"Cantina Medicine"

[LeftEar JoNs 0]

8.17.07

USS Excalibur NCC-2000B

“Cantina Medicine”

 

Lieutenant jg Left Ear JoNs woke from her injury induced slumber, flat on her back, her view that of the piping supports and tiles on the ceiling. A few seconds passed in confusion, and then her full clarity came rushing back.

 

The battle. The Fleet. Excal. I’m not at my posting.

 

The dark furred Caitian leapt up and onto her hind paws, immediately realizing that 1.) she was no longer on the bridge, and 2.) the cargo bay tipped sideways. The normally sure-footed feline officer stumbled sideways into a makeshift cot, jostling the occupant. Two strong hands came to support her right side – one closed around her wrist, the other rested on her thigh.

 

JoNs didn’t look at her supporter, keeping her gaze straight ahead until her equilibrium settled and her breathing went back to normal.

 

After about two minutes had passed, an accented human voice spoke. “The decking back down where it’s supposed to be?”

 

The feline security officer slowly nodded, finally venturing to turn her head and look at the speaker.

 

She was a Terran female of Caucasian descent, dark blond hair, about the same age as Left Ear, sporting an engineering jumpsuit. She offered a wane smile. “Ensign Tracey, pleased to meet you. You aren’t the first one to leap up like that; one of the Midshipmen did it a little while ago; slammed themselves right into one of the bulkheads.”

 

Left Ear gently disengaged herself from the support, and carefully found her way back to the cot she had just vacated, located next to Tracey. “Lieutenant JoNs. Thank you for the help.”

 

“Well, it isn’t as if I have a whole lot to do right now Lieutenant.”

 

“Where are we?”

 

“Cargo bay, obviously. Medicals got it sectioned off according to injury. We’re in the walking wounded area.” Tracey pointed to her own bloodied and bandaged leg, and for the first time, left Ear touched the bandage wrapped around her own head wound.

 

The feline looked at Tracey. “Where’s the staff?”

 

“Well…we only had two medical techs anyway, not being in immediate danger. They were here, but then scattered about ten minutes ago. According to the shouts I heard, one of the patients with a chest wound seized, and another section had a patient half out of his head with pain…,” the ensign’s voice trailed off in a shared sympathy; the Excal had taken quite a pounding.

 

JoNs shook her head. “I had been on bridge duty….I guess it’s just as well that I don’t really recall what exactly landed me here.”

 

The two women lapsed into the tired companionable silence of the wounded, and Left Ear took a few moments to take mental stock of herself. She knew her rank, her name, her current assignment. She recalled her home world, and her family. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten, but then again, she probably hadn’t had much opportunity to eat.

 

It was time to go.

 

The felinoid carefully stood, and then walked over to a nearby supply hover cart. With each step she took, her footing became more stable, but she clamped down on the slight nausea that she felt. She began to rummage through the supplies, looking for what she needed.

 

Security first aid training was a wonderful thing.

 

Left Ear quickly ran a scan on herself with a medical tricorder, confirming that her wound was superficial to low grade. She then pulled a skin regenerator at half power and a low dosage hypo for the pain. She injected herself in the arm with the hypo and then started to remove her bandage.

 

“Sir? What in the…I mean…what are you doing?”

 

“Preparing to blow this pop stand, I believe you humans say.” JoNs then used the reflective screen of a medical Padd to see the laceration on her forehead and began to apply the protoplaser.

 

“…y’all are nuts. Sir, I mean…you need to be cleared first.”

 

“Ensign, chances are you and I aren’t even recorded as being in the triage queue yet. There is too much going on for the medical people; they won’t miss one.”

 

“Well in that case, let’s make it two.” Tracey began the process of getting up off her cot, game leg and all.

 

The Caitian junior lieutenant was obviously no doctor; the wound was now repaired, but she had managed to leave a scar. One of the docs could deal with it later. Left Ear turned her attention to the struggling engineering ensign. “Look, Tracey, I’m not setting the best example here.” As she spoke, the feline disposed of her bloody bandage down a medical waste receptacle. “But going by my field training, that leg looks a bit worse then my head wound did…you need real medical attention, not my backroom cantina act.”

 

A sheen of perspiration had broken out across Tracey’s forehead. “…Good solid medical advice Lieutenant…”

 

JoNs smiled and moved back to her, helping her back to her original position. Both woman exchanged last words of encouragement with each other, shook, and then Left Ear was on her way. The Caitian paused, checking that the way was clear, and then hastily – and sneakily - exited the cargo-triage area, gladly leaving the blood, groans, and medicinal smells behind her.