"New Ventures"

[Guest Fiona Weber]

Sickbay had been... relatively busy, for once. New personnel always did that, of course -- the onboard completion of the fourth-years' training usually caused an influx of newly-minted ensigns bright and eager (well, not really...) to get their physicals over with, not to mention the accompanying treatments for whatever medical issues showed up in said physicals. Besides, the fresh meat hadn't been properly exposed to... Sickbay's tender touch, and lacked the resentment towards Medical that the more seasoned officers held. Resultingly, the new ensigns were much more manageable.

 

Either way, Fiona was immeasurably glad to have had another M.D. put on the Alpha staff rotation. The Kriosian female was more than capable, and Fiona was more than happy to let her get as much hands-on experience as possible -- especially when it ended up clearing Weber's docket in the process. Besides, Sinclaire's sense of humor meshed well with her chief's own acerbity, and she was fairly confident that she would not be ending up with her newest assistant scolding her for her bedside manner -- or lack thereof.

 

And even better than just taking on the headaches of some of Weber's longer running cases, the addition of Sinclaire to the staff had cleared lots of time for the chief to resume some of her longer-standing projects, some of which she'd not had the opportunity to play with since... well, suffice to say, since long before she'd even been assigned to Republic.

 

The hydroponics project, for one. Fiona'd had all of the plans worked out for years, but she'd never had the resources or time to devote to it -- a garden of... medicinal plants and almost-flora from assorted worlds. Then there were lots of research projects that she'd left barely-started or not quite completed... and quite a few that were still embryonic but still floating about in Fiona's brain.

 

Granted, she noted with a look towards the console she'd set up in her office to display the forward-viewer, if they never figured out this wormhole mess -- or gods forbid the admiral ordered them to go through it -- Fiona would likely have more to worry about than how she was going to water a diverse garden of plant life. The ship being ripped apart by the skewing forces of the wormhole, for one, or treating a crewful of victims of a radiation they didn't pick up on before going into the wormhole, or repairing a crew shot to hell by some malevolent evil waiting on the other side. Oh yes, Fiona thought dryly, finishing off her latest mug of raktajino, the possibilities were simply endless.