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T'aral

In the still of the night ...

T’Aral awoke an hour after midnight. This was not unusual of late, as her condition made doing anything ( including sleeping ) increasingly difficult. She would meditate, calm herself, and seek additional rest – except something was wrong. It was nothing she could quantify: there was no unusual sensation, no unidentifiable discomfort, and no unfamiliar sounds. Therefore she could not logically identify a reason for her unease and would normally put it out of her mind with a meditative session to calm her thoughts. It was therefore uncharacteristic both as a Vulcan and as herself that T’Aral chose not to, but instead decided to wake Ensign Khora.

 

“Ghh … nhuhh … wha’? Miss T’Aral … is something wrong?” Khora did her best to pull her wits together; she wasn’t a ‘night’ person nor was she an early riser.

 

“I have no reason to believe so. However, please perform a full diagnostic.” It was an abrupt request, and as Khora pulled herself together T’Aral regretted that it was not Vulcan custom to be sympathetic. Khora’s efforts during the last several months were tireless and T’Aral did appreciate them. It was unfortunate that she could not properly demonstrate her gratitude.

 

Khora gathered up her tricorder and scanned T’Aral twice, making sure all readings were consistent. After checking them over, she smiled and gestured towards an inner room. “It’s going to take me a few minutes to go over this; why don’t you find a spot to relax?” T’Aral nodded and made her way into the hallway. As soon as she was out of sight, Khora whipped out a communicator and pushed a shiny red button.

 

On board the Comanche Creek, an identical communicator lying on a bedside table began to chirp furiously. Ensign Gabriella Ellis slung an arm towards it, smacking it sideways but managing to grab it before it hit the floor. “Hello?”

 

“Gabby? It’s T’sh! I need help and fast!”

 

Ellis flung herself out of bed. “Ok, deep breaths. What’s the situation?”

 

“If I’m right, we needed Khole and a surgical kit five minutes ago.” Khora did her best to keep her voice down, but it was clear she was frantic.

 

Ellis stepped over to her terminal and pressed a few commands. “Expect us in about ten minutes, and try to keep calm.”

 

Khora snapped the communicator shut and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to have T’Aral upset. She needed to believe everything would turn out all right. Stepping into the next room, her jaw dropped as she found T’Aral clearing off a table. “What … what are you doing?”

 

T’Aral turned. “Ensign Khora, I have considerable experience with human medical officers. I am well versed in your diversionary techniques, and they are unnecessary. The facts of the situation will suffice.”

 

Khora took a deep breath and handed T’Aral her tricorder. “I think that there may be complications; I’m not sure though … it may be nothing.”

 

T’Aral looked over the readings. “You have called for assistance – including a surgeon?” T’Aral offered gentle approval at Khora’s nod. “You underestimate your perceptive nature. A different medical officer might have chosen simply to observe. The safest path, however, is the one you have initiated. You should prepare the room and set up your incubator – it will be required.”

 

T’Aral watched as Khora worked; there wasn’t much that had to be done, but it would keep her busy until Khole and Ellis arrived. Khora needed to be kept busy; she tended to worry too much. It wasn’t that long before the ‘Creek’s lead medical officers stepped in and began to set up. Khole was checking her instruments while Ellis walked over to greet T’Aral. She responded by handing over the tricorder. “Ensign Khora’s analysis is accurate; Doctor Khole – have you performed a tenkon-snem before?”

 

Khole checked her protoplastic sealers. “No, but I’ve been studying the procedure. I’ll have to be a bit careful initially and a proper closure is kind of involved, but it seems to be a fairly straightforward operation.”

 

T’Aral nodded as she made her way to the stone table. “You have performed far more difficult surgeries in far worse conditions, there is nothing to be concerned about.”

 

Ellis helped her onto the table. “That’s our line, Doctor. You’re the patient this time. Now lie back.” Khole finished setting up the portable sterile-field generator and nodded. Ellis drew out a hyposprayer. “Time to relax – see you in a few hours.”

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

On board the Comanche Creek, a single entry was added to the ship’s log by Lieutenant Odee:

 

*CMO and surgeon summoned to New Vulcan at 02:47. Anticipated return entered as 14:00.*

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