A Promise Kept Quietly

Posted on Tue Nov 1st, 2011 @ 4:26am by Lieutenant Jasad Broca

Mission: Tomorrow's Arizona
Location: Sickbay
Timeline: After Nothing's Ever Easy

Jasad stalked the long corridors of the Arizona, looking to meet one last promise before turning in for the day. His shift had seemed interminable. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. However, as he passed through a doorway, he was reminded that for some people, things had gone much worse.

He had no way of knowing that sickbay activity was on the wane. It still looked like a madhouse. Every bed was full, and it looked like medical personnel were being assisted by every able-bodied person with a modicum of training. Even some marines seemed to have been pressed into service. The normally quiet space was a bustle of activity. The noise of medical machines mingled with the orders of doctors, the replies of nurses, and the moans of wounded patients.

Jasad counted twelve souls here, currently. He did not know that the holodecks were being used as spillover areas. Most of the wounds seemed to be plasma burns from failing conduits and relays. His long career in Engineering made him intimately familiar with such. A few of the injuries were the results of falls and scrapes. Bloody gashes, terrible bruises, and compound fractures that had pierced the skin.

One might have easily mistaken the situation for being out of control, but that was not the case. Every patient was being tended. Every order was being followed. Sickbay was busy, but it was also operating efficiently. The good doctor was a Good Doctor indeed, and so was her staff.

Jasad opened his toolkit and surveyed the walls of the facility. He wondered what sorts of ammunition had been used to punch holes in duranium bulkheads. Something potent. It was no wonder that the shooter had believed these bullets would perforate the Borg. The last Jasad had heard, lead rounds and steel blades could do the job. This gun had fired something along the lines of a hardened tungsten alloy. In the old days, that would have ended a Borg drone quite properly.

Ah, but the Borg had endured decades of war with species 8472. They had been forced to update their defenses in a desperate bid to survive. So, slugthrowers were no longer proof against the Borg. And only the Creator knew what was proof against 8472. Jasad bitterly recalled his conversation with the Commodore. He'd been asked for solutions, and had provided nothing of use. This might be a battle they could not win.

He took out his molecular fuser and began to close the wounds in the Sickbay wall. He did not bother to flirt with the Doctor. This was not the time for it. For her valiant work today, she deserved the one gift he could give. The fuser did its job quietly. Then he pulled out the damaged displays, and put in a work order for replacements to be sent. He flagged them Priority Two, which would get them brought just as soon as ship-threatening damage had been dealt with.

That accomplished, he slipped back out of Sickbay. The activity of healing went on behind him. He was going to bed. Who knew when he might have another chance for sleep? On a ship out of time, he'd have to steal every hour he could.