Doctor Lancelot

“Thus in silence in dreams’ projections, Returning, resuming, I thread my way through the hospitals, The hurt and wounded I pacify with soothing hand, I sit by the restless all the dark night, some are so young, Some suffer so much, I recall the experience sweet and sad. ” ~ "The Wound Dresser," Walt Whitman Lancelot looked around the Agincourt sickbay. Bodies. Bodies, bodies everywhere. And all of them alien. All of them injured, hurting or dying. Nothing about this was new or surprising. He’d seen bodies before. Wounded, dying bodies of young men and women, taken in the prime of their lives. He’d healed the disruptor wound, the plasma burn. Paintings did not justice to the mightiest armies of the galaxy and the pains they inflicted upon each other. Back in the sickbay, he tended to a poor young Romulan soldier, quite glazed over in the eyes, yet life struggling deep within the heart. Death would come quickly for him, merciful death. He saw in the young soldier much of the young he’d tended to in days long since past. The soldier shot deep in the neck. The young man with the missing leg. Amputated, unwhole, his eyes were closed, his head on the soft white pillow, he dared not look upon the stump. He dressed a wound in the side, a deep, deep wound. The nurse stood behind him, holding the tray. The burns, the damage went deep beneath the skin. The boy looked into his eyes, he looked for sympathy—he barely knew him. Yet he stood firm, despite the pangs in his heart. Each one sharp and unavoidable. But yet, he could not refuse this moment to die for any of them, even if it would save them. On, on he went. Across the line of cots and beds, not one he missed. Green blood. Pink blood. Their priceless blood spilling uselessly. These and more he dressed with an ever impassive hand, but deep inside him, a fire grew. His own pain dulled by the pain around him. The dark heart in his leg, defused by the warmth in his chest.

Doctor Lancelot “Lance” Delphi made his way to the nearest lift. He’d just checked into medical, finding only a handful of staff there, not that this surprised him considering they were on leave at the moment. He sighed slightly as he hobbled his way to the lift. He’d forgotten how much he hated long walks. You’d never see “Enjoys long walks on the beach,” on any personal ad of his. Hell he could barely walk on the beach with out falling, let alone stand being on his leg that long. As much as he’d hated to admit it to the tribunal that had decided his career fate, he really wasn’t sure if he could swing active duty. But he reminded himself that most of the time in sickbay he wouldn’t be walking what had seemed like a marathon. The pneumatics on the door hissed as he leaned back against the wall of the lift, shifting his weight to his good leg and shifting the medium size duffle to the other shoulder. Really, he’d brought most of this on himself. If he wasn’t so stubborn, there wouldn’t be any pain. He wouldn’t have a limp, and he would have been aboard the San Diego. Of course, he would have also be aboard the San Deigo when it exploded above ch’Rihan, so perhaps a little twinge – okay so some pain, was worth being alive. The lift finally came to halt, and the doors hissed open. He took the well polished silver cane in one hand and pressed forward. The patina of the cane was in sharp dichotomy to the rest of his attire. His uniform was neither neatly pressed nor creased. His hair lay jumbled in several directions; though the deepness of his dark blue eyes seemed to soften the harshness of his stubbled beard. As he navigated his way to his quarters, he drew more than a few looks from the random crewmembers coming and going from their leave. You’d think they’d never seen a cripple before, and then he remembered…most of them hadn’t. It was a strange feeling, being looked at just for being yourself. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time, and he wondered if going back on active duty had been a mistake. But then he sometimes wondered if not having his leg hacked off was a mistake, and he’d saw how that turned out. Finally rounding a corner, he came to quarters marked “Delphi, Lancelot. Ensign, Doctor.” “My sum existence,” he smirked to himself as he entered the smallish quarters. He almost immediately noted that his room did in fact have a window, something he wasn’t expecting when he’d been given quarters a mid-ship. Though, he thought the view lacked in it’s appeal—the grey hull of the saucer section. “Oh yes,” he said sarcastically in a slightly high-pitched voice. “Your room has windows Ensign. However, they’ll only be of use to you if you just happen to be sick during a MVAM situation, in which case the only view you’re likely to see is that of a directed energy weapon slamming against the hull. Enjoy!” Rolling his eyes, he threw his bag as far as he could, a few feet, and plopped himself on the nearest, and only, couch. His leg hurt, and he needed to rest. Tomorrow would be a busy day for the newest doctor of the Agincourt.

STARFLEET DATABASE Name: Lancelot “Lance” Delphi Age: 35 (Born 2362) Sex: Male POB: Alpha Centauri Ht: 5’10” Wt: 180 lbs Race: Human Rank: Ensign, USS Agincourt Specialization: Diagnostic Medicine Father: Arthur Delphi, Historian, Professor, Alpha Centauri University Mother: Sasha Delphi, Assistant Administrator, Alpha Centauri University Siblings: Gawain Delphi, Restaurant Owner, Deep Space Eight Guinevere Delphi-Sanisi, Junior Researcher, Yakin Institute Scars: Medium-sized lesion, right leg [see below] Past History: Born the middle of three children to prominent historian and a mid-level university administrator, Lancelot, or Lance as he is more commonly known, lived a relatively benign childhood on the core Federation world of Alpha Centauri. When he turned 18, he applied for entrance into Alpha Centauri University’s pre-Medical program and was accepted. From a young age, he had always enjoyed medicine and healing. Diseases were anomalies in the human condition, and finding out what was wrong with them was the great puzzle. He did well in his undergraduate studies, graduating with degrees in organic chemistry and xenobiology, with a secondary emphasis in toxicology. Upon graduation, he was accepted into the Alpha Centauri University School of Medicine where he specialized in diagnostic medicine. After completing his doctorial work there, he continued his education at Starfleet Medical, where he earned his commission. Upon graduation from Starfleet Medical, he was placed on active duty aboard the USS San Diego, Excelsior-class, patrolling the Tholian Boarder. During an away mission while a member of the USS San Diego was injured during a first contact mission gone awry. He was shot by an unknown alien weapon in the leg. Though not fatal the wound caused severe complications and could not be completely healed using conventional means, leading to muscle death in his leg. While a surgery to remove the leg could give him back full mobility, Lance refused the surgery and opted for a less invasive procedure that would remove the damaged tissue but would require him to walk with a limp and use a cane, as well as undergo monthly sessions to remove any new necrotic tissue around the wound. After the surgery, he spent several months in recovery at a Starfleet facility where his elder brother owned a restaurant. However, once he’d recovered, ‘Fleet balked at reassigning him to active duty with his physical limitations, and instead assigned him to a teaching hospital near the Romulan boarder. When the Federation entered the Romulan Civil War, the Hospital was transformed from a teaching hospital to Battlefield Hospital for the wounded off the front line. Once the war had ended, and the hospital returned to its former role, Lance remained and continued to teach, though he wished to return to active duty. Following a lengthy appeals process, Lance was finally granted permission to return to active duty by Starfleet Command, provisionally, and was assigned to the USS Agincourt Service Record: -Graduated Alpha Centauri University, Bachelors in Organic Chemistry and Xenobiolgy (2384) -Graduated ACU SoM (2386) -Graduate Starfleet Medical (2387) -Transferred to USS San Diego (2387) -Transferred to Gania VI Medical Hospital (2389) -Transferred to USS Agincourt (2397)