Posted by Captain Alexxander Ryley (Chief Medical Officer) in Broken and Burned - Sickbay - Sidesim - Alt Timeline
Posted by Lieutenant Miranda Martel (Chief Engineer) in Broken and Burned - Sickbay - Sidesim - Alt Timeline
Posted by Captain Alexxander Ryley (Chief Medical Officer) in Broken and Burned - Sickbay - Sidesim - Alt Timeline
Posted by… suppressed (18) by the Post Ghost! 👻
She let out a low groan. “It’s proprietary, classified, and I dunno what it is,” she said, covering her face with her hands. “But I wouldn’t have come in anyway. It was just a hangover. A four-alarm hangover. But still, just a hangover. Couple anti-inflammatories, some OJ, and plenty of water and I’d have been alright. I think?” She wasn’t entirely sure. But at least that was something she could have worked through or toughed out. Or maybe she was just punishing herself. “Besides, it’s not like I have anything I can pay you with, except my own ass. Or taking care of any work orders quick.” She thought about it for a moment. “Maybe install a few little upgrades around her. You drink a lot of coffee or tea?”
He listened as he worked his expression becoming quizzical as he switched the subdermal regenerator into his left hand and picked up a dermal regenerator with his right, ambidextrous It seemed. “Pay me? “ he asked
Idly she pulled her left leg up for some balance, but kept it to the side a bit to keep it out of his light as he worked.
He started to laugh. A deep hearty sound that carried into his next comment “You mean what I said in the conference room? That wasn’t serious you moron.” He shook his head. “Listen Red, you are welcome to come to get any and all medical treatment you need any time no charge.”
“How was I supposed to know,” she protested, then stuck her tongue out at him playfully. She deflated a little a moment later. “I’ll .. try to keep that in mind.”
He placed the subdermal regenerator down and did a wide beam sweep with the dermal regenerator. This lasted a few minutes before he turned that off too, and applied some more gel to the healed skin. He checked the tricorder and walked the tips on his fingers along where the burn had been. “How’s that feel?”
She jerked a little at the fingers, mostly because they were unexpected, and kind of ticklish. The muscle tone felt funny there, but it seemed to be fine. As she glanced down her leg was back to normal, well save for the fresh, pink skin, but that would settle down shortly.
“Ok let’s see the hands and then we’ll look at the wrist.” He said.
Tightening her core she sat up easily, wobbled a little, then seemed to straighten herself. Slowly she swung her legs for a moment then held out her hands for him to check out. “Like a moron, I went to pat out the flames. Didn’t think about the burning them too.” There were small blisters around crusted bits of melted and burnt fabric laong with the general angry red. But overall it wasn’t as nasty as her leg had been.
He frowned. “You really did a proper job with that didn’t you.” He gently took hold of her hands, careful not to touch the burn and her injured wrist.
“I’m going to have to clean these and check for any nerve damage before I can treat them.” As he did this he checked the wrist again. “That’s a fracture. How many times did you hit the bag after it hurt?”
He ran the tricorder over the hands.
“Once, with my right. My wrist folded up before that. I thought was just bad technique. I should have wrapped it. But I didn’t want to stiffen my hands up too much. IF I had… well maybe my hands wouldn’t be burned, and my wrist all jacked up. Or it could have been from punching the wall in my quarters.”
“Right.” He said, not judgement just acceptance.
The tricorder showed second degree burns with a few spots that were third degree. It had to have hurt like crazy, as third degree burns meant the nerve endings were sealed and burned away. No sensation there. And she’d taken her boot off like that. There was a hairline fracture along the ulnar bone right along the distal head. There was some bruising around the knuckles and to the interior of the joints. She’d punched something really hard. Or a lot. Or both. But until then she had managed to keep it to only micro stress fractures.
He frowned. “These are going to take slightly longer. I’m going to need to fix the nerve damage first. Then the burns and skin and then go back and repair the breaks, plural.” He moved off to get some more supplies and when he returned sat on a rolling stool, using his cane to pull himself closer to the bed. He applied the dermaline to her hands and using the tricorder readout screen to guide him began using the subcutaneous protoplase to repair the nerves. He remained hunched over her hands as he said.
Miranda let out a low groan, but gave him a nod. “Alright.” The word came out tinged with a twang that belonged right at home in Texas on Earth. Except she’d never been there.
“So, any particular reason you were punching the wall or did it just piss you off?”
“The wall had it comin’. It looked at me wrong and told me my momma didn’t love me,” she said breaking into a momentary grin. “It’s a crappy coping mechanism sometimes.” She knew if she was going to do that, there were better options for it, rather than hard, remorseless metal. Like a pillow or cushion. But the impact just wasnt the same, wasn’t satisfying at all. She let out a long, low, sigh loaded with disappointment, aimed at herself.
((Oh man, I did not realize it was my post. I did not mean to keep you waiting! ))
Ryley didn’t comment for a few moments as he worked on the wounds. He raised an eyebrow at her sigh. “So you were pissed off.” He summarized. “Thousand other things to hit. You pick a wall? Did you hit it because it was the closest thing and you were pissed or purposely because you like the sound or the feeling of the wall as you made contact or what?”
She groaned a little as the flesh and nerves continued to knit. “That itches like mad,” she murmured.
He made a noise of agreement as he worked. Switched tools and continued.
“It’s a little of column A, little of column B. I don’t normally damage my hands doing that.” She frowned. “You ever throw a punch or something and before it’s even halfway to the target you know it’s wrong. Not morally or ethically but mechanically. The sequence of events isn’t happening properly. But you’re already committed and don’t have time to stop it?” She sighed. “I thought it was okay, even with the pop. I thought it was just the wrist or elbow or something shifting a little. It will happen sometimes when I grab something or pick up a piece of equipment. It’ll feel like the bones in my hand relocated. Big shift, hurts a little, but feels better or stronger.”
Laying on the bed she focused on the ceiling overhead, chewing the bottom left corner of her lip, though she really didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. “It’s … kind of stupid, I suppose.”
“In my experience kid, if it matters to you it’s not stupid.” He began repairing the burns. “You hit things a lot?” He asked conversationally. “I’m asking because it’s medically justified, I need to know if I’m gunna need to repair more fractures in you.”
She let out a small, half laugh, but rather than cynical or sarcastic, her face was lit with amusement, a ray of sunshine peeking through the clouds, but fleeting. “I guess I’ve always been a fighter. Got into my fair share of scraps when I was younger. Maybe more-than. Sometimes I pound steel. sometimes a heavybag. Sometimes a wall. I try not to need a doctor though. It’s…” She paused for a moment, mulling over how to explain it. “its a few things. I’d rather pour out whatever is going on on something I can’t really destroy, even if it feels like I could. Better that than a person I care about or someone I rely on. Better than bottling it up and then exploding on someone later. Or fizzling out. It’s exercise. And it’s better if I get hurt than someone else. At least then there’s only one person hurt in the process and it was voluntary. And it’s easier to fix than broken trust, broken relationships.” She shrugged, watching his face and eyes as he worked.
Feeling her watching him he looked at her. Icy blue eyes roving her features just as she watched his. He had been told his gaze had tricorder like qualities on numerous occasions. Part of being observant maybe. He finished working on the burns and then examined the skin again before starting work on the breaks.
“Motorcycles.” He said
“Caring is a good thing. Until it gets you hurt.”
“Better not to care would be the obvious answer. Except it’s not as easy as that. Caring is like an onion you gotta know how deep a layer to go to and no deeper.”
“That’s not exactly something I’ve mastered yet.” Shaking her head she shifted positions a little, re-settling but slow and careful not to disturb his efforts or make things worse.
“Takes practice.” He said without looking up.
“Motorcycles, eh? I haven’t been on one in a long time. Lots of fun. Street, sport, or dirt bikes?” Anything fast enough to do something stupid on was usually a good time. But so could taking a nice long ride out in the middle of nowhere with lovely vistas, perhaps in the high desert. The idea alone was relaxing. Enough to bring her blood pressure and heart rate down a couple notches, visible on the biobed’s readouts.
“Street normally but generally anything fast enough to dance the line between danger and thrill will do.”
Maybe that was something she needed. She’d been so cooped up on ships and stations, it had been so long since she’d actually been outdoors. Maybe a trip tot he holodeck would be good. Real planet, real gravity, real atmosphere, real planets, real everything would be better though.
He checked to see if she was watching then with a firm grip, quickly and efficiently reset her wrist. He didn’t so much as apologize just immediately began to mend the area so that the pain would go as quickly as it came. It was only then when he reached for another tool he said. “Sorry. Apparently it hurts less if you don’t see it coming.”
Her throat hurt a little from the choked back scream. Second time today that happened. Only now she was sitting up rather than laying down. Her hand visibly shook. Her brows were knitted together and her jaw set, her lips drawn into a thin line, and the muscles of her neck were tight. It wasn’t hard to imagine her taking a swing at him with her off hand, but instead she let him work. “I’m not sure I buy it,” she said through gritted teeth.
“No I don’t either. But that’s what they say.” He switched tools again and took a few moments working the narrow beam over the break sites before he turned it to a wide set beam and repeated the movements.
“It can’t be too much worse than relocating your own joints, which I’ve done,” she added. “It’s not fun, but it’s doable.”
After a few minutes the task was done and he turned the device off in favor of manually examining the wrist and hand. Gently he checked the joint and skin and then released her.
“How’s that feel?” Be asked and ran the tricorder over her head to toe while he waited for her to answer.
Miranda flexed her hand, opening and closing it into a tight fist a few times, then rolled her wrist forward and back, gave a couple of quick stretches, then applied some resistance in all directions and as many axes as she could. All came back fine with no pain, tenderness, or stiffness. “Good. Looks like everything’s in order.” Glancing down she ran one hand over the light pink, fresh new skin on her bare leg, feeling only a little texture difference. It wasn’t hurting or itching, and there was no numbness or decreased sensation, or increased either. “I think that’s got me all patched up.” She flashed him a dazzling smile, just for a few seconds, then seemed to slouch a bit, dark clouds rolling in again.
Ryley raised one eyebrow but said nothing as he waited for her to finish her self assessment.
“I know you were joking, or at least now I do, in the meeting. But if there’s anything you need, or want me to take a look at, or .. build, if you need it, let me know. My way of saying thanks. And yeah, I know it’s your job. But doesn’t mean I can’t show some appreciation.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Just make sure next time you get help to come to you before dragging your sorry ass to sickbay and causing more damage yeah?”
He stepped back to allow her room to get down and as she did procured a bright coloured lollipop from a jar on the nearby shelf which he offered to her with a slight upward curl of his mouth.
((bumps for the lovely Panda, and also leaves her some nice, fresh bamboo chutes))
Ooc: I’m so sorry! thank you! munches bamboo
“I’ll try to keep it in mind,” she said weakly. It was foolish and stubborn to do it in the first place, she supposed. But there didn’t’ seem to be any other good options at the time. Maybe she was punishing herself. Or maybe at least the pain helped in other ways. Or it was a combination. Reaching out, she took the lollipop which drew a faint tug of a smile to her lips before it seemed to vanish. But she didn’t let go. Her hands did drop into her lap and her gaze fell, not really seeing much of anything.
“Thanks doc. Um… Can I borrow your replicator so I don’t have to do the walk of shame back to my quarters Donald Duck style?”
Martel, wearing little more than a short shirt
“Sure thing.” He said watching her a moment. “You are supposed to eat that you know kid.” He indicated the loopy and helped himself to a green one.
“I will. I just wasn’t intending on it right this second,” she said mildly, then opened the candy up, popped it in and sighed. Padding over to the replicator she stuffed her pants and boot onto the grid, then quickly de-materialzed them. There was no salvaging them in the refresher. Well maybe the boots could be. The pants… well, the pants. The pants were in tatters, burned, melted. She shuddered, thinking about the burn, the bubbling, bleeding, angry wounds. The abominable pain. And every step to get here had been torment. Ryley was right. She should have called for a lift. Or a site-to-site transport. But she was being dumb. And punishing herself.
Popping the candy in his mouth he said “Once you’re dressed. You’re welcome to hang here, I’m gunna be over there. Working on my tricorder.” He limped to the desk and sitting pulled an already heavily modified tricorder and some tools from his pocket and got to work.
Miranda paused while searching the database for new digs, or possibly just re-make her old stuff, then glanced over her shoulder at the doc. Why would she stick around? The idea was almost alien. Sickbay was a mobile emergency room. She had work to do? Or at least a mess to clean up. A mental task list began ticking away in one side of her mind.
But that was the analytical side talking. She thought about it for a moment, then nodded, mostly to herself and went back to searching. Finally she settled on a set of breathable rip-stop cargo pants and remade the boots. shimmying into the cargoes she pulled on socks, then the boots and frowned. They weren’t exactly broken in, but they were comfortable enough. “Good as new,” she murmured, then made her way over to see what the good doctor was tinkering with. “What’s this? Yes, I know, it’s a tricorder. What are you working toward?”
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