ten_fwd | [Sickbay]: Round Eight Scans and Vaccines

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

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[Sickbay]: Round Eight Scans and Vaccines

O-kay, so things have been a little ... odd on the ship. Some people have been acting rather out of character, ducking their duties for romantic escapades or complaining that their good friends aren't quite themselves. Romance may be in the air, but the CMO has other ideas. Like maybe an alien pest who likes to play tricks on people. Her sickbay hasn't gone unaffected, but luckily the strange effects are beginning to wear off and people are returning to work. Still, she's prepared to treat anything. ~~Just please assure her you were safe and responsible if you, uh, made a special friend.~~

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, relatively harmless.

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 (Beverly Crusher, Julian Bashir, Sam Wilson, Mack Gerhardt, and Merlin are definitely on deck, with possible appearances by others). There is a post up in the OOC comm with more details if you have any questions.]

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Shortly before the new patient scans are scheduled to begin, Dr. Beverly Crusher can be found in her adjacent office. She should have a few minutes to spare for meeting with potential volunteers or answering vital questions.

Don't be shy, she won't bite.

Bruce arrived, unsure, nervous, but wanting to get this over with. Since he had questions in addition to being checked out, he was hopeful he could talk to the CMO ahead of time, and it appeared he had chosen well. Carefully, he knocked, his modified PADD strapped to one hip as he waited.

Escorted probably wasn't quite the right word for how Johanna arrived there. Marched, guarded were a little closer to it. Even after Finnick had talked to her, she had been calming down then, taking her away from that calming influence (which was an odd thing to say given their past) had not helped. The ax was still close by her, someone had some sense in letting her keep it and letting her feel a little reassured that way. She hadn't attacked anyone with it, no one had given her reason to.

Yet.

There was always a yet lurking. Something was going to happen. It always did. Waiting was the worst part.

For someone who hadn't been on any other Starfleet or Federation vessel, space station or base in seven years, this was kind of awkward. Made even more awkward by Tom's previous prison time, combined with his court martial after the deaths of crewmates on board the Exeter. Not that anyone knew that. To most everyone, Tom looked like your average, every day Starfleet officer, even if this particular one hadn't stepped a foot in the Alpha Quadrant in years, and probably wouldn't ever again.

Truth be told, Tom Paris was a bit nervous.This wasn't Voyager and the doctors here weren't the EMH. For all he knew, one of these guys had been present at his court martial.

Maybe he could just give himself a clean bill of health and whatever hypo they wanted and walk out? Moseying over to a seemingly unused medical tricorder, he picked it up, and started scanning himself. Maybe all those double shifts in sickbay were about to pay off?

Julian hadn't been present at his court martial, but he had heard about it--he and Tom Paris hadn't been particularly close, but they'd been classmates at the Academy. Sort of. Julian had been the TA for a biochem class that he'd taken.

"Tom?"

He was holding a tricorder just like he belonged there, but Julian hadn't seen Tom Paris come through here before.

"I do hope you don't think you'll sneak out of here without one of us seeing to you."

He'd been debating since Lorna had shown up and made her - perfectly reasonable - objections to a medical scan clear. Which Julian had won a measure of trust from him, it had been very hard won with more than a few from his world showing up...

They might trust him over strangers. He would.

Which lead to him knocking lightly on Dr. Crusher's door, to offer his services.

"Actually, I was sort of hoping to do just that." Tom spoke before his even realized he recognized the voice. He spun around to face Bashir. He definitely recognized the face, it was a little older than he remembered but he hadn't changed much. And what was that uniform he was wearing?

Slowly putting the tricorder down like he'd been caught shoplifting, Tom tried to explain. "I'm a medic on board the ship I'm assigned too. Err--normally assigned to. You know what I mean." Okay sure, he wasn't wearing sciences blue, but apparently that didn't matter to the Captain. "I promise I won't break your sickbay--Hey, you're not still after me about that paper? I swear I turned it in."

Tom held out the tricorder for Julian. "Long time no see. What's with the snazzy uniform?"

"I couldn't even do my own examination, and I'm a full-fledged doctor." You should know that's against protocol, Tom, for shame.

Julian pulls out his own tricorder, ready to take over. "I do know what you mean. This isn't exactly my Sickbay either." Considering his own posting didn't exist yet.

And you didn't turn in that paper, by the way. Julian remembers. He's not going to mention that he does, because normal people didn't remember that sort of thing, and he doesn't really care at this point. He just waves a hand. "I'm not. We've all got rather bigger things to worry about, wouldn't you say?" Considering one wrong word could break the timeline.

"We switched over to these last year." The grey shoulders were less attention-grabbing, he supposed was Command's reasoning.

"If this isn't your sickbay.....why are you here?" Tom asked, completely dumbfounded as to why someone would volunteer to work in sickbay. Then again, Julian didn't have the Doc following him around and criticizing him.

"I assume you were kidnapped too? Q's equal opportunity that's for sure. " Tom was tempted to ask 'when was last year', but he at least had some sort of reference. The stories the Doc had come back with after his adventure on board the Prometheus included the change in uniform.

Tom should have probably been a little more worried about corrupting the time line, but Voyager had been caught in temporal rifts at least three times by now. It was almost like getting shot at.

"Before you get too worried about spilling the beans on something, don't. Trust me--it wont matter what you tell me. There's nothing I could do about it anyway. The least you could do is give me some gossip. We've been a little out of touch."

"I'd rather not sit on my hands until Q decides to send me back where I belong, is why." What else would he do, be a pilot? Unlikely.

He probably wouldn't enjoy that, though he'd quickly pick up that though based on Zimmerman, the Doctor was entirely a different being, which he'd appreciate. He doesn't particularly care for Lewis Zimmerman for what he thinks are perfectly understandable reasons.

Those oblique comments do confirm one thing for him though--Tom was from after Voyager's disappearance. They'd left from Deep Space 9, of course Julian knew it had happened--they'd been the home base for searching ships until the war picked up in earnest and they couldn't spare the manpower to hunt anymore.

"There's plenty you could do about it from here. This is a temporal nightmare. You've been told what year it is?"

There's nothing of immediate concern in Tom's scan, so Julian puts away the tricorder and gets out a hypo. You're not getting out of vaccinations either.

"2366, right? I'm still in the Academy. Lucky me. Listen. Life is pretty good for me back on Voyager. I'm not about to do anything to mess it up. And, as heartless as it sounds, everything going on here is so far removed from my life, or what will be my life, that it doesn't matter. All that does matter is that I get on that ship. I don't think I'd like the person I'd become if I didn't. So just tell me, what year are you from?"

Tom hopped up onto the biobed, and swung his feet while he waited. He knew the Voyager had been declared MIA, and the search had been given up until the Doctor had one on his away mission and cleared up the misunderstanding. At least people would know they were alive, and Tom was slowly coming to terms with the possibility that meant his father wanted to talk to him. Actually talk, and reach out.

"Say, I don't suppose they'd let me at the helm? If I go a little stir crazy."

"Right." And Julian is, too--both still at the Academy, and sure that his life would be completely different if he weren't posted at DS9.

"2374. And yourself?" Julian has perfected the art of multitasking, and surreptitious hyposprays--he's got the first one done moments after Tom hops up on the biobed, and is loading up the second.

"You'll have to take that up with Captain Picard. Most of us have some sort of position equal to our experience. Hence my assisting in Sickbay."

"Late 2377--but I haven't heard any news since 2371. Are you at all familiar with the USS Voyager? You might say we're on a deep space assignment. So I'm a little desperate for some gossip. I'll take anything. Sightings of a three-headed targ on Kronos? Vulcan's develop cure for laughter?"

Tom tilted his neck so Julian could get better access to it for the hypo when he was finished loading.

"But I just want to get this straight right off the bat though, alright? You are full in sickbay. The Enterprise has a full medical staff? You don't need me. Right? Right?" Tom fidgeted, praying he wasn't in hell. Would Captain Janeway expect him to use this opportunity to brush up and learn more medicine? Did he have too? Or could he just sit back and play on the holodeck with B'Elanna?

"I know, yes. Voyager left from Deep Space 9, where I'm the Chief Medical Officer--or will be, in a few years." He wasn't sure you knew that--there wouldn't be much reason for you to. "We were the base for the search missions in the Badlands, being the closest Starfleet presence."

Not that DS9 was a Starfleet station, persay. But it wasn't as if there were many other places a search mission...or a salvage one...could be based from. Luckily, they'd gotten confirmation that Voyager had survived whatever happened to make it disappear from the Badlands without a trace, but it had only been recent--and they'd been in the thick of the Dominion War.

"I'm afraid I don't have much light-hearted to report," Julian quips, sounding...forcedly chipper.

"We don't need you. We're rather tripping over each other in here."

Edited 2015-02-22 05:14 (UTC)

"Yeah, our Doctor said something about a war. I'm kind of glad we're missing it. I should probably explain that. Our doctor's holographic, the original Doctor and a lot of the original crew died when our ship was....taken. We found a way to briefly communicate with Starfleet and sent him over. I'm afraid I don't know much else." But he had to ask, for B'Elanna's sake.

"Are all the Maquis really dead?" The last thing he wanted was to give his wife hope after she'd come to a sort of acceptance, but this guy lived it. He was right in the thick of it.

"Also I'm incredibly thankful you guys don't need me. On Voyager apparently those 2 semesters of biochemistry I took makes me a medic. Lucky me."

There's no one in close proximity wearing a Starfleet uniform, so Julian doesn't hush him. Not that one of the Dominion's top diplomats wasn't on the ship already, and he had already reported to Picard that Weyoun was, at least at one point, an enemy of the Federation and his access to information about Starfleet should be restricted as much as possible.

Everything was terribly complicated.

Julian looks...conflicted at the mention of the Maquis. As an officer on the Defiant, he'd been in skirmishes with them since before the war even started. But they'd been defending their homes, and he couldn't fault them for that, not really. Even if their methods had been excessive.

"Not all of them." But the majority of them--and the organization as an idea--was gone. "But enough. Between the Cardassians and the Dominion...it was a rout."

Julian knew that they'd reestablished communication, briefly, with Voyager. And really, he couldn't say anything that Tom wouldn't be able to find out eventually.

Edited 2015-02-22 05:42 (UTC)

This wasn't home. This was far away, unfamiliar. No people that she knew, either individual or as a Votan race, were here (at least as far as she knew).

But there was still the chance for Meh Yewll to do some good, to pay penance for what she was asked to do by the Votanis Collective during the Pale Wars. This was a place where she could help people- and the only way she could help people.

But she ran her clinic back home, and she had to temper her "in-charge" nature some. Not much, though, as she walked in confidently and with a touch of swagger, holding her medical bag at her side. "Dr. Crusher?" She paused. The woman was a very pretty human. She moved on with purpose. "I'm Dr. Yewll." She extended her hand in traditional human greeting. "It's a pleasure to meet you. And an even bigger pleasure to see your infirmary."

Meh Yewll wasn't one to sputter meaningless compliments so that was absolute, blatant fact.

Oh, Fatima did not care for the escort. She gave more than a few dirty looks to each member of the security team, as they walked her down into the medical facility. On an intellectual level, she got it, of course. She understood the concept of quarantine and how she was an uninvited guest to this party.

It was just that she hated doctors. She really, really hated doctors.

In all reality, after she'd gotten all of her childhood vaccinations, she'd never been to a hospital again. She'd broken every one of her fingers and most of her toes. Sprained both wrists and both ankles. Been stabbed, shot at, and burned. But she'd relied on her own rapid healing and cellular regeneration to take care of that problem. Doctors just meant questions, questions that would doubtlessly shed way too much light on the secrets behind the Masquerade. So, like her mother before her, she'd avoided them at all costs.

There was also the fact that she'd spent the last year being experimented on by an evil corporation. Yeah, that wasn't helping either.

Tom took a deep breath mourning for comrades he didn't know, and comrades his wife did. "Listen, my wife's going to be checked out soon, you can't miss her. Starfleet uniform, half-klingon, chip on her shoulder the size of Texas. Just, don't mention the Maquis. Or the war, if you could. I don't want to keep things from her, but, she doesn't need to hear it again. It didn't exactly go well the first time she found out. Oh. And she's pregnant, so you might want to watch out for Klingon-esque mood swings."

Now that was all out of the way, Tom leaned forward so Julian could complete his exam and give him his hypos. Even if it was a bit redundant.

"I assume you've heard what happened on the Exeter," Tom asked, unsure. And the whole convicted of treason thing, because that wasn't awkward at all. If Julian had heard, well, experience had taught him he probably wouldn't be talking to him right now.

When the woman with an axe is all but marched into the sickbay, Sam considers the situation for about half a second before he heads over to meet them. He’s more than capable of doing the necessary check up, and anyone who feels like they need to take a weapon into the sickbay is definitely someone that has his attention.

He keeps his posture relaxed as he approaches, making himself as much of a non-threat as possible, but there’s still a part of him that’s very aware of that axe. He’s still a soldier, he can’t help it.

“Hey,” he greets. “I’m Sam Wilson, they give you a run down on this place?”

"Would she even think to ask me?" Julian tilts his head, questioning, as he finishes up with the round of hyposprays and taps a few keys on the screen of the tricorder to log the scan. Obviously Tom did, but they were at least somewhat familiar with each other. His wife wouldn't know him from any other Starfleet lieutenant.

"I heard, yes, but I'm not about to make any snap judgements on your character." Julian shrugs--he and Tom had never been particularly close at the Academy, despite their acquaintance--little more than passing, but friendly enough. And honestly, if there's anyone completely unqualified to make a judgement call on legal or illegal activities as pertains to one's person and hiding information from Starfleet Command--well, Julian would rather be calling the kettle black, wouldn't he? "You made a mistake. You're not the first, and you'll hardly be the last."

His smile is somewhat lopsided--Tom would remember him as the unfailing optimist, and it might be a bit of an uncharacteristic expression from his viewpoint. "That aside, you were with the Maquis for what, a few weeks? A month at best? You rather got the book thrown at you, likely to set an example."

Tom shrugged. "She might recognize your uniform from the few times we've been able to get in contact with Starfleet and realize you're concurrent with our timeline and therfore have Alpha Quadrant gossip."

Tom took in Julian's words, and they were almost hard to understand. But just as something had changed in Tom over the course of his time serving on Voyager, something had changed in Julian too. He wasn't nearly as much of an optimistic asshole. "You'd be the only one you know. You should have seen the looks and whispers I got when I first brought on board as an 'observer.' Like I was some kind of pariah. They weren't even that subtle really. Voyager's original CMO was downright nasty. So, thanks Julian. For not jumping to conclusions, and giving me a chance. Not too many have."

Tom shrugged, giving what his ....friend? colleague? had said some thought. " Honestly? I think they saw me as I was. I was angry and frustrated and had just been court-martialed and driven out of Starfleet, just when I decided to do the right thing. All I had to do was stay silent, and none of this would have happened. But, I didn't. And Starfleet threw the book at me. And then, I found the Maquis and they needed a good pilot with anger issues. My life wasn't going so well back then. But, all that's taught me that sometimes you need to scrape the bottom of the barrel to find out where you belong. I'm glad they sent me to prison. If they didn't, I wouldn't have ended up on Voyager."

Edited 2015-02-24 20:31 (UTC)

Tony strolled into sick bay, finding out that he needed to check in or whatever. He really hated doctors through. Ever since he had the plague he had been forced, practically being pulled by the hair to see Brad for his yearly examine.

He walked into sick back, looking around.

New people on the ship had to report to Sickbay for checkups, eh? Well, she didn't have a body, but maybe this would be the opportunity to ask about one. There had to be someone here that could help her with that.

So on a PADD that someone had perhaps been trying to use came the face of an adorable Korean girl. "Er, hello! New people were supposed to come to sickbay, right? Am I interrupting?"

"Just one moment," Beverly calls from her place behind her desk. She's preparing her notes for the latest round of checkups.

Once she has reached a decent stopping point, she glances up and moves away from her desk. "Yes? How can I help you?"

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[Sickbay]: Round Eight Scans and Vaccines

Room 1629: Chief medical officer's office

Bruce to Beverly

Sam! I'm sorry.

Julian!

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Julian

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OPEN

OTA! She'd prefer a lady tho

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