Freak Allergy

Month 9 Day 6

(Shore Leave Day 7)

1458 Hours

McGregor

Drake draped the damp towel around his neck as the lift door opened and he stepped into the first aid station’s lobby. Not sure where to go, he paused at the desk. “You paged me? I’m Dr McGregor, of the Fireball.”

“Thank you for coming so promptly,” the nurse answered. “I’ll take the towel, and here’s a lab coat for you.”

Drake half pulled the towel off, but paused to consider the lab coat she held out. “Lab coat?” he muttered.

“Patients respond better when the doctor is in a lab coat rather than a swimsuit.”

That makes sense. “My patients are used to seeing me in a uniform, but I take your point.” He made the swap to tug the lab coat on. “Now, who is the patient, why are they here, and where are they?”

The nurse hesitated for a nanosecond. “We aren’t sure who she is; everybody seems to have their own name for her, but they claim she belongs to your ship, and her commanding officer asked for you to be notified. Respiratory distress.” She passed him a medical pad that presumably had the details. “Down the middle hallway, 3rd door on the left.”

“Thanks.” Drake consulted the pad as he started down the hallway. Female, late 20s. Okay, we’re down to about 1/3 of the crew.

“Drake!”

He looked up in surprise, saw that Beth had just emerged from the room he intended to visit. “Beth! Are you the reason I’m here? What’s wrong?”

She gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m not the patient, no. I was coming out to see if they could cancel that page. You got here quickly, but the medicine they gave her seems very effective.” She glanced back at the room. “Even if she is acting weird.”

“Who?”

“Oh! I guess- Mac. She drank half of Bugalu’s milkshake, which was made with a native berry. Shortly afterward, I noticed she seemed disorientated, and by the time Tall Bear got her out of the water, she was mostly unconscious, struggling to breath.”

Drake hurried for the room. He stopped short in the doorway. Mac was sitting on the bed, both her arms wrapped around Smitty’s upper arm, her head against his shoulder. She was whispering. Smitty’s back was to Drake, who couldn’t understand this strange tableau.

“I can’t understand what she’s saying,” Beth whispered. “I don’t think Smythe does, either. It doesn’t sound like what little Gaelunder I’ve heard her use.”

“Any Gaelunder she’s used on the ship was probably cursing,” Drake muttered.

“Right, but it’s got a certain... sound to it that this doesn’t have. But I’m not a linguist.”

A door on the opposite side of the room opened and a young man in a lab coat entered, his eyes on the medpad he held. Smitty pulled his arm away from the redhead and took a step away. Mac watched him with a deep pain on her face.

“Okay, the customary medication for Oyrt berry allergy handled most of the symptoms. Our biochemical tests, however, indicate you might experience some of the more unusual reactions, so the lab is working up a cocktail to handle those. It shouldn’t take long to get that ready.”

“What unusual reactions?” Drake asked. The young doctor finally looked up, and Smitty turned, his face red. “I’m Dr Drake McGregor of the Fireball. The patient is Colleen MacDowell, communications, and Smythe is Chief Engineer.”

The youngster smiled, seemingly more at ease with someone in his own field. “I’m Dr Quince.” He offered his hand, which Drake briefly took. “First, less than 1% of the population is allergic to oyrt berries. A higher number for visitors, so facilities that serve oyrt berries keep a broad spectrum anti-allergen on hand, just in case. This patient had a pretty severe reaction, but the worst of it was receding by the time she got here, since the life guard had given her that anti-allergen. Still,  I’m afraid our bio-chemical scan indicates the possibility of a mental side effect. It appears her brain chemistry is possibly changed, producing some confusion or unexpected emotions. The lab should be here shortly with a fix. Assuming, of course, that she’s acting... odd.”

“Absolutely,” Smitty stated, and both doctors turned to him. He added, “I can’t get her to speak English! It’s like she doesn’t understand me.”

“Well, if English isn’t her first language...” Dr Quince began.

“It’s not, but she learned it in elementary school,” Drake returned. “So it’s not a recent acquisition. She’s quite a linguist, so losing a language  could effect her career. Is that the type of confusion you meant, that she might forget what language to use?”

“Um, no. Understand, there’s only been a few individuals whose minds were - temporarily - affected by this allergy. There’s no mention of it affecting their language, only that it seemed to send them back to an earlier period of their life, a time of mental turmoil.”

Has there been a time in her life that didn’t includ mental turmoil? Could she think she’s back on Gaelunde? I wouldn’t think she would have dared hold any man. “How long does that last?”

“If we don’t straighten out her brain chemistry? That’s hard to say. Days. Weeks.”

“Black space,” Smitty bit out. “We’ve only got 9 days left of shore leave!”

“Then we’d better get the cocktail right,” Dr Quince stated, and glanced at the doorway. “Is that one of yours, too?”

MacGregor glanced behind him. “Another crew member, yes. And one of Mac’s best friends.” He turned to address Yellow Dog. “Any idea where Bugalu is?”

“Yes,” YD answered, and slipped forward to consider Mac, who had laid down when the doctors started talking.

“Doctor, I realize a ship’s crew can be tightly knit, but I don’t believe it would be in the patient’s best interest to have all her friends visit right now. Depending on how far in her past she thinks she is, it could deepen her confusion. Which could lead to complications. I mean, further complications.”

Yellow Dog spoke briefly, but not in English. When the redhead started to answer, the AmerInd winced and put her hand over Mac’s mouth. Green eyes glared up from the bed, but YD mildly told her, “Not Kolla. Mac.”

“Kolla?” Drake asked. “She thinks she’s Kolla? Again?” At least she’s not reliving her life from years ago.

Dr Quince asked, “Is that a... separate personality that’s manifested before?”

“No,” Drake answered. “Well, yes, but not like you’re thinking. Never mind, it’s a long story. But if it makes any difference, that means her mind has, ah, returned to about 6 or 8 weeks ago.”

The youngster’s eyebrows rose. “That recent? From the state of her biochemistry, I would have guessed much older memories. But we’ve never had a Gaelunder visitor before, and her brain chemistry has deviated from Human normal.”

Deviated? Drake turned to Beth. “I don’t remember any deviations from Human normal when she came aboard.”

“No. You commented on how normal she was. Except for her density, of course. But you didn’t specifically analyze her brain chemistry; you expected the computer to point out any differences that might need to be known.”

“And it didn’t point any out, so she must have been within human parameters.”

“But Kolla’s body chemistry is considerably different, isn’t it?” Smitty asked. “So, if she’s back to being Kolla, perhaps it’s because her brain chemistry has been changed to be more like Kolla’s?”

“I don’t understand,” Dr Quince stated. “If Kolla is a different person, how can this woman have returned to thinking she’s that person?”

How do I make it believable? Even Fleet HQ had trouble with it, and if we hadn’t all been saying the same thing... “Well, if we have time, I’ll try to explain. But for now, don’t be in too big a hurry with that chemical cocktail. It might make things worse instead of better. Beth, find a computer and pull up that original exam from the Fireball files. Let’s compare them to what they found here at the first aid station.”

“I can’t,” Beth told him flatly.

“Why not?”

“Because the ship is shut down,” Smitty answered for her. “So it’s a good thing I’m here. Only the captain can open the doors wide, but I can get you into the medical files. Dr Quince, where is a computer terminal we can use?”

“Over here.” He led them to the far corner.

Drake considered the redhead, who was again sitting up, watching the trio gather around the computer terminal. “I’m beginning to think Bugalu is right.” She turned her attention to him at the mention of the helmsman. “You don’t look for it; trouble comes looking for you.”

She considered him blandly for a moment, but her sudden smile seemed to agree with him.