A Missed Shift

Posted on 14 Sep 2019 @ 4:38am by Senior Chief Petty Officer Alexander Rylan & Captain Harvey Geisler

1,193 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Truth and Justice
Location: Sickbay
Timeline: MD 1 || 1100 hours

The doors to sickbay opened, and in staggered a Bolian. Petty Officer Aramm was clad in a typical security uniform, but unlike the officers that patrolled the ship, she sported a utility belt commonly worn by Away Team members. "Help..." she muttered as she staggered towards the front desk. "I... I think I'm dying..."

Alex jumped into action when the Bolian came through. "I've got you. Come this way." Alex scooped the Bolian into his arms, carried her to a biobed and lay her down on it. "I'm Senior Chief Rylan. I'm going to try to help you. Can you tell me what happened and what's happening now?" As he spoke, Alex whipped out a medical tricorder, linked it to the biobed the Bolian was in, and started taking readings.

"I..." the Bolian stammered as she squirmed on the biobed. "I... was supposed to go with the Away Team. I was all prepped, ready to go. And... I got coffee from the replicator... AHHH!" she screamed, clutching her sides.

Alex frowned. He prepped a hypospray and pressed it against the Bolian's neck, letting the device inject medicine into the man. "That should take some of the edge off. You were fine until the coffee?" he asked. "Did you eat or drink anything out of the ordinary today before or after that cup of coffee?" Having matched the Bolian's DNA to her name, he was then able to use her ID number to check which replicators the she'd used that day, when, what she'd ordered, how much, and if any of it was different from her usual diet.

"No...." she grunted, not feeling any immediate effects from the medication. "I usually have one or two cups a day, especially before I go on assignments where I have to stay alert." Her stomach turned once again, forcing her to writhe in pain.

Alex looked at the scans. It looked like the coffee in the woman's stomach just hadn't come out of the replicator right and whatever was 'not right' about it was not Bolian friendly.

Alex retrieved a bottle of medicine from a nearby cabinet and poured some into a medicine cup. It was viscous, smelled sweet, and likely tasted awful. Bringing the medicine back to Aramm, Alex grabbed a bucket and a bottle of water. "Not to worry petty officer. I believe, as they say, this, too, shall pass...we're just going to help it along a little," Alex handed Aramm the medicine cup. "Drink this down," the corpsman said. "All of it. Follow it with this." Alex indicated the bottle of water. "Barf into this." Alex indicated the bucket. "Then report immediately to the head, lift the toilet seat, the top one only, and assume a seated position on the old thunder box until you don't think you can go anymore, wait five minutes, then if you're done, clean up, come out here and I'll put you on IV fluids and bed rest for the remainder of the day. Have you heard and do you understand your marching orders?"

Aramm wearily looked at the cup he held and nodded. As she was lying down, Aramm was in a poor position to even attempt downing the medication. Her left hand trembled as she rolled onto her side before pushing up to a sitting position. The pain seemed to intensify the more she wasn't in a fetal position, and it took every ounce of her willpower to not give in to her nervous system's demands. Her right arm wrapped itself around her abdomen as her trembling hand reached for the cup. Aramm's face yielded to an expression that would make a contortionist grunt, but she brought the cup of medicine to her lips anyway. And there it remained for a few seconds as Aramm mustered the strength to consume it.

A few seconds turned into a full minute before she was able to jerk the cup and her head backwards, shooting the vile liquid down her throat. She felt no instant effects, aside from the burning raw nerves in her throat. Aramm dropped the cup and reached for the open bottle. Her body still wanted to return to a moderately comfortable position, but she had to muscle through. Aramm guzzled the water, telling herself that the quicker she did this, the sooner this would all be over.

"Head," she muttered, sliding off the bed and discovering her knees had weakened and her limbs as stiff as gelatin. She grabbed the bucket the Senior Chief had left for her and started to stagger out of the room. Aramm made it as far as the door. The swoosh of it opening, however, caught her off guard. In that moment, she lost all control of her body. Aramm fell into the door frame, leaned over, and released a fair amount of vomit, missing the bucket entirely.

"I'm..." she gasped, finding some strength to continue. She stepped out into the sterile corridor on her way to the head, only convulse once more and release more of her stomach contents. At least some got into the bucket this time.

Alex shrugged as he pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and went to help the petty officer. "Don't feel the least bit embarrassed," he said. "I long ago accepted the fact that my days as a Corpsman would generally overflow with urine, feces, snot, blood, germs, and, you guessed it, vomit. Let's get you actually into the head."

As discretely as possible, taking as much care to protect the petty officer's dignity as her safety and her health, Alex got her set up in the head and wiped clean as much of the vomit as he could, and took her now splattered uniform jacket. "Hold on to the rails with at least one hand, the bucket is directly in front of you. If it makes you more comfortable, bend forward. I'll be right outside."

Alex closed the head door but disabled the lock so he could accidentally get locked out. From the sounds of things, he'd gotten Aramm in position just in time. He sighed. Real glorious life you got here, Rylan. Oh, well. I get to be with Jayla and warm her bed. I figure that's a fair trade off.

Aramm remained in the head for several minutes as she let the medicine run its horrendous course. Neither the smell nor the sound made that time pass by quickly. As soon as she felt she had nothing more to give, she flushed the toliet and exited the room. "I... I think I'm done," she informed Alex, her tone weak.

"Here ya go," Alex handed Aramm another small bottle of water. "Drink some of that, then let's get you cleaned up and into some clean scrubs. Then I'll set you up in a recovery room with some IV fluids and you can get some rest. I think you've earned it."

The Bolian was too tired to protest. She didn't feel like she earned anything, but living to see tomorrow was a lot better than dying today. Though, with the humiliation she just suffered, dying wasn't a bad option.

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