ten_fwd | [Sickbay]: Round One scans and vaccines

[ Captain's Log: a Meeting with the Senior Staff. Wherein Picard discusses what to do with their new, er. "Guests." ]

As you enter sickbay tonight, escorted there by Lieutenant Worf and his security detail, you may notice it isn't all that unusual. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you could 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 Chief Medical Officer Crusher herself, she's well-groomed and kindly, wearing her teal uniform and a blue coat. No masks, no rubber gloves. The most dangerous thing about her is that maternal look in her eyes; the one that scolds you for not doing your homework, or leaving your dirty dishes in your room.

The crew makes no promises for Dr. McCoy, on the other hand. He isn't one of ours. You should probably watch your neck.

"All right, don't be shy," Dr. Crusher calls out as you enter. "Come in and sit down. It's just a scan and maybe a hypospray, nothing to worry about."

Probably.

[ooc: This is an open log for everybody. Tagging isn't mandatory, but going to sickbay 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 Bones McCoy and Beverly Crusher (NPC) on deck, so if you'd prefer one over the other just specify it in your tag. If you would like more details about sickbay, here's the wiki page. If you haven't made your OP yet, you can assume the doctors will want to see your character shortly after they arrive.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Beverly takes the utmost care with Egil, smiling at him as she carefully moves the scanner over him as well, looking up to Pyrrha. "Is he yours?" she asks, the tenderest way she can think of to enquire after him being nonhuman.

"He started out as a foster-baby--he was three days old when I got him," she says. "But he's all mine now. We've been through a lot together."

And she's very protective of him.

"He's... uh. He's a fox sometimes."

"Sometimes? And how does he manage the switch?" Beverly asks.

"He isn't reading as a human, strictly speaking, which is why I ask."

"He just... changes," she says. "Come on, puppy--show her."

She approximates the little fox-bark that is the sound for transformation, and he obliges. One cute little red fox cub, on her lap.

He stays put. He's well-trained.

"Like that."

Well.

That is not something Beverly's ever seen an infant do. (And she finds the little fox cub adorable, but that's beside the point, and she's on duty, she won't let herself pet him. Who knows what would happen.)

She hums, considering them both for a moment before she starts to scan Egil again, in particular this time paying attention to anything that a nonhuman entity might contract. "It's quite a trick for someone his age."

"He couldn't do it without help, for the longest time," she says. "When he's older, he might be able to take other shapes too, but for now it's just this or human. He had a litterbox back home that he used, 'cause it was easier for him to get to on his own than a little-kid potty chair, you know? But we kept his separate, didn't let the cats use it, didn't let him in their box. So he should be good on parasites."

No toxoplasmosis here.

"Do they still have litterboxes?"

Beverly thinks of herself as the ultimate medical professional, but she catches herself staring at Pyrrha a little longer than she should.

"Oh, um," she says, touching her temple. "I'm sorry, he's just so unusual compared to what I'm used to seeing. There are pets aboard the Enterprise, so you can likely find any supplies you need in the ship's stores. I might be able to suggest some sanitary cloths, or training diapers that would accommodate his, um. His tail."

She'd much rather see him use that than a litterbox, but she understands his anatomy is much different than that of a human's. "Are you in contact with his biological parents?"

"Oh, we don't do diapers," she says. "He's all trained. He has a sort of bark he does when he has to go, and we just run him to the nearest facilities--but he's pretty independent sometimes, likes doing things for himself, so if nobody's holding him and he's just hanging out in our apartment or somewhere like that he really knows well, he likes to go take care of his business by himself. And it's easier for him to do that as a fox."

He's still pretty young. Foxes don't have clothes to fumble with, and moving around is easier on four legs.

"His mother's not here, I know that much. And he wasn't her husband's kid, so who knows? His adopted grandparents are here though."

"I see," she breathes.

She sets the tricorder aside, and taps her chin. "I can make a vaccine that would work for his animal DNA, but I'm not familiar with his humanoid form. I'm not sure how he'll take to it; he may develop a slight fever, or other allergic reactions."

What the scanner can't tell her is that the other set of DNA she's reading isn't likely to get sick, but giants of Egil's ilk are just myth as far as Beverly knows.

"I still recommend he have one," she goes on. "It's just a shame I can't get his parents' history, but I'm sure you know what's normal and not for him. Is there anything else about his background you can tell me?"

"Whatever he needs to keep him safe," she says. "He's never really been sick, so if he starts acting weird, not being his usual happy self, I'll know. And I can bring him back in."

He's all she's got.

"His mother was a frost giant. Or maybe an elf. They say the line's kinda hazy, depending on what side you're on politically--like, her father started as an elf and ended as a giant, but she started out as a giant 'cause she was at war with the gods, or something. And he could turn into an eagle and she could turn into a wolf and now Egil's a fox. I think the ability is genetic, but the kind of animal isn't. I don't know how helpful that is."

"A ... frost giant?" Beverly breathes. "At war with the gods?"

Not to mention elves, and eagles, and wolves, and-- Beverly touches her temple and lets out a breath. There are many cultures who believe in histories where they interacted with gods, or god-line beings. She doesn't know what good the Prime Directive is in a situation like theirs (and she has never cared for it when it gets in the way of her duties anyway), but she refrains from pressing further on the validity of these claims. For now.

She merely makes note of the relevant information so the computer can recognize it in the future, and tries to keep an open mind.

"That's quite the family history," is what she finally says. "And I'll be honest, it's nothing I've had experience with before. I assure you, I'm good at what I do. You won't have to worry about Egil's health while I'm here."

She gives Pyrrha an encouraging smile, and reaches for her hypospray. "Now, you're first with the vaccine, and then I'll change it for Egil."

"That's all back home," she says, "and since we're not going back, none of it really matters. What matters is here and now, and him being the healthiest and happiest little puppy he can be."

'Puppy' being her gender-neutral nickname for him, and not specifically a reference to his current shape. It's a long and complicated situation.

She readies herself for the hypospray.

"I worry about him, you know? I've never been a parent before, and it's a lot of responsibility, being completely in charge of somebody. And now, helping him adjust to being in a totally new situation."

That's strange.

"You're not anxious to get home?" she asks. Some people have been taking things better than others, but everyone Beverly has encountered so far at least wants to get off this ship.

The hypospray is quick and relatively painless, administered to Pyrrha's shoulder with no further preamble. Beverly immediately gets to work making up a vaccine for Egil.

"I'm also a mother," she volunteers, smiling softly. "My son is a teenager now, but believe me, that worry never goes away. The best thing you can do for him is provide a sense of stability. Show him that you aren't going anywhere. Children are remarkably resilient, and as long as they feel safe and loved they can cope with a lot more than we give them credit for."

She sighs. It still isn't easy watching Wesley grow up, of course.

Once the vaccine is ready, Beverly decides on administering it behind one of Egil's ears, careful to avoid his jaws in case it startles him into snapping at her. She doesn't usually treat animals, and is much better with humans.

[Sickbay]: Round One scans and vaccines

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