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glyficTitle: Personnel management
Author:malurette
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space 9
Characters: DS9's nursing staff, Julian Bashir, etc
Rating: PG / K+
Disclaimer: Paramount's
Author’s note: ESL author with no beta-reader – if you spot any mistakes please do correct me.
Prompt/Continuity: Distant Voices, behind the scenes after the cold open
Word count: 1000+
***
There’s a commotion at the infirmary, an alarm starts blasting, someone comes rushing out--quickly apprehended. People rushing in to help find Dr Bashir slumped, the supply shelves in disarray.
Nurses and security officers yell at each other to back off and not to touch him. Jabara gets preseance over Odo’s deputy and whips out a medical tricorder.
‘Careful there are signs of brain injury--do not move him!’
‘But we need to collect evidence of the agression.’
‘You already have all the evidence you need, now move, we need room to help him.’
She quickly sets a device around his neck to stabilize his head, gets a technician to help her set up an antigrav stretcher, and together they carefully move him to a biobed for further scanning.
They’re fast and efficient, even without a doctor’s orders, but everything would be easier without Odo metaphorically breathing down their neck.
‘There’s no sign of blunt force trauma, but electric activity is haywire and signs of inflammation point to telepathic induced injury.’
‘Dr Bashir can you hear me? Sir? Julian? Can you open your eyes? Can you squeeze my hand?’
‘Can you wake him up?’
‘Not at the moment, no.’
Dr Bashir remains unresponsive to verbal prompts and neutral stimuli. Barely reacts to noxious stimuli. Nurses nor medical technicians will administer stimulants without an official order.
‘Cortical stimulator? That’s a thing, right?’
‘Not indicated here, no.’
‘We need a doctor. We need another doctor.’
‘Don’t we have one?’
‘Not at the moment, no. They’re all on break or on leave. Dr Bashir was handling consultations alone and the moment.’
They still need to try and raise someone.
‘Infirmary to Ops, we need to talk to the Captain--we’re critically understaffed at the moment.
Dr Bashir is out of commission, in need of care himself and there’s no other doctor to help.
It’s really bad luck that it happened on Dr Yado’s off day, they went planetside and we can’t reach them.’
‘And medical staff has been waiting for reinforcements for how long now?’
‘We can ask for medical personnel on any visiting ship but so far there’s been no luck.’
‘How far away is the nearest Starfleet ship?’
‘Too far but we’ll still send a message.’
‘Can Bajor send us a medic?’
‘No, everyone is short-staffed. The medical academy he’s helped set up won’t start sending graduates out until at least next year, and the last refugee camps still get priority over everything else.’
‘We have been asking for more personnel and you’ll have to push the issue with Starfleet Command again.’
Meanwhile all they can do to take the matter in their own hands is to ask,
‘Computer bring up everything about Lethean telepathic attacks?’
…and whatever little the medical database comes up with does not bode well.
‘Oh no…’
outside, it was hard to miss the commotion at the infirmary around the start of afternoon shifts, with deputies bursting in then dashing out, and the spectactular arrest of a Lethean fleeing on the Promenade. Now word starts to travel;
‘They say Dr Bashir was attacked--’
‘Who would ever..?’
‘Well I can think of several reasons…’
But the investigation points to a random act of violence accompanying petty theft; it seems that Dr Bashir was not specifically targeted, the culprit would have attacked indiscriminatedly anyone standing in his path.
‘…and Bashir is going to be alright, right?’
Suddenly once it’s known that he lapsed into a coma, jokes about forcibly shutting Julian up are much less funny.
It’s not long before Captain Sisko himself comes strolling into the infirmary, demanding to know what’s wrong with their doctor.
The staff wouldn’t discuss his case over the comm but seeing Bashir doesn’t really have an emergency contact, his boss might be the next best thing.
‘We gave him something to alleviate inflammation, now let him rest and hopefully heal.’
Dr Zotul came back in a hurry from their own off-duty time and did their best but they consider there’s nothing more to do, just wait and see. There are other patients to attend to that can be helped.
But Julian is not dead yet. He could be brain-dead and stay in this coma indefinitely. His condition will likely degrade and he’d die within a few days. He could also spontaneously recover. In theory.
Once the initial bustling around has died down and there’s really not much else to do anyway, behind a flimsy privacy curtain Jabara makes good use of a defabricator and gets the comatose doctor changed into a medical gown. And everything else that needs care taken of.
Protocols dictate firm pressure applied on the hand to try and raise an unconscious patient, not a mournful caress across the back of a hand let across a cheek but who’s going to argue with the head nurse here?
‘Please, Julian, don’t do this to us. Come out of of it.’
All they can do is supportive care, make sure he doesn’t go into cardiopulmonary arrest when his vital signs decide to take a definite drop, hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
Dax makes her way in as Julian’s friend and the station Science Officer. She’s an astrophycisist, not a biologist. One of her past life was an engineer but none ever did wet sciences, let alone medicine, and different sciences are not interchangeable. She’s got logic, she can read a scientific paper and research stuff but that won’t replace actual training.
She doesn’t realize, she refuses to realize maybe, that there is nothing left to do but palliative care
and hope for a miracle.
Starfleet always keeps trying supporting seemingly lost causes, waiting for said miracle;
if you don’t even try, if you don’t keep trying, if you don’t give all the chances for miracles to happen, well, they’ll never happen.
‘Would bringing in another telepath to try and reach him help? Vulcan? Betazoid?’
‘It’s possible but we don’t have any on hand anyway and there’s an unknown risk of causing even further injury. I’m not sure I would risk it.’
Julian has all the weird but good creative ideas for treatment. Had anyone else been injured in such way he wouldn’t give up, he would think up something, anything--that’s the problem: no one else can imagine what. He can’t help himself.
(It would turn out, when he did wake up, that only he could help himelf actually, from the inside, but he cannot say what made him any different from all the other Lethean victims.)
Author:
maluretteFandom: Star Trek: Deep Space 9
Characters: DS9's nursing staff, Julian Bashir, etc
Rating: PG / K+
Disclaimer: Paramount's
Author’s note: ESL author with no beta-reader – if you spot any mistakes please do correct me.
Prompt/Continuity: Distant Voices, behind the scenes after the cold open
Word count: 1000+
There’s a commotion at the infirmary, an alarm starts blasting, someone comes rushing out--quickly apprehended. People rushing in to help find Dr Bashir slumped, the supply shelves in disarray.
Nurses and security officers yell at each other to back off and not to touch him. Jabara gets preseance over Odo’s deputy and whips out a medical tricorder.
‘Careful there are signs of brain injury--do not move him!’
‘But we need to collect evidence of the agression.’
‘You already have all the evidence you need, now move, we need room to help him.’
She quickly sets a device around his neck to stabilize his head, gets a technician to help her set up an antigrav stretcher, and together they carefully move him to a biobed for further scanning.
They’re fast and efficient, even without a doctor’s orders, but everything would be easier without Odo metaphorically breathing down their neck.
‘There’s no sign of blunt force trauma, but electric activity is haywire and signs of inflammation point to telepathic induced injury.’
‘Dr Bashir can you hear me? Sir? Julian? Can you open your eyes? Can you squeeze my hand?’
‘Can you wake him up?’
‘Not at the moment, no.’
Dr Bashir remains unresponsive to verbal prompts and neutral stimuli. Barely reacts to noxious stimuli. Nurses nor medical technicians will administer stimulants without an official order.
‘Cortical stimulator? That’s a thing, right?’
‘Not indicated here, no.’
‘We need a doctor. We need another doctor.’
‘Don’t we have one?’
‘Not at the moment, no. They’re all on break or on leave. Dr Bashir was handling consultations alone and the moment.’
They still need to try and raise someone.
‘Infirmary to Ops, we need to talk to the Captain--we’re critically understaffed at the moment.
Dr Bashir is out of commission, in need of care himself and there’s no other doctor to help.
It’s really bad luck that it happened on Dr Yado’s off day, they went planetside and we can’t reach them.’
‘And medical staff has been waiting for reinforcements for how long now?’
‘We can ask for medical personnel on any visiting ship but so far there’s been no luck.’
‘How far away is the nearest Starfleet ship?’
‘Too far but we’ll still send a message.’
‘Can Bajor send us a medic?’
‘No, everyone is short-staffed. The medical academy he’s helped set up won’t start sending graduates out until at least next year, and the last refugee camps still get priority over everything else.’
‘We have been asking for more personnel and you’ll have to push the issue with Starfleet Command again.’
Meanwhile all they can do to take the matter in their own hands is to ask,
‘Computer bring up everything about Lethean telepathic attacks?’
…and whatever little the medical database comes up with does not bode well.
‘Oh no…’
outside, it was hard to miss the commotion at the infirmary around the start of afternoon shifts, with deputies bursting in then dashing out, and the spectactular arrest of a Lethean fleeing on the Promenade. Now word starts to travel;
‘They say Dr Bashir was attacked--’
‘Who would ever..?’
‘Well I can think of several reasons…’
But the investigation points to a random act of violence accompanying petty theft; it seems that Dr Bashir was not specifically targeted, the culprit would have attacked indiscriminatedly anyone standing in his path.
‘…and Bashir is going to be alright, right?’
Suddenly once it’s known that he lapsed into a coma, jokes about forcibly shutting Julian up are much less funny.
It’s not long before Captain Sisko himself comes strolling into the infirmary, demanding to know what’s wrong with their doctor.
The staff wouldn’t discuss his case over the comm but seeing Bashir doesn’t really have an emergency contact, his boss might be the next best thing.
‘We gave him something to alleviate inflammation, now let him rest and hopefully heal.’
Dr Zotul came back in a hurry from their own off-duty time and did their best but they consider there’s nothing more to do, just wait and see. There are other patients to attend to that can be helped.
But Julian is not dead yet. He could be brain-dead and stay in this coma indefinitely. His condition will likely degrade and he’d die within a few days. He could also spontaneously recover. In theory.
Once the initial bustling around has died down and there’s really not much else to do anyway, behind a flimsy privacy curtain Jabara makes good use of a defabricator and gets the comatose doctor changed into a medical gown. And everything else that needs care taken of.
Protocols dictate firm pressure applied on the hand to try and raise an unconscious patient, not a mournful caress across the back of a hand let across a cheek but who’s going to argue with the head nurse here?
‘Please, Julian, don’t do this to us. Come out of of it.’
All they can do is supportive care, make sure he doesn’t go into cardiopulmonary arrest when his vital signs decide to take a definite drop, hope for the best and prepare for the worst.
Dax makes her way in as Julian’s friend and the station Science Officer. She’s an astrophycisist, not a biologist. One of her past life was an engineer but none ever did wet sciences, let alone medicine, and different sciences are not interchangeable. She’s got logic, she can read a scientific paper and research stuff but that won’t replace actual training.
She doesn’t realize, she refuses to realize maybe, that there is nothing left to do but palliative care
and hope for a miracle.
Starfleet always keeps trying supporting seemingly lost causes, waiting for said miracle;
if you don’t even try, if you don’t keep trying, if you don’t give all the chances for miracles to happen, well, they’ll never happen.
‘Would bringing in another telepath to try and reach him help? Vulcan? Betazoid?’
‘It’s possible but we don’t have any on hand anyway and there’s an unknown risk of causing even further injury. I’m not sure I would risk it.’
Julian has all the weird but good creative ideas for treatment. Had anyone else been injured in such way he wouldn’t give up, he would think up something, anything--that’s the problem: no one else can imagine what. He can’t help himself.
(It would turn out, when he did wake up, that only he could help himelf actually, from the inside, but he cannot say what made him any different from all the other Lethean victims.)
