Jeremy Stone, MD

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

Jeremy Stone, MD

USS Manticore NCC-5852-A

Deep in Romulan Space

 

“Just run silent run deep baby....we'll get them back somehow.”

 

Dr. Jeremy Stone was leaning against a lab counter in sick bay, puzzling over data from the Romulan Echococcosis plague when the sound of Mitar Precip’s voice turned his attention in that direction. Mitar was sitting up, which was good, but he was at a console. Moreover, he seemed uneasy. Putting a bit too much stress on his body too soon after surgery? Sitting at a console and sitting up exercised two different muscle groups, which might be cause for concern.

 

But Nurse Nancy was hovering near him. Dr. Stone watched a minute then turned back to his work. Nancy was good; she knew the signs to watch for.

 

Mitar Precip had been injured while extracting the special ops team from Manticore’s dorsal module. With radiation poisoning and a ruptured spleen, he had definitely pushed the envelope as far as mortality was concerned, but he was now well on the mend. Since there had been a lull in sick bay after several weeks of controlled chaos, Nancy wasn’t particularly busy and Dr. Stone decided a little extra TLC wouldn’t hurt.

 

Nancy’s rapt attention to Mitar was mostly professional, but Jeremy had long suspected there were other thoughts, mostly innocent, like a schoolgirl fantasizing with the captain of the football team. He had noticed her complexion flush, if ever so slightly, when she approached Mitar. When Mitar spoke to her, she fiddled a bit with her uniform. Schoolgirls aside, Dr. Stone reminded himself that Nurse Nancy was, after all, a woman, and Mitar Precip a young, virile male.

 

Their conversation continued in the background for some minutes, with Mitar explaining the infiltration operation to Nurse Nancy. It probably delighted her to no end. Jeremy flipped through several more pages of data left behind by medical and science staff until a comment from Nancy caught his attention again.

 

“I'm sure they are ok... but how are you feeling?” Not her usual bedside tone. More concern than casual conversation.

 

Jeremy gave the couple his undivided attention as Mitar shifted uneasily in his chair. “Stronger,” said Mitar, “but I am afrai... cautious to move my abdomen much. It’s like I want to believe it’s healed, but I still have concerns. I just feel.... I should keep apprised of things now that I am up an about. We are deep in ...alien territory.” Here he broke off with a wince. “Do you need to check up on my wound?”

 

“I can change your dressing,” said Nancy, “or... call the doctor to drain it.”

 

Dr. Stone strolled over and took an easy stance next to them as Mitar looked up.

 

“I guess the Doctor better look at it. I presume he did the surgery?”

 

“Yes, I did,” Jeremy answered, “But I am sure Nurse Nancy is capable,” he said, offering a smile in Nancy’s direction.

 

“I’m in your capable hands, Doctor,” said Mitar as he returned to the biobed and slipped off the casual tunic used for recuperating patients. With a slight look of disappointment, Nancy went about her business.

 

The Bolian’s lean physique bore not only the stress of surgery but the added trauma of excessive muscular contractions. Radiation sickness vomiting had taken quite a toll. The incision, however, showed no external signs of distress, and a deep scan verified. The troubling part was nearly an 8 kg weight loss, with Mitar’s total body fat lowered to under 6%. Though Mitar’s BMI was naturally low, in Jeremy’s book 6% total body fat was cause for concern, something to be watched in the coming days.

 

But his words to Mitar were, “Just as I thought. You are seriously… healing very well.” He snapped the tricorder closed and looked up with an encouraging smile. “I imagine that the soreness will linger for a while, especially if you insist on working while you’re sitting in a chair. May I suggest using one that is fixed to a low gravity molded reclining bed? Knowing our crew and their penchant for overwork, we've installed a few of those.”

 

“So bridge work is not possible,” said Mitar with an air of despondency. “I think I may be the senior officer on the ship.”

 

“Bridge work, as in sitting in the command chair?”

 

“Well...I think we have a Lieutenant manning the bridge right now. Given we are deep in Romulan Space, I just feel I should be up there.”

 

Dr. Stone sat back to consider the implications for a minute. Mitar’s body was healing, but worry could put more stress on one’s body than actual physical trauma, and Mitar might be more relaxed on the bridge than in a biobed in sick bay. Relaxing, feeling one was in charge – within bounds – was just as good a prescription for recovery as rest.

 

“Tell you what, Commander,” said Jeremy after a long think. “My general rule of thumb is if you feel well enough to do it, then you probably should do it. So...I'll leave it up to you. However, Sitting too long in a chair isn’t good. Moving around too much is not good either. But a bit of adjustment here and there might work. And we can certainly have a modified chair installed temporarily.”

 

Mitar acquiesced, but his thoughts quickly returned to Romulus. “Did Dr. Mele give you any indication on when the team will be coming back?”

 

At least he didn’t say “if” they were coming back. “I'm afraid not, Commander. I'm sure they might have more information on the bridge.”

 

“I hope so. I just hope they can pull off this blown op, like you fixed my blown spleen.”

 

Dr. Jeremy Stone sighed and responded quietly, “If only everything were fixed as easily as that.”