Catching Up

Month 16 Day 6

1250 Hours

Bugalu

The St Elmo was the same design as the Fireball, so sick bay was easy to find. Bugsy caught sight of a familiar face sitting at a display console and walked over. "Hello, Beth."

Nurse Temple glanced up from the readouts before her and gave him a friendly smile. "Took you long enough to come looking for Mac."

"Surprisingly, the news of her injury didn't get to the Fireball until you placed the special order for a new uniform for her." He placed the plastic package that typically held a uniform atop the display console. "Special delivery. Captain asked me to look in on her personally."

"Well, you're in luck," Temple told him. "She's got about 10 minutes left before the nurses put her back to bed." She nodded towards the ICU doorway. "Go on in. She'll be glad to see you."

"How bad is she?"

"Some burns along her back that are still healing, but the uniform is so she can be released to light duty tonight at midnight."

"Sounds like she was very lucky. I've heard that diflaxi— that stuff can be really nasty."

"Mr Smythe was there when it happened, and was quick to get her thoroughly dosed with an antitoxin foam. Because you're right, otherwise, she would have been in much worse condition. Now, go ahead, go inside. Help distract her from the healing ray treatment they're giving Mr Facchini in the other half of the room."

Normally he was squeamish about being present during another person's treatment; he'd heard patients could get pretty vocal during a healing ray treatment. But he was eager to see how Mac was doing, so he smiled at Beth, picked up the plastic package again, and went inside ICU.

On the left side of the room, the bed was sloped and bent so that the patient was nearly sitting up straight. One nurse urged him to finish drinking a large drink through a straw while the other nurse put some equipment away. Obviously, that was Mr Facchini, not Mac.

Bugalu turned to where Mac sat in some kind of kneeling chair that wouldn't let her lean against the back, because there was no back to it. He walked forward and tossed the plastic package and the box with her new boots to her bed. "One uniform, special delivery."

Mac raised her head from staring at the floor and used a wadded up tissue to wipe tears off her cheeks. Bugs lost his smile at the sight of her red eyes, and pulled a chair close to sit facing her. "Hey. What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"Yes," she said simply, then, "No. Not physical pain, Bugsy. Not much, anyway." She cast a glance at the curtain that had been pulled to block the view between the 2 beds. "Not nearly as much as Ben's been put through this morning."

She must mean Facchini. Not surprised she's on a first-name basis with him already. But something about the girl struck him as... different. He stood up and took a step sideways so he could get a look at her back. He winced at the wide pink swath down the back of her head that gleamed in its nakedness, then hoped she hadn't seen his wince. He sat down again. "Well, that's new."

She raised a hand as if to touch it, but didn't. "Compliments of Baker."

Should have known he'd be involved somehow. "Temple tells me your injuries could have been worse."

"Oh, yes," she agreed. "I could be dead."

For a moment, he didn't know what to say. The silence of this half of the room was invaded by the noises of the other half, where equipment clicked into its storage space, a nurse encouraged Mr Facchini to try to sleep, and the other bed whirred as it straightened into its usual bed configuration.

"I'm glad you're not," he finally said, and gave her another tissue as tears welled in her eyes. He reached forward and took hold of her hand. "What's got you so upset? Your hair?"

"MacG says that will grow back."

"Okay. Then what is bothering you?"

The nurses in the other half of the room left. Facchini gave a large sigh and settled into silence.

Mac's lips pinched together into a grimace. "Remember that stupid rumor you heard about me a couple months ago?"

There are always rumors about you. "You'll have to be more specific."

"The one that said I was pregnant."

"Oh. That rumor." He gave her hand a little squeeze and leaned back in his chair. "Stupid is definitely the word for that one. Why does that one have you upset now?"

"It's come true. I am pregnant."

He stared at her in disbelief for a long moment. "You can't be."

"If it's not possible, then why are the med beds set up to check for it?" He glanced at the bed that stood beside them. "The bed revealed it as soon as they got me on it. But I was already 99% sure." She gave him a wry smile. "Morning sickness."

"That's all kinds of ironic," he quipped. "You weren't when Smythe proposed, but now you are."

The part that really upsets me is, he walked out as soon as he heard."

"That doesn't make any sense. When he proposed, there was no way it could have been his, but he proposed anyway."

"Yes." She daubed at her eyes.

"When did you tell him?"

"I've been trying to tell him since the shuttle ride over here. But the time was never right. And then, when my back got burned, and he brought me to sick bay... he was here when the diagnosis was made."

"So, now he knows what he only believed before."

"He knows I'm pregnant. He knows I'm not 2 or 3 months along. I'm only at 6 weeks, according to the bed."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I'm not sure, but he walked out." She glanced past him as someone walked in. "Please, give us a few more minutes."

"Okay, but you need to rest soon, if you're going to work at midnight."

She looked surprised. "I'm going to work tonight?"

"That's why I brought the uniform," Bugsy told her. "It's supposed to have room for the bandages."

She sighed. "That means I have to see him at 2330." She shook her head slowly. "I told him once I didn't care for his personal opinion of me. I can only imagine what he thinks of me now. Ready to toss me out with the garbage, like my father would do. And my brothers."

Anger seethed in Bugsy over this reminder of her male relatives' mentality. "Why do they need to know?"

"What?" She looked up in surprise. "How would I keep it from them?"

"They're light-years away. If you don't tell them you're having a child, how are they going to find out?"

She studied him in confusion. "I write to my mother. How do I do that over the next 20 years and never mention I've had a child?"

"Sounds like you've decided to keep it."

Tears welled and threatened to fall again. She whispered, "This may be the only thing I have to remember him by."

"You seem certain he won't marry you."

"He walked out as soon as he heard when I conceived."

"You'll be released from the Fleet."

She nodded. "I'm decently-trained now. I should be able to find work somewhere."

Well, that's true. All she'd have to do is mention she was protégé to Lt Cmdr Smythe, and doors would open for her. Still, 'unwed mother' is hardly what she wants to be. As soon as her father finds out, he'd forbid any further communication with her. And though she doesn't much care for her father and brothers, it would hurt deeply to lose contact with her mother. "You need a husband," he told her.

"I cancelled that agreement," she reminded him. "I don't see him proposing again."

"Then what about me?"

Overdose

Month 11 Day 3

0910 Hours

Jane Burke

When Jane approached sick bay, she saw Tall Bear coming from the other direction, saw that he stopped to tug a boot into place and pull his uniform tunic down from being bunched around his waist. He’s normally asleep this shift. “Captain,” he greeted her. “We’ve had to break up a fight between 2 crew members. Commander Winthrop is in sick bay. I’ve had Lt MacDowell taken to the brig.”

She nodded her acknowledgement. “I’m sorry you were awakened, but if Winthrop was involved, you pretty much had to take over the investigation. Abdulla said it sounded like a brawl. Do you have any idea what started it?”

“Not at this time. All I know is it took all of us to try to get them separated, without any success, before Winthrop was knocked unconscious. And MacDowell will need a replacement uniform. The one she was wearing was pretty... well... shredded.”

“What about Winthrop’s attire?”

If he was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. “Disheveled.”

“Well, let’s go see what the doctor can tell us, if anything. Or if Winthrop has regained consciousness.” They walked in together. They entered the sick bay lobby and then the exam room, where the unconscious Winthrop was strapped into the exam table. 2 security guards stood nearby.

“He’s still unconscious, sirs,” one of the guards reported, and added, “MacDowell must pack quite a wallop.”

“She can,” Tall Bear confirmed. “I was surprised she didn’t end the fight long before we got there. Take your positions in the lobby.”

“I wonder where Dr MacGregor is?” Jane asked.

“Of all the stupid, idiotic things a man could do to himself!” Duck declared as he stormed into the exam room from the labs further back. He calmed down upon seeing the newcomers. “Don’t get too close to him, J- Captain. Your rank won’t mean anything to him if he wakes up.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s under the influence of a drug commonly called ‘doit’. And I use the common name because its chemical name is about 6 meters long and I can’t even pronounce it. It’s supposed to be a sex enhancer.”

“You didn’t know he was taking it?” she asked in surprise.

“If I had, I would have turned him in. It’s black market stuff. It was approved for medical use several years ago, but over time, it proved to be accumulative with each use. And addictive from the very beginning. Eventually, and now we’re into the theory of what happens when a man continues to use it, the man overdoses and loses all control. He attacks his chosen prey like an animal and won’t stop until he’s finally satisfied, which could take hours.” He turned his attention to Tall Bear. “I commend your people for being able to knock him out and get him here.”

“That wasn’t us,” TB stated. “That was MacDowell. I think. I still need to figure out exactly what happened. But we were just trying to separate them.”

“Since he’s not going to ‘get satisfied’ this time, how long before the drug wears off?” Jane asked.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t find any information in the papers, only theories and speculation. And those were based on very little scientific evidence.”

“Well, detox him, then.”

“That’s one thing I did find mentioned in the papers. Detox has no effect on doit users.”

“You said it was accumulative. You’ve hinted that this wasn’t his first time using it. Why haven’t you noticed it in his system before this?”

“Because between doses, it lies dormant in the fatty tissues and isn’t noticeable. That’s why it took so long to discover that it is accumulative.”

“There must be some way you can counteract the drug, get it out of his system.”

“There’s no known counteracting drug. If there was one, the lab could make some. So I’m stuck trying to remove it, which may or may not work. I’m going to try dialysis. It’s an old-fashioned method of scrubbing toxins and other chemicals out of the blood. The technicians are pulling the old machine out of mothballs and getting it ready to use, but the procedure will take time. At least 4 hours. And I can’t guarantee the drug -at least some of it - won’t go dormant and reside in the fatty tissue even after dialysis is done.”

“But if he doesn’t get any more doses of it, does that matter?”

“I don’t know. Like all addictive drugs, the more times they take it, the more frequently they take it. He probably has a supply of it somewhere.”

“We’ll keep an eye open when we search his quarters,” Bear stated somberly.

“And the papers did include one case where the patient no longer had access to doit, but what was in his system went undormant, uh, became active, again.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of information,” Jane remarked.

“That’s all I’ve got to work with, Jane. Papers full of anecdotes and theories but scarce of actual facts. When it was shown to be addictive and accumulative, it was pulled from the shelves, and nobody had the freedom to conduct any more studies on how bad it could get.” A technician came in from the labs with a 2-foot cube of a machine on a rolling table. “Here’s the dialysis machine. Let me get to work.”

“Keep me—both of us—apprised of your progress,” Jane told him. “And Tall Bear will need to interview him as soon as he’s able.” Then she and Tall Bear turned and left.

Mistakes Were Made

Month 7 Day 16

1535 Hours

Beth Temple

 The words caught Beth’s attention, even through the closed door. “I didn’t realize nurses have an office.” Beth checked the time. Early for Dr Davis.

“Nurses share this station,” Karu explained. “The Head Nurse has an office.”

A 3 foot by 3 foot ‘office’. More like a closet, but it’s mine. Beth opened the door. “Are you looking for me, Dr Davis?”

“Yes,” the physician confirmed and strode forward, stopped as she realized the dimensions of Beth’s ‘office’.

Beth gave her a wry smile. “Most people pull a chair to the doorway.”

“I was hoping to have a private word with you.”

“Karu, go check Monroe’s work,” Beth instructed.

“She was C shift yesterday; what was she doing?” Karu asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get Oleander’s report.”

“What if I can’t figure out what Monroe was doing?”

“Then you probably aren’t looking.” Karu grimaced, closed her computer file and headed for sick bay’s interior. Beth gave the physician another smile. “Pull up a chair. Want some coffee?”

Davis pulled over the closest chair. “No, I only drink that on duty.” She sat down and glanced around, as if to make sure they were alone.

“Is this about Mac?” Beth asked.

Davis looked startled. “Why ask about Mac?”

“I heard her call you ‘Mags’ last week. She shortens your name if she likes you, and the stranger she can make that nickname, the happier she is. You’re probably stuck with it. Even Bugsy - Bugalu - can’t stop her. Also, she was here this morning. On your orders, I understand.”

“In a way, she’s involved, but I’m here about a nurse.”

Beth canted her head. Has she sat on a complaint for days? “Doctor, you weren’t on duty last night.”

“No, I was on the planet when Mac passed out from severe hypoglycemia. Yukoskians don’t use sugar for fuel, and the cooks didn’t realize we do. The only things Mac ingested were agents the Yukosk use to remove sugar from their system. I called for glucose, and whoever answered - when she finally did - said she couldn’t help because she couldn’t leave sick bay unattended.”

Beth felt her face go white. “Mac could have died.”

“Yes. Luckily, Oleander overheard my call and took over. She even sent extra, which was good, because I was into the 3rd supply jacket before Mac could be sent up.”

Beth’s mind fumed, though she kept a calm appearance. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Dr Davis.”

“Nurse Oleander forgot to send you a shift report?”

“I’m not sure.” She used her computer to send an inquiring signal to the bridge and inserted her earpiece.

“Bridge. Abdulla.”

“Temple. Nurse Oleander, C shift, always sends me a report, but I didn’t get one today. Before I assume negligence, is there any chance it’s lost?” Beth often felt ignorant on things outside her field. Abdulla knew computers; they were an intimate part of communications.

“Hmm... You’re right. That isn’t like her. Give me a couple minutes.”

“Thank you,” was all Beth got out before the connection was broken. She turned to Dr Davis. “Would you mind making that a written complaint? Or report, whichever you think fits.”

Davis gave one quick nod. “I can. I’m not sure a foolish comment is enough to fail probation, but it needs to be addressed.”

Beth felt her face stiffen, made herself relax. That’s why I get this glorious office, so I can clean up the messes the doctors leave. How could Drake forget that Mac and Monroe arrived at the same time? “That nurse passed probation.” By default! “I’ll talk with her, try to straighten her out.” Not likely to help! “Ultimately, this information will land in a file.”

Davis leaned forward, her voice lowered. “If you can’t shape her up, you need enough proof to get rid of her?”

“Something like that,” Beth returned, trying to keep her face non-committal.

The physician stood and returned the chair to its original spot. “You’ll have my memo in the morning. I want to get it composed while the details are fresh. Have a good evening, Nurse Temple.”

Drake emerged from his office. “Davis, you aren’t scheduled to work tonight.”

“No, I had a chat with Beth,” the C shift physician said and kept walking.

Drake looked uncertainly at Beth. If he thinks avoiding me for 2 weeks is going to soften my mood, he’d better think again. She closed her office door and pushed her simmering anger deep inside. Her computer beeped. “Sick bay. Temple.”

“That report wasn’t lost. I found it in your trash bin.”

“I never even saw it.”

“No. At 4 minutes past midnight, somebody deleted that message, then deleted it again. They either forgot or don’t know about the trash bin.”

“Who was it?”

“Unknown. They used your office computer, which doesn’t need a sign-in.”

Blast! “Can you give my computer a sign-in?”

“Easily. But we do maintenance during an off shift, so we don’t interrupt your work.”

“Ask Mac,” Temple decided. “How do I avoid any more ‘accidental’ deletions before that’s done?”

“I can shut down your console when I leave. You’d have to call when you want it turned on in the morning.“

“Sounds good.” Beth told her computer to close all files and sleep. “So, how do I get to my trash bin?”

“I returned that report to your message box.”

“Thanks. Let’s hope it stays there. Okay, you can turn off my computer any time.” Beth’s impression of the computer console quickly went from a sleeping intelligence to a mass of dead metal, plastic and wires. Creepy. What else can I do? She opened the door, walked to the intercom, and punched another connection as Nurse Karu returned. “Did you find anything?”

“I cleaned it up.”

“Send me a report. She needs to do her job.”

Karu sat down at a console. “On its way.”

Beth checked the time. “Make it fast or do it tomorrow. And don’t say anything to anyone. She’s sneaky.”

“Engineering. Smythe.”

“Temple. How do I get a lock on my office door?”

She could almost feel his shock through the open line. “It doesn’t have one?”

“Never has.”

“Idiot designers. We’re at shift change. I’ll pass your request to Wilson, and she’ll send somebody. I’ll program it in the morning.”

“Oh.” Blast. Not what I had in mind. Now what do I do?.

“Or... If you want it tonight, I can send someone right away. But you’d have to stay until it’s programmed.”

Beth smiled. “Thank you! I’ll wait.” She sat down at the spare nurse’s console and signed on, opened the latest medical journal.

“Your office doesn’t lock?”

Temple glanced at Karu. “Do you see a lock?”

Karu gave a hard look at the door. “No. Guess I assumed-“

“I suppose no one thought a head nurse needed a lock. How is your report coming?”

“It’s not a clean copy, but-“ Karu punched a button. “It’s sent.”

Nurse Oleander walked in with greetings, and signed onto the unused console. Karu signed off to walk quickly through the ward rooms, looking for anything out of place. When she returned, she stood at the reception counter uncertainly. Beth glanced at the chronometer; it was past 1600. “Nurse Oleander, who’s scheduled tonight?”

“Monroe. She and Dr Ellis are on the same rotational shift.”

Is Monroe tardy regularly? “Good night, Karu. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Nurse Temple.”

Beth closed the journal and opened a travel magazine from the library. She didn’t turn when she heard Drake ask, “Has Dr Ellis arrived?”

“He’s in the staff office, sir,” Oleander answered.

“Good. Have a quiet shift, Oleander.” Drake left. Beth compared shore and mountain activities.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Temple.” Smythe walked in briskly.

Beth turned with a smile. “I appreciate your speed, Mr Smythe.”

“Can’t believe no lock was installed.” He put down his tool box and popped off a panel next to her office door. “To tell you the truth, I felt the need to do something with my hands. I’ve been reading all day - trying to - and my brain feels like mush.”

Still no sign of Monroe. “I thought you liked reading technical manuals.”

He worked silently for a moment. “I’ve just spent, what, 6 weeks? comparing technologies with S’thyme. Reading is different.”

“Reading or conversing, I’m sure the subject isn’t boring. To you.”

“I was told, ‘If you work at what you love, you won’t be working’.”

Beth smiled. “I’m familiar with the sentiment, if not those exact words.”

“You don’t need to get up, Oleander. I can take care of whatever Mr Smythe needs.”

Temple looked around in time to see Monroe recognize her. “Nice of you to come to work, Monroe.”

 The blonde’s jaw worked for a moment. “I am at work. I mean, I’ve been at work. I didn’t finish one of my chores last night, so I started there, to finish up.”

Someplace outside sick bay? Tell me another. “I see. Log in, then go count how many bandages we have.”

Irritation moved across Monroe’s face as she slowly walked forward. “What kind?”

“All kinds,” Temple responded. “I want 2 lists. Ready to use and Storage.” She closed the magazine, signed off the computer, then headed for Drake’s office.

“I’m almost done,” Smythe said.

Already? Beth nodded and left the door open as she glanced at the sleeping console, straighten the desk and started the cleaning bot. She could hear Monroe talking, her voice low and sultry. And Smythe’s response. “Lieutenant, look elsewhere for nightcaps and... entertainment.” Beth stepped out and locked Drake’s door. Smythe tried to work, but Monroe clung to his shoulder.

The young nurse pouted. “Shore leave is coming, and I’m -”

“Monroe!” Beth snapped. “Why are you still here? If you’ve signed in, start counting in storage. I want it finished tonight!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Monroe groused, and headed for the depths of the sick bay complex.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen anybody be that... brazen!” Temple stated as she walked to the nurse’s station. “And on duty!” Oleander made a face and hunched one shoulder. Something else for me to look into. Should I apologize to Smythe?

“Do me a favor, Temple,” Smythe whispered. “Don’t leave me alone with that woman again.”

Surprised, Beth said, “Oleander was here.”

“My rank isn’t sufficient to dampen Monroe’s, uh... behavior,” the nurse stated.

Smythe grunted. “Nor mine.”

Not good. “Then why would my presence make a difference?”

“I have to hope somebody’s would,” Dr Ellis stated from the staff office doorway. “And you’re her supervisor, with input into whether she passes or fails probation.”

Smitty turned his head toward the doctor. “Probation?”

Even Smitty realizes Mac’s and Monroe’s probations ended at the same time. “Her probation is over,” Temple stated.

Ellis’ face fell. “And she’s still here.” He turned for the office.

“She’s still here because - although I had misgivings about her suitability - I didn’t have enough information from her co-workers!” I would have tried, if I had gotten Drake’s ear before time was up. “Her supervisor? I’m a lieutenant, just like she is, just like you are. But in medicine, a doctor out-ranks a nurse. If you see a nurse being sloppy, lazy, unskilled or unprofessional, let me know! Complaint, report, comment; I don’t care what you call it, as long as I get it! Because once they are off probation, it becomes a lot harder to convince headquarters they aren’t wanted.” The young doctor stared at her as she took a deep breath.

“That’s the way, Temple,” Smythe muttered.

“Oleander, I’ll need the same kind of observances from the nurses,” Beth added.

“One person’s lack of standards means more work for the rest of us.”

“Exactly,” Beth agreed. Ellis returned to the office looking thoughtful.

“How’s this, Beth?” Smythe asked.

She looked at the panel where he’d been working. The area had been unremarkable, and except for the addition, the wall seemed the same; no melting, charring, dips or bubbles. “Wonderful! And under half an hour! How does this one work?”

“Still have to program your thumbprint.” He squatted to put tools away and got out a small box. “We could use your left, if you prefer.” He stood up and held the box next to the thumbpad. “Go ahead.” Temple stepped closer, placed her right index finger on the blank pad. “Um, that’s - “

“Just as good as my right thumb,” she stated flatly.

“As you wish.” He punched a few keys on the box, which glowed a dull orange, and the pad under her finger started flashing green. “There.” She pulled her hand away; the pad went dark. “All done,” he summed up, picked up the tool box and placed the small box in it. “It’s just like any other thumb-locked door.”

“Thank you, Mr Smythe. I feel relieved.”

“Happy to help,” he returned with a smile.

“Oleander, I’m gone,” Temple stated. “Let me know how long Monroe spends on inventory, and if she gets done.”

“I will, Head Nurse.”

Temple walked out, was surprised when Smythe joined her in the corridor. “That’s the first time you’ve asked for something without making it complicated, Head Nurse.”

“Is it?” Beth curled a corner of her mouth. “I’m usually worried about stepping on toes.”

“Then maybe I’m insulted.” He stopped her with a light touch on her arm. “I thought we were friends, Beth. Friends don’t mind an occasional sore toe.”

Beth considered the furrows in his brow, the uncertain pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Smy- Smitty. I’m not from a military family. Not even a medical family. We were dirt-poor, and to this day, I have trouble seeing the lines that one must not step over.”

He winced. “That can be hard. I’ve been in the Fleet longer than you, and there’s some lines I still stumble over. Would you like to share supper? I’ve claimed friendship, but I’m ashamed to admit I hardly know anything about you.”

Now? “You usually eat with... I’m not speaking to Drake. Not off-duty, anyway.”

“I’m sure he deserves it. The captain won’t expect me by now. But if you have plans...”

“Not really. Do you need to take your tools back to engineering?”

He shrugged one shoulder as they started walking again. “The box is my personal property. When I retire, I’ll have the finest set of tools in the city.”

What city? Something to talk about.