Star Trek: Undauntable
Title: A Gorn, a Vorta, and an Ilaryix Run a Sickbay...
Word Count: 3979
Summary: The Undauntable's Sickbay is known for its odd characters running it. A Gorn for a Chief Medical Officer is by no means ideal to most, a Vorta with memory issues as a nurse would easily concern people, and an Ilaryix who is just a bit too involved as a fellow nurse would surely make it all the worse. Yet, despite it all, somehow the Sickbay still functions.
Author's Note: I've been chipping away at this for like a month now. This fic is actually three fics in one that are all vaguely connected. I think it's also probably important to note that different characters will acknowledge another character by a different name, so that's something to remember. Anyway, have fun reading!!
Also, I should mention that Ilaryix are a fan species owned by @brynthatalien, and that Maurians are a fan species owned by me :] EDIT: I realized theres some mistakes in formatting. I have since fixed them!
After the failure that was the stealth mission on Maurai VI, it was inevitable for the victims, among them being one Commander Sovehl Jaazadin, to end up in the Sickbay. It was, if Dr. S’tratch had to be so blunt, a sight she would have preferred not to see. The Bajoran first officer was a stubborn, older man, stuck in his ways and uneasily impressed. It would take a true miracle of some god—whether Gorn, Bajoran, or some other higher authority of any other faith or mythos—to convince him anything otherwise.
“Get me Nurse Dulom,” Sovehl hissed. His wounds, appearing as second- and even third-degree burns, were strange to her. They were hardly concerning on their own–a dermal regenerator could fix it with ease–, but where were these coming from? From what she had heard, there was no fire down on the planet.
They wouldn’t have held back information from you either, her mind muttered. It would be foolish to do so.
Sovehl disrupted her thoughts with his persistence, “They know better than you do.”
“It is late. They are asleep,” Dr. S’tratch lied while taking the regenerator to the burns of his arm. She paid no mind to his words. It wasn’t like it was an original comment. She turned her face away from him, deeming it pointless to show any sort of attention to him.
“Then get Yindev.”
“Also asleep.” Another lie.
She could see him grit his teeth out of the corner of her eye.
“Then wake him up. Or wake them up. Either nurse!”
“Neither are scheduled for the night shift.”
“Prophets! It’s an emergency! I’m injured, damn it!” Sovehl didn’t let up in his nonsensical complaints. Pulling his arm away and pointing his finger, he sat up to insist on his point, the only thing holding him back being the vital sign display that wrapped around him. “You don’t let a man struggle without trying to find help.”
The Gorn glared at the Bajoran. He was getting on her nerves, but she remained tolerant of him for the time being. She had to. “I am help,” she answered with as much patience as she could muster for him. Gently, she guided him back down into the biobed before returning to tending his wounds.
Sovehl remained quiet for the time being, only grumbling curses beneath his breath here and there. For being part of a pious species, Dr. S’tratch gathered he wasn’t much for following their tradition–not that she herself did either.
The closest she could really compare his people to were the Maurians, but it’s not like many knew much of those people either, other than for a few unfortunate qualities that did not match the one captaining this very ship.
Too unruly, too argumentative, too stubborn in their mindset… That was, at least, what Dr. S’tratch had heard in passing word, and despite the supposedly unlikable traits of the Maurians, she could not help but sympathize with the cruelly uttered stereotypes.
Words were never something she enjoyed, especially within the Federation. Among the Gorn, she could say nothing at all, and everyone would understand without fail. Here, it seemed as if the interchanging, conglomeration of species and cultures had resulted in a complete failure of efficient communication. She could not simply gesture at something and make the appropriate sound. She had to mouth the words and make just the right amount of noise and inflections in hopes that someone may understand what she had wanted without first taking offense for her mere existence within the Federation. And even if she did speak and act perfectly to their standards, it would not stop the mumbled complaints, the echoed rumors, nor tireless grievances against her.
It would have been a pitiful existence if she still held onto past values, to go from a high position with a hopeful future to be then reduced to a mere healer, whether in foreign space or not.
“Doctor?”
Taken out of her thoughts, Dr. S’tratch turned to the Vorta nurse. Striped tail half-raised, Yindev provided a lopsided, toothy smile when he came in.
“Rez is stable.”
“Burns?” She asked. Ignoring Sovehl’s wild glare, she continued to use the regenerator.
“Yes, but it’s weird, isn’t it?” Yindev scrunched his face.
She snorted softly in acknowledgement.
“Sovehl, what caused these burns?” Yindev tilted his head at him, tail twitching. “Was there a fire down there?”
“Worse, phaser fire. It came out of nowhere. It’s some miracle that none of us are in worse condition.”
Pulling the dermal regenerator away briefly in surprise, her eyes widened slightly. “No one said that.”
“And you said that he wasn’t here,” Sovehl retorted, as if her comment was a personal attack on him.
“But I am…?” Yindev raised his brow and looked to her in his confusion.
A pause. “...You misheard,” Dr. S’tratch eventually answered Sovehl.
When she finished up on the burns, she assisted him to his feet. She was surprised the Captain had not come to check-in with the injured away team, but considering the mission had been active since the late hours of the day before and it was now heading onto the twenty-second hour of the current day, she supposed it was inevitable for a mistake like this to happen, even if a gruesome one.
…Would I have done that?
“Better?”
Sovehl scowled at her. “I am just as well as I was before,” he answered.
“Good.” She then pointed to the door. “Now go.” Saying that was faster than trying to politely explain to him that she needed to check on other patients.
He looked at her as if she had physically threatened him. “I don’t listen to you.”
“And I don’t listen to skinless, sharp-toothed krets, but here we are,” Dr. S’tratch snapped, baring her fangs at him. She had had it with his nonsense. Why wasn’t he just leaving?
“Hey, hey!” Yindev quickly tried to break it up, weaseling himself in between them. However, his actions were meaningless when she simply–and gently–pushed him aside anyway, shoving the dermal regenerator into his hands in the process.
“I am First Officer of this ship, and damn it, I deserve some amount of respect!”
“You act like a youngling. How am I supposed to respect what you would call a ‘child’ as higher authority?”
“I’m older than you are! I’ve seen war first-hand!” He was practically in her face by this point.
“How do you know my age? I could easily be a century older than you, and you could never tell with your dulled mammalian eyes.” She poked his balding head tauntingly. “And what does any war have to do with this?”
“It has—”
“Doctor, Commander, I don’t mean to trouble you, but I’m afraid the entire Sickbay can hear you.”
Dr. S’tratch twisted her head to the other nurse, a non-commissioned Ilaryix officer by the name of Dulom. She could only describe their species as cetaceans dappled with rock-like formations and having what Humans would call “draconic features.”
“Am I interrupting something?” Dulom asked innocently. They pulled a charming smile, revealing small, delphine teeth.
“No, of course not—” Sovehl tried before being interrupted.
“Dulom, remove Sovehl.”
They blinked at Dr. S’tratch, surprised, yet the smile never faltered. “As an Ilaryix, I may be yellow, but I’m afraid I’m not part of security…”
Her upper lip twitched. “Nearly half of the active medical staff is in here. Right now. He is prohibiting further function of Sickbay, and he will not leave. Make him leave.”
Glances were exchanged amongst Dulom, Sovehl, and Yindev, looks that Dr. S’tratch didn’t have time to meticulously pick apart and decipher.
Scowling, she sharply took back the dermal regenerator from Yindev and headed to the others. Whatever was to transpire after her leaving did not matter to her. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that Sovehl was gone and that she needed to attend to other patients before something else abruptly came about to pick at her scales.
Whatever they think… it is meaningless.
…
By 0021 hours, all patients had been treated and sent back to their quarters for the night, asides for the Aurelian, Swoom. Noted by Yindev, he had been acting a bit slower and almost seemed to be developing some sort of fever. He was by no means awful, but it was enough that Dr. S’tratch wanted him to stay overnight for observation.
Dr. S’tratch and Dulom had clocked out already, leaving only for a few scattered officers left in the Sickbay, Yindev being among those still present. He didn’t mind it, but he would be a complete liar if he didn’t admit he was lonely without familiar company. It’s not that those here were entirely strangers to him, but they were only acquaintances. It would be an entirely different story if, say, Fax or Daly were there–not that either of them were in the science division. And I don’t think I would want them to be here under those circumstances…
His tail curled uncomfortably at the thought of either of them having any real need to be here.
Mostly everyone had something they should be doing—whether it be creating reports, logging what they had in supply, or so forth—, and, sure, Yindev probably should be assisting in some capacity, but his mind kept drawing to a blank.
“Headed somewhere, Nurse Yindev?”
Pausing from his pacing after nearly ramming into them, he looked up to the Vulcan science officer–the name of which he could not recall–and pulled a smile. “Uh, yeah, I’m getting… something…” He trailed off, eyes turning to anywhere but them.
They quirked a brow. “I believe you were supposed to be monitoring Lt. Asweek-Oom.”
“Asweek-Oom?”
“...Nicknamed Swoom.”
“I–I was going to do that.”
“I thought you were ‘getting something.’”
“A… tricorder…?”
They narrowed their eyes at him yet pushed no further, gave a quiet yet firm “Very well,” and continued on with their own matters.
Although it was actually fortunate to run into the Vulcan and to find out where he was supposed to be, Yindev quickly scurried off before anyone else noticed he was not at the right place. If it happened once, it was a simple mistake. Anyone could have done that. Anymore than once, and it would be a complete embarrassment on his part.
The nurse that doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be…! He thought with a small scoff. They could make a comedy about that, probably.
When he came in, Yindev found Swoom asleep, unsurprisingly. His wings awkwardly flopped onto the ground, unable to fit upon the biobed, and his russet-colored feathers were ruffled uncomfortably.
Swoom was a bit older and, despite being the chief science officer, renowned for his work in forensics. He was a bit wordy—and often to the point where Yindev couldn’t make heads or tails of it—, but he was at least nice to be around. It was better than being stuck with someone who much rather make a snappy and clever remark.
Quietly, he took out his tricorder to scan the Aurelian to check for any changes.
Vitals seem mostly okay… but he’s still running a fever of 44°C… That wasn’t new, but he wondered if he needed another round of medication… Was it too early to do so? He furrowed his brows at him, tail twitching in uncertainty.
“Doctor, is—” A familiar voice from behind started before cutting herself off. “Oh, Yindev… is Dr. S’tratch still here?”
Yindev nearly whirled around to turn to the only Maurian aboard. “No, sorry, Captain,” he said quickly. “She left just earlier.”
Captain Moak’s pointed ears drooped just slightly. “...Sael,” she muttered distantly.
He blinked. “Uhm, repeat that?”
“Ah, sorry, Yindev.” She rubbed her forehead, hand nearly wrapping around one of the thrice spikes of her head. “I meant that I understand.” She paused, gathering herself. “I had gotten… sidetracked while working on my log, and then Sovehl had alerted me of what happened, so I rushed over here without alerting anyone I was coming.”
“It’s alright!” Yindev assured her, turning around to prepare the hypospray. “A fight must’ve broken out or something while the away team was down there because they were covered in burns from… heat beams? I don’t know. It was weird. Swoom’s also sick.”
“He’s sick?” Captain Moak looked at Swoom with concern, craning her neck in his direction while still keeping a safe distance away. “What does he have?”
He shrugged unhelpfully while loading the medicine. “I’ve got no clue. He may have already been—”
Swoom suddenly coughed, and, quickly, Yindev turned to see if he had awoken from their chatter. Thankfully, he hadn’t, but there still lingered some amount of guilt in him for avoiding causing such noise. To disturb a patient—To disturb anyone in their sleep was something he hated doing, even if only on accident.
There’s a command… What’s the command? He racked his brain in silence before hastily ordering the computer upon remembering, “Computer, play white noise, volume low.” In an instant, a soft hum reigned down from above. He then looked to the Captain and whispered, “We should talk outside. I don’t want to awaken him.”
When he received confirmation, Yindev silently approached Swoom and administered the hypospray to him. His feathers shifted barely so as to smooth themselves out. Although it wasn’t much, he already looked a little bit better than before.
“Sorry, Captain.” Clasping his hands together, he provided an apologetic expression to her when he stepped back outside. “As I was saying, I don’t really know what happened to him. Dr. S’tratch wants to run a few tests on him in the morning, I think, just to make sure it’s nothing to do with whatever happened on Maurai VI.” He paused, thinking, then added, “I think I remember her mentioning it may be something to do with age.”
A beat passed before, searching for clarification, he asked, “Why exactly were they down there again…?”
“They were supposed to be scouting the area out since we had located an unidentified building of some kind on the planet’s surface with sentient lifeforms in it, and this has been our biggest lead for why so many people and ships have gone missing in this sector. Strange interference, odd ships coming and leaving…” Captain Moak trailed off in thought, scratching her jaw.
“Oh, Fax was talking about the interference. Something, something, ‘hyper-telepath.’ He can hardly run comms normally anymore because of it, if I remember right.”
She nodded with a sigh. “Thank Iyra that it hasn’t affected our combadges. Had it been so, and we may have to fight fire with fire,” she joked with a small laugh, elbowing him lightly. “Wouldn’t want to wake up to hearing strange voices in the middle of the night, now, would we?”
Yindev snickered softly with her, but he couldn’t help but find the idea discomforting the more he considered it.
“In all seriousness, however, if it does get to that point, it’s all the more reason to find the heart of this all. People who wholeheartedly believe that they can get away with destroying the lives of others ought to be brought to justice. They can’t just do whatever it is they want. There’s rules for a reason. You can’t place yourself over another simply because you think you deserve that sort of power. We all saw how that worked out for Delfor.”
He lost his smile and squinted at her in confusion. “...Delfor?”
Ears perking, Captain Moak faced him with a surprised expression that soon turned into realization and recognition. “Right, you… you don’t know about that. Ah, it’s part of an old Maurian story. It’s best saved for another day.” She patted his shoulder reassuringly. The captain then paused and gave him a grateful smile. “I have to get moving now, I do believe. Thank you for updating me, however, Yindev.”
“Of course, Captain.” He returned the smile and watched as she left Sickbay. His tail twitched, staring at the door long after she was gone.
…At least the captain knows what she’s doing.
…
In the early hours, the Sickbay hummed with quiet activity. Doctors and nurses left work, with their replacements slowly pouring in and assuming their places. The few, scattered patients were leisurely awaking from their slumber. Little was happening at such a time, but it was nothing short of unusual.
Dulom enjoyed the day shift. Although the nights were, without fail, calmer, they held nothing in opposition to the gradual increase in work. There was more use to them in doing something rather than busying themself with reports or logs.
Carrying a platter of food, they entered the Aurelian’s designated room. Asweek-Oom was awake by now, sitting up and fiddling with his talons, but he gave a friendly smile at Dulom’s entrance.
“Dulom! A pleasant face for sore eyes. It is always a wonder to see you. Never in all my years in service across various starships would I have dreamt to see an Ilaryix in Starfleet with my own two eyes,” Asweek-Oom rasped. “To defy one’s own traditions is a hardship that few could ever carry out to its fullest.”
Always the same song.
“And never would I have thought to see an Aurelian in Starfleet,” they returned. “Your people are known for their knowledge in the sciences and history, and your mind alone is vast in its infinitely growing library of understanding for newfound theories and ideas. There couldn’t be a better replacement for you if Starfleet tried.
“Dr. S’tratch should be visiting shortly with the results,” Dulom then announced. They sat the platter upon his lap, which contained the most simple and basic of necessities. They paused, threw a glance at the door, and then added in a lower voice, “I hear it’s nothing to be worried of, typical affairs of time, but you heard none of that from me.” “
‘Typical affairs of time?’” Asweek-Oom echoed with a small laugh as he began to pick at his food. “Why, Dulom, I do believe time’s been following all of us quite awhile now, many, if not all of us before we were ever born. We’re simply playthings at its disposal. Toys, figures. This is nothing new to me, as it should be nothing new to anyone.”
“Oh, without a doubt—” Dulom would’ve said something pithy and useful had the door not opened in decisive interruption. They expected the towering figure of the Gorn doctor, yet instead were greeted by the short stature of one measly alien that, god forbid, ever followed any single rule laid out to him.
Ah, now the fun can begin.
“Hur’Faw, you and I both know you can’t be in here. A poor little whatever-you-are like you will just end up getting sick, and I highly doubt Dr. S’tratch would appreciate that in her Sickbay. She may as well have my head!” Grabbing their long ears and pulling them upward with their free hand, Dulom half-jokingly ran a claw across their neck in emphasis.
“Poor little—! Skies, my people have a name, you know!” Hur’Faw snapped quickly in frustration, his hair bristling like some wildly disturbed Terran cat.
Taking a few steps in his direction, they folded their tridactyl hands together. “A name! And what would that be?” Dulom asked innocently while smiling sweetly. Hur’Faw opened his mouth to speak, only to quickly go silent and glare at them. Their grin grew in response. “Oh, come on, Hur’Faw. You and I both know this is all a ruse, an act.”
“An… act?—An act?” Tensing up, he let out a quiet hiss while simultaneously speaking. “You can’t just walk up to me, and tell me that my entire life is a lie.”
“On the contrary, I do believe you are the one that walked in here,” they answered.
“Dulom, Hur’Faw!” Asweek-Oom called out, interrupting the squabble. “With much due respect, I would rather there be no such in-fighting.”
Dulom whirled around, and their tail nearly knocked Hur’Faw to the ground had he been any closer to the Ilaryix. “Chief, I really do commend you on your love of peace and comradery. It is a gift that so few of us enjoy.” They cast a glance at Hur’Faw.
He gritted his teeth, holding back whatever vile thing he could come up with on such short notice. “I think we all get along fine.”
“Last I heard, Dr. S’tratch gave direct orders that you aren’t supposed to be here,” Dulom commented in Hur’Faw’s direction.
“Oh, let the boy remain,” Asweek-Oom objected, waving a dismissive talon. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. So, he comes unannounced? There’s worse things a person could do.”
Hardly a boy. Clearly, a full-grown whatever-he-is. Although still smiling, Dulom exhaled in disapproval but let Asweek-Oom’s words hang in the air for the time being. There were plenty of things wrong with his statement, but considering they rather remain in the Aurelian’s good graces and how he easily outranked both them and Hur’Faw combined, it would be pointless to argue, as much as it perturbed them.
Hur’Faw cast a smug look in Dulom’s direction before approaching Asweek-Oom. Whatever conversation that followed fell upon deaf ears, for Dulom left them to their own devices. There was no need for them to listen in on whatever it was an elderly man and an ensign would talk about anyway. If anything, there were better matters that needed tending to.
Although their mind tried to focus upon the work that needed to be done, their thoughts could not help but gravitate toward Hur’Faw and Asweek-Oom. It was no secret that Hur’Faw was highly protective of him, but it was to an irrational degree. It wasn’t like it was built up either. It was as if the second he had laid eyes on Asweek-Oom, it had become his number one concern. It only made Dulom question him more.
Disturbing their thoughts while walking through the Sickbay, they found Dr. S’tratch on her way, carrying a PADD. “Ah, doctor, good morning,” Dulom greeted, pausing to speak. “I assume all went well with Asweek-Oom’s testing?”
“Aurelian respiratory syncytial virus,” she answered without pause. “Happens with age.”
“Well, that goes unsaid,” they replied, “but, doctor, before you head in—”
She stopped in her tracks and turned her face toward them.
“There happens to be a certain ensign in there with him. I told him already that he can’t be there, but we both know that he’s a stubborn little thing. It would be easier to tell a drunken Klingon to leave than to get Hur’Faw to do the same.”
Dr. S’tratch clenched her jaw. “He is no drunken Klingon.”
“As I am aware…”
She snorted, irritated, and Dulom watched as she made her way to the Aurelian’s room. Out of plain and simple curiosity, they followed at a distance and only stopped after she entered. They were, admittedly, eager to see what would become of Hur’Faw.
Albeit muffled through the door, they could hear the conversation that followed. “You know you cannot be here, Hur’Faw.”
“Can’t I? He’s not sick…”
“Even if he wasn’t, you are not needed for the medical diagnosis.”
“Doc, let him stay. He’s innocent in all of this,” Asweek-Oom insisted. “In the grand scheme of things, this won’t matter tomorrow.”
“It would be detrimental for his health if he were to remain,” Dr. S’tratch retorted. “Any longer, and he may contract the virus. Hur’Faw, leave now.”
There was some bitter grumbling from Hur’Faw at that before the door opened, revealing the frustrated alien. They took a step back or two, giving him the appropriate amount of space.
“Ah, so you listen to the doctor, and not me?” Dulom taunted the second the door shut.
They were met with a glare as he stormed out of the Sickbay, leaving the Ilaryix to fend for themself.