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Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge

Posted Dec. 21, 2021, 6 p.m. by Ensign Mike Jones (Doctor) (Bob Spicer)

Posted by Commander Kohr (Executive Officer) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Sharah Fayth (Medical) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge

Posted by Kvasir (Story Teller) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge
Posted by… suppressed (7) by the Post Ghost! 👻

—[SNIP]—

Sharah laid on the bio bed while V’tor completed her scans. Without something to focus on the telepathic and empathic input she was getting was overwhelming. The crew as speculating and worried and there was a deep undercurrent of paranoia. Not to mention the intense grief and … how did one describe the feeling of dying? It wasn’t the first time Sharah had been caught in that moment with another being, but it was never easy. In fact it was terryfing. She had no idea who that mote had been, but she was convinced, with the dream like memories she had retained, it had been a person at a point in time.

V’tor, being Vulcan would not understand her grief or the tears the threatened to fall, and so she did her best to keep it to herself. Finally V’tor was finished with her scans. (ooc: copying from above) Sharah does not have the electrostatic energy anywhere but the area of her brain associated with telepathy. Her hippocampus shows signs of stress and high activity, which is not surprising given her experience. Perhaps the oddest result of her scan is the increase in synaptic paths deep within the hippocampus, suggesting that the interaction with the energy mote was beginning to form new pathways. This would go far to explain why she was able to recall the images from her experience, and why she feels like there was more just beyond the grasp of her understanding.

From her biobed she had the ability to access what was going on around her since Semenza didn’t lock her out of sickbay systems. Plus he gave her the mobile monitors, so she had to assume he wanted her to do something with them. With something to do, her focus returned, slowly, and she was able to surf above the noise, but the grief stayed with her.

The computer’s chime with Hab’rabi’s results only added to the confusion and activity brimming in Sickbay. The computer didn’t care; it had work to do, after all, and couldn’t be bothered with trivialities like anxiety and confusion. A display winked to life near the alien’s biobed with his vital signs—not to mention a healthy dose of error margin when it came to certain functions, the chief of which was his brain—showing concerning markers that hovered just between yellow and green. His hearts rate seemed a little elevated, but all other functions appeared to be at a resting rate similar to other, unconscious species.

It was obvious to even the untrained that Hab’rabi’s brain scan was a thing of diagnostic nightmares. Nearly every neuron was active and working at a frenzied pace, painting the inside of his skull in a nebulous lightning storm of sensory input. The portions of his brain closest to the site of phaser impact was noticeably darker, the signals coursing through them a bit scattered and sluggish. It was eerily similar to the erratic patterns found in Kohr’s cranial scans, though the Klingon was suffering far worse. While a phaser set to stun normally disrupted the body’s sensory receptivity, it should not have been responsible for this kind of physical damage even at the highest settings. Hab’rabi’s body seemed genetically disposed to resist injury, and yet there it was.

A clear fact would leap out to the trained eye, however: every area of Hab’rabi’s brain was pervaded by the presence of the same electrostatic charge found in the other affected patience. The different was that his levels were significantly higher and were not dissipating. In fact there was a portion of his brain that seemed specifically designed to accommodate and support this type of charge. It was a sort of loci between the two hemispheres of his brain—frontal and posterior—that could serve to facilitate communication between the two halves at the very least, and one that showed actual and rapid fluctuations of activity. Something was definitely going on in there. Whatever it was, it was definitely going to take time and study before results could be gleaned.
—Jas—

Through the next hour Sharah studied the results of everyone’s scans, including Hab’rabi’s. After her own experience she was certain the cause of the strange behavior was an interaction with the motes. Although her scans showed the creation of new memory engrams the side effects were the same. What was consistent was the electrostatic discharge. Even she had it, in her paracortex instead of the synaptic cleft. But the electrostatic energy pattern was the same. It wasn’t there before contact, but was after. And looking at Hab’rabi’s scans, and the greater strength of the electrostatic charge it was like he was in constant contact with them. Lots of them. That was a hypothesis though, and would need to be confirmed. But that was it. “V’tor, I need to talk to Semenza. I know he’s busy, but I think I know how to clear everyone through the check points.” While she waited for Semenza to arrive she started programming the mobile monitors to detect the electrostatic pattern and alarm when it occurred.

Once Semenza walked over Sharah didn’t waist time. “It’s the electrostatic energy in the synaptic cleft. The hormones and even the PFC activity isn’t in every one. It’s not there before contact with the motes, and afterwards it is but it dissipates quickly. So it must build and maintain starting at the point of contact. We can set the mobile monitors up to read for that energy pattern and alarm and notify the people nearby that someone is in contact with one of the motes. The quarantine check point teams can do the same thing with their tricorders. Allowing us to have enough mobile monitors for the security and engineering teams.”

Fayth, med

The door to Sickbay hushed open once again and two security officers tromped in nearly dragging a third across their shoulders. A red-faced ensign looked around with a rather put-out expression before pushing up against his burden and setting his legs beneath him.

“Well, we made it… finally,” he grumbled to his partner. Then, louder, “Cosgrove with a package for the medical folks. Where do you want Sacco? The fool wound himself up so tight on the walk here that he passed out.”

Blinking, Cosgrove shook his head at the sight of so many people. “Assuming there’s room, yeah?”
—Jas—

Mike turned away from the XO then to see the two carrying Sacco. Mike looked around and then turned back to the security men. Although he was wanting to try his theory with the transporter, the CMO was busy and couldn’t be bothered so Mike jus motioned across the room and said simply. “Bed four guys and thanks.”

Ensign Mike Jones DR.

With a brisk nod, the two security officers deposited Ensign Sacco where they were told. Cosgrove took a moment to engage a restraining field around the detainee’s unconscious body before moving to the door. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

V’Tor walked over flipping on the biobed and monitors. The bed ran basic physical scans while V’Tor, using his tricorder, took detailed neurological scans, much as Fayth had done with Fairweather, before she went and illogically got herself taken off duty. Betazoids…so much emotion and feeling. It was disturbing.

NE V’Tor

Initial scans showed the same electrostatic charge in Sacco’s synaptic cleft as the other crew members who had experienced—there was no clear definition for it yet, sadly. possession? contact? influence?—an interaction with the alien energy moving about the Viking. It was dissipating, albeit more slowly, but that was easily explained by the security officer’s breakdown and collapse earlier; his body was awash with adrenaline and other neurochemicals that it had shut down from raw shock and overexposure. The poor fellow was going to wake up in a lot of pain, surely.

Ensign Sacco’s experience had also left him with quite a bit of damage to both the frontal lobe and cerebellum. Neurons in those areas show extensive weakening and overstimulation, like wires that had carried too much current. While the security officer might fully recover given the proper treatment, his finer motor control skills would be out of commission for the foreseeable future; given that he—or whatever had influenced him—had coldly incapacitated someone in his charge, perhaps that was a good thing. Similar neural scarring was also present in his prefrontal cortex where there was still bursts of activity. Sacco’s eyes darted about behind his closed lids like a man in the grips of some nightmare; his vital signs confirmed his agitated, if unconscious, state.

Mike had treated Commander Kohr and stayed beside him just long enough to see that the Cortical Stimulator wasn’t doing any damage at least before he headed in the direction of his new patient. Looking at the readings he could see that anything he could do for Sacco would have to wait. He was drifting slowly toward what he would soon discover would be his new normal. He entered directions for the nurses to keep an eye out for when he regained consciousness. He would need some special attention to help him come to grips. He would also be needing physical and mental testing and subsequent therapy. His mind would recover but it would take time as it would have to literally rewire itself.

Ensign Mike Jones Dr.

Meanwhile, Commander Kohr was responding well to the cortical stimulation. While he had not regained consciousness, his seizure ticks began to subside and both heart rate and respiration slid back toward a more normal state for a Klingon. A limb or digit would still jerk as the artificial stimulation helped his body relearn where to send their impulses, but nothing leapt out as alarming or even mildly concerning. Kohr’s head lolled back and forth, and his lips worked silently as his brain activity normalized and moved towards a more alpha state of semi-consciousness.
—Jas—

bum… ba-dum… bum… ba-dum…

Closer now, but still so far. It pulsed against him, waves trying to drown him. Movement again, this time within. It surged upward, outward. He followed.

bum… ba-dum… bum… ba-dum

A shrill cut through the blinding dark. Light seeped in like blood from a wound, staining the emptiness. He recoiled. It lashed at him, grappled him. Hauled him upward. He tugged, fought, thrashed to no avail. Up and up and up, endlessly. Briefly.

Kohr pulled a slow breath into lungs cast from iron. The air was stale, artificial, but oh so sweet. His mind reached outward, searching along the corridors of his body. It felt as immovable as a mountain, and yet there was relief. The ache in his head was joy, the cramp in his arm ecstasy. His mouth was a dry riverbed, his throat a desert trail. Kohr pushed hard against the darkness clinging to the inside of his skull, but it would not budge. Blood thundered in his ears with the steadiness of a drumbeat. Gathering up all his energy, he threw himself against the weight of his own body. It would move!

“W-water,” he rasped distantly, ashamed at how weak it rang in his own ears.

The darkness rolled over him, embraced him, dragged him down and down and down. He thrashed against it, but it was too powerful. Relenting finally, it consumed him. Only the emptiness was left, and the drums.

bum… ba-dum… bum… ba-dum…
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Mike as he stepped away from Sacco he heard the sound coming from Kohr. He walked over and heard him ask for water. A huge smile seemed to explode from the young doctor’s face as he saw the new readouts and watched as Kohr struggled. He quickly fixed a bottle of cool water and moved to the edge of Kohr’s bed. He reached behind his head and then lifted Kohr’s head upward. He then let several drops of the cool liquid drip down across the Commanders lips. ” Come on Commander show us what you Klingons are made of. Fight the good fight!”

Ensign Mike Jones Dr.

Kalika waited patiently, wondering briefly just how much patience she had left to draw from. But just before she was reaching a point where her temper would take, the exam was done. She’d been allowed to change into dry gym gear and had managed to mostly towel dry her hair. She still felt slightly disjointed, but was starting to settle down. Lost time, visions, and memories of things she’d done kept flitting through her mind. It was like trying to grasp onto dreams when most of the day had already waned.

She bit her tongue, folded the now damp towel, setting it on the biobed beside her, and waited for the results. She needed to get back to her security duties… Soon!

Kalika
Security

Like a moth to a flame, Kalika’s disgruntled energy seemed to summon a rather stern-faced woman clutching a PaDD under one arm. A lieutenant by the pip on her medical officer’s collar and a woman on a mission by the flare of her white coat behind her. Stopping in front of Kalika, she sized the security officer up and made a face before tapping away at her PaDD. Nurse Hofmann bore her own displeasure like a grandmother with too much to do and not enough time to have it done. Holding aloft her stylus like a queen about to make a proclamation, she fixed her eyes on Kalika.

“Miss Darz, while I can appreciate the urge to return to your duty station,” she murmured flatly while she referred to her data, “gawping about isn’t going to make this go a-a-any faster. Luckily for you, there appear to be no lasting effects that we can detect. You are free to go.”

The woman held up a slender finger. “However, you are to report to the nearest checkpoint every hour for a scan until we can get… whatever this is under control. Carry on.”

Turning away without further thought, Nurse Hofmann’s next stop was the adjacent room where Sharah was dutifully toiling away on her portable scanners. Nodding softly in approval, she tapped at her PaDD and made a thoughtful sound.

“Miss Fayth, you’ve been cleared for duty, though I’d like to continue to monitor your vitals.” The stylus waggled in the direction of the completed monitors. “It looks like you’ve got enough of those armband whats-its to go around. Be a dear and pass them out before you go, show everyone how they work. I’ll have someone pass the modifications to a few handy lads in engineering, get more done up and out to the staff. At least, for now, we’ll have the department heads looked after. Any questions? No? Good, carry on.”

Sharah looked up and nodded. No doctor argued with the head nurse. And Hofmann was a force of nature. Sharah secretly adored her, but was never brave enough to say that out loud. Hofmann would probably tell her she didn’t have time for such nonsense. Sharah slipped one of the bands onto her own arm and turned it on. Using a tricorder to double check it was working, she then grabbed an empty medical case and placed several inside and closed it: senior staff and repair teams. Anyone or group that didn’t have a medical officer with them. Then she headed out of sickbay to distribute them.

Whisking off yet again, Nurse Hofmann made her way to an office console and tapped in a few commands. =^=Hofmann to Linch. Report to Sickbay immediately.=^=

=^=Y-Yes, ma’am.=^= came a timid reply. =^=I’ll be there shortly. Linch out.=^=

A few minutes later, Ensign Linch nearly trotted through the doors. She looked about quickly, then made her way over to the appropriate office. Nurse Hofmann handed the younger woman three of the armbands she’d taken from Lieutenant Fayth’s pile. The flat square plates affixed to the bands blinked angrily as they were tumbled from one hand to the other. Tapping one with her stylus, Nurse Hofmann stared pointedly at Ensign Linch.

“Take these back to the brig, would you?” Hofmann’s voice left no room for debate. “There should be enough for the captain, our counselor, and that strapping intelligence officer. Make certain they are working properly first—and scan the captain twice!—before you release any of them back to duty. Let them know their scans are fine… or as fine as they can be, given the situation. Well, don’t just stand there mouthing at me like a landed fish! Out, out, out! We’re on yellow alert, not a relaxation break.”

Linch all but fled Sickbay.
—Jas—

Fayth, med

Kohr continued to do battle with the fell forces of consciousness, gaining just enough ground to open his eyes before being overwhelmed and slipping back into fitful sleep. Ever his faithful ally, the cortical stimulator continued its work jolting his synaptic pathways back along their proper course. Each time the Klingon surged to the surface and opened his eyes, it was for a longer period; eventually he was able to look about through slitted lids from a swimming skull on a boneless neck. He tried his best to form thoughts, to push pressing words through the fog in his mind to the fore. It was taking all he had just to stave off the darkness baying at his heels.

“Mu…” he gasped, growling against the inexorable pull of exhaustion, “…ti… ny…”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Mike was just that in that instant coming back to Kohr’s bio-bed. As he stopped to check on Kohr’s vials he saw him trying to speak again. He arched his eyebrows and asked no one in particular. “Mutiny? My goodness it sounds like you have a fight on your hands somewhere Commander.” Mike once again checked his vitals, and satisfied that his patient was making progress he started him on a saline drip to keep him hydrated and then turned quickly on his heel in search of something else which would require his attention.

Ensign Mike Jones Dr.


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