Copyright © 1997, 1998
Last updated on 1/21/98
Alcyon Low Berth Area
Christian's mind told him what he would see, yet it was still a shock not to see the Bishop that had been placed into long-term cold berth storage. Nervously jostling the medical carryall slung over his left shoulder, Christian looks down at the status readout, and begins to take the indicated steps to complete the revival cycle. His eyes flit from panel to berth and back again as Christian tries to control the stew of emotions bubbling within.
He ties the berth into the main medical computer and awaits the first results of his efforts.
"AAAAhhhemm, *coough*", Jan clears his throat, as he catches his breath, "While you are chief of medicine, isn't it traditional to consult with the attending before you go pressing any buttons :-)? He was really quite stable when I checked about an hour ago. Did you look at the chart?"
Christian acknowledges Jan's arrival, but seems uncharacteristically edgy and tense. "Command perogative, Doctor. I am as well acquainted with the patient's condition as you are, if not more, and I decided to resume the revival process." He glances back at the slow progress of the revival, his left hand nervously drumming on his thigh.
Jan issues a command to the medcomp subroutine to call Bishop's chart up. He quickly glances over it (hopefully, Christian is too). "As far as I can tell, he'll be comfortable at this point for at least a few more days. Recognizing Christian's tenseness, Jan speaks soft and calm, "Relax Christian, the rewarming goes at its own rate. Hurrying the process only endangers Adrian. You've got to ease up on yourself, regardless of whether you feel responsible for Bishop's condition or not, your emotional involvement to this degree can cloud your judgement. Step back for a minute...."
Christian suddenly realizes that he's been playing a one-handed symphony on his thigh, and stops, with a slight grin of self-conscious embarassment. His voice has relaxed somewhat, and parallel's Jan's. "Don't worry, Jan, he's not coming out of there without every i dotted and every t crossed. I'm not pushing the process, just helping with some fine-tuning as we go along." He sighs. "Thanks for the advice, Jan, I know how important it is to try and keep an even keel..." He grins. "...but I think you're a few decades late if you are trying to play mother hen."
Jan isn't ready to let Christian off that easily. He continues mildly, "Arrested in a sleep stage, we can do a complete neuro eval, _before_ we bring him all the way around. We don't know what Bishop will be like. It's doubtful considering the reconstruct, that there'll be much of the old Bishop left. Why don't we get as much baseline data as we can, before we let loose another variable?"
"Your opinion is noted, Doctor." Christian is clearly preoccupied; he glances back and forth between Jan and the berth as he speaks. "My decision stands. You can best assist me if you return to Sickbay and keep an eye on all the patients. In particular, check in on Doctor Tweel in my cabin, his sutures were replaced by Mister Mahlel, of all people; Mr. Rednisky (Trauma Bay 1), recovering from internal reconstruction trauma surgery; and Mr. Greyson (Medbay 3), the resident puzzle, treated for shock and lightly sedated." Christian looks at Jan. "Scans indicate massive antibodies for Lanth Fever." He turns away and focuses in on the berth's monitor, occasionally using his handheld scanner, or tapping on the controls and making minor corrections in the automated process.
Alcyon Sickbay
Greyson's eyes snapped open. Instantly, he took in his current situation. He saw that he was laid out on a medical bed with some sort of sensor array, and noted that there were no restraints placed on him. Therefore, he could deduce that he was at least not in enemy hands. He noticed the robot hovering off in the distance, but paid very little mind to it. He had dealt with automotons far more dangerous than anything that would be found in a medical bay.
>From one of the corners of the room, he heard that same familiar voice,
"...and an Imperial Marine who appears to have come forward into the future from many, many decades ago with massive Lanth Fever antibodies...."
Although he didn't understand the part about having come forward into the future, he somehow knew that the man was talking about him. His gut instinct told him that he was in no immediate danger, but that it was high time he got off his butt and figured out exactly what had happened since his last memory in the security corridor.
Greyson sat up decisively, swung his feet over to one side of the bed, and landed himself squarely on the floor. Noting that there was no sign of the doctor anywhere [*blush*], Greyson surveyed the room. Since he had no idea where he was, or when, for that matter, he simply made a general announcement to the occupants of the sickbay.
"Lieutennant Commander Darrow Greyson, Imperial Navy," placing a extra emphasis on the word 'navy', "Serial Number 474-969-9009. I would request any information that anyone can give me regarding my current situation and disposition. If at all possible, I would like to speak with the Commanding Officer, or any other competent Executive Officer."
Alcyon Low Berth Area
Jan recognizes someone set in a mindtrack, very similar to a situation he encountered only an hour ago. This time, however, he decides to bend with the wind, even if the expedition may be endangered yet another time.
"Okay, I'll start with this Dr. Tweel, I glanced at everyone else as I was coming through the sickbay. We need to talk about this later," gesturing towards the low berth. Jan heads towards the door.
"Baseline?" Christian suddenly snaps himself out of his reverie. As Jan is walking out of the room, Christian's voice brings him up short. "Hold it, Jan, waitaminute!" He reaches out with a friendly restraining hand. "Sorry about that Jan, I was lost in thought there for a moment, my apologies if you thought I was shoveling scut work." He gestures at the computer equipment associated with the berth. "If it's baseline data you want, you can have it in abundance. I made sure that his neuro monitor data has been recorded, ever since we chilled him, in the event that it was needed for the reconstruction. And then when he started thawing whilst we were all away, I tinkered with the monitor program a little bit, so that it'd all be here when someone got back to him. I've only chewed over some of the bottom-line results as yet, but we certainly have what we need for baseline purposes."
Christian looks thoughtful for a moment. "I've kept myself appraised of his condition, as best I could in the recent chaos, and I'd just ran though his chart (virtually speaking) a little bit before you showed up." He sighs. "A variable, yes. But his chart shows no medical reason to keep him half- thawed, and if he needs mental and physical therapy, we should get his condition to the point where we can begin that protocol, promptly."
Jan is unconvinced. "Don't confuse personal perogative with commmand perogative, it makes you do stupid things like order people around."
Christian smiles slightly. "I can understand that, Jan, I'm not one who is big on order-taking or order-giving; if I was, I wouldn't be in the Service. But..." he eyes the door, curiously, "...that rag-tag bunch of patients out there seems to be stirring, and I'd consider it a favor if you'd check on them and try and keep them calm. We will have to talk to Admiral Nanadth about getting them briefed or oriented, but in the meantime, I'm open to suggestions."
He checks the berth again. "Doesn't look like there are any problems so far, I don't think we both need to stand around here for the entire time. Unless there's ANOTHER crisis out there, I don't think it should take long. I'll let you know if anything anomalous turns up. Ok, Jan?"
Christian looks at the berth with a small frown of concern, as the berth approaches the cycle-out.
Jan leaves the Low Berth area, seething. *Goddamn doctor, getting that involved to the point of blindly plunging into who the hell knows what. Didn't even review the f**king chart before starting the resuc procedure. Has malpractice written all over it. Just walk away Jan, we can sort this out later.* "For being a bunch of professionals, I ain't seen a whole lot of professionalism," he mutters under his breath.
Alcyon Sickbay
No answer. *Hmmmm...I'm I the only one conscious?* Odd their isn't an attendant, perhaps even a 'bot.* Still no glasses.
Feeling slightly frustrated, Casey tries to crack open his eyes, only to meet the expected GLARE!!GLARE!!GLARE of normal lighting. He clamps his eyes back as big tears well up in their corners.
*Christ.....well that won't do much good.*
Moments go by and the sear in his eyes dies away.
The sound of a doorway cycling open. A few quick footsteps. And as Casey strains his ears, some muttered voices.
*Damn....walked by too fast.* Casey swallows again in preparation to blurt out a groan or some other attention attracting whimper, the next time he hears footsteps. He holds his breath in preparation.... ...and as the blueness seeps into his face he has to exhale....
Just then, a slightly raised voice filters into ear range...
>"...with commmand peroga...do stupid...like order people around."
More quick footsteps and Casey tries to draw a quick breath and then stops himself from speaking as a nearby voice says...
>"For being a bunch of professionals, I ain't seen a whole lot of > professionalism."
*Interesting, no.....?*
Seconds later, the odd blip of some console activity in an adjoining chamber and Casey realizes his curiosity has lost him another chance to hail some aid. *Damn, they walk fast here! I wonder if this is a military vessel..?*
That thought is accompanied by a slight tinge of fear, and Casey gets a metallic taste in his mouth once again.
Alcyon Low Berth Area
As Christian completes the final revival commands, the automatic sequencer in the low berth responds to the instructions and picks up where it had paused hours earlier. As it continues, the display incrementally documents the steps being applied to the low berth occupant.
Christian follows each step, no matter how small, with quiet intensity. He occasionally jots down cryptic notes into his hand computer.
Alcyon Sickbay
Off to one side, a rustle of some sort. Silence.
Without any warning, a voice nearby, fairly barks out..
>"Lieutennant Commander Darrow Greyson, Imperial Navy," placing some extra >emphasis on the word 'navy', "Serial Number 474-969-9009. I would request >information on my current location and status, if you are at liberty to >discuss this."
*Oh Shit! This IS a military ship! What bloody conflagration have I just come awake in? Well, at least HE doesn't know where HE is either...*
Casey takes in another breath, swallows, and croaks...
"Sorry Commander, I'm at a loss to tell where we are, myself. I THINK, in the sickbay of a military ship.
Oh by the way, I'm Casey...Casey Rednisky. You don't see a pair of really dark glasses kicking around, do you?"
Greyson looks over to the direction of the strained question. He spots Rednisky on the bed and sees the discomfort he is suffering.
"The Zhodani have a term for this. It's goes, 'Ghrazda nazyl tra'chle', which basically means, 'If this is a hospital, where the hell is the doctor?'."
He then moves over to a water dispenser and fills a cup, bringing it back over to Rednisky.
"I'm no doctor, but you sure as hell look like you need this. Drink up, and if the doc says anything, he can take it up with me.
Casey weakly tilts his head, fumbling at the cup's edge with his lips, but finally managing a couple of slurps.
"Thanks. I like your bedside manner a lot."
"As to where we are, I can definitely tell you that we are NOT in the sickbay of any MILITARY vessel. If we were, there would be at least one MD on duty. Plus, all the equipment would have a military seal on it."
Casey heaves a mental sigh of relief...
Greyson examines one of the sensor arrays.
"No. This is commercial equipment. There is a property identification plate here that says," straining to read the panel, "'Turnskaad' on it." He then turns back to Rednisky. "Does that name mean anything to you? I've never heard of it before."
"Turnskaad...no not really. A big conglomerate of some sort I think, but that's only from reading the news.
"By the way, how'd you get here? The last thing I clearly remember is being in a military installation on Yori..."
"I uhhh...." Casey tries to recall just HOW did he get there. "I really don't know. I've had some really wierd dreams of late. I WAS on a 'liner called the Glory of Efate, but something happened. There were explosions galore, I remember being in an escape pod with an injured person, the ship's Purser I believe, then the wierdness starts.
"I remember a lot of sand, a large metallic creature, not unlike a giant insect...could that have been a Warbot?," Casey's voice carries an childlike excitement when he mentions warbot, "..and then some prodding. After that just more of the same pain and nausea."
Greyson looks at his watch. "How long have I been out?"
"I could ask you the same question Commander." Casey chuckles nervously.
"Only twenty minutes, seems like." Greyson looks at Casey. "What time do YOU have? Maybe my watch is off. I must have been out longer than THAT!"
"Sorry Commander, I don't appear to have one on. Besides, until I find my glasses, I'm functionally blind."
Greyson notes that Casey has kept his eyes clamped tightly throughout.
"I have a bit of a light sensitivity problem. Perhaps if you could glance around and see if I even OWN a pair anymore...they're kinda wrap aroundy and very very dark......I seem to be a bit too weak to get up and feel around myself. I wonder what they have done to me.
"What kinda condition are YOU in and how did YOU get here? Perhaps your watch took an unreasonable shock somewhere along the line?"
Tar listens to the exchange between Rednisky and greyson for a bit, and then speaks up... "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Tar Berana. Like you Mr. Rednisky I also was on the Glory of Efate.I believe the purser is on the table next to me. Let me fill you all in on what I know.
We are a ship that is engaged in a quasi-scientific expedition. This is the sickbay. Mr. Rednisky, you just underwent an operation, and I haven't seen your glasses but then again my field of vision is limited. Lt. Commander Greyson, you were just brought here about 20 minutes ago. Apparently there is some mistery about you. There is some drugged up, singing patient, at least I think he's a patient, in one of the other rooms. There are also some rather unfriendly Solomani ships in the area. This ship has security officers who seem to wave their guns alot. Our doctor seems very competant and I believe he went through that door over there(Tar points to the door he saw the doctor exit.) There seems to be some bizzare story involved but I suppose we will have to wait."
Alcyon Low Berth Area
In the uniformly modulated male voice that the Alcyon crew have become so familiar with, PATER announces, _Low berth number three cycling open. Please stand clear_
Christian slowly steps aside, his nervousness even more evident.
As Christian steps to one side, there is a "click-click-click" sound as the locks release and the hatch, and patient tray, for berth number three slide smoothly into the aisle. Laying on the sterile pallet, his nude body covered with a faint antiseptic sheen, lies Adrian Bishop. His thin hair is plastered against his scalp and still shows slight impressions where the Russian sleep set rested just moments ago. Several small patches of fresh dermi-seal on his arms and legs mark the sites of recently removed catheters, and fading dermatographic marks on his skin show where biological sensors and transducers were located. His chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm.
Slowly, Bishop opens his eyes, which show a spontaneous pupillary relfex unheard of for a man who, until a few hours ago rated a 3 on the Glasgow Coma Scale. The eyes are sharp, clear, and focused. Without any other bodily motion, Bishop rapidly scans his entire field of view, and his gaze finally comes to rest on Christian's form. A shadow of a smile forms on Bishops face.
"Hello, Dr. Van Der Merwe."
Stunned, Christian simply stares at Adrian for a few moments before the image truly registers. His eyes behold a veritable miracle. Christian looks at Adrian with an expression of wonder and mounting joy. He stoops down to open a tiny storage drawer in the bottom of the berth, and withdraws a spare uniform. Straightening up, he looks back down at Adrian as the beginnings of a smile play across his face.
Holding the uniform in his left hand, he leans down and offers his other hand to help Adrian sit up. The nervousness seems to have dissipated. He looks Adrian straight in the eye and smiles broadly. "Welcome back, Adrian, you nosey bastard. Welcome back...."
Alcyon Low Berth Area
Bishops brow furrows slightly, as if in puzzlement. This passes almost immediately and a sort of "Ahh! *Now* I understand" expression takes it's place.
A slight muscle tremor appears in his right arm as Bishop reaches to grasp the good Doctors outstretched hand. Or tries to grasp it. Bishops wrist moves perhaps 10 cm. before the arm collapses back onto the pallet. A second attempt is equally fruitless. Noticeable muscle tremors are now evident in the entire limb, and appear to be spreading to the other limbs as well.
"Most remarkable, Doctor." utters Bishop, in a ridiculously unconcerned tone. "I seem quite unable to move. Perhaps you should summon assistance."
As the tremors become more pronounced, Bishop swallows with difficulty, and continues, "I ap-p-p-pear to b-be experienc-c-cing unusual audit-t-tory phen-n-nomena. I th-th-think an oral rest-t-t-traint m-m-mmmmight be innn ord-d-der!"
The next sentence never comes, as Bishops entire body is racked by a full-scale convulsion. As his eyes roll back into his head, he slams repeatedly into the pallet and low berth door, and a bloody froth forms at his lips.
Alcyon Sickbay
"*Ahem*, Good day, gentlemen, I really don't know whether you're supposed to be up or down, so for the time being indulge me and lie down for a bit."
While Casey and Greyson were talking, Jan had walked the p-way from the low passage area into the main sickbay. Still stewing from his discussion with Christian, he was left with the impression that the patients required the ministrations of a physician. So, needless to say he is a little surprised to see two (er, now three, just got Tar's post) chatting away.
If the folks turn to look at Jan, they'll note the usual TL15 Scout vacc suit, with the addition of a holstered gauss pistol and an equipment vest stuffed with medical goodies.
"I'm Dr. Jan Yorblin, one of the medical officers aboard this, the MV Alcyon. Welcome aboard, if these greetings haven't been tendered yet. I can't offer any medical opinions yet. I still don't know what is up with you all. Just got back from a little trip. Hang tight while I review the records."
"Uhh...hello. Glad to see you. Well, not really see but...." Casey shrugs.
"Anything the medbot can get you while I'm pondering all this? And for the gentleman with the photophobia in bed number two, let's dim the lights a bit."
Jan issues the command to dim the lights around the bays, while at the same time calling up Rednisky's chart.
"Excuse me Dr. Yorblin, but if you could check around for a pair of dark glasses, I'm sure Mr. Berana and Commander Greyson would be more comfortable. The problem is a pair of over sensitive optic nerves. Trust me, I like the light, especially recently."
"Yeah, let's see if we can find something. Dulinor/Lucan, could you dig around in the optics emergency tray and get a pair of postexam glasses for the patient in bed 2."
Whichever medbot is in the area hopefully responds to Jan's request. It returns to bed two with a pair of flimsy wraparound shades recognized as the height of fashion by little old ladies on Earth.
"Don't know what happened to your shades, but those should be OK until we can fit you something more substantial."
"Um, by the way, we don't seem to have a name for you yet, what can I call you?"
Casey takes the glasses and perchs them on his face. He covers the lenses with cupped hands, and cautiously opens his eyes.
"Uhh..sorry Doctor. Casey Rednisky, first name's just fine I guess..."
Casey slowly uncups his hands, letting his eyes adjust to the lowered light level. With his eyes finally open and staring at the ceiling Casey heaves an audible sigh of relief.
Swivel to one side. Flashes a smile to Berana. Just beyond, another lump of person, resting. *Appears familiar. The Purser Tiblisi?*
A glance down the length of his body. Then up to Doc Yorblin.
"So Doctor, just what did you and your staff find worth fixing?"
"Rednisky, Casey...hmmm, any relation to the Rednisky who wrote the monograph on astroglial interfaces with cybernetics for minimization of immune response?"
Casey frowns and replies, " Actually, I worked on just such a paper, but it was more of an internal lab discussion." In a puzzled tone, "I never imagined it would get published....?"
Jan looks surprised at the coincidence, then continues. "Best as I can tell, you relatively lucky to be in one piece. Seems you received a lot of injuries from a crash of some sort, spacecraft perhaps? The doctor who fixed you up also seemed concerned about radiation effects."
"I'll tell you specifics in a bit."
Alcyon Sickbay
Greyson looks puzzled for a moment.
"Turnskaad. Turnskaad. That's funny, I thought I knew all the big conglomerates behind the Claw..."
Casey clears his throat nervously. Turnskaad has been in business all over the Domain of Deneb and across the Rift for well over a century....
"Commander Greyson? What time do you have? I mean, the FULL time and date."
The man in the antiquated uniform stares back at his watch, and says,
"According to this, It is exactly twelve hundred hours, thirty-eight minutes, and forty-one seconds on the day two twenty-two, year nine hundred fifty six. The last thing I remember is detecting an intruder in a security corridor outside of the installation I was supposed to be in charge of guarding. A test was being performed on a new piece of technology when suddenly, one of my corporals spotted someone coming at me from the right.
"The next thing I remember is having the strangest sensation. I felt as though I were falling, but managed to regain my composure long enough to peel off three shots at the intruder. The strange thing is, when I turned to fire, I was no longer at the installation, but rathter in what appeared to be the jump section of a starship.
"Everything else is a bit fuzzy, I'm afraid. Except... I could have sworn I saw Jarhvald from Sword Worlder mythology staring right at me... wearing nothing but a pair of silk boxer shorts."
At that point, Greyson falls back down on his medical bed. He thinks he sees the lights dimming, but pays no mind to it, writing it off to some sort of oncoming neurosis.
"This has got to be some sort of nightmare, a hallucination from the radiation,' he mutters. "There's no way this can possibly be happening..."
By now, he is totally ignoring the conversation occurring between Rednisky and Yorblin regarding the former's overly sensitive eyes. Casey looks at Greyson with concern....
*He looks okay, but I'd bet his survival instincts are revving up past safety limits right now.*
"Hey Greyson, snap out of it! Are ya still with us here? Hey! I've been dancing with a giant metal insect, you think you're 163 years older than you should be..." swivelling back to Berana..."...I figure the Good Doctor has us pumped on something real good. What are YOUR hallucinations like?"
Whether or not Greyson looks up, Rednisky tries to catch Yorblin's eye, with a pointing gesture at Greyson, and mouths the word 'shock'.
Alcyon Sickbay
The haze of sleep begins to leave Tiblisi's mind. Only vague memories remain.
*I had this dream that I was at a Misfire concert -- except that they were playing this weird screeching music. I've never been to a Misfire Concert -- I only heard one of their tapes once a couple of years ago. It weird what sharp blows to the head can do for you...*
Tiblisi yawns. Then there are memories of some dialog in a soap opera.
> "I uhhh.... I really don't know. I've had some really weird dreams of > late. I WAS on a liner called the Glory of Efate, but something > happened. There were explosions galore..."
Tiblisi snaps wide awake. Now, Lee could barely recall anything about the dream. Lee then realizes that these memories are from a conversation that is going on right now.
> "How long have I been out?"
Tiblisi notices that this comes from a person new to the infirmary -- apparently a patient too.
> "Hey Greyson, snap out of it! Are ya still with us here? Hey! I've > been dancing with a giant metal insect, you think you're 163 years > older than you should be... I figure the Good Doctor has us pumped on > something real good. What are YOUR hallucinations like?"
"Well, I have one were someone finds a long lost Imperial Edict from Strephon giving me ownership of an Imperial garden planet and one one-thousandth of the Imperial Treasury."
Tiblisi rolls over and props up onto one elbow to look at the others with a grin.
"Oh, you wanted hallucinations and not pipe dreams... You all chose some of the most interesting things to discuss."
Greyson sits on his medbay bed for a moment, trying to come to terms with what his life has become. At first, he seems to be completely lost in his own thoughts, his eyes merely staring out into the empty space of the sick bay. Then Rednisky speaks up...
>"Hey Greyson, snap out of it! Are ya still with us here? Hey! I've > been dancing with a giant metal insect, you think you're 163 years > older than you should be..." swivelling back to Berana..."...I figure > the Good Doctor has us pumped on something real good. What are YOUR > hallucinations like?"
Before Greyson even has a chance to look up, another voice joins the fray...
>"Well, I have one were someone finds a long lost Imperial Edict from >Strephon giving me ownership of an Imperial garden planet and one >one-thousandth of the Imperial Treasury." > >Tiblisi rolls over and props up onto one elbow to look at the others >with a grin.
Greyson looks over to the man whose words have just smacked him like a wet mackrel between the eyes. *If this is just a dream, then I might as well enjoy it,* thought the commander, *If it isn't, then it's not going to do me any good trying to ignore my situation.* He then breathes deeply, focuses his mind some more, and mumbles some short, quiet mantra. His eyes then reopen and he thinks to himself, staring at Tiblisi, *But why is it that I ALWAYS get the wierdoes in my outfit?*
Tiblisi then continues...
>"Oh, you wanted hallucinations and not pipe dreams... You all chose >some of the most interesting things to discuss."
"Yes, perhaps we do." answeres Greyson, with a visible smile now on his face. "I guess it's safe to assume that none of us know where we are nor how we got here?"
The man then extends his hand toward each of the other occupants of the room and formally introduces himself.
"I don't know what the doc used in that sedative he gave me, but boy did it make me groggy! Every so often, I'd slip in and out of consciousness... I mean, if someone's hell-bent on giving me something to put me to sleep, then damnit! Give me something that'll REALLY put me to sleep!"
Tar listens as the Purser speaks up. *Hmm why do I have this feeling Greyson won't know who Strephon is* *At least Greyson is taking this well*noting the Commanders attempt at humor.
During this time, Greyson begins to remove the flack jacket he had been wearing and unbuttoned the first couple of buttons on his uniform. As he runs his fingers through his hair, he says jokingly,
"I sure hope I'm not breaking with military protocol by doing this. Having been on vacation for a while, I might have missed a memo that changed Navy regs regarding off-duty decorum."
Greyson then starts to mentally re-run everything that has happened since the blast of light. Suddenly, he recalls hearing something that Tar Berenna had mentioned earlier. Instantly, the smile disappears from his face and the tone of his voice becomes crisp, cool, and very serious.
"You said that we had engagued with a _Solomani_ battle fleet? Am I to assume that this means that we are at war with them? What is the current status of this vessel?
"I must speak with the Captain of this ship at once! If the Solomani have penetrated this far, then it is almost certain that they are trying to cut off communications at Corridor and with the Emporer at Capital. Damnit! The Solomani at Yori!"
Tar replies, "Commander, From the way Dr. van D. Merwe was speking before you joined us, it seemed he did not seem concerned about danger from the fleet. Perhaps Dr. Yorblin could fill us in on some details."
Jan says quietly, "Ummm, Commander, we, and the Solomani, are not near Yori. And communications with the world outside us, right now, is impossible."
Then a pained expression comes across the Commander's face as he remembers his situation.
"We are around Yori, aren't we? Or are we even in the Imperium right now?"
*This is incredible!* Watching Yorblin while he speaks, Tiblisi does not see any indication that this is other than the truth.
"No. As best I understand it, we are in a created 'pocket universe' of which we are the sole inhabitants."
Alcyon Low Berth Area
Christian speaks with a single, fervently felt word. "Shit!" In a flash, he reaches for the Low Berth crash kit, flips it open, runs his finger down the list of pharmaceuticals, grabs the ampule, connects it to a spray injector and administers it. "Doctor YORBLIN?!"
In the blink of an eye, Christian's evident emotions vanish, replaced by a glacial, icy professional demeanor, as all concerns other than saving Adrian's life are brutally shoved aside. Christian rapidly runs through the relevant parts of Bishop's file and making comparisons with the medical databases.
Alcyon Sickbay
Jan raises his left eyebrow. "Mmm, hold one sec." Jan unlocks the controlled substances locker (where, only seconds before, he had secured his gauss pistol :-)).
He grabs a multidose jetspray preload of Revdun, a sedative hypnotic (sort of the tl15 equivalent of versed). Jan moves towards Greyson's bed.
"Well, commander, I do know you're on the MV Alcyon, a research vessel owned and operated by Turnskaad, a regional business concern. I'm Dr. Yorblin, one of the ship's medical officers. I don't know how we came to rescue you, but welcome aboard." Jan moves forward offering his right hand, keeping the left hand nonchalantly pocketed in his vest (with the injector).
Jan pops on his commdot. "Yes, Dr. Van Der Merwe, I'm busy with a patient up here right now, how may I help you?"
Christian's reply reflects the full urgency of his situation. "I've got a PROBLEM here, Jan, get IN HERE!"
"Oh, be right there...Commander Greyson, sorry, I'm going to have to leave you your questions, yet again, unanswered. We seem to have a medical emergency in the low berth area."
Jan walks rapidly back to where he just came from.
Alcyon Sickbay
Casey raises his hand to Greyson, in turn, trying to make his grasp as firm as possible. Noting his returning strength, he decides to hasten the process by not trying to sit up or be very active, until he has a chance to determine what his injuries and treatment were.
The Lieutennant Commander notes the firmness of Rednisky's handshake and nods approvingly.
Shortly after VDM sends Yorblin the urgent call to assist him in the low berth section...
"Did I hear the doctor correctly," asks Greyson, "We're currently in a 'pocket universe'? Well hey, why not? I mean, if I can suddenly appear out of thin air from a 163-year stint in limbo, then why not in a pocket universe?"
Tiblisi's head snaps yet again to look at Greyson. *What is going on here? What's a pocket universe...?*
Greyson chuckles quietly, then contiues...
"I wonder how many people are actually on this ship? How many of us are there in this little self-contained reality of ours? And who is commanding this vessel?
"I'm beginning to get pretty anxious for some answers..."
Alcyon Low Berth Area
Jan enters the room. Christian is preparing a hypo and reviewing Bishop's record. Bishop...
"Seizing, how long?" Jan whips the preload out of his left pocket. He quickly looks over the vital signs monitor and Bishop's continued seizing. "Revdun, 2mg? Ought to do the trick."
Christian nods. "I concur. 3cc verazed already administered."
(Library Data Note: VERAZED: Fast-acting, "smart" neural control enhancement drug. Acts to selectively impede the chaotic impulses typical of a seizure.)
Jan fires the jethypo in the region of the antecubital. "Christian, if this doesn't work, how about paralyzing him with sux?"
Christian grimly agrees. "Aye, if it comes to that." He eyes shift over to the 'pulmotor next to the berth, hoping it won't be needed. "I've never seen such an acute post-warming seizure." His face reflects his doubt. "Jan, I hope it wasn't a mistake to complete the cycle..."
Alcyon Sickbay
*Tiblisi, you have got to watch your mouth. It'll get you in serious trouble one of these days. You can't afford that -- especially now.*
Tiblisi's right arm begins to feel weak. *I must have pinched a muscle.* Sitting up, Tiblisi gingerly begins to flex the numb extermity. Lee catches a hint of motion from Rednisky and casts a glance in that direction only to see him staring at the new doctor. *What's this guy's name? Jan, wasn't it?*
Greyson begins to move about the room introducing himself. Tiblisi pauses massaging the weak arm to shake hands.
"Mr. Rednisky, Mr. Berana -- are you two feeling alright? [pause] Do you happen to have seen anyone else from the 'Glory'?"
"Solomani battle fleet? What's a pocket universe? 163 years," looking at Rednisky, Berana, and Greyson in turn. "I may have been out of it for a while, but what in Deneb's seven moons is going on around here?" Tiblisi begins to look a little pale, and then takes a deep breath.
*I have absolutely no clue as to what is going on here. It feels like everything is out of control. I don't like that feeling. Take it easy. Find out what is going, what happened to the 'Glory' and everyone else, and take it from there. Remain in control or there will be more than hell to pay when, or if, you make it back to the Tukera yards.*
Casey shrugs his ignorance, watches as the Purser takes a deep breath to steady his nerves...*Now there is a cool cookie. Stoic in demeanor and self controlled.* Casey mentally files a note about Tiblisi, someone to rely on if the situation gets thick, someone who is accustomed to being in control, or perhaps taking control when it's floundering, perhaps someone who can see good and bad from a variety of perspectives. *Am I reading too much into him?*
As the brief anxiety attack faded, Lee notices a slight stomach pain, then almost chuckles.' *Great, I'm hungry too. Well, getting back into a routine would help, too.*
Tiblisi casts a glance to each of the others in the sickbay. "Does anyone know if it's OK if we get something to eat? I can't do much about any of the other things you've mentioned, but I can about that."
Casey, feeling more stable as the minutes tick by, smiles.
"Well, if I could just see my chart I'd know if I *could* eat. The water didn't go down too badly, but what I'd really like is a pot of coffee and to find a proper pair of specs, so the restof you can get your eyes into a proper light range.
"Let me just see what is and isn't working here.." at which Casey starts running his hands across stomach and chest, checking for sutures and other signs of surgery. He begins testing arms and legs, and if no serious pain occurs, attempts to lever himself up on his elbows.
Alcyon Low Berth Area
Bishops body bridges into a classic opisthotonos arch as the medication hisses into his arm. His hands vibrate against the soft material of the pallet. Seconds pass, and then without any fanfare, the tension vanishes from Bishops muscles and he collapses back onto the pallet.
As the seizing subsides, Bishop gasps for breath, one deep gulp of air, followed by rapid, shallow chest contractions. A quick sweep with a medical scanner show right temporal spike focus deminishing, with an accompaniing reduction in chaotic activity in the pons. As Bishop's breathing pattern stabilizes, he begins to exhibit a Cheyne- Stokes respiration pattern. For an instant, the doctors could SWEAR that the medical scanner showed a set of square waves on the EEG trace, and then it's gone.
Jan swallows. The preset wave-pattern monitor starts chiming politely, yet irritatingly, capturing the irregularity of the EEG trace.
"Uhh, Christian, I think we have a man in the sickbay who ought to see this. Name is Casey Rednisky, the trauma in bed 2, he's a board certified cybernologist and surgeon. I've seen a monograph of his, comes across as a very bright guy."
Christian eyes Jan. "Oh? Well it's nice to have another doctor aboard. I suppose we can get him up to speed, as soon as he's knitted up and off his medications..."
A full three minutes pass, and then Adrian swallows, once, and slowly opens his eyes. At first, he stares straight up at the ceiling of the compartment. As Christian and Jan watch closely, they both see a singularly peculiar repetitive dilation/contraction pattern from both irises, almost as if someone were cranking the diaphragm of a camera lens between it's extreme settings. Then they final settle down to a reasonably small aperture. Bishop seems, once more, to be aware of his surroundings.
As the time passes, Jan continues to exam the EEG and holosonography.
"Me thinks, one of the side effects of whatever this Izak critter did is an enhancement between Bishop and his cybernetic software. He's making a lot more use of his implant. I'd recommend a PET scan."
Again, he gingerly reaches out, tenatively at first, then firmly grasping the edge of the low berth pallet. Working his other arm somewhat under him, he slowly levers himself up onto his elbows. Turning to Van Der Merwe, he comments, "Shall we try this again, Doctor?"
Christian follows the improvement, his grim concern slowly lifting. Turning to ensure that the data is being recorded, he catches the square wave out of the corner of his eye. He raises his right eye- brow. "It appears as if Adrian is re-learning his body, so to speak."
The words are quite thick, and even Bishop seems a bit surprised. Closing his mouth, he works his jaw side to side, explores the inside of his mouth with his tongue, and then frowns. The next time he opens his mouth, more blood appears.
Jan says, "Slowly. Why don't you relax there for a bit."
"It would seem" says Adrian with difficulty, "that I've bitten my lip rather severely." As if to emphasize the point, a fresh trickle forms at the corner of his mouth and courses across his jaw and down his throat. Bishop continues, "I'm attempting to accelerate thromboplastic activity at the damage site, but I suspect I'll need more professional assistance." With that, he manages a weak smile.
Alcyon Low Berth Area
"Good to see you smiling again, Adrian." Christian tries to smile in return, but his concerned frown predominates. "Open wide, Adrian, I'll have that fixed in a jiffy." He motions to Dulinor, who shifts position and extends a light on a short probe, which snaps on and illuminates the problem. "Lucan, prepare tropical spray, 4% amorsal with hemeslo."
Christian leans forward slightly, peering into Adrian's mouth as he uses a portable suction wand to clear away the blood. "Ah, there's the little bugger." He reaches for the sprayer and gently mists Adrian's cheek, numbing the area and immediately staunching the slow seepage. A second of hunting around in his carryall, then he finds the micro suturegun and deftly weaves the wound firmly shut with precision. As he works, Christian eyes Adrian, as if gauging the timing before he speaks. "You know, Adrian, we always KNEW you had a sharp tongue, but don't you think this is a bit much?" His wry smile speaks volumes.
Turning to Christian, Jan repockets the Revdun preload (still eight-tenths full :-)).
Fixing him with an "I-told-you-so" look, "Christian, do you feel comfortable with this patient? You've left quite a handful out in the other room, and _I_ need to go back and deal with them soon. Commander Greyson is about to suffer PTSD. I'm less concerned about his Lanth titre than his probable psych problems. Good patch job on Dr. Rednisky, he isn't in the clear, but should be with a couple days of rest. I haven't gotten to the other two, yet. "
"And Dr. Tweel would appear to be making a scene in your quarters. At least he squeals loud enough to defeat this ship's soundproofing."
Turning back to Bishop, "Sir, if you'll excuse me."
Christian turns a blind eye to Jan's accusatory look. "Certainly, Doctor Yorblin. It has been quite a handful to treat a roomful of wounded _alone_. I can help Mister Bishop before I have to leave for the command meeting." He raises an eyebrow. "Patch job? Re-plumbing job, more likely... The other two have only mild concussions and contusions, they've been treated and should only need some enforced rest. Go ahead, Jan. I'll be out in a couple of minutes."
When Jan has left, Christian activates his dot. << Attention, Bio/Med Team. All MDs, report to Sickbay, on the double. Doctor Yorblin is in temporary command of Sickbay until after the command meeting. Report to him for duty, we've got plenty for all. Double-time it, people. VDM, out. >>
Alcyon Sickbay
"Nice to see all of us awake." Casey gives a broad grin, although perceptive observers will note a hint of tension around the corners of his mouth. "I could use a little more mobility, but until yonder Docs get it together, I'm content to lie here and heal."
*Ya, right! If I could get my sorry ass outta bed, I'd be outta here in a flash!*
>Do you happen to have seen anyone else from the 'Glory'?"
"Sorry, sir, the last hours, minutes...hell..possibly days, have been a bit of a jumble. Besides, I didn't see too many people on the Glory anyway...." Casey appearing self conscious.
Jan walks right into the conversation that Greyson and Rednisky are having. "Carry on, gentlemen, don't mind me. Dr. Rednisky, would you please stay in bed. "
Noting that Greyson, for now, is quite composed, Jan turns to review his chart.
He hears VDM's call for medics, and quickly taps his commdot. "Bio/med team, everybody relax. Walk don't run, but I would appreciate the services of two people. Dr. Tabor and an available medic would do nicely."
Alcyon Low Berth Area
Christian turns to address Dulinor. "Be a good 'bot and rustle us up a grav chair, would you?" Finishing the knitting job, Christian applies a covering spray to protect his handiwork. "There you go Adrian, just watch what you bite next time." With a firm grip and a few robotic tentacles from Lucan and Dulinor, Christian helps Adrian sit up, then hands him the spare uniform that he had been holding. "I hate to knit and run, Adrian, but Ger's going to have a cerebral hemorrhoid if I don't show up at the command meeting. I'll be back after the meeting to check in on you. Don't push yourself, we've got plenty of time to get you going full-speed again."
Alcyon Sickbay
Stepping out into the main Sickbay, Christian briefly addresses the assorted throng. "Sorry if things seem a bit rushed, gentlemen, but we haven't had much time to sort matters out. If I could ask you all to just sit tight, I promise I'll have answers for all of you shortly, after I meet with Admiral Nanadth." He notices Greyson wandering around, and eyes him for a second. "I realize that you're all pretty disoriented, but with everything that we have been through, I can sympathize. I know it's not a luxury hotel, but all of you can use the rest, so try and relax for a while until I have something for you." He nods and smiles at each in turn, somewhat surprised that even his surgery patient is active.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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