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Oopsie Corrected

Posted on 21 Oct 2023 @ 3:39pm by Lieutenant Commander Derek Martin & Lieutenant Commander Harva Taliborn

1,022 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Miranda
Location: Harva's Quarters
Timeline: After Let Me Out Of Here

After discussing quarantine release with Commander Sha'mer, it was only logical to check in on the other portion of the deadly duo that had beamed into Sickbay. Lieutenant Commander Martin stood outside of the locked door of Commander Harva Taliborn's quarters and signaled the chime within to open the intercom, a small medkit in hand.

"Commander? Are you feeling ok? Are you awake? It's Doctor Martin," he announced and waited on a reply.

"I'm me, if that's what you're asking," came a grumbled reply after a few moments. The voice sounded tired and subdued, lacking all normal energy. "Not feeling ok whatsoever. What can I do for you?"

"Mind if I come in? I'd like to check up on your health and see what can be done if anything," Derek said.

"I suppose," came back after a moment's hesitation. When the door opened Derek would find the quarters in somewhat of a disarray, some furniture was piled up on one side, and there was light damage to some of the bulkheads, like scratching. On the inside of the door was written the word frændur, in sharp, glowing scribbles. The lights were down low, though not dark yet creating a feeling of dusk. Harva himself sat on a strengthened couch, watching the door. "That's close enough," he rumbled as Derek stepped inside. "I can't guarantee that I'll be this lucid all the time. The delirium, it comes and goes."

"So you're still suffering the ill effects of whatever this sickness is. What other symptoms can you report to me? And how often does the delirium come on you?" Derek asked, hoping to get his diagnostic questions out in a quick flash so that Harva could rest and, perhaps more importantly, so he could be out of harm's way.

"Weakness. Muscle ache," his voice sounded raspy, exhausted. "Can barely stand, and when I do, it - " with that he launched into a coughing fit. When he recovered he took a moment to just breathe, center himself. "Confusion. I feel like I'm running a killer fever. Haven't eaten, haven't slept in - I don't even remember how long." the big engineer explained.

Seeing the shaggy engineer in such a state reminded him of his friend Ethan when he'd get sick. Sympathy overwhelmed him.

"If I leave you a strong sedative do you think you can take it by hypo?" Derek asked. At least sleep was something he could force Harva to get, one way or the other. He took another step or two closer out of reflex.

"I'm - ... semi confident I can, yes," Harva didn't move as Derek stepped closer, though he did pay the approach attention. "See that word on the door? Frændur? It's the Sirran word for friend, kinsman. I put that on there to pull me out of any delirium. It seems to be working so far. You can come closer, just be ready to say that word whenever I - well, you can fill in the blanks." It was a word he'd used back in the day, it meant to abort a mission.

Derek pulled a hypospray from the medkit and clicked the controls into place to the maximum. Harva would rest and wouldn't get up for quite a while.

"You know, you remind me of another very dangerous, and very good friend. He's also an engineer," Derek said in his usual bedside manner, clicking the device to its ready status. "Great big mountain of a man he is. Heart of gold. Much like you," Derek said quietly and approached slowly, ready to bolt should Harva give the warning.

Harva for his part didn't move, until Derek was close enough to hand over the hypo, and even then it was only his arm that reached out for it in slow, deliberate movements. The Sirran knew that he was an intimidating figure, and that his recent history caused significant doubts about his trustworthiness, at least while still under the influence of this mysterious illness that was going around. "Yeah? You'll have to tell me about him, some time. Over drinks. When all this is over," he spoke quietly, his raspy bass voice rumbling. "Speaking of, any clues about this thing? Where it came from? How to fight it?"

"Bed rest, chicken soup, and lullabies my shaggy friend. In all honesty, to date we haven't figured out what this is, how it got aboard, or what we're dealing with. We just know that the symptoms are treatable, and if we hold back the symptoms, the disease does not appear to be fatal. What deaths we've had come from simply not going to Sickbay and trying to work through the illness." Derek explained and approached before holding up the hypospray. He pressed the hypo to Harva's hand and then stepped back slowly and deliberately. He trusted Harva. He didn't trust the disease.

"Thanks, Doc," Harva closed his eyes for a moment, letting the hypo start to do its work. He lowered his arm again and took a deep breath, opening his eyes once more. "Though the report of deaths worries me, are people really dying from this?"

"Mostly when they keep trying to work through it. It advances. It attacks the nervous system and can, if left untreated and unchecked, cause neurological damage. One died because they kept working and fell down a Jeffries Tube during a blackout. They fell several decks and that was it," Derek explained sadly.

By the time Derek had finished talking, the large engineer was fast asleep, as evidenced by a deep rumbling snore, much like a big diesel at idle. He hadn't been able to catch any sleep, but it seemed he had been real exhausted and the sedative had pushed him over the edge.

Derek watched him go to sleep and pulled his tricorder out to check vitals. He'd be ok if he rested. "The thing about shattered nerves, my large fuzzy friend, is that the best cure is, and always has been a good night's sleep." He shut the tricorder, and left Harva's quarters to head back to Sickbay.


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