Ten Forward NPCs (
ten_fwd_npcs) wrote in
ten_fwd2014-12-15 08:18 pm
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[Sickbay]: Round Six Scans and Vaccines

Sickbay is fairly ordinary for a ship's 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 going to sickbay ICly is. So 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, we have Simon Tam, Rory Williams, Beverly Crusher, and Julian Bashir on deck, with Trance Gemini by request only. If you have a preference, please specify in the subject line of your tag who you would like. If you would like more details about sickbay, here's the wiki page. If you haven't made your intro yet, you can assume the doctors will want to see your character shortly after they arrive, and backtagging is love! There will be a post up in the OOC comm with more details if you have any questions.]
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"Computer," she prompted, straightening her spine a little as she did. "What ship am I on?"
"The USS Enterprise." That familiar computerized voice had confirmed what she'd thought.
"And what is the star date?"
The computer obligingly rattled off a sequence of numbers and Pulaski scoffed in surprise. "Computer, either you've gotten your wires crossed or I'm two years out of date."
The ship's computer beeped a questioning note, and the doctor shook her head. "Disregard."
At least she still remembered where Sickbay was. With purposeful strides she took off towards her old -- maybe old? -- haunt, frowning as she did so. If she had had a stroke she was in remarkably good condition for it, and she certainly didn't feel as if she'd undergone blunt force trauma lately either. What on earth could have caused her to either create a complicated and thorough set of memories for two years of life that had not happened, or -- or pushed her two years back in time? Well, the Enterprise had been the epicentre of so many strange events even in the single year that she had served aboard its illustrious halls.
She stopped at the doors of Sickbay and took a deep breath, staring at the familiar sight. She had no idea what she would find within... but procrastinating would do her no good.
Kate stepped forward, the doors hissed open, and she entered Sickbay. She cast about for an instant for one of the blue-shirted aides, but was met instead by a voice from within:
"All right, step on in. Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."
That straightened her spine again and she stepped in, brows furrowed and peering. "What's just a scan and a hypospray?"
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But enough of that. Trance gave her best smile and took a few steps toward her. Her skin glittered. Literally, like diamond dust was sprinkled generously all over her skin. Her hair was long, red dreadlocks, with horns that curled inward like a ram. And her skin? Well, her skin was colors of gold, yellow and orange.
"You're not supposed to be here." And for quite possibly the hundredth time Trance wished the Captain would somehow convince Q to let her fix this and bring everyone home. That she could do. But she might accidentally bring them back before they were born.....
(OOC: hey look it's a seahorse ship!)
nifty ship!
Was she representative of a new member world of the Federation that she hadn't heard about? She'd have been surprised to hear that, given the unusual beauty of the woman. The mystery, and the beauty, was enough to send Pulaski's eyebrows up her forehead, even before this mysterious creature spoke.
"My." She put her hands on her hips. There was a forceful edge to her tone. "You come straight to the point, don't you." For a moment she wrestled with the meaning of the woman's words, defensive. This had been her Sickbay for a time and it was something else to be told that she didn't belong here. Then again, she was probably right, given Pulaski's mysterious situation. She offered the woman a tight smile.
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She stares at the other woman. By all appearances, this certainly must be Katherine Pulaski, but what would she be doing on the Enterprise? Her name isn't listed in Beverly's notes.
"What are you doing here?" she ventures to ask.
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"As a matter of fact," she told Dr. Crusher, "I was wondering if you might be able to tell me the answer to that question." After all, Crusher had seemed as if she was welcoming in a new face, till that new face had been Pulaski's.
She spread her arms, trying to keep her tone jovial but too well aware that it, and her bearing, were tight with tension. "I seem to have -- ah, arrived here without quite knowing how."
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ooc: wow I totally lost this notif, I'm so sorry!
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Despite all that, he was still the same Klingon that Pulaski had empathized with on many occasions: "Doctor, where were you when I was forced to be subjected to these procedures?" If it wasn't for the fact that he was all but grinding his teeth at the nurse holding his big hand and shining a pulsing light to the angry slices, it might almost have sounded like a begrudging joke.
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If Pulaski had gone back into the past, shouldn't people look younger? Worf looked ten years aged, with new wrinkles and greys to show for it. Pulaski decided that it might be politic to keep that assessment behind her teeth, and in the meantime to do some reading on Klingon life stages.
Instead she raised her eyebrows. "Why, being subjected to the same procedures, of course." She rose and went to her erstwhile colleague -- friend, really -- and smiled a bright, wry smile. He may not have been wholly joking but she'd take the Klingon humor as it was offered. "I have to say, being the patient is not foreign to me, but I'm not sure I'll ever develop a taste for it. Now what have you got there?" she asked, bending a little to peer at his hand, even as the marks began to seal themselves.
She looked back up at him, rose one brow higher, "I hope they added a rabies vaccine to your concoction. I didn't even know there were wild animals on the Enterprise to get into fights with."
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Room 1629: Chief medical officer's office
Don't be shy, she won't bite.
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Mack lets out an involuntary groan, shifting slightly, as he comes thudding back into full consciousness. Other than that, he remains still, eyes closed, as he tries to sort out his surroundings from the noises around him.
Normally, he would be able to. Normally, he'd be somewhere safe, a hospital, or something similar... But... Something was off. He could hear random beeping and bleeping noises, hushed tones as people talk amongst themselves. The fabric covering his body felt... different.
Then there was the pain, or lack, thereof. He remembers cracking his head something bad. He remembers the searing pain, that faded into dullness. That was his companion through the past two or so days, that and...
Hector.
He could see his friend's face, clear as day. As though all of that was real.
Get it together, Gerhardt.
He chastises himself. This wasn't the time to be unfocused. He had no idea where he was.
He risks it, cracking his eyes open a bit, looking around.
Open
After being told the entire story, all of which Mack does not believe at all, and impressing upon his doctors that he couldn't remember who he was, or how he got here, Mack is sitting on the edge of his bed, still in hospital garb.
He's looking around the room like a man with a purpose. Although, if asked, he'll deny it.
In reality, he's planning his escape, since his "doctors" don't want him to leave just yet.
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It's with that in mind that he's been rather carefully monitoring his newest patient so he can be there when he wakes. This place is confronting enough to find oneself in without the added alarm and confusion from the sorts of injuries this man, and Simon, and Kaylee, had when he first arrived.
"Welcome back," he says, his voice quiet but steady, as he steps over to the bedside.
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ota
Sickbay held more bad memories for him than it did good. He had little interest in humouring the doctors here for long, whether the one attending to him be Beverly Crusher or any other. "If you presume that I am worried about a hypospray, you have presumed wrongly." That said in the most uptight tone possible. He hated doctors on principle. That much had not changed in nine years.
Re: ota
And ever was she more sore to be right. There was Worf. Looking sour, of course. But very well dressed. And was he a bit older? Or was that her imagination? The baldric was different too. Perhaps the most interesting thing was that emblem on his chest, as well.
If he felt her eyes on him, she wasn't really going to mind. But she was uncertain as to how to address this. This was different and weird. So she did what came naturally when she was unsure of where her emotions would lead: ignore them entirely and make do with humor. "Ah, I don't think I've ever seen you so dressed up before. Shame you do it for Doctor Crusher and not for someone like me."
Re: ota
Re: ota
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Simon Tam
First, she looked around for Booker, dragging her hat off her head. She tucked the hat into her messenger bag next to the heavy load of books she was carrying from the library. If she checked out half the things they assigned her to shelve, it made her job easier. Or so she told herself when she did it.
A security guard (though not one wearing a uniform she recognized), asked her to come along to the sickbay. She thought it best not to quarrel. As little as she wanted to be around doctors she also understood that rules existed for a reason and she would be better served by following them until she had a reason to disobey. To keep herself calm she drew one of the books out of her bag and clutched it tight to her chest. A Medicine for Melancholy might not be large enough to cover her vital areas, but it was still comforting to have a familiar thing in her hands as she entered a room unlike anything she'd ever seen before.
Her nerves vanished almost as soon as she walked into the surprisingly cheerful room. Instead of fear she looked around in wonder, her eyes open as wide as they would go so she could take in every detail. "Oh, I don't think I've been anywhere like this before."
hello hello!
Simon's trying to think of the best way to reassure her when she brightens, apparently distracted from any anxiety by her surroundings. At a guess, that may well make her one of the Enterprise's visitors from the past as opposed to one more used to shipboard life.
"You're, uh, not the first person here who hasn't," Simon says. "But it's essentially an infirmary."
He makes his best attempt to smile in a welcoming way.
"I'm Doctor Tam. Would you like to come this way?"
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First Arrival: Sickbay, Paging Rory Williams!
What the hell just happened? Almost guiltily, he holstered his gun, and realized he had somehow been dropped into a hospital. Which, come to think of it, was probably good. he had been feeling a little down and under the weather for the last day, and even had been forced to stay home from work, only two weeks into the job!
Now, suddenly, his knees went weak, and he felt rather warm. This was not the way to make a good first impression, he knew, but he couldn't make himself care as he staggered and gripped the side of a bed near him. He was still dressed in the clothing he'd been dressed in back home; simple pants, a t-shirt, his vest, and his gun and ammo belt strapped around his waist, with his boots on, but not cinched tight.
(ooc: So, Booker's past is catching up with him. He's carrying a bug he had no immunity to from the twenty-first century. In addition, if examined, his genetic are in a state of ongoing change as the vigors in his system alter him and his very code.)
OTA
So he sighed rather than growled. "Make your scan quickly," he commanded, albeit while obediently moving to a biobed for his scan.
Chang himself was in perfect health, particularly for a man his age. He was obviously a previous sufferer of the Augment virus, even to the point that his ridges were still nothing compared to the average Klingon. But also had the effect of keeping his old age more or less at bay. He had long gotten past the so-called lesser side effects and martialed the fear.
His eyepatch was bolted in and the eye within had been removed, leaving scar tissue behind.
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Maybe he was just missing home. He considered Martok a good friend, after what they'd been through.
"Well then, I'll just avoid the small talk, shall I?" It would seem like he wasn't, but he was already doing the required scan. Julian can multitask.
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OTA
Forty Two decks of ship was three times the size of his Enterprise, and he honestly had no idea how often he'd be able to walk something that size. Maybe the doctors from this era would be able to suggest something to make it easier. He did manage to get up on a biobed without much incident, and waited.
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It would seem Q's machinations are intended to create the most embarrassing first impressions possible on all of Picard's predecessors. Under better circumstances, Picard would be delighted and honored to have the likes of Captains Kirk and Pike — or Admiral, in this instance — aboard his Enterprise; however, while his ship is in such a constant state of flux, he is not well-equipped to entertain.
As soon as he is aware of the admiral's presence, he makes himself available to greet him. He can only hope the circumstances of his arrival have not put Admiral Pike at odds with him already.
"Admiral," he greets, inclining his head politely. "I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard. It is an honor to have you aboard; I can only apologize for not seeking you out sooner."
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The fact that he looked like Telemachus Rhade couldn't be ignored, nor the Nietzschean bone blades on his arms. He didn't know how many of his kind were on board, but it was slightly gratifying to think that there were more. Nietzscheans may have been competitive, but they were, at heart, social animals with much of their culture built around mutual survival and familial interaction as well as individual superiority.
At least in the age where he grew up, more focus was on the former than the latter.
His posture was straight, formal, like an officer about to accept an exam before returning to duty. Even if realistically he knew that duty might be far beyond him. His betrayal aboard the Andromeda, a decision he hadn't even fully made yet, was going to follow him. He just wanted to have something to focus on.
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It's a guess that this man is military, but it's informed by the posture and by the look of the man's clothing.
There is one reassuring thing; that clothing, military though it may seem, is in no way an Alliance uniform. Not that he has anything to fear from the Alliance here, but ... fearing them is a habit it's hard to shake.
So Simon approaches with little, if not no, trepidation in his movements.
"Hello. I'm Doctor Tam. I'll be giving you your scan and vaccinations."
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Closed to Julian Bashir
He looked up as the doctor he'd been assigned to approached him. Dog expressions didn't come as naturally to him as human expression, but after a second of staring his ears went back uncertainly and he lowered his head again, for all the world looking worried and submissive.
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But really, none of them were. They could adapt, though, so Julian doesn't feel particularly concerned approaching the massive dog. It's only a little different than doing his scans on a person.
"Hello, there." Unfortunate that he can't tell Julian his name, but he registers TenSoon in the database anyway, as a wolfhound, and assigns him a database number.
He doesn't reach out to pet or scratch--all the body language of the dog is pointing towards uncertainty, and he would rather not be bitten today. He stands near enough to get his scans, and that's it.
Except he begins to look at them curiously. His genetic scan is contradictory--the bones and hair register as canine, but everything else, even if structurally he looks like nothing more, registers as oddly closer to human. "Hm."
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Julian Bashir
At the moment, that seemed to be a medical scan. The idea of letting Terran physicians examine her wasn't one that appealed; there were Terrans who could be quite competent, of course, like the beautiful but cold Jennifer Sisko, but the thought that they should have any sovereignty over another species, and most especially herself? It might have sent a shudder down her spine, had she allowed it to. She didn't, however. The Terrans in this universe were spoiled and deluded about their status in the natural order of things, but they somehow held power. For the moment. So she smiled, instead, and stepped forward. She would allow them their delusions, for now, until she had better footing, and she would allow this examination.
And then, no sooner than the thought had passed, did her eyes pass unthinkly over a familiar face in the sea of Terran uniforms- and pull back abruptly.
Her smile blossomed, bloomed into a full tilt grin, and her eyes lit. She knew that face! Knew it quite well, and knew it in different shades; Julian Bashir. Not the rumpled, angry, violent Julian Bashir of her own universe, but the one who'd accompanied her own counterpart, those years ago. The one who'd stolen from her, stolen her tinkerer, and her Benjamin, and her counterpart. The one who owed her in a much different way that the one from her home universe.
This was going to be fun.
"Julian! It's been such a long time!"
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Bloody hell, instead of wishing for the Captain to do it, the next time Julian saw Q, he was going to haul off and punch the being himself, and damn the consequences.
There was a split-second where he weighed different options. His natural one, of course, was to react with vitriol to this woman--incredibly dangerous, in a different way than most other potential threats on-board, and someone he'd hoped he'd never see again. The second possibility was to turn and leave, right now. But that would be tucking his tail, and showing unforgivable weakness, which he knew she would just take advantage of.
That left option number 3, then--the best way he can think of to let her think she had the upper hand here. He continues with the other patient sitting in front of him, not showing any reaction outwardly until she calls his name directly, at which he turns.
His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, as if he hadn't just heard a voice he was completely familiar with call him by name. He sweeps over the milling crowd, as if he's looking for whoever called him, not even pausing when it goes over Kira--and it is the Intendant, he'd recognize that expression anywhere, even without the foil headband and black leather suit--and then back, allowing his expression to become more confused, as if he didn't see anyone he recognized that hadn't already been accounted for.
"I'm sorry? Did someone call for me?"
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