Special Delivery

Posted on Mon Nov 18th, 2024 @ 10:20am by Lieutenant Michael Amato & Ensign Peter Novak & Lieutenant Commander Marc Kitchner M.D. & Lieutenant Dr. Jeremiah McEntyre M.D. & Arianna D'Tal

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Mission 5: The Price of Paradise
Location: Deck 7: Medical Section
Timeline: M5 MD09 (2268.08.1) 1530

The alert light continued to flash over the door to the medical section as the doors burst open. A gurney flanked by two security officers rushed in with Dr. Amato in tow. On the gurney was the limp form of an Orion pirate. The green skinned rugged beast was covered in blood.

"Special delivery," Mike announced as he guided the gurney towards the trauma unit.

Marc rounded the corner from the opposite direction. "What in the ever lovin' hell...." He said pointing a finger at what he thought he saw. "Amato!!!!." He bellowed.

The young doctor looked back behind him, "Yes Dr. Kitchner?" he asked.

"Please tell me I didn't see what I thought I saw..." Marc said confusedly.

"Probably better off sir," Mike responded with a sigh as the nurse gloved him and he picked up one an autosuture from from the instrument tray which was rolled in front of him as the orderlies transferred the pirate onto the surgical bed.

"Start talking." Marc said crossing his arms.

"Ah... Well, security interrogated this pirate," Mike tried to explain diplomatically given the heat of the moment. The young man tried to dance in both the conversation and dance while trying to save the patients' life, more for the Captain's sake more than anything else, "The interrogation got a little frisky on both sides..."

"An my shit smells like peach cobbler after I have chili." Marc said a quizical look. "That looks like it wasn't evenly frisky to me."

Doctor McEntyre, having followed the gurney into the surgical bay to render aid, poked his head out of the door. "Doctor Kitchner, Doctor Amato, with the greatest amount of respect to the both of y’all. Would y’all kindly give me a paw here? I've got a patient bleeding out on my table and I need more paws." Just as quickly as he had poked his head out, the Caitian pulled their head back in.

Marc gave Mike a look saying nonverbally, 'This isn't over..."

“He has severe head trauma and I’m having’ a hard time nailing down some of these bleeders. I got several spots of hemorrhages on my bioscopes.” The Caitian reported to Dr. Kitchner.

Marc took a long look at the scanner readings. "Three skull fractures possibly a fourth. Cranial swelling for sure. Blood pressure is spiking ..." As he spoke the Orian thug went into cardiac arrest. "Great more issues. Get me a cardiac unit. Type, cross match and synthesize 10 units of whole blood. Somebody find out where an Orians' heart is located! All of that is stat!" Marc said overtop of the noise in the room.

Jeremiah nodded.

“It’s near where the human gallbladder is” The Caitian piped up as he handed the cardiac unit over to Dr. Kitchner.

“We need to get his BP down before we can address the brain swelling. Otherwise, we might have to decompress the brain the old fashion way," Dr. Kitchner said.

Dr. Amato was standing on the opposite side of the surgical table, "This should do the trick," he said as he put a hypospray to the Orion's neck, "20ccs Vasocorin, one of the few human blood pressure medications that isn't lethal to Orions." He looked up at the bio monitor, blood pressure was returning to normal.

"Okay I just learned two things in as many minutes." Marc said muttering under his breath. "Pressure is leveling off, heart rate is coming down...." Taking a deep breath. "Somebody get me the auto suture, have the burr drill standing by, and somebody replicate a neck and cranial restraint. We can't work on him if he's bucking around." In Tristan's voice the word's 'keep the bastard alive', ran through his head over and over.

The next 6 hours seemed to crawl by, but between the three surgeons and a dozen techs they managed to put the Orions injuries in check. With a little bit of luck he'd survive.

"What time is it?" Marc asked grabbing a towel and began wiping blood and sweat off of him.

"Almost 0220 sir." One of the techs said trying to check a yawn.

"Okay then it looks like I'll be having an early breakfast instead of a late dinner." Marc said throwing the towel into a nearby hamper. "McEntyre .. please write up the patient reports and make a note in the surgical log, I'll sign them later. Have a tech and security on continuous watch of our 'friend' here. I want his vitals checked ever 20 minutes for the next 6 hours, and then hourly after that. Now you...' Marc pointed a finger at Amato, 'come with me." The list of questions in Marc's head was growing longer by the second.

 

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