Main Sickbay
Lieutenant Commander Bridgette “Betty” Walker sat on a biobed, legs dangling over the edge, opposite one of her frequent fliers. The patient, a Bolian officer, rarely went a ten-day period without a drop-in to explore a cough or address his fears of some strange illness he had just read about.
“I’ve run the scans,” she offered in a sing-song voice. “You have indeed not developed secondary-disruptor radiation poisoning.”
“Are you sure? Should we run them again?” the man questioned, smoothing his hands over his uniform. “I just haven’t felt right since the attack stopped.”
Betty crossed one leg over the other, her wide smile never slipping. “I’m sure, kiddo. But I’ll send the scanning data over to your quarters just to let you run through it yourself, okay? Given that the attack – which was really just a few underpowered pokes, really – finished less than ten minutes ago, it’s more likely you’re suffering from a bit of fight-or-flight fueled anxiety.”
She hopped off the biobed and walked her short 5’5″ frame over to the Bolian, using her hand to gently nudge him up and off the bed.
“The shot you need isn’t medical – it’s alcoholic. Whiskey, specifically. Doctor’s orders, kid.” Her hand on his back, she ushered him toward the door. “Feel better!” she finished, ensuring he was past the threshold before rushing to hit the button to close the doors. She turned, leaning her back against the wall, and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Oh my, I do love him,” commented Nurse New’all, a Bajoran medical worker and Betty’s wife. She shimmied out of the medical office with a stack of PADDs in her hands. Almost half a foot taller, she towered over Betty before leaning down to offer a quick peck on her forehead.
“You handle him so well,” New’all continued. She offered an innocent chuckle as Betty tilted her head up, going in for a fuller kiss. Feigning interest, New’all instead dumped the stack of PADDs into her wife’s arms and turned back toward the office.
“Mean,” moaned Betty.
“You knew that when you married me,” New’all replied. The two giggled. “We’ve got to finalize our medical plan, though. I’ll go down to the surface and lead the medical away team. You’ll stay here and see to the sample patients. Agreed?”
“What if you meet a beautiful Romulan princess and fall in love?” teased the Chief Medical Officer, who was now absentmindedly giving her thumbprint to the orders on the PADDs.
“Then I’ll invite you to join,” replied the nurse.
Transporter Room 1
Lieutenant Ashworthy patted his hair flat before tucking his shirt down tight. He bounced on his heels as the hum of the transporter room filled the air.
“Excited for our guest?” asked Captain Jericho, a small grin spreading across his lips. He knew his communications officer – and unofficial diplomat – always meant well.
“Just something about his energy, Captain,” replied Ashworthy.
As the Klingon guest began to materialize, Jericho placed a comforting hand on Ashworthy’s shoulder and whispered, “I believe the general ship’s understanding is, well… you like ’em crazy.” Then, laughing to himself at Ashworthy’s stunned expression, he moved forward and gripped Pay’tor’s hand in a firm shake.
“Welcome to the USS Gilroy!”
