little vertazine for the nausea. It shouldn't be harmful even if it turns out I'm mistaken."
Despite how familiar the words sounded, the exact meaning of what Poxx said had eluded Kohl, in his current condition. He nodded absently for probably too long a time, before he said, "Do what you think is best." Nodding right at the incoming hypospray, Kohl loosened his uniform collar and let it hiss happily into his neck.
"The vertazine effects are immediate," Poxx noted, gingerly pulling Kohl's collar back into position without touching his skin. "I'll study your readings and take a beneficial bacterium count and compare it with your last medical scans from Fairfax. If they are elevated and start to drop off within a few hours of this treatment, we'll know that we plotted the right course."
"Thank you, Doctor," said Kohl. His voice was thick with relief, as he noticed the first signs of his body starting to feel like his own again. Kohl tilted his head down, and rubbed a hand over the tunic covering his abdomen. Shifting on the biobed, Kohl moved back to lean against the bulkhead in an upright position. Absently, Kohl said, "I'm going to need a clean uniform..."
"Indeed," Poxx agreed. "Dr. Alicton seems particularly concerned that the entire staff makes a smart appearance...the nursing staff especially." His twinkling blue eyes smiled as he studied the two pips and their hollow comrade resting on the Argelian's collar. "It will be of interest to see how the good Doctor functions towards a nurse who decidedly out-ranks him."
Looking away, Kohl scoffed under his breath. "He won't get the chance," he said darkly. He swung one leg and then the other over the side of the biobed. Experimentally, he tapped his feet against the floor, gently testing his ability to weight bear. After Kohl cleared his throat, his voice was brittle again and matter of fact. "I'm on temporary assignment as your Chief of Medical," Kohl said. "As soon as your own staff returns from Archimedes, I'm back to Fairfax."
Poxx blinked at the information. He repeated the words, "Chief of Medical?"
"Chief Medical Officer of Ranger, yes," Kohl said, his vowels extended pedantically. "I'm told this Doctor Alicton has been the interim Chief, while your Captain selects someone for the job permanently."
Poxx dawned a broad smile as he pictured the abrasive and sarcastic Dr. Alicton reacting to the news of even this temporary arrangement.
"This might be even more interesting than I thought, Commander Kohl."
OFF:
Lieutenant Commander Andreus Kohl
Chief Medical Officer
USS Ranger
Lieutenant Gumalt Poxx
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Ranger
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