Part of USS Columbia: Sol Sub Umbra

Difficult Patient

USS Columbia, Ready Room
January 2400
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Captain Armstrong’s head was ringing as he walked into the ready room, Dr. Young at his heels. The pain of whatever injury he had sustained himself was quite secondary to the swirl of concern in his head over the injuries to the Columbia. Without power restored to the engines or some miracle, they were on course to collide with a star that no one knew even existed until a few minutes ago.

“Computer, med kit,” Armstrong ordered, prompting a standard kit to be produced in the nearby replicator. He sat down behind the desk and activated the holographic display, pulling up the sensor logs from the energy impact. “Do what you have to, Doctor,” he said, making eye contact with Young for a moment, wincing, and then trying to focus on the screen.

Doctor Young pursed his lips and glared at the Captain, who was studiously trying to focus on his work. After a moment, Young moved to the replicator and plucked the newly created medical kit from it. Setting it down on the desk with a heavy thud, he ripped it open and lifted the tricorder. The trill sound of it’s scanner filled the room as he conducted his scans in silence.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what the tricorder says, do I?” Young asked tartly.

“Please spare me the histrionics, Doctor. Since my speech isn’t slurred, but I have the most fantastic headache, I’m guessing something just shy of a concussion?” the captain replied, glancing up at him. “We don’t know each other yet, but I’m not one to flaut your medical authority. I will gladly submit myself to whatever poking and prodding you have in mind once this ship is out of danger,” he added in a less confrontational tone. 

“Histrionics.” Young mumbled. “You have a nasty cut on your head and a mild concussion.” He announced as he deactivated the tricorder and returned it to the med kit. “I don’t think I’m being overly dramatic.” The doctor pulled the dermal regenerator next, with less force than he’d used on the tricorder. “I’d prefer to take you to Sickbay and run a full set of detailed scans but I get the feeling that the only way I’d achieve that would be by relieving you of your duties. Now that would be histrionic.” Setting up the device, Young pointed at the cut and activated it. “But I am going to stay on the bridge to monitor you for the next thirty to sixty minutes.”

“Fair enough,” the captain replied. “It might just be my brain expanding against the inside of my skull, but if you take a step back this is actually fairly exciting. The first Starfleet vessel to enter what is, apparently, a cloaked star system,” he noted, before remaining still so that the doctor could work without altering the symmetry of his forehead.

The dermal regenerator beeped, indicating it was finished it’s work. “It really is.” Young agreed with a smile. “I know it’s a cliche but it’s the reason most of us joined Starfleet; to discover the unknown.” He replaced the dermal regenerator in the med kit and closed it. “I’m absolutely only on the bridge to monitor you,” a shy smile pulled on his lips, “but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad of the chance to be up here right now.”

Captain Armstrong laughed, which made him wince slightly. “Well, let’s see how you feel in a few hours if we can’t alter course,” he said, standing up. “After you, doctor,” he added, gesturing towards the door.

Leaving the med kit on the captain’s desk, Doctor Young led the way out onto the bridge.