Previously on Caleum Station:
“You’re doing it again,” Qelreth interjected. “You’re changing the topic.”
“I am not,” Trojet said, her voice quavering. “My previous host, Marl Trojet, was an experimental scientist. He worked in the research and development of artificial wormholes. Marl was– Trojet was– I was responsible for releasing the Jem’Hadar fleet from the Bajoran wormhole that decimated the Deneb Sector a year ago.”
Qelreth was overcome with a coughing fit, their body shaking from deep, wracking coughs. They didn’t understand what their body was doing. Even after a swig of warm water couldn’t stop the coughing. Qelreth didn’t understand what their body was doing, but they understood why.
“Don’t act like you don’t think you’re the smartest person in any room,” Qelreth sighed. Their hands twitched in halted movement, maybe to stand up or hit an override on the LCARS panel. Whatever the intent, those hands didn’t go anywhere.
“I can see it affects you,” they admitted. “You carry the weight of Marl’s choices and mistakes. I’m not saying you’re oblivious, but I don’t believe you truly understand the consequences. Tress, my parents lived on Janoor Three.”
“Ensign Qelreth, talk to me.”
Hearing those words chilled Savvi Qelreth to the bone. Their consciousness was lost in a liminal space of concepts and measurements and imagination. Transfixed by the words on their PADD, Qelreth’s perception irised down to a pinprick. All sensory input of the hospital station around them was long gone.
Their Andorian nervous system took that question as an attack. A physical blow. Not knowing something was incompetence. They’d rather give the wrong answer. They’d rather take a punch. A bruise would look better than simply being absent, offering nothing.
“Yes, Doctor Weld?” they asked in response, securing time and maybe a clue too.
“Your patient,” Weld prompted blandly. The way he was standing beside the biobed, he spoke just as stiffly as the way he held his lanky body.
Qelreth eyed the biofunction monitor. This wasn’t the patient with Clarke’s Disease; the one they had been preparing for. They popped two of the holographic projections above their PADD, and then popped two more for the exam they’d been studying for.
They chanced swiping the PADD’s touch-interface for another three seconds, and then simply had to trust themself. Qelreth couldn’t leave any more vapid silence expanding in the room. The environmental systems in this old Galaxy-class lineage hospital were twice as loud as the modern ones.
Taking another two seconds to take a breath, Qelreth scanned the room to confirm the eyes of their squadron were on them. Ensign Sark’s forehead was creased with concern, and his left hand twitched against his thigh, as if he feared Qelreth would never speak again. Ensign Parze was silently mouthing words, but they couldn’t make sense of the Saurian’s lip shapes. Ensign Nnekin was leaning against the open doorframe, sleeping with his eyes open again.
And Tress was there too.
“Lieutenant Vepera was admitted through the emergency centre,” Qelreth crisply reported, “suffering from neurological episodes of unknown etiology. Symptoms included disorientation, loss of motor control, and empathic sensory flooding.”
Surrounded by medical students in pale blue medical smocks, the unconscious form of Vepera was from gold team: a security officer. Her leaf-shaped forehead ridge identified her as an empathic Napean.
Offering only a tight nod, Weld tonelessly added, “What is her history of neurological symptoms?”
“None,” Qelreth said, shaking their head. They hugged the PADD to their chest. “Nothing reported in her medical records.”
Eagerly, Parze added, “And we interviewed her crewmates aboard USS Almagest. Nothing like this has ever happened to her before. She’s only barely psychic.”
Qelreth didn’t even have time to sneer at Parze for hijacking their presentation before Weld moved it along.
“Anticipate my questions, ensign: what is the treatment plan?”
Eyeing the medical chart on the overhead monitor to be sure, Qelreth said, “Doctor Aun prescribed two cc’s of damitol for mild sedation.”
Finally, there was a crack in Weld’s impassive visage. He winced; wrinkles beside his bright eyes stretched into the Trill spots trailing his hairline.
“I’d rather ease her off sedation and prescribe lectrazine,” Weld said. Breaking his hawkish gaze from Qelreth, he considered the rest of the squadron. “Why would I do that?”
While Qelreth mentally prioritised between three possible answers, Nnekin got there first. The tall Rhandaarite didn’t even fully open his glassy golden eyes; he stayed slouched in the doorway.
“While lectrazine is most commonly used to stabilise the cardiovascular system,” Nnekin said, talking out his answer before he got to anything resembling a point, “it has been shown to reduce idiopathic neurological disorders.”
That fire with no spark! Nnekin had turned Qelreth down when they’d asked him to help with the Almagest interviews. Worse, he’d been skipping pre-rounds for days.
Sark added, “Especially in Napean patients. Vepera can better report on changes in symptoms if she’s otherwise clear-headed.”
Qelreth was less surprised that Sark was zealously validating Nnekin.
Weld turned away to fuss in an equipment cabinet. “Any other prescriptions? Any stimulants?”
“No,” Qelreth made sure they were the first to answer.
Popping a vial into a hypospray, Weld narrowed his eyes on the biofunction monitor as he returned to the biobed. “Any chance she’s pregnant?”
Looking down at their PADD, Qelreth had no idea what a neurological disorder had to do with pregnancy. With two more swipes of their finger across the display, Qelreth knew the answer wouldn’t be in there. They would have remembered that.
Qelreth wouldn’t admit to simply not knowing. They couldn’t. There was no positive pregnancy test in the record. Vepera’s crewmates had described her as a withdrawn officer, with no romantic partner. Therefore–
“She isn’t sexually active,” Qelreth answered.
Crossing to the biobed, Weld applied the hypospray to Vepera’s neck. Qelreth watched Weld step away from the biobed and kept her gaze on the patient.
No pregnancy test. No partner. Doctor Aun hadn’t detected anything in emerg, either. The answer had been reasonable, supported by evidence.
Qelreth dropped the PADD in the pocket of her lab coat.
Not pregnant was the most statistically probable answer.
