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Part of USS Denver: Mission 7: Pandora’s Warp

Drastic Aftermaths

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Ming passed through the doors of sickbay.  There was a new CMO in these parts who he’d briefly met and he found her intriguing.  He knew of the Goth culture which was founded somewhere in the mid to late 20th century, as he understood it, and he’d only met a few that could be classified as such.  Well, he was easy going if nothing else….and he did have something of an issue.  

He’d had some rough maneuvers with the last mission.  The inertial compensators of his fighter had issues keeping up with a few which had his brain rattling around his skull on a few of them.  He was noticing low level headaches, mild nausea and a mild ringing in both ears.  Tinnitus.   Either way he knew not getting looked at was a bad idea.

The Knight’s CO paused and looked around.  There were a couple of occupied beds but most were empty which was a tribute to the medical team with some of the chaos recently passed.  Not seeing the good doctor in the main bay he headed toward the CMO’s office.  Jackpot!

Marcus knocked on the doorframe and leaned his head in and asked, “Hi Dr. Haigh….Have you got a moment?”

The wall of dark hair the Doctor had a habit of hiding behind shifted and Lavender’s large, lashed eyes regarded the Lieutenant at her door for a moment. Truth be told she was more than willing to be interrupted from the long and tedious reports she was composing. Extended stints alone in her office (or anywhere for that matter) were difficult. But her mind changed slightly when she saw who it was who had come knocking. She had nothing against Lieutenant Ming, she barely knew him in fact. But just his face brought new flashbacks to her mind’s eye from the fighter ascent that had given her a harrowing panic attack. Showing only the tiniest flicker on her face of the sudden pain the images in her head were inflicting on her Lavender invited Marcus to take the chair opposite with a wave of a pale hand.

“I do. Sit. Speak.”

Ming paused for a brief moment but did as bade.  He did so a bit more pensively than he might’ve as he noticed the rather subtle change in Lavendar when he had come in.  Was it really not a bad time?  Had he done something wrong toward her that he was unaware of?

He tilted his head slightly and said, “Well, the Knights had a lot of hard action with this last mission.  Me and my wing officer tend to fly with an aggressive flying style.  I guess my inertial dampener was a bit less fine tuned than his as he’s reported no ill effects…Me on the other hand….There were a few manuvers where my head got rattled around a bit harder than usual.  Some of the other cadets used to call it ‘Cranial pinball” back in flight school.  I didn’t experience often but I ran into it enough that I know it goes during and after.  Concussive symptoms of headaches, nausea, dizziness….Ringing in the ears.  My symptoms have been so mild I didn’t recognize it for what it was at first.  Can’t be anything but however.  Soon as I figured out that it was the most likely culprit I presumed it to be the wisest course I come in and get checked out.” Lavender nodded as she listened. She was tempted to comment on how infuriating it was for her when people tried to push on through in these situations and how it just made her job harder but resolved instead of positive reinforcement.

“Definitely wise, especially in your vocation,” she told Marcus, scooping part of the hair wall behind her left ear. “Sounds like you’re an old hand with mTBI. May I run a few scans?

“That’d be fine….And yeah, piloting was a little rough before the war.  Sadly it’s gotten more vicious with the war.  If the Dominion doesn’t kill us in our small fighters trying to survive sometimes does it for them,” Ming said with a tone and smile denoting it as gallows humor.

He started to stand but stopped half way with an obvious wince before slowly sliding back into the seat.  He looked over at her his violet eyes meeting her green/grey as his face got noticeably paler.  He said his voice now carrying clear worry, “That’s new….It’s never been that bad.” Lavender half-rose and held her hand out flat as a signal to keep him in the chair.

“Whoa, okay just stay seated for a while, let it pass and I’ll check you out,” she said firmly but kindly. Rising she acquired a medical Tricorder and a Hypospray from an equipment trolley by the wall. The latter was placed on the desk within easy reach, the former was opened and Lavender started to take some scans.

“I’m reading some neuronal depolarisation and your cranial blood flow isn’t what it should be,” she told him, sitting on the front of her desk near to Marcus and putting the open tricorder down for a moment to prep the Hypospray. “How’s your vision? Any changes?”

Ming lowered his eyes for a moment apparently in thought.  His eyes looked up to meet hers and when their eyes met three things happened at once.  His face went from thoughtful to panicked, he thought that the doctor may’ve been one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, and although his lips didn’t move Lavender could hear him say, sounding very alarmed, “Help!.”

Within the span of two heartbeats afterwards, Marcus D. Ming, the commanding officer of the Knights, collapsed into a heap on floor.  Once settled he did not move.

“The fuck…?” Lavender was momentarily confused but the source of the voice became insignificant as Marcus went down.

“Help, here, right now!” Lavender called out of the office door and rescanned Marcus’ cranium as some of her staff rushed over. “Intracranial Hemorrhage,” she informed them. “Get him to a bio-bed.”

As Marcus was carried to the nearest bed, Lavender grabbed a kit trolly, threw a few items on to it and went to work. First priority was the stop the bleed. She placed a neural device on Marcus’ forehead and interfaced with the biobed itself to adjust the configuration. Next she leaned over and admiistered  a couple of shots from a hypospray.

“Don’t worry Lieutenant,” she said to the unconscious pilot, “I got you.”

Lt. Ming sensed more than heard Lavendar’s assurances.  Gratitude was the only sentiment he could feel at the moment and he hoped she could sense that from him as he did his best to project it.  His special gifts were so intermittent there was no way for him to know if it was gotten across or not.  In the meantime he held onto dear life to the best of ability and hoped that whatever was wrong was able to be fixed.

Lavender administered a Hypospray and put Marcus under.



Lavender padded quietly around the biobed, checking Marcus’ scans. The damage had all been repaired and she’d let him rest a while, making sure all of his brain scans were coming back consistently normal. They were, so she pressed the hypospray in her hand to his neck bringing him around gently.

For what seemed like a long few moments Marcus Ming was in a dark, thoughtless void.  He noticed that he was emerging from it now however. His thoughts and wits was the first to start coming back.  He noticed a familiar presence that felt trustworthy nearby.  

A couple of heartbeats later he slowly started to open his eyes.  He hadn’t known how long he was out so it seemed like a wise idea as he might be sensitive to light.  Once they were open enough to see the light levels he was glad he did.  It wasn’t blinding but it was bright enough.  He blinked a few times before he looked carefully around.  

Ming’s violet eyes met Dr. Haigh’s grey-green.    He smiled and said (a little weakly), “Well, I’d ask if I were in heaven but if that were the case I’d likely not have a few stiff muscles.  Feeling surprisingly well otherwise.    Can I assume the procedure went as expected?”

“Heaven not required just yet, Lieutenant,” Lavender remarked dryly with a small smile. “The blood vessel has been repaired successfully, you should be fine but I’m going to keep you here a while for observation and a neural exam in a bit. If everything is ok I’ll discharge you but you’ll be taking forty eight hours medical leave. No flying, no training, no Hangar work and no objections. Only exception is if the ship comes under attack. Once you’re back flying the first thing you’ll be doing is dialling in those inertial dampeners. Clear?”
Marcus studied the doctor for a long second   He smiled, his eyes meeting hers, as he said, “I’ll agree to stay so long as I get the continued pleasure of your company…the rest…I agree to conditionally.”

Ming smiled lopsidedly and continued, “I’ve learned to rely on my senses pretty heavily in combat operations and flight in general. I’d be willing to manage a balance but it’ll be shy of the normal.  It’ll be quite a bit safer though.  If you’re okay with that I guess that a 48 hour medical leave it is.  My only other request is that you notify Captain Talon of the leave. The fighter group is a minor department but she should know that it’s department head is out of comission for a couple days.” Lavender ran her tongue over her front teeth under her closed lips in a thoughtful manner.

“Of course, standard procedure,” she explained. “Safer is good. It might not be Rock and Roll but I’d bet you’d hate to have to give up flying permanently on medical grounds. Even with twenty fifth century technology there’s only so much mTBI a human can take. Oh and uh…” the doctor smiled slightly in her usual sarcastic manner, “I’m glad you agree to my treatment plan Lieutenant, but it’s an order, not a suggestion.”

Ming smiled and started to say something but stopped, obviously rethinking it.   The smile lessened and he said, “Of course doctor.  I learned in my last assignment that the CMO’s orders might as well rank as high as one of the Gods of old.  It’s better to piss off a wing commander than the ship’s head Medical officer.  That’s for sure.  As ordered Doctor.”

“I’m glad we understand each other, Lieutenant,” Lavender respoded rather haughtily. “Now, unless you have any questions, get some rest, if you need anything call one of the nurses and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Understood, doctor.  That sounds like sound advise.  See you when I see you, Doctor,” Ming said with amiable respect.  

As the doctor walked away Ming sighed and looked around.  Like most medical bays it was pleasent enough.  He preferred to minimize his time in them though.  He’d decided that minimizing his time here was usually a good goal barring a friendly relationship with one of the staff.  Even with that thought in mind he decided not to prolong his stay any longer than intended.  Pilots had reputations.  He wasn’t the avarage pilot though.