Posted by Lieutenant Commander Nathaniel Harrison (Chief Medical Officer) in Main Sim: Sickbay
Posted by Gamemaster Nosferatu (GM) in Main Sim: Sickbay
Sickbay’s day had started out normally. The doctors and nurses were seeing to the new crew physicals and normal appointments and walkins. Things were calm and orderly. Until that is, that the Saracen actually edged deeper into the nebula. Suddenly there was an upbeat of walk in traffic. Most of the crew that appeared, entered with a variety of complaints but most typically were of the blunt trauma variety. Excuses were varied as well…and with the number of them very suspect.
One of the incoming was a Security JO who was surly and gave short clipped answers to how he had obtained the black eye and scraped knuckles he was sporting.
Having had a frustrating morning trying to set up a series of cross-pollination samples in the sadistically small lab the Saracen medical suite sported, he was significantly less than impressed as the first wave of shaking sent him flying across the three square inches of office, into a wall, spilling what had been a rather tasty smelling raktajino. He briefly considered whether it was a message from a particularly cruel universe that every attempt to eat or drink on duty seemed to end up with his uniform, and not his stomach, enjoying it. Cursing softly under his breath in significantly more than one language, he picked himself up from the deck, slapping his commbadge
=^= Harrison to all medical personnel. Trauma teams, to your stations. Triage teams to your damage control stations. All shifts to emergency standby. =^=
He slapped his commbadge again to close the channel, as controlled chaos erupted around the medical deck. Nurses and doctors began passing out trauma kits as triage teams made their way to stations across the ship. Terminals and biobeds sprang to life in all three medical and trauma wards. Surgical teams began prepping instruments and activating magnetic restraints to prevent all the equipment flying across the deck as the ship continued to shake violently in waves. Harrison made his way towards the door as the first patients began rolling in. He had rarely been in an emergency situation aboard a Starship, but he had been practicing more than long enough to ensure that he kept a measured and utterly controlled tone as he supported the first crewman, who cradled his arm and called out, loudly “Triage nurses, position one!”. Nurses snapped to and, as best they could under a rolling deck, rushed forward to meet their patients and get them on biobeds for triage procedures. Doctors began probes immediately, as nurses began to move the limited senior staff around in a well-practiced dance, maneuvering doctors to more critical patients like a grandmaster moves chess pieces around the board. He noted with some satisfaction that Doctor Daye’s recommendation seemed quite accurate as he saw Nurse Longstreet bustling from room to room like an old matron, barking orders to doctors and nurses alike, all of whom surprisingly obeyed with alacrity. A nurse beckoned him to bed three and he ran his tricorder probe over the surly security officer.
“I’m fine! Just patch me up.” The officer snapped to Harrison as his agitation seemed to increase with controlled madness that surrounded them in sickbay. The man seemed to be really juiced up as if he was overloaded on adrenaline. And indeed upon Harrison’s scans that appeared to be the case. It was if the man was in a heightened flight or fight mode.
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