Battling Klingon Values

[Gidgiddoni 0]

At least she was doing something. The Klingon patients in this ward were actually responding to treatment. Based on the information from Poldara and Savros, it was clear that many of them injested or inhaled particles laden with theta-radiation. It was some kind of fallout from the Praxis explosion, working its way through the Kronos ecosystem. The resulting poison had damaged their internal organs. If they hadn't been born with their species' legendary stamina, due to a curious smattering of organ redundancy, many would already be dead.

 

There were other injuries that had nothing to do with radiation, though. At least one had been severely beaten. The record said something vague about suppressing a food riot. She'd noticed no one had bothered to knit his broken ribs or prescribe painkillers.

 

Gid felt her face tense as she thought of the wasted death she'd witnessed. Two Klingons had slipped in during her work and actually killed one of the patients in some sort of ritual suicide. They hadn't known he was one of the first to show positive response to the epinephrine treatment. The two had worn white robes over warrior armor and claimed to be the deceased's closest friend and eldest son. They'd been so matter-of-fact about it, drawing the strangely shaped blade, putting the patient's hand on it and then plunging it into his heart. The son had actually wiped the blood on his sleeve as if part of some rite, which he said it was. The hegbat or something. She committed the word to memory for later research.

 

It had only been two hours since her arrival, but she could feel the pull of exhaustion. So many of these patients were treatable. The Klingons just didn't have enough specialists or enough medication. Or, she tried to put the thought out of her head, maybe they just didn't care. The medic who'd shown them around seemed more concerned about evacuating the sick than treating them. She closed her eyes. She couldn't judge them by her own cultural values. But she could do this, she thought as she injected another with a hypo. It made her feel useful. It was far different from treating minor burns and dog bites. That was important, but this was actual life-saving.

 

She brushed a hand over the skin of her scalp, taking a breath. Could she go back to merely tending a sterile, empty sickbay?

Edited August 6, 2008 by Gidgiddoni

[Gidgiddoni 0]

Her determination had grown over the last thirty minutes. Lacking only basic drugs and medical attention, how many hundreds of these people had languished for months following the destruction of Praxis? How many had already died that could have been saved with a diagnosic wand and drugs that could slowly reconstruct radiation damage. Although readily available inside Federation space, these drugs hadn't even been on the request list from Qo'noS. Epinephrine was a basic staple of every medkit, so there was plenty of it aboard Challenger. There was little experience using hyronalin on Klingons, but Gid had been carefully testing it on the more serious cases and seen good results. There was enough onboard as an alternative. In twenty years, she suspected it might become the standard treatment.

 

She pushed back a mild irritation that the ship had been so long in getting the medicines down to her. What could they possibly be doing up there that was worth delaying life-saving supplies?

 

One of the Klingon patients, a small boy, had actually reached out to touch her after responding well to the series. Scans showed he'd inhaled a lot of the theta-poisoned particles and his lungs were ravaged. A tri-ox compound had given his ragged breathing some relief. She'd risked the hyronalin and had slipped in a mild painkiller. In just a few minutes, he'd gained enough strength to open his eyes feebly and brush her hand. She could feel a tired sense of relief emanating from him.

 

Not for the first time, she thought about the vows she'd taken. What she must do, what she wasn't allowed to. And the earlier question came back at her: What could she possibly be doing up there that was worth delaying the saving of lives?

 

Challenger was the career opportunity of a lifetime. She'd risen as far as she could on her last ship, at least without the transfer of a superior or some catastrophic death - and who wanted to wait for that? Now, as CMO she'd been given a whole department to run, to build, to start from scratch. And yet, looking down at this small Klingon, it all seemed unimportant. Without them, this boy's future might have ended in this bed. Now, he might live. He might grow into an enemy that would seek the death of children of the Federation. But would he really seek to kill those who'd come to help him? She wondered. Was this where hatreds were buried, peace truly forged?

Edited August 9, 2008 by Gidgiddoni