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Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge

Posted Jan. 10, 2022, 11:30 a.m. by Captain Rende Asam (Captain) (Jennifer Ward)

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

Posted by Tom L in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge

Posted by Captain Rende Asam (Captain) in Main Sim [Sickbay]: The Balancing Edge
Posted by… suppressed (5) by the Post Ghost! 👻



—[SNIP]—

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.

Rende’s next stop was sickbay. Everything seemed to be happening there and Kohr had been injured, attacked, she wasn’t sure, but she was going to go check and see how he was doing. Checking the patient list as she entered it said Dr Jones was attending to Kohr. She stopped the first medical officer she saw and asked, “Dr. Jones please.” She pointed ithat n the right direction and made her way over. “Dr. Jones. How is Cmdr Kohr?”

“I, “Mike began to answer Rende. “He’s doing somewhat better actually.” It was then that the sound of a falling body interrupted their conversation.

Ensign Mike Jones doctor

Rende leaned to the side to look where Dr Jones was going and shook her head with a smirk. Impressive, very impressive Cmdr Kohr. I doubt you’ll like getting hauled back to bed anymore than I would. She followed at a distance so as not to get in the way.

Relative silence pervaded the room, and something inside the Klingon did not enjoy that in the least. Groaning softly, Kohr slowly opened his eyes and strained to sit up. His lip curled into a silent snarl as he plucked the cortical stimulators from his ridged brow and set them on the bed. His movements were still shaky and disjointed, his head wobbling on his thick neck and eyes struggling to focus. Gritting his teeth, Kohr slapped his chest angrily.

“Computer, where is…” He blinked, his baritone lilting gently in befuddlement. “Where… Where is my comm badge?”

Growling low in his throat, the Klingon gripped the edge of the biobed and heaved himself onto his feet. Shaky legs threatened to buckle beneath him, but a glare at such weakness reminded them who was in charge. Sadly, however, it was gravity and not the commander, and he collapsed. The floor swam and surged beneath him, but Kohr would not be deterred. Heaving himself along with all his might, the Klingon slid himself along the floor with his elbows, grunting a grim staccato the entire way.

“Must,” he snarled, thumping along with the tatters of his honor tangled about his worthless legs. “Tell. The captain.”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Mike had heard the somewhat loud to say the least thump on the floor. He turned quickly and moved in the general direction from which it had come. When he saw Kohr trying and failing at both crawling and putting together a complete sentence he could only smile and shake his head. He was just happy to see him actually trying to breath let alone do anything else. He watched him for a moment longer to ascertain his current limits before he called for a couple of orderlies. Walking up to Kohr then he looked down at him and then said in a not very kind sounding voice. “What you MUST do Commander is to get back into bed where you belong. And you will stay there until such time that I release you. If you have anything you have to tell the captain, you can call from your bed. Understood?” It was about the time he ended his sentence when an orderly took him by the upper arm and another orderly grabbed him under his shoulder as they gently lifted him toward his bed.

Ensign Mike Jones. doctor

Rende, CO

Rende bit the inside of her cheek hard to stop from laughing. Dr. Jones might be small, compared to the massive Klingon, but he had fire in his blood, that was for sure. She watched as the two nurses bodily pick up Kohr and lift him back to the biobed. She stepped up to Jones and quietly, “What’s wrong with his legs?” A warrior who could not stand on his own two feet and fight, often made very black and white choices. Hopefully it was something reversible or would heal given enough time.

Kohr’s displeasure at having to be lifted back to the biobed fair crackled in the air, and he glared at the ensign the entire journey. There was a deep twinge of satisfaction at the fact the pair of nurses struggled briefly under the weight of his frame, but it paled against the mortification that he required help at all. The doctor did, indeed, have the authority to relieve even the captain from duty under certain conditions. The Klingon grit his teeth and nodded curtly, taking solace in the fact that he could keep himself upright. By Kahless, what was wrong with him?!

“I understand,” he growled. Then slowly he added, “So long as I am able to attend my duty to the safety of this ship and crew.”

Kohr’s wrath was averted when he noticed Captain Rende standing in the anteroom. He gripped the edge of the biobed with the impulse to rise, but with Doctor Jones hovering nearby, he thought twice. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head and instead leaned forward.

“Captain,” he bellowed loud enough to make a drill sergeant proud, “we must take Hab’rabi into custody. He has plans to take over the ship!
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Rende made her way into the room, glad to see he was at least sitting up and balanced on his own. The bellow, for just a moment, brought her up to an immediate at attention, head held high, shoulders back, posture perfect, and heels almost clicking together. She’d find it amusing if the situation on the ship wasn’t so dire. “Hab’rabi is unconscious and here in sickbay.” Rende pointed, directing his attention to the room across from his. “He was shot point blank by NE Sacco who…” she turned to look, “there.”

=/\=Rende to Security.=/\=

=/\=Security here, Ma’am.=/\=

=/\=I need an additional two man team up her in sickbay to guard a patient. Get them through the check points on the double.=/\=

=/\=Yes Ma’am.=/\= (OOC: Anyone, security or otherwise is welcome to play an NE or (if security) themselves, but it’s guard duty and you’ll be standing around.)

“Alright Kohr, tell me everything, teach me. And First and foremost are these motes…these lights, a threat to the ship?”

Rende, CO

The Klingon looked at where Ensign Sacco was still unconscious, then to where Hab’rabi had found himself. The world still jerked and twitched around him, and he grit his teeth against its ebb and flow. He was very relieved that the alien lord was still out of commission. That was not, however, what bothered him.

“I do not know for certain,” Kohr said in a slow, measured tone. His gaze moved beyond Captain Rende and into that ephemeral middle distance where all mysteries held answers, searching and yet unable to grasp it. “There are no words to describe what I felt beyond a force, as powerful as a storm and yet infinitely delicate. It—no, that is not correct, they—came and…”

The commander took a deep breath to steady himself, gripping the edge of the biobed hard enough that the knuckles on the one hand paled. Leather creaked, anger crackled in the back of his throat. “Words are sand in my grasp, Captain. We struggled. They fought for control, but not as one. And then… nothing until I awoke to find myself helpless.”

“But I can still feel them,” he growled softly, staring at Rende, “like blood dripping from my mind. While I cannot logically explain why I know as I do, I am certain that Hab’rabi is not our ally. When I think of the Viking, I am filled with an urge—a hunger—for it. I look at Hab’rabi and feel a fear and loathing, and a powerful desire to stop him… and destroy him if necessary.”

Rende nodded listening, in no hurry to rush him. What few people understood was that El-Aurians go their empathy through speech. It was the emotion connected to the words that fed that sense. Hence why they were a race of ‘listenners.’ When he paused, “One of the doctors had a similar experience, but she did not report anything hostile. She recorded her impressions, perhaps, even if words are difficult, you should do the same.”

Kohr took another long slow breath. The monitors displaying his vitals showed his heart thundering in his chest, spikes in adrenaline, increased oxygen intake—all the hallmarks of an intense fight-or-flight response. Another breath, and the Klingon’s shoulders dropped a fraction. He would not allow the swirling emotions to drag him under. He gave the captain a very fixed look.

“I request to be relieved of duty and confined to quarters,” he stated flatly. “I have seen the influence these things have over our crew—a lowering of inhibition and self-control. In my current emotional state, I am a danger to our guest and any crewman that might come between us. Given my current physical condition, I would not be a boon to you regardless, and I am at least capable of sitting at a desk and assisting in coordinating our efforts should you refuse my request.”

“The doctors have found a way to detect if you are being influenced. So once they have cleared you we could use you on the bridge Cmdr. Yorba has been there for awhile. And though he is an exceptional officer it would go a long way for everyone to see you back on the bridge and coordinating our efforts.” A wicked gleam came to her eye as she appraised him, “Or maybe you should wait in the Cpt’s Yacht?”

The Klingon glanced over at Hab’rabi, and the monitors shrilled a warning at his vitals. “We must contain him—and those strange energy beings—until we are able to definitively discern his motives. That, I do know for certain.”
—Kohr, Executive Officer

“Woods is working with Weir down in engineering on a solution. And these things are running willy nilly about the ship. They should have a solution soon. But apparently, if we can hit them with a phaser it will take them out. And Hab’rabi isn’t going anywhere except maybe back to his ship, without the anti-matter.”

“Let’s go. You heard the Captain. That means you, Tomlinson!” The NE pulled his phaser and had an energy level check. Type 2 was a standard issue for the security team, and they were allowed to carry it most times. Since the task was to protect a patient, no additional equipment was in need at this time. =^= This is Tomlinson. Comms check, Sir. =^= Clear, now get yourself up to the sick bay. =^= After smoothly passing checkpoints from Deck 8 to Deck 6, he arrived at the sick bay and opened its hatch.

NE Tomlinson, Security

Rende turned at the sound of new arrivals hoping it wasn’t a case of more ‘visited’ crew. The highly armed Captain (assault phaser rifle, boot knives, and grenades were the most obvious) was relieved it was the security detail she’d requested. T’Vor did quick scans of them both, despite having passed through two check points to get there. “NE Tomlinson, there” she pointed to one of the solitary rooms. “Position yourselves outside the door. We have reason to believe he’s going to make an attempt to take over the ship. Only Dr Semenza, his essential staff, and senior staff is allowed in, after being cleared of the motes.”

She turned back to Kohr, her hand reached for the reassuring feel of the sleek metal of her rifle. “He might be bigger than me, but that just means he’ll go down harder. He’ll learn Cmdr, no one takes my ship.”

Rende, CO


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