ten_fwd | [Sickbay]: Round Seven Scans and Vaccines

Current Location: Section 23 Baker, Room # 1631: Sickbay

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[Sickbay]: Round Seven Scans and Vaccines

If this is your first trip to Sickbay, you may be surprised to see that it's a fairly ordinary-looking hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly. As a matter of fact, all personnel look harmless. Well, perhaps excluding the sun avatar, but Trance Gemini is as skilled as the Starfleet officers.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go. Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."

[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA! For new characters: tagging isn't mandatory but IC going to sickbay is. If you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. For those who are tagging: if you have a preference which doctor sees your character, please specify in the subject line of your tag who you would like (Simon Tam is not available this time). There is a post up in the OOC comm with more details if you have any questions.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Given how off his feet he'd been when he arrived, it was probably shocking that he hadn't been dragged - literally - to Sickbay. But he'd managed to not be detected, at least by those in charge for a few days. And he always 'just managed' to not be around - occasionally by levitating himself into an odd corner or bend - when he was to be "collected".

Yes, there was the girl, Laura, here from his world, or one so close that it made little difference. There was Steve Rogers, from a world not his but also not like his. Both seemed to be ok, doing well, and treated well. That didn't mean he trusted that would remain true. And with his powers weakened as it was, he had no intention on going. He didn't trust anyone here. It had worked well, for a few days. And then they had started to get persistent.

And the games had begun. He was old - he need to turn in early (far too early), he was old he had to use the facilities first (and stay there for as long as he could manage). He was "mysteriously" stuck to some metal object or another, and finally they had gotten more and more insistent. Hostilities weren't happening yet - but he knew how to read body language.

And he was certain someone from security was near by in case he tried to bolt. Instead he just stool in the exam area, looking over things - mildly to all appearances.

"Hello, there." If Magneto was expecting to be met with threat, this is probably...the most backwards sort of threat he could expect. Julian is, after all, a tall, rail-thin man with a nigh-constant friendly smile--not exactly the picture of physical power or intimidation.

"I'm Doctor Bashir. You're here for a basic medical scan and round of antibiotics and vaccinations. Do you have any questions for me before we begin?"

"Hello." Magneto's voice is strange. It's not polite, it's downright cold, locked down in perfect English that's a scrubbed of any accent as it's possible to make it. Julian might be thin - too thin some critical part of his brain notes - but when you are used to dealing with the types of people Magneto is, that doesn't make him not a threat. At all. Besides, he's known his share of friendly looking doctors whose smile masked a monster.

"If I decide I'm not having any of this and leaving?" It's a not a simple question. Yes he wants to know what would happen to him - or what would they would admit would happen to him - should he attempt to leave. But he also wants the doctor's reaction. He wanted to know if this place bothered with patient consent.

He is not too thin, honestly.

And while he is certainly more dangerous than he appears, he's also truly friendly, nice, and impeccably polite. Unless you're Gul Dukat.

"That is your perogative, however, should you do so you will remain in quarantine. This is honestly nothing personal, it's standard protocol for starships. I had to go through it myself. We are, after all, currently sealed in a superstructure rocketing through the vacuum of space containing hundreds of different species, not to mention the millions of bacterial and viral agents aboard, from Earth and otherwise."

He makes it sound so mundane. For him it honestly is, even with the fact that he enjoys being out in deep space far more than he does being on Earth.

The fact that he speaks with no accent doesn't make Julian particularly suspicious, though it does make him think that he's experienced something that makes him suspicious of doctors--though why there's so many of those recently makes him both heartsick and incredibly frustrated.

"I don't know what you've experienced in the past, but Starfleet doctors are sworn to help people and to uphold the highest standard of ethics. We are not going to do anything to hurt you, or without your consent, unless it is an emergency situation in which consent cannot be obtained or there is a danger to the ship and crew."

Edited 2015-02-10 00:46 (UTC)

Magneto has a scant two inches on him, and he's sure he's physically twice Julian's size, even if not his weight. Scott is nicknamed Slim, and he's outweighs the man. Really, Magneto wants to shoved baked goods and butter at him.

"I understand better than you what we are doing and the fragility of our closed ecosystem." It's cranky - he's built nations that hung in space, larger than this ship. Mined and tunnels from rock he'd captured. He understands the protocol. That doesn't mean he'd willing to yield and be examined by a doctor he doesn't know working or an organization he has little reason to trust - and only little because he wasn't dead yet.

"Did it ever occur to any of you that some people might find being forced into a medical bay and given the choice of permanent imprisonment in quarantine or examination to be traumatizing?" He's careful to phrase it about others - not about himself. It doesn't make it any less true.

He's the picture of health, thank you. It's nigh impossible for him to not be--genetics and all.

Oh, really, you understand it better than him. "Then you understand why the procedure is in place."

He can read between the lines, and Julian sighs--looking extremely sympathetic, but this is his job. He knows he's on the level, it's up to him to convince you of that. "This is not an ideal situation and we have to adapt as best we're able. There are individuals on-board who are immunocompromised, or cannot receive vaccinations for other reasons. If we can prove that to be the case with a scan, I can discuss exemptions with Doctor Crusher--she outranks me on this vessel, and believe me, she is one of the best. And you have been in quarantine until this point, whether you realize it or not--that would continue as it has been."

"Would you care to discuss your concerns with me in a more private area?"

He's still too skinny.

Yes, yes he does. "Understanding the need for the procedure and agreeing with how it is being handled are two entirely different things." Meaning he knows he's being reactionary, paranoid, and probably appears irrational, but he's not convinced this isn't a scheme to get him experimented on yet.

"I'm the opposite of immunocompromised, I don't get sick. I don't carry pathogens, I don't get sick, I don't need antibiotics, vaccines may or may not even take, and I don't need an exam, because I'm fine. Possibly a little dehydrated, but nothing to be worried about." There's certainly there that probably shouldn't be. Either he knows, for sure, what he's talking about or he's bluffing and damned good at it.

"Define "private" for me." And probably pathologically paranoid.

You're half convinced he's a mad scientist, why are you so concerned about his body weight?

Certainly paranoid is a word that comes to mind. If he wasn't sure already that the ship's counseling staff would be overworked, he might suggest this man speak to them. (Why couldn't Q be so kind as to bring enough psychologists to match the number of physicians they had?)

"Well, we are in untested waters, so to speak. This is the first time in Starfleet history we've had so many people appear on a starship without having come through a starbase or up from a planet's surface." At which point they would have already had the standard workup and had a certain number of days to report to the medical personnel.

"I was referring to other crewmembers in that moment--and you can't be certain that you have any immunity to pathogens carried by Andorians or Bolians or any of the other dozens of species on this ship. Also, the exam is more so we can have a baseline in case you do need medical attention, later on, which has happened. That is kept in strictest confidence." They are serious about that, considering Humanity's past.

"There are private rooms adjacent to this one. Usually they're used for longer-term patients. Something I would appreciate on my own station, but that's neither here nor there." Literally, because his station didn't exist yet--at least not as he was used to it.

Partly because he's only half convinced. Partly because some part of his brain equates skinny with "in danger and needs protecting".

A suggestion which would be flatly ignored. When your best friend, the person you love (second) most in the world is a psychiatrist and you found him sleeping with on of his patients - one mentally still a teenager, all personal trust is gone for the field.

"How is your ventilation system around the quarantined areas, if you want a place to start. Or the water treatment. Is it cleaned with your normal waste water or separated?" He did say he understood what was going on. He meant it.

"Dr. Bashir I was building tablets like your PADDs thirty, nearly forty, years ago. Don't presume to assume what I know. And if I need medical attention, you are going to have far greater issues than my baseline." When a literal God couldn't take him down in a fight...he was fairly certain he would be fine. "And all I have as to that confidence is your assurance. It's not enough." Hell, he had hacked those kinds of files before.

But he did appear to think it over. He was fairly certain he could still get out - this was a metal ship after all. "Are they monitored?"

That is such a breach of professional ethics Julian would hit the roof if he knew about it. However, he can't read minds.

He raises an eyebrow at the questioning--no one's ever done that before. "I can get you nearly full schematics from Engineering if you like--some of it would be redacted, but it would be enough for an understanding. But for a brief answer, there are biofilters based on our transporter technology in all the ventilation shafts, and waste water and any contaminants therein are broken down to the atom and filtered before being reconstituted in the replicator system."

There are always things they can't predict, that would hurt or kill those who thought themselves invincible--the idea of anyone being invulnerable is a laughable one.

"Of course not." Julian sounds frankly appalled by the idea. "The only monitors in each room must be activated by the attending physician with a verbal or physically input command, and I won't be doing anything of the sort unless you know it."

Edited 2015-02-10 01:57 (UTC)

It isn't something which comes up often, though with Magneto having at one point consider Gabrielle like a little sister, it had caused damage to his and Charles' relationship which took decades to repair - and spoke to just how much he loved the man that it could be repaired.

"I mean you are concerned about pathogens. But we mix freely for a time, and the shafts and pipes can become contaminated." In other words, he doesn't think your system is any good. "But I would appreciate the schematics." It's not an offer of a trade. He won't 'behave' because something was offered. He'd long put that type of behavior out of his life, and he has no intention on going back.

Expect, Magneto knows people who truly are invulnerable.

"You'd be surprised." It's soft. Be appalled, but it happens. Often. People others trusted, recording those who had no ability to consent or even know. Recording and experimenting on children, and still they are trusted. Even loved. "If you do - or you try to stop me from leaving if I decide to, I'll ensure nothing electronic in this bay works." It's not a threat, so much as a promise. He won't be cornered, he will protect himself - but he'll give Julian the warning, because he's not going to corner the doctor either.

"The biofilters in a transporter are sensitive and powerful enough to separate alien organic matter from a person in less than 5 seconds. They're better than you think they are. And there are other procedures in place, including a decontamination cycle run daily." Julian has the utmost confidence in their engineers, not the least because Miles is among them. And Julian doesn't necessarily expect him to cooperate, it wasn't a bribe he was offering.

You're in a reality where no one is invulnerable.

"Probably not as much as you think. But it's not something we do." Even if it was, Julian wouldn't. You probably can't find someone safer than someone who's been subjected to involuntary medical procedures himself.

"I'm not going to try to stop you. Just promise me you'll consider what I have to say."

"You may trust them. I don't, mostly because I don't know it." But then, Magneto's own body tended to decontaminate himself - ozone was very effective at that. He simply had not had the chance to study this ship. Doing so would actually help.

He won't except that until he sees it happen. His world is far stranger than this one.

"Perhaps it doesn't now. But I can assure you it has, more times than you would like to know." Says someone who's lived it. More than once. And cleaned up the mess more than Julian, even in his worse nightmares, could imagine. Though if he knew why Julian was so opposed to the practice, it would actually help. He'd trust that.

"I have been listening." Nothing else - but he'd been listening. Thinking. Even if he was also mapping the space and multiple ways out. But more - he's almost a little calmer. Julian's not dismissing or challenging him, not brushing off his concerns, at least not entirely. His paranoia, whether Julian knows it or not, isn't irrational and he's not being dismissed or invalidated. It helps.

"Listening and considering is not the same thing." He tilts his head and holds out a hand in invitation, before walking towards one of the private examination rooms.

He's not going to volunteer that information readily. Khan already knows, and that's one person too many at the moment--this isn't eight years from now, where he can be open about who and what he is. It isn't that he doesn't trust the Enterprise crew, he'd just rather not make Captain Picard choose between keeping his secret and obeying the law.

"I do know our history, and that's why there are rules in place for observing in medical situations--and in general. Our privacy laws are very clear on that. I'm not saying that it hasn't happened, I'm saying that it has, and that's why we take it so seriously."

The dawn of human augmentation changed a lot of things. Even though that practice was not widespread--obviously--the rules about disclosure of genetic and medical information remain to this day, and they're rules that have allowed Julian to lay low for as long as he has, so he appreciates them and knows them well.

"English is not my first, or fifth, language." It's desert dry. In that he's being honest but given how well he speaks it, he could also simply be being a smartass. Still, he follows, and for that he's grateful too - no stranger at his back.

In truth, if he ever finds out, Magneto won't be able to blame him. He'll understand on a level Julian might not expect - and certainly wouldn't get, given what happened on Genosha, prior to the terrible acts Magneto had to commit to bring that reign of terror to an end.

"You may know it, but I'd wager you are hundreds of years removed from the worse of it, unless I have far more reason to be suspect than I'd care to know." Not that he didn't want to know.

He stops, his back in the doorway once they get to the room. Studying everything. Marking everything. It's calculating - what's in the room, what's secured, what isn't, what could be pulled loose, what likely couldn't, what is metal, what is other, what could be used as a weapon. It's only when he's satisfied that he steps away and into the private room. "I don't want the door locked. Closed is fine, locked is not. That can be accomplished?"

Already, he can feel his heart rate speed up. Already, he works to slow it down, forcing his body's bioelectric system to do what he wants, which is to appear calm. Already, there's more ozone building. It's not quite noticeable, yet, unless you have an extremely sensitive sense of smell.

Julian has no reason not to believe him--if he speaks multiple languages, then presumably he's skilled with them. "Even if you were speaking something else, I'm wearing a universal translator at the moment." Julian shrugs.

"World War III was three hundred years ago, and it was the last major conflict on Earth." Not that there hasn't been others since then. But not between humans.

"Yes, it can be." Julian closes the door, and it's not secured--despite the lack of a doorknob on the inside. "It'll open when you walk towards it." To demonstrate, he backs up, and the door swishes open.

He even briefly considers leaving it open, because he can smell the building ozone in the air. He's not sure where it's coming from--it's faint, and if he didn't have an enhanced sense of smell, he would have missed it.

That is almost a challenge, to find a language he can't understand. Too tempting. "How does that work?" He's certain he could, after all. Dialects are a pain to learn, idioms worse. Something to trip up a computer.

He stiffens. Born in between the first two, and growing to manhood in the second, that's not a light phrase. It's been hanging over his head his entire life. "When was that?" That is was the last major conflict didn't comfort him - there were plenty of ways to hide conflict, if you controlled the media enough.

"Good." More things to tempt him - he wanted to play with, something he wanted test, to see if he could manipulate. What was within his ability to control.

Meanwhile Magneto stays standing, glancing over the at the space. "You said scan. What kind of scan?"

There are, likely, certain lost languages that would not be programmed into it. "You know, I'm not exactly sure." He's never studied how they work, he's just grateful that they do--though he does pick up languages quickly enough without them that it wouldn't be a huge problem if his wasn't functioning.

"2026 through 2053." Over twenty five years of war. After that, they were understandably reluctant to get into another one. "Ten years after that, First Contact was made, and during the rebuilding we dismantled all of our military weapons."

There was no way humanity would stand for such a collective denial any longer. You wouldn't find that on Earth.

"Vital signs, such as resting heart rate, breaths per minute, the electrical field of the body. Genetic sequences are logged, but not visible to me and accessed only in an emergency--you might be surprised how often we have to deal with someone getting physically regressed to childhood or somehow turned into something else entirely." It's happened. More than once.

Magneto would be willing to bet Romani weren't. At least all of the dialects. And he knew a few, though only one fluently. "Can I see it?" Tech is a sure way to distract him, even if he's unlikely to allow himself to get distracted right now.

The dates cause him to take a breathe, eyes closing for a moment. He doesn't quite pale, but there's a tick in the muscles around his eyes, and he brings his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "Supposedly, anyway." He didn't believe it. There was nothing Julian could say - or show - to make him believe it. When it came down to it, he simply didn't trust humanity as far as his young granddaughter could throw one of them.

"I don't want my genetic sequence logged. I don't care the reason why, I don't want it done." His eyes flash - not literally, at least. Absolutely not, he won't yield on it. "And no, I wouldn't." Having had one of those happen to him once. And having done it to several others himself. Tit for tat, Mutant style.

"It's in my commbadge, which I have to keep on while I'm on duty. I can add that to the list of specifications though." That shiny little pin on his chest does a lot more than translate things.

If three hundred years of peace wasn't enough to convince him, Julian doesn't know what else he'd be able to show the man that would. He knows their history, and how much worse it could have been. "After the nuclear winter we caused ourselves, and six hundred million dead, all the standing militaries were dismissed. Starfleet is the closest it comes now, and our mission is scientific exploration, diplomacy, and aid first."

He sighs--everyone is so paranoid, and it's honestly unnerving for him. There's a honest amount of distrust he can stand, but he's legitimately trying to help. It's frustrating.

"I understand that there...hasn't exactly been the best track record, with that, historically." It's even worse than Magneto knows--after all, World War III was mainly about eugenics, and there were millions of people killed as 'purges' during that time. "I can leave off for now and speak to Doctor Crusher about it. But please do understand that we wouldn't do anything untoward with any information we get from you."

He nods, noting that information, and planning to study the badges on others later - he had figured out they were computers, and now that he had some idea of what they were and at least one thing they could do, he'd be much more attentive to them. "I would like that." He'd more like to get his hands on one to take apart but later. Something for that.

It wouldn't be. Not three hundred, not five, but twice that maybe, and more details than Julian can tell him in so short a period of time. Magneto's trust in humanity has simply been broken far too many times. Humans en mass cannot be trusted was a lesson too early, too brutally, learned. But the figures given, the ending for that war, that does make him pale, which is a next trick, given how much he can control his blood flow. And his eyes go dark. It's a motion he's not fully aware of - raising a hand slightly, palm out, a warding off gesture. Give him a minute, Julian, someone who has seen so many millions killed, who has killed millions, needs a moment to process that number. And as someone who finished his adolescence and began adulthood under the threat of nuclear war, who one attempted to strip the world of the ability to follow through with the threat, and who watch his country annihilated in a nuclear fuel terroristic attack that was one madwoman's private war...he's all too familiar with what Julian is describing. He's lived it, this passed year.

None of which he's going to mention, unless asked. And even then, there's much he won't mention at all. But he does take a moment, to breathe. To regain some control.

"No, there hasn't." It's almost shaky. Never doubt he feels, even if he attempts to conceal those feelings from others. "Not at all." It's slightly stronger, more steady. "And you can speak to whomever you'd like. I will not now, nor ever, consent to it. I am not trying to be difficult. But I've heard that line, almost verbatim before. From a governing body. They used those samples to divide the population. Not at once, of course, these things take time. One part of the population were people, legally. The other, were not. They were property of the state. Legally, classified, government owned property. To attempt to emigrate was to steal from the state, and those punishments were most dire. Those declared property were not permitted to marry, or move, without permission. Most wouldn't have dreamed of trying, because they couldn't. Their wills where, for the most part, psychically cored away, and that's was only the first step. And this process eventually began at every child's thirteen birthday, sometimes younger, when their parents took them be tested, and handed over the ones the government demanded, their talents and skills and gifts to be used as those in power saw fit. This continued for decades." The last word is almost spit. "No one of other countries' governments cared, at best. Some approved, not so slightly silently approved. I believe you believe what you are saying. But I have no reason to believe that to be actually true."

Apparently they're just taking it in turns to horrify each other. Julian had thought he'd heard the worst out of Finnick and Annie recently--this is a different kind of horror, but still one deeply felt.

He goes just as pale, eyes widening. He knows the history of the Federation--has seen some of it firsthand--and despite playing otherwise, his knowledge of 21st century history is encyclopedic. He could list off names of major players, battles, massacres, until his voice failed him.

He didn't recall anything like that. Not past the attempts to use Augmented humans as foot soldiers--which obviously ended with the rule of Khan and his people, and the Eugenics Wars. Not at all what had been intended.

"Why?" He doesn't understand. He simply doesn't. "How could they...even begin to justify..."

The loss of will, of self, was somehow so much worse.

They are, which as so often happens in his world, is what's to be expected when time travel is involved. One only need to listen to Bishop and Cable to learn that. Too bad they didn't - not that he could blame Bishop for wanting to make something better.

And something, no matter the hostiles and paranoia which remain, something in Magneto softens as Julian's face. He can't help but feel he's taken something from the much younger man in front of him, can't help but worry he's harming the light inside the man's soul, unless he's a much better actor than Magneto believes. He won't apologize for what he's said - he can't. He cannot let what's happen been forgotten, and what History had made him bear witness to as has been ugly and cruel and will leave shadows not just on his own soul but on those closest to him.

"It's very easy to justify it, when you aren't dealing with people Dr. Bashir. It's not a fifteen year old boy, it's a minor telekinetic who can serve as a crane. It's not a twenty year old girl, it's photokinesis which means you needed use a light." There's hatred and rage there, it's controlled - barely - but there's also grief. So much grief, and understanding. "Those taken...they were born a little different. They had powers. They weren't human like the others, so they weren't human, weren't people. And then it becomes very easy. And everyone else...they didn't want to deal with the complications. Easier to render those others nonpeople, or illegal, which has been attempted many times. And even where they are people there are few places with any real legal protection." He hasn't identified himself as one of the others - but he's attached someone. And an in-depth physical exam will tell Julian more, and out him. Pretty to prepare him for that. Other species of human are different than aliens, after all.

Before, he might have flat denied it. You're not the first one to take potshots at his optimism--the war's done that, his service has done that, he's not the wide-eyed idealist he used to be--he's a far more tempered and realistic one.

He scruffs a hand back through his hair--he can't say that those humans with differing genetics are completely accepted--he's living proof that they're not, not yet. But even if he was outed right now, or if something had gone differently when Captain Sisko and Admiral Bennett negotiated for him to retain his commission and he'd been removed from Starfleet, he never would have risked being considered not human. His fellows were in treatment because they couldn't function on their own, and Lieutenant Loews was trying to help them.

"That would not happen here." He speaks with quiet, but firm conviction. It wouldn't. Because here he was, still wearing his uniform, his friends and fellow officers (in his own timeline, anyway,) completely aware of exactly what he was, and still respected.

"Not in this reality. Not in this time. There...our past might have some dark times, that came close. But we've moved beyond it."

It doesn't matter if he's the first or not. He's the one to cause this injury and that he does mourn. He's seen the light bleed out of someone's soul in a way that has nothing to do with the body dying, though he's more than his share of that as well, and he hates to be the cause. Even if he's not the first.

Being a Mutant is far from the first time his personhood has been questioned. He was born into that political climate. In some ways, being told he's not human is far more his normal than anything else.

"So you say. And I can tell you believe it, I am glad you believe it. But that has not been my experience. I cannot trust it. I can't risk you being wrong. I can't. Misplaced pessimism may - likely will - be the death of me. Misplaced optimism will be the death of all I love and hold dear, of my people." It drags at him. It harms and hampers and damages. But he can't risk it. Because if he was wrong, then he was wrong, and miserable, paranoid, or no reason. But if he was right and unprepared...that was so many dead, when he could have prevented it.

And he couldn't fail that way again.

Julian (because he can't catch a break)

his life is suffering

It really is.

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