[Pre Sim] J'arrive! : Sickbay (Tag: Medical)

Posted July 7, 2023, 7:43 p.m. by Lieutenant Do'trahk of House Kholl (Medical Officer) (David Shotton)

Posted by Ensign Charles-Louis (Engineering Officer) in [Pre Sim] J’arrive! : Sickbay (Tag: Medical)

Posted by Lieutenant Do’trahk of House Kholl (Medical Officer) in [Pre Sim] J’arrive! : Sickbay (Tag: Medical)

Posted by Ensign Charles-Louis (Engineering Officer) in [Pre Sim] J’arrive! : Sickbay (Tag: Medical)
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Charles was due for his medical examination. Though he wasn’t quite happy about it, there was probably going to be another discussion about his weight. He had gained 10 lb since his first medical exam before joining the academy. Perhaps he had been abusing the replicators a bit. Still, the thought of another scrawny human doctor thinking that he should dictate an unenforceable diet plan to him was at best amusing.

He entered into sickbay and an addressed one of the nearest medical staff,

“Pardon,” he said, “I am Charles-Louis, here for my scheduled examination.”

[Ensign Charles-Louis, Engineering]

The woman, a short, petite nurse turned around and stared Charles-Louis directly in the, ribcage. Slowly she looked up, and up till she was able to look at the face of the tall Klingon and smiled a wide, bright smile. “Good morning,” she beamed. “The Doctor is in, let me go and get him for you.”

“Yes, very good.” Charles said with a nod. He stood arms folded, and began glancing around the sickbay.

With that she turned and walked into the nearby office from where two figures emerged shortly afterwards. Following the nurse was a much taller figure though, not as tall as Charles-Louis. Despite wearing the medical blue uniform of Starfleet, this figure stood out as being out-of-place in this environment. Even among the other uniformed Starfleet personnel, this one didn’t look at all Federation.

Charles-Louis adjusted to a shoulder-width stance. Chest pushed slightly forward. While this figure might have seemed out of place in Star Fleet, in the Mempa Sector he would have been a typical Klingon captain.

A bald, shaven head covered with ridges and light scars led down to a Klingon face that sported a metal eye-patch over one eye. No straps around the head confirmed that the eye-patch was stapled to the skin rather than just resting on it. A medium length black beard was braided into a point with many metal or bone beads threaded through it, an old tradition denoting personal victories in battle. Broad shoulders framed a muscular torso that carried a Klingon House Sash running from left shoulder to his right waist, and showed the symbols of his house and his position as second-son, along with a Klingon rank insignia denoting captaincy of a warship.

Walking towards Charles-Louis, the other Klingon came to a stop a few feet away and looked at him expressionlessly. One of his hands, both of which were covered in Targ-leather fingerless gloves with metal studded knuckles, rested on the hilt of a jeweled but very clearly still wickedly functional Kut’luch dagger in a scabbard on his waist. The dagger and eye-patch both bore the symbol of House Kholl, a small but wealthy and powerful Klingon House known for intelligence work and, through rumors, assassination.

Charles-Louis, in return, glanced over the medical officer. He took note of the traditional ordainments, the various insignia, and especially the dagger. In a pure test of strength Charles believed they were evenly matched. However, this person was a skilled warrior as well as a medic. An undoubtedly highly honored Klingon.

“You are new on this ship,” the Klingon spoke making no effort to hide his eye as it looked at the newcomer up and down, taking note of the extra padding before finally lifting to look at Charles-Louis in the eye once more. “I am Do’trahk-Khurth, son of Kholl. The nurse tells me you are here for an examination. Well, you will pass the Federation standards, it is lucky you are on one of their ships. Take a seat, Charles-Louis. Do you have anything that you need to report before I scan you?” Picking up a medical tricorder in one of his gloved hands, he pointed to a seat nearby.

Do’trahk of House Kholl, Medical

“Nothing of immediate concern, despite what this Star Fleet technology might say.”

He wasn’t purposely going to bring up his slight weight gain. And his sparring injures were likely to be unimpressive. Still, he knew the computer was probably going to bring it up anyway.

“The equipment tends to be calibrated for more…” Charles said while lowering himself onto the medical bed and landing with a muted thud

“…delicate physiologies.”

“Bah!” The one-eyed Klingon made a dismissive sounding grunt from the back of his throat. “This technology works for hundreds of different species and is fine tuned to detect a single out of place bacteria. It has no problem detecting an extra layer of lard on a lazy Klingon. Neither do other Klingon warriors, no need for fancy technology.”

Being called ‘lazy’ directly was more irritating than the way others would dance around the issue. Mostly because Charles knew it was genuine.

Do’trahk ran the scanner over the new Klingon quickly, letting it record what it needed to and then lightly tossed it onto the nearby work table without bothering to look at it. “It can record what it needs to, but what this Federation machine cannot do, is record a persons’ determination and spirit, their resolve to do their job. We both know that is what counts, right?” Pulling over a nearby chair, the broad shouldered man sat down and leaned forward, one elbow on one knee.

Charles gave a nod in agreement, still watching Do’trahk intently.

“You are cleared for duty, and you can eat what you want. Nobody tells a Klingon what they can and can’t eat but, you need to train harder. You have a program to train for battle with your bat’leth?” The last word was said after a slight pause, as if there was a hidden question in there also.

Do’trahk, Medical

“I assure you, I am still very capable in battle.” Charles said, puffing up his chest slightly.

“Oh really?” Do’trahk raised the eyebrow above his one good eye.

“I practice sparring and train with my bat’leth regularly. Though it is both foolish and shows weakness in spirit to give up on improving. If more training is what it takes to defeat this laziness you speak of, then so be it.”

[Ensign Charles-Louis, Engineering]

The Klingon wearing the medical blue laughed. “More training is a combination of words that most Klingon’s never hear. For them, training is assumed to be what you are doing when you are not on Duty, so you never need to do ‘more’. Train harder, not ‘more’. Add a few extra opponents and defeat them in a shorter time period. Then do it again, for fun.”

Do’trahk laughed again and took a seat on one of the chairs that was nearby, placing one ankle on one knee and resting one hand easily on the hilt of the dagger. It was a practiced, automatic motion, even the angle of his leg wouldn’t hinder that dagger from being drawn in an instant if he wanted to. “You are free to go, you are cleared for duty, Ensign. Before you go though, did you bring Bloodwine on board with you?”

Do’trahk, Medical

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