Part of USS Canterbury: Not all those who wander are lost…

Songs and Sickbay

USS Canterbury
March 2402
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“Oo’vra han baras tevanta! Ach trigarit un e varta gef ta vet!”

Bennett shook her head as Mason’s singing from the back of the shuttle got louder. It was a trench ditty from back home, one the universal translator was really having trouble with, probably because there weren’t enough of them in the fleet for their language system to have heard enough to work it out yet. Mason seemed to be on a one woman mission to fix that though.

“Commander?” Rose called out from the back where he was doing his best to keep dressings in place on the singing woman. “How long? We’re going to need medical in here as soon as we can. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Setting down now,” she said, and there was a slight bump as she set the shuttle down in the Canterbury’s shuttlebay. She had no idea where the previous CO had gotten the shuttle from, and that was the kind of question she knew not to ask when there was an unregistered, fast as hell shuttle on a fleet ship. It looked like it would fall apart in a stiff breeze, but for all its tattered appearance, it flew well. And they might need it in future so she made sure to be gentle. She didn’t want to put dents in it. Well, more dents anyway…

Ducking down to look out of the view-screen, she spotted the medical team already heading across the deck toward them, the CMO in the lead.

“Cracking the door. Medical team incoming,” she said, turning as the back doors clicked and the mechanism released.

“Might wanna let me in there, sir,” she said, managing to shoulder him out of the way as Mason launched into the chorus, complete with hand gestures. Considering the song was about the rather violent death of a genocidal leader, needless to say, she was far happier about Mason’s fist colliding with her shoulder than the commander’s face.

“She certainly packs a punch,” Rose commented as he moved out of the way. “What’s the song?”

”It’s a song from the war,” she said, lifting the dressings from Mason’s side, only to slap them back into place again at another thick ooze of blood. Yeah, she’d gotten tagged good back there. “About the defeat of our enemy’s leader.”

“Medical incoming!” Ket, the ships CMO called out as he and his team ducked through the still opening door of the shuttle. “What have you got for me?”

“Oo’vra han baras tevanta! Mason sang at the top of her voice, about deafening them all. Ach trigarit un e varta gef ta vet!”

“Take it down a level, Prime!” Bennett ordered, catching Mason’s hands and holding them still as she nodded for Ket to get closer.

“Enna Mason. She got tagged in the ribs during a bar fight earlier, so blood loss, internal injuries. She’s still breathing, obviously,” she added at another round of the chorus. “So her lungs aren’t compromised.”

“Yeah,” Ket’s lips compressed into a thin line as he moved in, the medical officer with him moving in perfect co-ordination. “Seems that way. Enna? I’m Commander Ket, I’m a doctor… you’ve been in the wars haven’t you?” he said as he ran his tricorder over her and rattled off orders to his companion.

“One war!” she argued, focusing on him with some effort, and holding up a finger. She nearly poked him in the eye, but the doctor evaded with an ease that told Bennett he was used to dealing with unpredictable patients. “This was just a… disagreement.”

“Yes… well, this disagreement means you’re going to need some surgery.” He looked over his shoulder at Bennett. “What’s she got in her system? She’s showing signs of inebriation.”

“Coffee.” Rose’s eyebrows winged up. Bennett shrugged. “What? Not human. Coffee gets us drunk, but also acts like a painkiller. I’d say she’s had a jug of the stuff.”

“This is Ket to sickbay, prep surgery one and give me a site to site transport please.”

“…trigarit un e varta gef ta—”

Mason’s singing cut off abruptly as she disappeared with the medical team, leaving a bloodied shuttle bench and the ruins of her jacket behind.

“She’s—“

Bennett chuckled as the security chief seemed to run out of words.

“Unique? Special? Crazy?” she supplied. “Yeah… all of the above. But, I’ll tell you something for nothing. She’s a bloodhound. You set her on finding Murphy, and she absolutely will not stop until she has.”