A Sober Mister T

[Savros 0]

Feeling some concern, Doug had trailed behind Dr. Susan Nuress and let her get ahead of him. She entered the doors of a school gymnasium.

 

In spite of Savros' suggestion that working might keep his mind off his situation, he found it nearly impossible to focus. He kept thinking of how the doctor had scanned him and said simply "Damn". That was one word you didn't want to hear from your doctor. In spite of his inquiry, she had not explained her choice of words. He was going to die and he knew it.

 

It was a sober moment for Lieutenant (j.g.) Doug T. In his hurry to get on the shuttle, he had not been as thorough as he should have been and this may have cost him his life. There was a reason he had always been so vigilant at Tactical. Tactical was something he enjoyed and was good at. He had never been known for his field experience so as soon as the position at tactical had come open, he applied for it.

 

It was a prestigious position at that. Although Starfleet boasted allowing junior officers to serve as replacements for senior positions, few had earned the right to be called the tactical officer. It was a testament to his dedication and hard work. Still…

 

Despite the number of benefits the tactical position offered, it was often boring. Few races were stupid enough to go toe-to-toe with an Excelsior class ship like Challenger. Theodore Roosevelt had once said "Speak softly and carry a big stick, and you will go far." If Captain Seiben spoke softly, then Challenger and her crew was the big stick. Who could argue with that kind of diplomacy?

 

Doug entered the gymnasium doors and saw Dr. Nuress kneeling in front of a dead body of a patient that had not yet been removed. There were hundreds of others in here. For a moment, he relaxed and took his mind off his trouble.

 

The kneeling doctor looked over at the Starfleet officer and pressed a button on her environmental suit. It looked like she'd toggled the transmission frequency so she could speak to him. "If I had to guess, this one died after most of the others." She reached out with her encapsulated hand and repositioned the head. "Notice the flushness of the skin on the face and the distorted position of the body. This person probably died of asphyxia."

 

"Asphyxia?"

 

"Lack of oxygen," she explained. "Probably drowned in his own fluids."

 

Doug gulped inwardly as he thought of the horror of choking to death on his own vomit. Noticing his reaction, Doctor Nuress got to her feet and grabbed him by the shoulder. "That's not going to happen to you. We are going to watch over you. You aren't going to be alone like this." She changed her tone. "We can still find a cure." But she didn't sound convinced.

 

Doug didn't know whether to feel comforted or panicky. At least if he was going to die it would be in comfort.

 

* * * * *

 

Back at the environmental lab, Lieutenant Savros processing more samples in an effort to learn more about the virus. So far the computer had scanned through thousands of known viral strains and some theoretical ones. There was nothing new to report. He re-read the procedure as a double check. He appeared to be doing everything correctly. His quality control samples had checked out. No, if the computer was not reading anything it must not be there.

Beyond the synthetic enclosure of the erected lab, Savros knew that Doug and the newly arrived doctors were fanning out, looking for clues to this mystery. With so few of them, there hadn't been time to move the dead, but they were making progress. Only time would tell whether they would find a cure.