Vilanne

No one knew what got into Vilanne, but Dr Chalice was speaking rather good Romulan phrases. Occasionally she would bark at the medical assistants, give an insult when it was deemed necessary, and talked as if she was honoring a Romulan house. She was bothered though… why would the command staff force the language lessons down the whole ships throat if they were only going to drop off the anti-virus serum and hi-tail it out of there? Clearly, someone knew something they weren't telling her rank. As she stood on the bridge… the Oira, she listened carefully to the conversations to get a hint of what was coming. The knots in her stomach were growing. Vilanne wasn't one to get excited with anticipation or even anxious with nerves, but this mission was certainly doing something to her. One would have wondered, in her condition, about llhrei'sian. If they were to interact with the Romulans in some way, what was her name? Where was she born? What secondary and tertiary schools, was she military, or a doctor? She wondered if she, ... or anyone else, was ready for this mission.

Meritorious Achievement Award <<Hearty thanks to all those who participated with their own logs, responses, and permissions! Included are Lieutenant JG T'Prise,Commander Precip, Commander Mele, Lieutenant Chalice, Ensign Silviu, Commander Farrington and Nurse Nancy. I tried to be as accurate as possible with the Romulan references, however, even various web sites contradict numbers. >> As T'Prise watched over Vilanne's shoulder, and Vilanne over Mele's, the probes were placed up to RomRat's formed body. Though many errors were encountered during its construction, mainly having to do with reproductive organs, the fur-less body of RomRat was eerie to behold. Its body was covered with a nearly translucent skin, pigmented slightly with a pink hue, but you could still make out the organs beneath. It was amazing to look at; however, if this object had any brain function, the medical staff would have been very surprised. Chief Mele sent a mild wave of energy into RomRat, while everyone looked on in hopes of creating… creating a living thing. What a remarkable feat this certainly would be, having been through all of the error messages that were encountered during its inception. The tiny thing looked so helpless, and unmoving. The heart beat… once. They all stood around watching, waiting; no one was breathing. The overhead monitor was attached to the monitoring arm that was over RomRat – practically covering it. There was no synaptic response, the neurons weren't changing color with any activity, and it was unconceivable that anything was going on inside this body. Vilanne adjusted a few things on the console and Kyle hit it again. One more beat, then nothing. "Ventilator," Mele ordered. Cesar had produ ced additional connectors for this small rodent, just in such a situation. Luckily, this century didn't provide for economic consideration when it came to providing everything possible to keep a life alive, such as it did in the 21st century. The medical community was known to 'unplug' anyone that was a financial drain on their way of life when the economy was so far gone that only a few could afford more than a couple days in a medical facility. The Manticore staff put their medical and scientific minds together doing everything possible to bring this rodent to life. Hypospray injections were being shot into this little body, more equipment being used to try and get it functioning on its own. They had even manipulated the functional magnetic resonance 3D imaging machine to do readings for this experiment, which gave neuroscience a way to trace blood flow associated with neuronal activity. These scanning methods enabled researchers to see how different regions of the brain activate as a person thinks or acts. The Manticore staff hoped that the modifications enacted would also help them verify that RomRat's organs were working as defined b y the regenerator. It was of no use. The body of RomRat had the best and most expensive resuscitation efforts being applied but it wasn't doing anything on its own. After a brief pow-wow of all the minds joined in the effort, determined that the best they could do would be to keep its organs alive while they tested the anti-virus serum. The first people started streaming in after they received their orders to undergo Romulan transformation. Shortly thereafter, the ships computer started chiming in with a basic training program to get the staff going on the mission to emulate speech patterns of the Romulans they were about to encounter. "ie – Yes," there was a pause, then, "na – No." Since T'Prise was already in sickbay, Chief Mele had Dr Chalice start surgical procedures on her first. She already had the pointed ears, though just as with typical Vulcan characteristics, she was slightly taller and slimmer than the average Romulan. Vilanne finished her initial scans, then stopped to consult with the patient. "These aren't going to be permanent." Vilanne held up the replicated ridge enhancements for her brow. "Of course, you won't need a set of ears, since yours are already finely shaped and ready for this mission. I may, however, need to alter your hairline slightly so that it all fits under these neat wigs we have." She held up the wig piece and twirled it around on the tip of her index finger while the hair spun out in a perfect radius. T'Prise, in the typical Vulcan fashion, lifted a quizzical eyebrow at the hair piece for a moment before deigning to nod regally, allowing Vil to do her job. "io – One," with a pause between each integer, "re Two; thi – Three; sev – Four; ko – Five." The overhead repetition was rather annoying, but it was required due to the circumstances in which everyone had to be quickly trained or re-trained in the basics of their language. "kil – Six; yo – seven; yil – eight, pie – nine, dev – ten." "Are any of these implants known to have side effects, or aggravate preexisting conditions?" T'Prise asked, in a solemn and detached voice. "I am concerned that they may induce a headache." "ie," Vil response wasn't directed to T'Prise, she was practicing for the mission responses. She continued, "Hann'yyo, that's Thank you, for your help. I have to be honest, I don't know whether or not there will be problems with headaches. I won't be going through the sphenoid,ethmoid or any part of the parietalbones, but I am going to attach to them through regenerated fascia to the frontal. I'm pretty confident that it shouldn't aggravate any conditions we've been treating you for." Both women were silent for a moment, both unwilling to engage in yet another debate, the gravity of the situation creating a solemn atmosphere in sickbay. Neither wishing to address what might be causing the headaches in the first place. "Lloannen'galae – Combined phrase of an aggressive nature; a term for any Federation vessel, whether civilian ship, Starfleet or an armed aggression. Caution must be taken immediately if one is identified as such." Vilanne grunted to that comment and mumbled, "Duh!" "I meant no offense, nor to imply that you are at all unethical in your medical practice doctor," T'Prise offered after another silent beat, her voice steady, but her betraying her inability to understand the need human need for reassurance. "I was merely curious as to the medical ethics regarding experimentation on live subjects, or the creation of live subjects. While I understand the need for such practices in medical development, the current technological advances of the Federation have made computer and holographic simulations a much more viable option. That is also not to say that I have any misgivings regarding your skill as a medical professional, but my unfamiliarity with cosmetic medical procedures invites questions." Vil looked T'Prise over, took in her demeanor and tried to see past the Vulcan's logic and began to formulate an answer to end all of these rationale theories she was reciting. She chose not to go back to the volleyed conversation, in fear that Mele would come over her shoulder and "end" it yet again. "It's only a minimally invasive topical cranial extensor enhancements. I'm not going to go into your brain, nor will I be removing an eye or anything. You've got to trust me.... just as much as RomRat did when we injected him. His brain, unlike yours, wasn't alive. We had to keep him functioning; he was not able to do any of that for himself, therefore not being a 'living' creature, simply a piece of test equipment." She felt sneaky having slipped the comment in to clear the air on their prior volley. "Lloan'na - Federation Staff, or civilians associated with the Federation." They stared at each other for a beat, each assessing the other. A flicker of assent came into T'Prise's eyes and she lay back on the biobed, indicating that the doctor could begin the procedure. Vilanne placed the brow ridge enhancements on her forehead before beginning, adjusted them a few times to get them in just the right spot. T'Prise was put under a very mild sedation, though she was alert, any indication of pain was being removed by the ongoing hypo. She worked quickly, inserting the ridge up through the small laser slice inside the nose, and pushed it up under the skin until it reached the optimum spot around the brow area. She attached them by pressing them against the bone, which released the fascia's adhesive. Vil started counting while waiting the appropriate seconds, "... three, four." "yil - eight, pie - nine," the overhead chimed in again. "Ten, eleven... what, wait, where was I?" She released her hand from the ridge and thought to herself, 'did I wait long enough?' She stopped the sedative from flowing into T'Prise and watched as she became fully alert again. "We are all set, just don't play with the ridges for a dieRha, an dierHa, a Dierha," she paused, then just blurted it in common federation, "an hour, for goodness sake." She extended a hand to help T'Prise off the biobed, making sure she looked steady. "Thank you doctor," T'Prise intoned politely, quickly gaining her equilibrium. She paused for a second, as if to say something else, but instead nodded again and moved off in search of Ensign Macen. "Next!" The lines were building as orders were being distributed among the crew. "rekkhai – Sir." Vilanne was only conscious of some of the overhead training program. She thought to herself, "rekkhai, that'll be a word we ll need to use somewhere, remember that one, rekkhai." You could hear the overhead in sickbay repeating a general round of words and phrases for the crew. "Hann'yyo rhissiuy - Thank you very much", "hteij'rhae - activate transporter", "ahrrein'firh - Observe caution", "vaed'rae - Attention!" Precip winced. It was there again. Despite all the treatments something just wasn't right. He should have been better by now. The medications... the hydration therapy.. Nurse Nancy was faithfully caring for the sick; thankfully most of the sick no longer were. She was still such at trooper ushering in the steady stream of crew to the various surgical locations so that the doctors didn't have to wait for a patient prep. She continued her double shifts waddling around sickbay, taking care to stay out of Vilanne's way, since the 'incident' hadn't been addressed… yet. Precip turned over to the bucket Nancy had been faithfully replacing. She'd been doing it for over 48 hours straight. Now another one needed swapping out. Mitar spat out the blood that continued to line his mouth. The nurse took the bucket and replaced it with a clean one automatically. She also dumped and rinsed out the water cup, placing fresh refreshment in its place. She was grateful that there were only a few left that were poisoned, though she didn't like the way some of the patients 'went away.' "au – you, typically used as the first syllable," The overhead recording was making announcements, instead of brief word bits. The crew would have turned it down had they not had most of the command staff in there participating in the alterations. Mitar heard the translation program above, "Blast. ! He was needed elsewhere than a biobed....this mission...the mission required his presence... but..." Precip curled into a fetal position with a sudden TEAR of pain in his abdomen. It didn't go away this time... "Moving on to Rihan also known as Rihannsu phrases; hteij'rhae - activate transporter." "My.. gosh," Precip said through gritted teeth. He saw Nurse Nancy approach. "Something's wrong," he barely got that out as he grabbed his abdomen as if he had been shot by a phaser. His face was grimacing in pain. Nancy knew that look and understood his pain, well at least she'd been trained well enough to understand what to do when someone was in this much pain. There was a hypospray already ordered for this patient. She picked it up and was just about to inject him when he blurted out, "Nurse.... Nurse Nancy? I ...need....a .. Doctor.. fast! This is not routine....Please!" Nancy heard him clearly, even in his painful digression. Pressing the hypo against his neck, she injected him with enough medicine to take the edge off, but not enough for him to be knocked out because he couldn't be lethargic when trying to explain this symptom to the doctors. "llilla'hu - adequate, just enough," the overhead was relentless. Precip tried to focus on the Romulan lessons being broadcasted in the bay....anything to keep his focus off whatever inside him was seriously wrong. She approached Chief Mele, who waved her away while his hands were overly full. She waddled over to Cesar, also with his hands full of prosthetics attempting to fit them on his current patient. He turned to her and politely declined, explaining how he had a waiting list behind this patient. It took a brave woman to approach Dr Chalice in the midst of what may have been the busiest day in Manticore's Sickbay that Nancy remembered since, well since prior to this mission. She waddled quietly to the opposite side of the biobed across from Dr Chalice and paused, waiting to catch her attention. "h'tah-fvienn - "Come over here." Precip was still holding his abdomen, while he was seen mouthing 'h'tah-fvienn' repeatedly. Vilanne lifted an eyebrow and looked up at Nurse Nancy's rounded frame across the biobed. "What is it, Nancy?" she grumbled in between pressing the brow arch into someone's bone. Nancy hesitated momentarily, "Its Mr. Precip. He's having severe abdominal pain, not like the previous hours, but much worse." "batlem – wounded, only in battle but not injured in some non-combat way." It wasn't right to have the computer generating terms of battlement, as if they were of endearment. Nancy bit her lip thinking about what battle Vilanne could bring on at this moment. "Don't I look just a wee bit busy here Nancy?" Vil's temper was under control, but her words were stern. Nancy felt the tension in20the air, but pressed on, "He's been medicated to the maximum of his prescribed dosage, but he's clenching his abdomen and begging for a doctor." The urgency in Nancy's voice was clear and Vilanne knew better than to bring up 'the incident' during such a busy time. "I'll be right over there," as she used the laser to close the small incision up this patient's nose. She approached Precip, tricorder in hand. She was already scanning him before she was next to the biobed. Clearly he was in pain as she tried to remove his hand from being pursed into his abdomen. "Just relax, re lease this hand, let me poke around and find the problem so I can fix it." "Please do," as he winced again. "If that Lt James managed to convince the Captain to go on with his plans, he'll need his command staff," he paused again, made an undecipherable sound, "aaghhh," then moved his arm and clenched the side of the biobed to allow the doctor access, the best he could through gritted teeth. "I don't believe you'll be going on this mission Mr. Precip. There is internal bleed that we are going to have to close. You may have broken blood vessels which may have split further each time you retch. I may have to put a tube down your throat to keep you bile free, at least until we make you more comfortable so your body can start healing." "diserhn – assistant, clearly one that was under one's foot." A couple folks chuckled to that one, knowing how the Romulans were known as the dire threat and great enemy towards the Federation but also how they get promoted. He growled at her while she was poking around his abdomen, "This mission is more fouled up than I am if we expect to learn Romulan in a few hours," hearing another phrase. "I must go....my team needs me." His torso started to rise, until he winced again, followed by a Bolian obscenity which oddly sounded Romulan. He relaxed immediately, "I am not going anywhere." Vilanne's hand was on his shoulder, as if she could actually hold him down. Mitar finally conceded, placing his hand on his head. "My team....Tell Mcfly to work with Faldek, and to take orders from yourselves… the Medical Staff. This mission is medical, so no brute force necessary....you'll (medical) be in charge." With that, Precip lowered his eyelids and gave in to what his body wanted to do; shut down. Vilanne considered how much of the sedative he would need after all this. She nearly knocked him out then placed the tube down his throat, began the suction regime, then could only wait. She pushed the biobed cover over his chest, adjusted its console for a few settings and said a little prayer for his insides. The command staff stayed back while the rest of the crew was being "treated" with the Romulan prosthetics. Vilanne felt them eyeing all the work as the patients got up off the table. "vah-udt - Who are you?" The overhead continued to chime in. The unintelligible words were not familiar to most folks, though there were a couple patients who were attempting to correct the computer's pronunciations or definitions. "ch'Havranha - singular Native of Remus, or ch'Havrannsu - plural Natives of Remus." Vilanne looked up from her patient as she finished, a young ensign who was already playing with his ears, but mentioned, "Now that one will help us, but some of these others are... weird." She was referring to the computer'scontinual barking on the overhead. "Wait, wait, don't pull on them for 2 hours. They have to settle in." Vilanne chased his hands away from his new toy. "Don't do that on the mission, it'll be a dead give away." She watched the kid leave her biobed just as the next patient walked up. "Well Commander, it'll be my pleasure. What'll it be today?" Vilanne tried to make light of the fact that she'd been on her feet for nearly 48 hours at this point... well, at least on duty while most of it was sitting at the table, monitoring RomRat being built. "We aren't doing anything more than facial features, being that we can cloth everyone and cover the rest. We aren't planning on being scanned for such a quick mission, unless you want something more? There are forehead ridges that extend the brow; some folks have a small nasal implant that adjusts their facial structure." She picked up a couple ear implants, and held them to the side of her head, "And of course, the ears. They are the hot item today." For the most par t, Commander Farrington was still in a meeting. 'Oh, can't forget the bonus, you get a special wig - customary Beatles hair cut of course. I think they can endure a small wind storm too." Vilanne spun the wig around on her finger just as she was getting down to work. She may have been on Vilanne's biobed waiting her procedure, but she was only discussing the mission with the senior staff that were either around her also getting themselves 'done' or the couple that were standing next to the biobed watching every move. Commander Farrington gave Dr Chalice a look that would have bore a hole through bar of latinum. Dr Chalice shut her mouth and began working without ano ther word. She was having too much fun doing all of these alterations on everyone, and with all the people buzzing around sickbay, she was elated. However, she fixed her composure to be in medical mode and finished Jami in no time. The alterations were going faster and faster. She'd been taught by the best on the Manticore. She helped Jami off the biobed and looked around for her next patient. Kyle was motioning to Vilanne to come over to his biobed. Vilanne had completely forgotten that they were also to get these enhancements. Vilanne always liked watching Chief Mele's steady hands in the surgical suite, but this was different. He had her face in his hands – literally. She wasn't vain, and certainly didn't mind going under the laser for this transformation. She did, however, have a screaming inside her that wanted to be off the table. For some reason, there was an angst that irked her more than she's ever felt before. Chief Mele had to mildly sedate Vilanne while he did his work. He knew the reason but didn't mention any word of it to her. "ie'yyak-hnah – Fire phasers!" Someone was overheard saying, "That's not one the Federation wants to hear up close and personal." She was pulling out her hair – in her mind of course, but the sedative was working to at least give her enough composure to lay still and get through it. He was gentle with her, and thorough. She sat up after he stopped the sedation. She pulled up a shiny tray and took a look, much like all the rest of the patients did. She stared at herself in the marred reflection, not really recognizing herself. The ears were cute, pointed and stuck out between two tufts of hair. The wig was dark, much darker than her own hair. Her brows were fascinatingly large. She chuckled at the sight that reflected towards her, and was glad that this ordeal was over… or was she. "aehallh - an illusory creature, cognate to "nightmare" in Terran tradition that "rides" the dreamer to its perdition." The computer was right; the USS Manticore's Dorsal was going to be a dreamy ride … right into perdition. "Kholairlh-a deleth mnevher - Elements protect us!"

<<Thanks to Faldek for contributing... or else I would have done surgery and probably killed him.. without permission!>> Faldek took a tumble that he couldn't control on the bridge, with a spin over the rail and dump into the Commander's chair, he did not feel the pain. The pain, however, wasn't from the fall, it was what made him lose control in the first place. Just as Vilanne re-materialized in sickbay with her patient, she asked for help getting Faldek to his feet. However, he found the energy to stand on his own and get to the biobed. She lifted her hand to steady him, though he didn't need it, and had he started to tumble again, her hand would have been like a feather trying to hold him up. "I'm glad you are awake, it'll help me better understand what happened. So, what happened?" As Faldek stands up he tells Vilanne, in a low voice, "I have something inside of me that makes me not feel any pain." She started setting up the biobed around him and began some initial scans, but stopped to say, "Inside of you? Is it biological?" Faldek looks at her, "No, it is technology, from my days in the Obsidian Order. It turns pain into pleasure by telling my brain to send endorphines where it hurts, to help me withstand torture." She considered what he was saying while running the tricorder over his body and took into consideration the horrible stories she'd overheard about what was in the Dorsal module. Clearly, this Black OPS ship had more secrets than Vilanne knew about so far. "Where is it? I'm not reading anything here." "It should be at my brain stem. It was designed not to be detected. You may need to do a very very indepth scan." Faldek points to a very small scar on the back of his light-grey neck. Dr Chalice had him turn to his side so she could inspect the back of his neck. She followed the vertical neck ridges down to the clavite ridges, then around to his spine. In Faldek's frame, there was clearly an incised area between ridge 4-5 just below the occipital area. She ran the tricorder over the area, adjusted the settings a few times while continuing to scan. “Does it do anything else? I mean, if we were able to reach it surgically and repair it or disable it until we knew how to adjust it, would it affect you any other way?" "It cannot be disabled or removed. That would kill me. It perhaps can be modified so that I can feel some pain to know if something bad is happening. I would have liked to know that I was going to pass out and take a tumble from the pain that I was not feeling." Faldek looks down. "Yeah, that would be a good thing to know." She frowned a few times trying to come up with a setting via the tricorder to find this object, but didn't have any luck.” I think we'll have to go for the bigger equipment to find this. No wonder I never found anything before. Give me a minute." Dr Chalice left Faldek on the biobed for a moment while taking this information to Dr Mele. The Chief would give her some advise on what to do. - - - Vilanne shared the general information about Faldek’s condition and his special request with Chief Mele. They made a determination to see if he can withstand whatever he was going through because at this very moment, he wasn't displaying symptoms. Diagnosing that "thing," as Vil called it, in his neck was going to take a strategy, since their goal wasn't to kill him or just remove it... which would mean both. Fakdek was to be released for the time being, due to the circumstances of the mission but to report immediately upon any sign or symptom, hopefully less prevelant than the last one. Mele finished the conversation by directing Vil to the recpliation machine. He gave her a set of specs after updating her on the status of things. Vil was thrilled to have permission to take Lt Jack’s specs and place them into the replicator. After a few minutes, the 3-D image began to create itself upon the biobed where a containment field was set up. The structure was still just a bunch of laser lines drawing molecule structures, but it was the first object Vilanne had gotten permission to construct with this new equipment since its arrival. The multi-celled group wasn’t much, but it was to become tissue. Testable tissue; but it was based on specs from the ships computer, not true Romulan DNA. There wasn’t Romulan DNA on board that she knew about or was given access to, but these few cells building into a tidy little cluster in the mini-containment field were going to be a controlled testing field for the cure. If the lab guys came up with the cure in time, it could be pre-tested with what Vilanne hoped to develop into a Romulan lab rat, this could be the start of something big! The settings were put into the console of the machine about an hour prior. It was flashing its little laser lights as it drew the shell more complicated with each pass. It was always amazing to watch these processes, because you got to see the innards taking shape before your eyes. The various colors in the lasers of light represented different types of tissues and various stages of the development. Eventually, the most inside layer was complete. You could see a few organs, not in working order, but bio-tissue wrapped around the cells of the organ itself. The regenerator kept giving errors while the process was going. Vilanne made a few adjustments as the processing stopped with each one; particularly when she could tell what was wrong. One such error was quite clear, when the bio-tissue did not fully encase a part of RomRat’s liver. Vil had already named the vermin and he hadn’t taken his first breath. If anything was going to fix the Echococcosis, the probable counter-virus may have a chance. Knowing it was called that, however, was disturbing enough, but to fully understand the mission and what it was going to take to get it into each of the unsuspecting Romulans was going to be a magnificent feat of ingenuity.

Sickbay grew awfully quiet. The chuckles quieted. Dr Chalice moved gracefully out of sickbay without another word. Nurse Nancy waddled over and grabbed some recycling material, waddled back to the mess and tossed it to the floor. She was glad that it wasn't necessary to put her hands down into the mess. It was bad enough to have to manually clean up some of the patients. She was more than grateful that she didn't have to clean up the equipment and floor. The recycling cloths had a fine fiber that was so porous, it would suck up dirt – or at least the wrapping said so. Nancy had never tried it but hoped to someday when she got shore leave. Nancy came on board just after Dr Chalice and before Dr Silviu. She didn't get to know Dr Lowen, and she was afraid of Dr Mele. The other guys in sickbay were… "weirdos" and she figured they were just rejects from some other department. Nancy shined the best under pressure when everyone else was busy. She was a rather good bouncer at the door, in more ways than one. She had her heart set up nursing. She cared for everyone. It didn't matter what was wrong with the patient she was there to help; her heart in the right place. Nancy, however, couldn't go into officers training. Starfleet neglected to allow those with any sort of obesity disorders into that career path. It was never said that she was overweight but cadets were always thin and fit. Nancy was born stocky, and as she grew, she continued to put on solid kilograms. Solid – that was a great way to describe her. She had beautiful long blond hair that she tied up and hid under her nurses cap. She continued to wear medical-blues, covered with a nurses multi-colored smock that had little smiling dasies pasted multiple times all over. Nancy had the post positive of attitudes, she rarely questioned any orders and continually did anyone's grunt work without a complaint. However, there were times when Nancy had to be firm. Just recently, one of the engineers came in with a headache – a repeat offender. Nancy had been given orders to knock him out, but good. She didn't even hesitate to pipe the hypospray cylinder full and pump the guy up. Nancy placed one hand on a biobed while she bent her solid torso down to pick up the cloths. She waddled over to the recycler and tossed them in, then went to scrub. She went about making sickbay a cleaner, fresher place to be… because she knew, if it wasn't done by the time Chalice returned, she could be in for laundry detail after the little 'incident'.

<<Joint Log starring James, Vilanne and a cameo appearance by Caesar>> After sickbay was cleared of everyone with level one exposure, the medical staff still had their hands full. Depression set into those in the other levels after seeing some level fours being covered and removed to stasis. Lt Commander Precip had experienced some serious level two symptoms, most prevalently the blood expulsion, so Dr Chalice supplied him with a combination of antacid, soothing agents, tissue strengtheners and a smattering of other drugs all blended just for this exposure. Only a few patients could stomach this blend long enough to get it all down, Precip being one of them. Vil was impressed; he didn't even make a face. Vilanne put together the updated chart for Chief Mele, which contained all of the updates on the level fours and counts on the rest of the folks with their stats. As she handed him the PADD for review, she overheard more of James's condition and whining. She considered the new regeneration machine and the status of James's vision. She whispered briefly to get the Chief's permission, who almost smiled at her when he gave it. She finished up some other duties then went to inspect the instructions on the shiny machine. Any possible procedure would require a retinal imaging scan, and in-depth study of the visual cortex. These two procedures would take some time to complete, but what else did this patient have but time at this point. Vilanne overheard Chief Mele discussing the status of his lost crewmen. She didn't want to look up and get the patient's emotional condition, knowing she'll already have to do a Robbiani dermal-optic. That test had come a long way since Robbiani wrote it up for SF Medical. The test determined basic emotional structure by analyzing skin and pupil response to visual stimulation at specific color wavelengths, but updates to the test over the many years proved that the emotional status of the patient could be documented and any ocular treatments would better adapt knowing how the patient was going to perceive them. Pretty much, if you knew what was coming, you may not want it, but if you don't know and can be told that it'll fix "anything" patients were much more adaptable to any changes that have to be made. A prime example of such an adaptation was Geordi La Forge who was on board the USS Enterprise, born blind, but able to adapt and see infra-red and ultra-violet ranges and beyond without becoming disoriented. The adjustment phase, however, was hell. Dr Chalice paused to look over at James. 'Was he strong enough? Could he handle the adjustment phase?' she wondered. She knew she would have to bring the counselor in if anything major was adapted for him. Then there were ocular implants, but Vilanne couldn't suggest these until the results20of all testing were in. 'Those would be fun to implant though if it goes that far', she thought. For one moment, there was a glint in Vil's eye - contemplating a cybernetic eyepiece... visions of a borg drone flitted in her thoughts while trying to come up with the best suggestions for this patient. She grinned to herself, considering all the skin he lost, the organs he had damaged and other repairs necessary while mentally replacing them all with borg-like replacements. For a moment, she played with the replication machine to see if it had Mech-like regeneration settings. Silviu walked behind her pausing for a moment to ask, "Anything that could help our guest?" Quickly, Vil continued to change settings, blurting out, "Just checking for any optional ocular regeneration settings." He kept moving; she kept flipping. After gathering her mental notes about the procedures, she approached James' biobed. It seemed that he was finally past the empty-stomach retching phase and was just laying on his biobed, exhausted, yet restless. He was staring blankly ahead of him, cocking his head around at any little sound. "I'm Dr Chalice. Dr Mele gave me permission to discuss the possibilities of working on helping you regain your sight, or at least the possibility thereof." James turned toward the sound of her voice and fixed her with the disconcerting off-center stare of someone who cannot see, "Will this be a long and drawn-out proces s? As much as I truly want my sight back, we cannot delay The Mission." He spoke the last words with reverence. Dr Chalice began reviewing the many possibilities with him, while trying to avoid any negatives yet. She didn't want to give him false hope, but wanted ever so much to lift James' spirits under these terrible circumstances. "It isn't a skin graft or anything that simple. We'll have some in-depth tests that'll have to be completed before we can determine which of our options will best suit your body. We don't want to take a chance on organ rejection if it goes that way. Dr Chalice was confused by his response. "But, there's a good possibility you will see again. I understand your hesitation because of the mission, but are you rejecting the ideas?" After his initial emotional outburst of losing his team and his vision, James was already a bit resigned to being blind though deep down would love to see again. As much as he thought about his medical situation, he was not trying to be a martyr. His overriding concern is to get the plague treatment to Romulus as soon as possible. "It isn't hesitation, Doctor; it is more a case of proper priorities. I assume that your treatments don't necessitate immediate action, I mean to say that I won't be getting any blinder if we wait, am I correct?"Vil considered his words, "We don't have enough tests to know if waiting can make the blindness permanent, so time could be of an essence.""I need to marshal all of my efforts to convince your Captain to staff the mission and to continue on to Romulus with all haste. I can try and get my sight back later, but if you don't get this treatment to the Romulans during this incubative stage of the plague, it will be too late for our efforts to be effective. I vaguely understand there is a political agenda - more importantly there are people, millions of people, who will die if we fail here.""I don't know about any political agenda. If people are hurt, I'm sure we are going to help, but right now – you are, and need our assistance. Please just consider it. I can start the tests to at least see what will be compatible for your case so you know more options. In the meantime, you are going to still need a lot of rest to recuperate from your radiation trauma. Your body has been exasperated by the treatments on top of general healing, so we can't release you to duty anyway. You've got plenty of time in sickbay to have any course of treatment." She paused, noting he was focused on her voice. "Let me know, I'm usually within earshot." "I don't need to be back to full duty, but I MUST be able to speak with your Captain again, I MUST impress upon him the urgency, the importance of The Mission." There was that tone again, almost as if this mission had become his religion - and he was a true believer. "Of course, I will pass along your urgent request," Vilanne wasn't always this personable with her patients from the Manticore, much less a stranger, but with good reason. She was intrigued with his case, so she offered, "Is there anything else I can get you?""Yes, can I get access to the computer core on the Romulan Scout Ship and some sort of... reader program, so that I can hear the data normally displayed on a console? I promise to not get out of my biobed, but I have to finish my last dosage calculations, Please!" Vil made a couple notes of his requests and started to open her mouth when… Her concentration broke when she over heard a conversation between a couple patients talking about how Admiral Atragon was in the Romulan Dorsal Ship, and he died trying to lead a takeover of the Romulan Home world. Vil cleared her mind of the strange grins she'd been having and turned to the two patients still listed in extreme level two. "Excuse me? Why are you distributing smut about OUR admiral? He is NOT on this ship, he is being attended to in a safe zone, and I suggest that unless you want me to report your comments to Commander Farrington or better yet, Chief Mele, who will immediately change your treatment to all manual doses, then I'd shut my mouth." At that very moment, Nurse Nancy waddled by, both arms loaded full with some of the last buckets. Vil's sharp spin on her heels turning back towards James caught Nancy's arm in the wrong spot creating a flying projectile of waste. The frusterated doctor was now the unfortunate recipient of the bulk of what was being thrown in slow motion onto her uniform – a stiffened chuckle was heard by the two soon-to-be dead level twos.

After trying to explain to a severely radiated patient that his extreme exposure was directly related to the absorption rate of his extreme exposure, several times over, Dr Chalice finally gave up trying to help it make sense to him. This guy had burns on 2/3rds of his body from direct exposure. Vilanne guessed that he was one working within 2-3 meters of whatever caused this exposure. If any patients made it through, the amount of exposure clearly was going to limit their ability to pro-create. If they tried, they would definitely have a malformed being that would probably not have any cognitive functions. It was sad, but ever since 1986, effects of this or more exposure were well documented. Too bad it took nearly 50 years for the medical community to get that information from the scientific renegades monitoring it. The treatment goal was clear: Prevent further contamination, treat damaged organs, reduce symptoms, flush the blood and other tissues, and last, but not least, manage their pain. Dr Chalice wasn't assigned directly to Faldek, Farrington or Garnoopy's case, but she was continuing to monitor them due to the acute radiation syndrome symptoms Garnoopy was so prevalently displaying and concerns of the higher levels the others were breeching. She was also continually monitoring the tests being run on Mele and Silviu. Non-Manticore patients were not identified yet, except for the one. No ID was found on the bodies, no tattoos, no scars - well, except for those with flesh-like Romulan ears, some with one, most with both. Others were found with false noses or crowns of the forehead, which covered their arched eyebrows giving the impression of the typical Romulan facial characteristics. All of them were in different disarray of this All Hallo's Eve Party gone bad. Signs and symptoms of radiation sickness usually appear with absorbed doses to the whole body of at least 1 Gy (gray). Doses greater than 8 Gy are generally not treated successfully and usually result in death within two days to two or three weeks depending on the duration of the exposure. Everyone exposed had to be isolated and monitored for express track treatment for the illness. None of the patients enjoyed the many hypospray injections being forced on them. The radiation sickness made them vomit as it was, but each injection doubled the effect, then they had to be given a hypo to slow the nausea and diarrhea. The stench in sickbay was awful, even though the air was being cycled and sterilized. Each time Vilanne or the rest of the staff had to update their chart, they would have to compare their current Theta symptoms with that on the ships medical library: Level One radiation sickness Absorbed dose of 1 to 2 Gy may include: § Nausea and vomiting within 24 to 48 hours § Headache § Fatigue § Weakness Level Two radiation sickness Absorbed dose of 2 to 3.5 Gy, a person may experience: § Nausea and vomiting within 12 to 24 hours § Fever § Hair loss § Infections § Vomiting blood § Bloody stool § Poor wound healing § Any signs and symptoms associated with a lower absorbed dose Moderate radiation sickness can be fatal to those most sensitive to radiation exposure. Level Three radiation sickness Absorbed dose of 3.5 to 5.5 Gy can result in: § Nausea and vomiting less than one hour after exposure to radiation § Diarrhea § High fever § Long / short term psychological disorders (generalized anxiety disorder, major depression or post-traumatic stress disorder just to name a few) § Any signs and symptoms associated with a lower absorbed dose Severe radiation sickness is fatal about half the time. Level Four radiation sickness Absorbed dose greater than 5.5 to 8 Gy can result in: § Nausea and vomiting less than 30 minutes after exposure to radiation § Dizziness § Disorientation § Low blood pressure (hypotension) § Any signs and symptoms associated with a lower absorbed dose Very severe radiation sickness is often fatal. (modified for Manticore Log for this century, but taken from MayoClinic) No one, no one was still level one - Last check - all of those in containment had elevated at least level two… however, most were level three and some level four. To have this much exposure to everyone that was in the dorsal had to mean an accidental detonation of some sort of radioactive material. Now, whether or not it was a leak in their pipes, or actual explosion was going to have to be determined by security. The number of cells being killed every second after this exposure couldn't be calculated, not even by the LCars. Some of the patients had to be The lab was synthesizing Arithrazine as fast as they could. The doctors kept ordering more and more, but it wasn't being produced fast enough. Blood tests showed clear abnormal changes in the DNA of most every patient. The level of bone marrow damage was greatest in those that were originally in the dorsal before Manticore staff entered. The doctors were also starting regimens of synthesized filgrastim/pegfilgrastim blend to try and prevent subsequent exposure and counter anything up to that point in the bone marrow. These meds had proven effective in the past for certain types, but the radiation type had not specifically been identified to the medical staff, so they were smattering the patients with every treatment they could endure. It seemed useless – non-stop treatments, non-stop negative results – no one was showing progress towards anything but worsening. Why was the Manticore Staff continuing to get sicker? There was an incubation period for symptoms, but the first hour had passed since exposure. It was useless to use the Medical Tricorder to try and do a Geiger reading to determine which body location was the radioactive particles was useless, everyone was exposed, everywhere, except the Manticore Staff – who had clean feet. Radiation sickness itself wouldn't cause many long-term effects for those that would survive. Getting them to survive something this extreme was the trick. Studies in the last century were more informative with respect to stopping some of the contaminators. Vilanne had to find a pattern of these rads, to see what part of the brain it was targeting. The other major problems the staff were trying to repair was Bone marrow, which can be regenerated in some cases, organ lining, including skin regeneration, however, internal organs were going to pose problems. If they stuck a medical tube down anyone's throat, it was more likely that the skin would just come off upon abrasion, before they could begin regeneration. Even the new machine wasn't a lot of help with anything more than the topical tissue issues. Skin was one thing; it was all over the body on the exterior. Stomach and intestinal linings purported more problems and warnings than could be read in one sitting. Those with severe internal contamination had to have the rad's bound to any of the optional drugs, but couldn't be hypo'd … they needed direct injection to flush their bodies of the toxin. Dr Chalice informed Dr Mele about the Level Fours, in between his vomiting spells. There were hopes they could turn this around – provided the lab would keep up the synthesis process and continued exposure did not occur.

Its not that the new equipment took her mind off what was really going on, but Vilanne just wasn't taking in the whole picture. She, and the entire medical team, heard the order when Commander Farrington alerted sickbay of a body at the location of the Dorsal. Sickbay was silent, Dead body, Romulan Neutral Zone, Phasers in everyone's belts. Was it the stress of the situation or the deafening silence that was killing Vilanne from the inside out? She couldn't concentrate, she couldn't think. Finally, Vilanne put an ear-bud up to her ear canal, adjusting it until it was correctly placed. She turned on her tricorder, flipped through the settings until she got distracted as the white noise feeding from the tricorder into the ear-bud. It was odd that she didn't notice the setting made the noise, but it tended to calm her. Vil's mind became clear. She knew where she was, what she was doing, who she was working with, all of the specifics of her current task, and she worked through it quickly. Chief Mele had been called, and took and inordinate amount of time, considering that just having the body moved to sickbay should not have taken much time at all – unless there were circumstances that would cause an investigation. Vilanne wasn't sure what else was necessary to get ready for such a situation, but brought up a thorough checklist. She went to the bio-fluid storage unit and identified any those that weren't stocked full, so she began synthesizing a couple liters of blood for human, Cardassian, Bajorian, Vulcan and trill blood. Once finished completing the standard stock, she looked at the empty container in the back of the unit. The label was warn. If dust had been aboard the Manticore, it would have covered the lid. The characters on the label were still there, more like triangles and shapes than familiar letters. Vilanne, however, remembered Starfleet training and knew the letters meant… Rihannsu – the most xenophobic and mistrusting race that the Federation had ever known. It was nearly empty. One small drop of the fluid remained in the bottom of the cylinder. The color had a copper base, yet a green tinge shined through it. This was a clear sample of a drop of blood that had been deoxygenated. When still in the arteries, the color nearly glowed of a brighter green, but this sample was so dried out that it was nearly powder. Chalice stared at the bottom of the cylinder, wondering if the command staff would allow them to treat any injured Romulans, if they encountered them. The doctor often was tripped up on ethics class when trying to determine these choices based on Starfleet Regulations, which never taught one to make an independent decision without following regulations to a tee.

The India Team. They were still a point of discussion in sickbay. Dr Chalice was glad to relinquish as acting CMO after placing the appropriate notes in Dr Mele's medical records… and Vilanne didn't even have to forge them. Kyle had finished his true treatments as ordered. Though it was a relief to be out of the hot seat, sickbay was still a buzz about the new equipment, the new mission, and the questions surrounding Morris' abrupt disembarking. Vilanne couldn't stop thinking, talking, discussing, and even gossiping about how Morris set up a mission of this caliber, and bailed at the moment they were going to be in harms way. The India Team was supposed to have made enhancements in every department, but Dr Chalice hardly kept track of the regular happenings much less whatever the India Team was working on. One rather large piece of equipment was delivered, installed and turned on. A control panel was plopped down on the cart that the machine was sitting, along with hover controls to move it freely around sickbay. Reading through the panel of a list of features was alarming. Bone, Dermal, Myelin, Osteo and Vascular regenerators were the main features in the list, however, going into the sub-features of these main sections made Vilanne paused in one. "Caesar, are you getting a load of this?" She pointed to the console with Silviu over her back. Vilanne started reading out loud, "Says here, 'With a splice of DNA, portions of the </SPAN>membranous tissue can be regenerated to contain the same molecular structure as the dermal tissue encased at the surgical site. Dermal regeneration settings can be adjusted to accommodate many known species." She quit reading out loud. Everyone was reaching over her shoulder, taping different screens, checking out all sorts of stuff. There was a plethora of data included with each setting, complete with instructions, test screens and ample warnings. She paused to read, then reread out loud, "WARNING DISCLAIMER: Klingon tricipital lobes have only been regenerated in a clinical setting. Caution must be taken as this technology is continually being developed to regenerate not o nly for this species, but other sentient life forms that rely on their exoskeleton encasing for physical protection of the area covered and has not been approved by the Surgeon General for full regeneration. '… we could have used this to help the Admiral! I bet that's what they are doing with him." Tissues, spinal cords, disk regenerators… in the back of Vilanne's mind, thoughts were saying, in a 6M-Dollar-Man-Voice, "We can build them better, stronger… faster." There was a portable regenerator attached to one end. It was lifted it out of its caddy by one of the many standing around this new machine. Vilanne flipped her long hair behind her shoulder then tucked it neatly behind her ear just as grave images in the back of her mind began to form; dark and cold, loud and with a strange taste in the back of her mouth. Vilanne didn't know what any of this meant, so she blinked it away and went back into investigating the new technology. The console panel was interesting enough for Vilanne to stay with it until everyone else left the area for either meals or shift change, but she couldn't get away from this one. There wasn't anything that could pull her from this machine, and she didn't understand the strange draw to such technology. There was a very small area building of spittal at the edge of her lip, though it didn't grow large enough to form a full drop, it was there, glistening.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. Vilanne returned to sickbay without enough time to finish her decision. Time was up; this was good and bad. She didn't know what she was going to decide, because she napped instead. This was good however, so that she didn't over think. She wasn't spontaneous enough to make a decision like that in a snap second. She did, however, accept the fact that she's in this mission for the best and for the worst = and no regrets. Vilanne was rather surprised when she got the order to report to the conference room on the bridge. She'd never been on the bridge. She'd never met Captain Sovak. She'd definitely never been inside that private conference room off of the bridge. So many new things. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks when she entered the conference room and found everyone already in place and the meeting had started. Thank God that Dr Mele was already there and pointed to the seat next to him; had he not pointed, she may have turned and ran knowing that Mele was the one that was supposed to be there. Her hands were sweating as they clasped tightly together during the entire meeting. She was afraid to breath much less move. Mele kept talking to her, but even though it was in a hushed tone, she was embarrassed to bring any undo attention to herself in this new situation. Vilanne so much to be a fly on the wall, to just listen to all of the voices and do as they say, instead of being put on the spot to answer or any questions in front of all this brass. It was amazing how many upper level staff were in this meeting. Looking around the room, she began counting pips, 4, 10, 25… the number just kept growing. She froze at half way around the table, the IG had met her gaze. Vilanne looked away first. She couldn't look back, he may still be looking at her. She stared into the middle of the conference room table, at the mini-view screen. Though it was blank, it was consoling to Vil while she tried to avoid the IG's gaze. Mele started nudging Chalice's foot under the conference room table. 'What was up with him,' she thought. He didn't do it once, he did it a few times right at the point where the IG was asking for questions. What was she supposed to ask? Why he made such a stupid decision to put all of us in harms way? Why was the Manticore suddenly so expendable? Why was he such an idiot to remove the Admiral from their care? Clearly, she thought, 'he's going to kill us and doesn't want the admiral dead.' Kyle was covering his mouth and whispering to Vil, "Of course not," he continued, "but you weren't supposed to call attention to the nudge, either. Relax, we can yell up here and get away with it." Vil was stunned. Would a conference room meeting with this many pips actually get out of control and merge into a shout fest? He had some good questions for the IG, and the IG didn't answer him. Vilanne just listened, carefully, wondering why the IG was avoiding not only Mele's questions but also the rest of the brass. The meeting ended and the staff dismissed from the room. Vilanne was up and out of her chair as soon as they said dismissed. She didn't know to stand around with the rest of the department heads and kibitz. She got out of the room and finally found some air. All the way back to sickbay, Vilanne felt ill to her stomach thinking about how Morris bailed on the crew… how he clearly intended to kill all of us, and determined that WE were "any cost." It was the best of missions. Vil had temporarily been the Acting CMO, she'd been in the same meeting with the highest pip holders on the ship, she'd had her first visit to the bridge AND conference room of a black ops ship. It was the worst of missions. …

The silence continued to be deafening and there was something evil growing. Who was this Inspector General Morris anyway? Vilanne didn't know everyone from Starfleet, in fact, she could hardly remember her professors and such, but she'd heard about the big-wigs here and there. She went to her quarters for a well-deserved break during this time of reflection so graciously granted by the Inspector Morris. She plopped down on her cot, thinking of a million reasons she needed to get off the ship and out of harms way. She also considered the source. the IG wasn't on her Christmas Card list, in fact, who was he to be giving ship-wides? That was the Captain's place. Where was Sovak in all of this? It was a candid conversation that she=2 0was able to have with Dr Silviu. ~He's pretty nice~, she thought, even discussed a very delicate topic with me. ~I think Chief Mele made a good call having him assigned.~ She chuckled to herself remembering the way he handled Lt Doug T when he returned after blowing every doctor's order given him to take it easy. Vilanne knew before he hit the door when originally discharged, that he'd break all of Silvui's orders. She thought about her parents back on earth – probably in their fifties by this time. She hadn't talked with them for quite some time. ~I wonder what they are doing? Planting some lilies in the garden? Visiting the woods? Building yet another addition to the cabin?~ Vilanne knew she was far behind in her correspondence with them. She sent a short note to them just after she received her orders to board the USS Manticore but hadn9 9t sent anything since. She considered her childhood friends… but her forehead squinched up because her brain was working overtime, yet she still couldn't remember any of their names. She shrugged it off to stress. She thought about her last love…. Her mind drifted off to a beach, with sand, palm trees, cabana boys serving a plethora of regional food and tropical drinks faithfully upon the consumption of another, but who was with her? She tried to imagine who was in the chair next to her, but couldn't see him. ~Do I really want to leave this ship? Where am I really running to?~ What was wrong with her memory? Vilanne was totally consumed trying to remember parts of her more distant past and forgot about the time and the real reason she came to her quarters to pack and get off the ship to safety or make a definitave decision to stay. Twenty-Three Hundred came… Dr Chalice was snuggled up with her pillow. The cabana boy bent forward, showing the drink array on his tray. "Pina Colada, ma'am?" Her hand reached forward taking the drink, the other hand reached out with a keycard, flashing it to the cabana boy. A glint on the keycard caught the light just right and made the logo visible. It was like a hospital symbol that felt familiar. While looking down into the drink; the fluid was being drained around the ice. She glanced up to watch the cabana loincloth mosey away from her when it was suddenly covered in hospital whites. Vilanne tossed and turned during her nap. She was dragging herself to the door. Her legs felt heavy, and her face was on fire. She couldn't use her hands or arms very well, but was able to lean against the wall and furniture of the tiny room. She was staring at the floor while she maneuvered when a pair of white hospital shoes stepped by. She tried to speak, but no words came out. Her throat was also on fire. Almost at the doorway, she reached for the handle of the door to steady herself and her hand slipped off of it… Her body naturally went to turn in her sleep. Vilanne thought she was falling, which woke her up immediately. In her panic, she sat up trying to regain her composure while breathing off the cold sweat. She remembered what day it was, sought the time, recalled what her purpose was for being there and knew she had missed the window she thought she was going to climb out of. The decision was made.

[[Contained within are the words and thoughts of both Jami & Vilanne's characters.]] It wasn't long after the two India team entered sickbay and Vilanne's internal alarm went on red alert. Vilanne had been working not only in sickbay, but in the lab where they had to set up a makeshift morgue. They did not have to do autopsies because their injuries and current situation gave away the causes of death. However they did have plenty of postmortem activities, mostly including bodies to identify before they are transported over to Starbase Nine. Bag 'em and Tag 'em. It sounded heartless when she spoke those words to Dr Silviu and the rest of the medical team, but Vilanne had to keep up a stern front in light of the incident that brought all of this about. With Mele being out of commission, the lead fell on Vilanne's thin frame. Advice was sought where Vilanne felt it best to come; someone experienced and knowledgeable with the crew, one who knew medical protocol and had the grace of a counselor. In the current situation, she wasn't as much help as the doctor had hoped. It made sense though, with her husband being relieved of duty, with Captain Sovak and the Inspector General ordering the Admiral to be moved to Starbase Nine's medical facility. That bugged Vil the most. She couldn't understand why the Captain and Inspector General would be making medical decisions. Why wasn't she consulted? Dr Chalice wasn't so full of ego thinking SHE had to be consulted, but she did know that the CMO couldn't have been consulted, as he's been unconscious since his head was bashed about on the bridge. What was really going on here? Commander Farrington had had several guarded conversations with Dr Chalice about the medical status of her husband. They had discussed best forms of treatment, under the current circumstances and status of sickbay. They had both been in agreement over his current treatment, but why would the Captain and this Inspector General going over the families wishes, the chart orders or not consult the medical crew on board that know the Admiral best? Vil's internal klaxon was blaring louder than ever. Their conversation would have probably been more personal in nature, but after Jami's intimate relationship with the physical and spiritual universe, because of the ministrations of Vai, she seemed very distant or perhaps disconnected. The last conversation Jami had with Vil did include a light discussion mostly the struggle between the 'call to duty' (the good of the many) and family (the good of the few). The Commander insisted that up to now she has always put duty first. Vilanne had been getting to know Jami over time on the Manticore, but even Vil realized that Jami talked as if older and worn and second guessing her former footing. Vilanne had heard the Captain's COMM, but she was barely getting to trust those she was learning to work with much less strangers, yet she was to afford them high level security. The India team didn't speak much; they just took orders and did whatever was necessary... for the most part. Dr Silviu and Dr Chalice spoke privately, well as privately as they could while sickbay was crammed full of people, in the Admiral's private medical suite and determined that the best way to utilize the India team was to over-work them so that they could clear out sickbay of all of the folks that needed treatments and discharging. However, after the India team determined that they were going to take over the Admiral's case, they bailed on the rest of the patients! Vilanne was furious. Why come on board to "help" then drop all help to steal the Admiral? Another member of the India team slipped in for a visit to set all of that up, calling his team over to discuss something that Vil could not, nor anyone else in sickbay, overhear. After they spoke, it was clear they were done helping with the other victims of the accident, they just wanted to look after the Admiral. Vilanne understood Sovak's order clearly. She had to make a quick judgment call and just go with whatever the India team wanted, including viewing the Admiral. That's what they originally said, just to "view" the Admiral. What liars!!! What harm could come by them just being in the private medical suite? It seemed as if every person in sickbay entered, but the news they spoke was alarming to everyone. Commander Farrington happened to come to sickbay just as they were going into the Admiral's suite, asking what they were doing. However, their shocking news of moving him to Starbase 9's hospital to be watched by whomever… cared for by nameless, faceless medical staff… and to be treated by the more of the same? What was wrong with the Manticore? It was going to be repaired, by best estimate, within a couple days. Vilanne saw no reason to move the Admiral. She had to talk to the Chief before they moved the Admiral or get the stunned Commander to speak up and bark orders to keep her husband on board. Vilanne didn't want to see another crew member, Admiral or not, leave the ship. She had seen death surround her from this incident. Dr Lowen had been moved off the Manticore for some reason no one was talking about. Some of the other staff members were also found on the roster of folks to disembark within 24 hours. Vil was getting depressed. She loved it when there was a buzz around sickbay with live patients, complaining or not, but keeping her mind busy. The silence was deafening, but there was something worse – growing.

What a day - again! Vilanne scooted out of sickbay with hardly any energy left. This patient, that patient, this report, red tape, reports in triplicate... seems it never ended. Thank the prophets all of that was digital. Vilanne was required to use an ink pen and lined paper while at the academy. The professor was instructing them on handwriting, so that if they ever needed to communicate with another species by markings, they would be fully versed in symbols, letters and other strange characters familiar at that time and be able to draw them as well. This class was far more than clicking through the study screens. Tap... Tap... Tap... easy studies, just read and tap the screen to move on. This was a skill, however, that required you to steady your hand. It was required that everyone heading towards a surgical career take two years of this hand steadying class. Someone even suggested that someday, they may find something inside an alien and have to be able to read the symbols before extracting from a life form... just in case it would blow up. Vil made it to her quarters. Swoosh and the doors opened then closed behind her. She stopped momentarily and looked at the picture she brought on board. It was a gift from one of her history professors. She'd Aced that class, she was her pet. Prof Tae.. Professor X Tae. Tae admired Vilanne's drive for the medical studies she was undertaking. Vil never recalled what the X stood for. The picture was a historical photo of the USS Ranger CV-4 after the war, [the attachment, if you care to view the aircraft carrier] the sixth of its kind, which was stricken and disposed of in January 1947. Vil wouldn't remember this fact, except that that information was printed across the bottom of the picture. Vil felt she was always drawn to big open spaces... the sea... the skies... the heavens. She dropped her lab coat across one bunk, then her shoes... kicked towards the closet. After pulling the scrunchie out of her hair along with the pins that held the bun together, she dropped them all over the little end table next to her cot. Her quarters were private, thankfully, because Vilanne lived with piles of clothing and items mounded in various corners of the room. Her tunic hit the floor, then her body hit the cot. Her legs were lifted up into the air and swiftly yanked her pants off, tossing them across the room. Her eyes were closed before she finished getting the rest of her undergarments off. She pulled the sheeted blanket up over her shoulders. She skipped dinner - again. Had Commander Farrington taken Chalice up on her officer, it would have been the first food in 12 hours. She wasn't always this bad about eating, but her job had been so stressful with so many wounded. No one as much as cracked a joke in sickbay with the Admiral and Commander within earshot. Vil's body relinquished to the rest she badly needed. It wasn't long before REM set in, her mind drifted deeply into a slowed synoptical response but her mental capabilities were alive; it was dream time! Her mind enjoyed this time of the night. It went on a routine collision with a myriad of objects, thoughts, novel themes, people that were real and fiction. Vil rarely, if ever, remembered anything she dreamed about. Her dreams were not vivid, in fact, they were non-descript… at least that's what she remembered. In a room, looking down, tying a knot at one hip, then the other. Grabbing the towel, half wrapping it around the hips. Out the door, lots of legs… two, no, three others… all women – giggling. Happy laughs, jokes and warm bubbles. A tingling sensation down the throat followed by a cooling sensation and the taste of champagne. Toes tingling against a jet blowing air through some water. So many voices, so much steam and sounds of water splashing. Glimpses of women in bathing suits… glimpses of a shopping spree… glimpses of makeup… dresses. The alarm woke Vil from her deep sleep. She didn't remember any of it… again.

It only took a minute to wind her hair up into the classic bun after a sonic shower, and head back to sickbay. She spent nearly all of her time there, because her quarters were too quiet. Vilanne Chalice walked confidently through the doors and went right to her station to read through the prior shifts medical reports on her patients. The mundane reports of a myriad of physical therapy patients bored her as she skimmed them. She read through a laundry list of whining one particular patient had been giving. Nurse Nancy placed some special requests with Dr Chalice, because for some reason, the patient would at least listen to Dr Chalice... it seemed. Nurse Nancy requested that Vil take an interest in Dr Silviu's patient, a lieutenant that was more than familiar with being in sickbay, as he had had numerous injuries over the past months. Vilanne reviewed the file for a moment. She reviewed the attending doctor's schedule, finding that Silviu was scheduled to attend the Admiral, so after getting his permission to do a little searching, she scheduled the extensive tests. The surgical suite was prepped by the med techs, as well as Nurse Nancy, who was more than thrilled to help move this case along. Doug was moved into the suite where Vil was waiting on him. She put him under and began the extensive neurological workup, including the delayed synaptic resp onses and some deep tissue samples. While the patients pulse, respiration, temperature, and brain activity were being monitored, an amount of blood was also extracted during these procedures and immediately run through the high scrutiny of the medical technical persons in the lab. Doctor Chalice placed the neural monitor around Doug's cranium to monitor the nervous system's activity. For one brief moment, Vil saw a cortical node. Vil looked at the cortical stimulator attached to the back wall. She hadn't any reason to be using that, so dismissed the thought. She looked down at her hands, noticed the instruments in them, glanced up at the assistants, and then dug back into the tests. Before the surgical procedures were even complete, the results were posted to the surgical bed's overhead screen. Vil glanced up during this time, noticing the new results. She paused to read through the results, noting that the minute particles in the blood were consistent with that of bone fragments. She also knew this patient had been in sickbay more than once... in fact, more than anyone. He'd displayed anger and frustration, more than any other patient. She finished the other tests, let the techs revive him and put him into recovery and made many attempts to talk to Dr Silviu. The interruptions were constant. You'd think it was a war zone. Dr Mele being indisposed, Commander Farrington was tied up running the s hip as well as attending to the Admiral directly; Silviu and Chalice were pulling much more than their own weight. Eventually, Vil got to talk with Cesar. She explained the complications found, he immediately identified the results and symptoms as degenerative osteocyeletiseosis. Vilanne was so happy that a qualified doctor was assigned to the medical staff. She'd seen some winners at the academy... she thought. Briefly, she considered what "winners" she could remember from the academy. It was less than a year since she finally completed internship and residency. She knew the building, she could outline her schedule. She knew the names of her professors, her Chief Medical staff heading up her time at the hospital.. but she couldn't remember a single patient. She couldn't pull one facial feature, she couldn't remember one eye color or color of hair. She did remember, however, with great detail, the mechanical lab. She remembered many experiments and studies that she spent hours on for her dissertation. Vilanne's love life was null and void. She spent more hours putting together her studies for the future of her medical career that she would ever consider putting into a date. Her career was the world... it was everything she thought of, longed for and concerned herself with. She rarely went out with the other doctors and never accepted invitations from the male population. She figured that would be something for another day... in the future. She was busy planning her life, her career, and hoping to get into the best ship... one with adventure. Black Ops - Vilanne heard of them while still stationed on earth. She knew they had the best "toys"... which meant the best lab, best technology, best medical equipment. That intrigued her so much, she knew the only way to get there was to go full force and plan those final years, create the most influential dissertation and really dig her heels into her career alone. Vilanne did all of this. Her best foot went forward and here she was on the Manticore working with the most qualified staff and best, latest, technology available. She watched Silviu start to deal with the Lieutenant. She enjoyed hearing the communication in sickbay and always hated having the silence of a quiet room, however, she didn't like to hear herself talk. She chuckled to herself, happy that she got what she wished for and worked for, then moved up to the front left bio-bed where Lieutenant Syndrx was waiting to have a review of his arm. She'd read his PT results at the beginning of the shift, and knew he'd probably be in soon. She had already mentally released him from further visits by the time he finally came in. Ian Syndrx reported, however, that "It hurt s if I use it a lot." Vilanne thought about the probable causes while reviewing the therapy sessions that he'd been enduring. She also looked at his work schedule. "If we slow down your PT schedule, will you also take it easy on duty? I don't see where you've done that to give your arm time to heal sufficiently. If you will, I will release you to light PT, say once a week, but you have to promise to not be lifting more than 2.5 kilograms... the size of a liter of fluid." Wasn't there some sort of device she could insert into his arm to stop the pain yet give him complete movement? She thought about that for a moment, but knew she didn't have authority to go inserting without the CMO's express permission on such a surgical invasion. Vilanne got her response and promise from the Lieutenant and adjusted the chart to read as they had agreed. She finished her shift unremarkably and returned to her quarters after a meal. After plopping down onto her small cot, her eyes closed while she thought about the technology available on this ship and how it could have helped some of the patients. She made a mental note to discuss some of her ideas with the CMO, if she could get an audience with Mele. For now, however, she was empty. The day was done, her mind shut down and it was quiet. It wasn't long before Vil fell asleep on top of the covers, having worked another double shift, her body exhausted itself. Dr Vilanne Chalice, Lieutenant Junior Grade USS Manticore