"Call to Duty"

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Duty Log, Stardate 5108052.6

USS Manticore en route to Negen Prime

Cmdr JFarrington, MD

 

Call to Duty

 

Two days out from Starbase 90, a delayed rendezvous with Chimera, and the first readiness drill a dismal failure. Things could only get better, or so she thought.

 

As Second Officer, the crew’s records were Jami’s responsibility, and as Counselor she monitored their emotional and psychological stability, which made her position – at the very least – interesting. Add to that her status as an emergency physician, surgeon, and deep-space trauma specialist and you had a totally over-qualified Starfleet officer who could either become overwhelmed with responsibility and lose focus completely or learn to deal with it by quickly shedding one role to assume another without batting an eye. Fortunately for Jami – and for the crew – she fell into the latter category.

 

Having taken second chair on the bridge she had spent the last few uneventful days catching up on paddwork, especially reviewing new crew personnel files and getting up to speed on psychological profiles. Covert Ops was not the place to have loose cannon, though they had seen their share in the last ten years. Jami’s standard procedure was to throw formal evaluation forms out the proverbial window. She preferred, instead, a more informal evaluation. Watching the crew during daily activities gave more information regarding interpersonal relationships, personal preferences, and possible future difficulties than any formal eval sheet.

 

So far she had seen nothing but good. She was especially thankful that the medical team had been bolstered with seasoned physicians because, as Jami finished her notes, word came that Negen Prime, a space faring pre-warp Federation world, had come under attack. The doctors would be in the fray immediately.

 

It was time for her to change.

 

Entering medical came naturally. It was like riding a bicycle – once you get the hang of it you don’t have to concentrate on the mechanics, only the consequences. Unlike riding a bicycle, the consequences were usually more than a knot on the head or a scraped knee. With another's life in the balance the consequences of one’s actions could run the gamut from rewarding to disastrous, and with the personal nature of medical care it cut deep into the psyche. It is hard to forget the look in the eyes of the dying, their last words that may or may not be voiced, the death grip, or the slow wane of a life moving from injury, to surgery, to coma, to flatline.

 

But all those thoughts were pushed aside to focus on the moment. With one swift motion she shed her command garb for the coat of a physician, equal in medical rank to all who worked beside her. Dr. Chalice would be her partner in triage. Together with Drs Stone and Karr they made their way to the shuttle bay for the first day of what could be a very demanding mission.