A Grade B Horror Film

[DrDMatthews 0]

A Joint Log by Tabor Nansk and Debbie Matthews

 

 

When Tabor burst into Sickbay, he was almost tunnel-visioned with the pain in his head and for some reason couldn't seem to catch his breath. He looked around frantically for Dr. Matthews, someone he knew he could trust given the recent events. Irritably, he waved off two other medical personnel that he didn't immediately recognize and stumbled over to where Dr. Matthews was standing. Grasping her sleeve, he looked at her with pleading eyes, "Doctor, I need to talk with you! Somewhere not here!"

 

 

His arrival was less than discreet. When Deb saw him rush into Sickbay, two thoughts ran through her mind. First of all, she was pretty sure the individual in question was Tabor Nansk, the pilot Mr. Tomlinson referred to during their recent impromptu lunch. Secondly, Mr. Nansk, who was in obvious distress, would offer a perfect opportunity to expose Ms. Anami, the new nurse, to a bona fide emergency. So she assigned Merina and Sakiko to the case, confident the Caitian physician would prove quite capable of guiding their newest member of the staff.

 

Then again, maybe not.

 

Mr. Nansk had Debbie in his sights. He brushed past Merina and Sakiko, rushing toward the CMO in a panic. Tomlinson was right, thought Deb silently. This guy is in serious trouble.

 

"Mr. Nansk," replied Deb calmly, extricating her sleeve from his grasp. "We can talk in my office. Follow me." She hastily crossed he main ward and entered her office with Tabor right on her heels. Ordering the door closed, she motioned toward one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Please have a seat," she said while walking around the desk. Opening one of the drawers, she pulled out her tricorder then quickly joined Nansk in front of the desk. "Take a couple of deep breaths and try to calm down. Then you can tell me what's going on."

 

Tabor tried to follow the doctor's orders. When his breathing had finally settled into merely ragged gasps, he looked up at her imploringly. "You didn't die." It was more a statement than a question. "I heard you were aboard one of the escape pods that made it....sort of." He gripped the arms of the chair tightly and continued. "I didn't die either, but this ship, and most of the people now on it did. I should be ecstatic with how things turned out, but it's a nightmare. I mean, the dead are running things. It was the living that were questioned, that bore the brunt of almost accusation: 'So, you disappeared from the ship in the heat of battle. Explain yourself. File a report. And oh by the way, you're relieved of duty.' Temporal anomalies, whatever it was, something is wrong. We can't just splice time back together. Look what's happened. Some of us didn't die, some did and came back, some died and are truly DEAD. My god, this is a grade B horror film. So there I am, standing in the Flight Ops office, listening to a dead person talk about a new fighter design like we're about to go out on a shopping spree. I don't know what happened, a wave just sort of passed over me. I couldn't breathe, my head couldn't decide whether it wanted to split open or just spin off my neck." Tabor came to an abrupt end of his rant. There wasn't anything coherent really to say. He was laying it all on the line to someone he hoped had a similar experience and understanding. And his sanity, not to mention his career, was in the balance.

 

He talked so quickly it was difficult for Deb to keep up with what he was saying. It didn't help that she was keeping one eye on the tricorder. Of course, she didn't need it to know Tabor was extremely upset. She suspected the cause even before he sat down. But from his wild eyed appearance and obvious confusion, she wanted to make sure there wasn't something more sinister going on. His adrenaline was three times the normal limit but decided to try talking him down before resorting to drugs.

 

Debbie took the other chair in front of her desk, pulled it a bit closer to Mr. Nansk's and sat down. Her heart went out to the pilot. What happened to the Reaent a couple of weeks earlier had clearly thrown him for a loop. "To answer your first question," she began patiently. "No, I didn't die. I was on one of the escape pods along with Merina and a few others." She leaned back in the chair and shook her head. "I saw it too, Mr. Nansk. I saw the Reaent destroyed and my husband along with it. Even before that, I watched this Sickbay blown in half. I saw many of my staff disappear into space before the shields were able to contain the breach." She smiled sadly at the young man sitting across from her. "They died," she continued softly. "They all died. You and those of us in the escape pods can testify to that. So can the logs, not only from the escape pods but the log from the Reaent we saw blown to bits."

 

"Unlike a nightmare, said Debbie, looking Tabor in the eye, "It was real....very real. The grief we all experienced....the fear knowing our next stop was in a Romulan brig or, in your case, death by suffocation. Believe me, that was as real as it gets." She smiled warmly and reached over to pat his arm. "But it wasn't permanent." Her smile broadened a bit. "I can't begin to explain temporal anomalies. I choose to believe we experienced a miracle that scientists put a name on. And I don't think any of us will ever understand it."

 

Tabor's breathing, and probably his blood pressure too, had dropped to a manageable level. "Doctor, you're the closest thing to a counselor this ship has at the moment. I know you don't have all the answers, and we'll probably never get all the answers, but this experience has left me feeling like 'what the hell's the point?' Things that are getting others excited, like Scherer's new fighter design, seem like trivial annoyances. I mean if Star Fleet is going to throw us into hopeless missions, and then virtually get indignant that a "miracle" saved some of us...Doctor, I feel lost. I'm starting to question my purpose here. And for a member of this crew, that's dangerous to others," and with a little chuckle, "not to mention myself."

 

"Don't be so hard on yourself," replied Deb evenly. "It's only been a couple of weeks. We all have a lot of healing to do and that will take time." She opened the tricorder again and took another quick scan. Nansk's vitals were returning to more normal levels. Talking had helped but he remained confused and Deb didn't feel qualified to council him. She was still dealing with her own issues surrounding their recent nightmare.

 

"Be patient with yourself," she continued. "Take some time off. If you want me to talk to the CAG, I will but that's up to you. I don't think Angel would refuse a few days R&R." She drew a deep breath and silently listed her options for helping Tabor. "There are medications I can prescribe to help you sleep and to prevent you from having another panic attack. I'm not suggesting you start down that road just yet, but please keep in mind, you're not alone in this. There is help for you....for all of us."

 

Nansk nodded silently and stood up. Deb followed suit. "One more thing before you leave," added Deb cautiously. "I requested a psych team and Starfleet Medical has obliged. They're on their way....should be here in a day or two." She again reached out to lightly pat his arm. "They're trained to deal with these types of situations. I strongly recommend you avail yourself of their services." She smiled warmly and stepped around him, quickly moving behind her desk and opening a drawer. After returning the tricorder to its proper place, she reached further into the draw and came up with a couple of Tootsie Pops....one grape and one cherry.

 

Tabor stared at her incredulously as she came around the desk and handed him the lollipops. "Be patient with yourself," she advised with a smile. "I know it's difficult but please try even if means taking meds for a short time. We need people like you."

 

He grinned slightly, thanked her for her time and took his leave. Deb stood in the doorway of her office and watched him until he disappeared into the corridor wondering if there would ever be a resolution to the emotional and psychological distress created by their most recent mission. She would give almost anything to know who was responsible but didn't dare consider what she would do to them if she had the opportunity.