Anger Misdirected

Anger Misdirected

Month 4, Day 20

Drake MacGregor

0948 Hours

Drake studied the bed's read-out, his brow slightly puckered. "When did you first start having symptoms?"

"Well, yesterday, I-"

"What have you done with that redhead?"

Drake turned his head to see the captain standing in the doorway. Been expecting this for days. "Not nearly as much as I'd like to."

Beth tsked. "I'm not sure either of you realizes what that sounds like. And since it is about a patient, perhaps you should continue this discussion in your office, doctor. Meanwhile, I will get this patient settled in and ask all the usual questions."

"I'll be back in just a moment," Drake told the technician on the bed, and turned to usher the captain into his office. Once the door closed behind him, he stated, "I can't just order the girl to get some sleep."

"Probably not, but that's what I threatened to do this morning when I found her asleep on a lift."

Drake paused next to his desk, tried to determine if Jane was joking. He didn't think she was. "I find the floor too hard for sleeping."

"She wasn't on the floor, she was leaning against the wall."

Drake shook his head and sat down. "Well, I guess a lift would be quieter than the messhall."

"I thought you were going to fix her sleeping problem."

"First I have to figure out what's causing it."

"All this time, and you haven't even managed that much?"

"It's not an illness, Jane. There's not a test I can give to figure out what's causing her to not sleep. She doesn't seem to know. Bugalu has a theory, that her stress level is untenable. But nothing we've tried has managed to lower it for any length of time. She gets a day or two of half-way decent sleep, and then she's back to being unable to sleep longer than half an hour at a time."

"Duck, you know even better than I that this ship carries a pharmacy of drugs, including sedatives, anti-anxiety meds, anti-"

"We do," he agreed. "Most of the meds haven't worked, except one or two have possibly let her sleep for 45 minutes at a time, but she says the nightmares are even worse, and it takes her longer to fall asleep again, so there doesn't seem to be any advantage to her using them. She refuses to try sedatives, for fear she'd be trapped in her nightmares, unable to escape by waking up."

"Nightmares are Dr Fong's specialty."

"I've made that suggestion, several times. She said she'd rather waste her time studying, if she's going to waste her time."

Jane grunted. "She has opinions."

"And she's stubborn," Drake added. "But if she's falling asleep on lifts, maybe she'll be a little more willing to listen to me."

Jane frowned at the floor for a moment. "Maybe you should order her."

The suggestion surprised him. Didn't she just agree that wasn't possible? "To sleep?"

"To see Dr Fong."

He sighed. "Yes. That option is on the table. Again. Although, don't expect any overnight miracles. Psychiatrists don't have any. But I'll definitely push that idea at her the next time I see her."

"Make it soon," Jane told him. "Something has to work! For her own safety. If Winthrop catches her alone, asleep and defenseless..."

"This evening," he promised. No, she was sleeping this evening, something about giving Bugalu a break. Trying to sleep, after studying all day. I'll have to hunt her up, have her come here. "Today," he amended.

"Good. Only I sent her to her room to sleep, so this evening is better."

"Then this evening it is." I can have Ferguson let me know when she shows up for her workout, rather than try to hunt her down. Jane left his office, and Drake returned to sick bay to take care of his patient.