Preparing

[Vilanne 0]

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.