Chief Medical Officer’s Log, stardate 77550.8

 

Atlantis’ crew are making the most of shore leave aboard Deep Space 47, which hopefully will provide some mental fortitude in the face of our upcoming mission into deep space. I have decided I shall take the next few days off duty, once Doctor Pisani returns, to catch up on some recreational reading of my own and to enjoy freshly prepared meals at the various eateries aboard the station.

 

Before I go on leave, however, I am undertaking numerous medical reviews of particular crew members to ensure we will not have any medical emergencies while we are in the Expanse and beyond. A majority of these reviews will require interviews and exams of a personal nature, so the absence of a good number of the crew is advantageous for maintaining privacy.

With the primary sickbay essentially being the only one left active aboard the ship at the moment, the one near Engineering was reduced more to an over-equipped aid station due to staffing levels, it was no wonder it was relatively busy at the moment. Not emergency levels, just busier than normal as anything beyond first aid was referred to the only sickbay staffed by doctors. Of course, with a ship like Atlantis there were numerous doctors, even with shore leave, so instead of dealing with the injuries that were pouring in, Terax had referred those duties on to his subordinates.

“Doctor, Lieutenant T’Val is here to see you,” Nurse Wren said as he leaned in through the open doorway.

His middle hand was held up, a finger raised to single ‘just a moment’ as he finished typing away on his current report. “Send her in please,” he finally said, closing the report down and waiting as the tall, dark-skinned Vulcan woman entered into his office, the door closing behind her as he tapped a key to release the lock that had held it open.

“Doctor Terax,” T’Val said, “you asked to see me.”

“Please, have a seat, Lieutenant. This should only take a moment in your case.” As she sat, he tapped another few commands on his computer, the window facing into sickbay frosting over instantly, the door locking, ensuring doctor-patient confidentiality. “I have a few medical questions for you before Atlantis departs Deep Space 47. Of a somewhat personal nature that does not seem to have been documented in your medical records.”

“Ah,” she replied. “Suffice to say Doctor, that my health is in excellent condition and any medical conditions that would require my return to Vulcan, or to my mate, have been dealt with in recent years and should not be a problem for the foreseeable future.”

He nodded, taking a few notes down, saving the changes to the Lieutenant’s medical notes. “Do Vulcans always dance around the subject of Pon Farr?” he asked, keeping his tone clinical. “I don’t see a reason to be embarrassed by a biological imperative.”

“It is the abandonment of Logic that is embarrassing Doctor, and therefore by extension the biological imperative that brings it about.” Her reply was, he noted, a bit more pointed than he usually expected. “And it is a deeply personal matter I would prefer we didn’t discuss outside of what I have already said.”

“As your doctor, and the doctor to all aboard this ship, it is my duty to ask such questions, to ensure we don’t have any issues while deployed.” He wasn’t apologising, there was in his opinion no need. But an explanation for why he was asking such questions wasn’t beyond him. It would do to mollify concerns. “Any lapses in memory, concentration or emotional control?” His attention was on her as well as the extended list of questions before him.

“Scans for the likes of Pa’nar Syndrome are part of my most recent mental and neurological health tests when I visited Vulcan last. I will submit to examination again Doctor if that will ease your concerns.”

The joy, Terax had decided, of dealing with Vulcan patients, is that they didn’t hide many things from their doctors. It was, after all, illogical to hide or conceal issues from those charged with their wellbeing. The frustrating thing was that they were very good at deflecting in a perfectly reasonable manner or agreeing to things they knew would be time intensive to get out of doing them in the first place. Which is why right now he sighed.

“Your records are in perfect order Lieutenant and your reassurances about matters not well documented are sufficient for me at this time.” He tapped once more on his computer, saving the notes he’d just added. “Of the twelve Vulcans currently aboard ship you are the senior most ranked. Have you by any chance taken arrived at some sort of position of trust amongst your fellows?”

“If you are asking if others have taken me into their confidence Doctor, I have to say no at this time. You would perhaps be best to ask Lieutenant Gerin. He is after all thirty years older than I am and a practitioner of Kolinahr.”

He nodded in understanding. “In that case, I thank you for your time, Lieutenant and wish you a productive day.”

She stood, nodding her head once in acknowledgement. “And to you Doctor,” she replied before departing.

Lieutenant Ch’tkk’va was easily one of the more unique crewmembers aboard Atlantis, Terax thought to himself, as he reviewed the Xindi-Insectoid’s medical records. They mostly took care of themselves, only attending to sickbay for periodic medical check-ups and nothing more. There had been a momentary challenge when he’d called Ch’tkk’va down to sickbay, but the drone had conceded upon the doctor’s authority quickly enough.

“Before we depart for the Expanse and the realms beyond,” he said, looking up from the records and to the still standing insectoid before him, “is there any medical conditions that I should be made aware of that might be exasperated by our distance from Federation medical resources and knowledge?”

“None,” Ch’tkk’va replied, the hiss, clicks and pops just audible over the universal translator’s workings. “I am capable of tending to the majority of my medical requirements. All others that are survivable are recorded in the medical database.”

“Survivable?” Terax asked, his outer arms crossing, while his middle tapped the padd in hand edge-on against his desk.

“There are a multitude of medical conditions that drones do not survive.” Ch’tkk’va’s tone, or so it was translated at least, wasn’t concerned, just stating facts. “They are listed in the medical database, as well as methods for painless termination should they present and symptoms progress to a point where efficiency has been impaired as to be a detriment.”

He set the padd down finally, sighing once more at that. It wasn’t something he liked the idea of one little bit. “Well let us hope then Lieutenant that it does not come to that, yes?”

“That would be preferable Doctor. I still have many years left to me and I wish to experience much more of the universe before returning to my home-hive and relaying my discoveries.” Ch’tkk’va’s head tilted slightly to the side. “Doctor, are you asking such questions of all of the crew or just those whose medical requirements lay outside of the normative care you can provide?”

“The latter,” he admitted. “I’m wanting to know if I need to procure additional supplies or download additional medical journals and information before we depart so I can provide the best treatment for the entire crew.”

“Admirable.” Ch’tkk’va’s clicks continued before the translator caught up. “As the preservation of the Atlantis-hive is a priority for the both of us, I do have a question for you as well Doctor Terax.” Ch’tkk’va waited until he made a ‘continue’ motion with his middle hand. “Commander MacIntyre and I are working to establish a Hazard Team, with selection to commence after departing Deep Space 47. We are however lacking a medical specialist.”

“You want my opinion on who might make an acceptable member?” He mulled the question for a moment. “A have a handful of nurses that would suffice I believe. I’ll review my staff and forward some names along to you and the Commander.”

“That would be appreciated Doctor. Preservation of soldier-drones is beneficial to the hive after all.” Ch’tkk’va said. “Is that all Doctor?”

“Yes, thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll review the Xindi-Insectoid medical journals. If I have any follow up questions, I’ll be in touch.”

“Your species is,” Terax said, looking up at the young woman before him in his office, “very rare within Starfleet.”

“That would be becaussse most are not explorers, Doctor Teraxxx,” W’a’le’ki said with a smile. “Mossst are content to remain at home and ssstudy the universsse vicariousssly through the Federation.”

The Lieutenant’s sibilant way of speaking paired with her slight reptilian or snake-like features, even if those were more evolutionary hangovers now. Her purple skin paired with a smattering of pink tinged scales around the ocular sockets and forehead, disappearing into her hairline, which was not exactly something seen on many reptilian species. From what he’d read though, evolutionary pressures from planetary cooling had set her species on this particular evolutionary path, along with perhaps some genetic programming triggers buried in their genomes by galactic forerunners.

“Well, it does mean that Starfleet medical records are somewhat light on what to do, concerning your species. I have downloaded the full collection of records I can and made them available to the EMH until I am up to speed, but before we departed Deep Space 47, I was hoping to ask you if there were any medical conditions I should be made aware of before we depart?” He had his computer ready to record, as well as two hands on the keyboard, ready to take notes as he asked the question.

“Oh, cccertainly Doctor Teraxxx,” W’a’le’ki said with a smile. “Firssst there is…”

It was at this point that Terax realised perhaps he should have done his reading before speaking with the Lieutenant as she launched into a full expose on every medical condition she had ever experienced in her life.

Chief Medical Officers log, supplemental.

 

After two hours spent with Lieutenant W’a’le’ki, I’m fairly certainly certain I’m now an expert in maternal care for her species, including multiple folk remedies handed down from parent to child across at least a few millennia. Let us hope I don’t have to exercise this newfound knowledge any time soon.