Waiting on Word

Posted on Sat Jan 29th, 2022 @ 1:50pm by

687 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Not All Changes Are Welcome.
Location: Dreadnought, Sick Bay, Office
Timeline: Current

[ON]

Back on the USS Dreadnought, Brandon listened steadily to the ever-changing, evolving, distressing situation play out with the Barham and the Agincourt. Ross had used his Chief of Medical clearance to listen to the Communications traffic. Listening would be the best way to determine if the resources would be called upon for his own Department on the Dreadnought. Ross wanted things to be smooth and controlled. The plans were always there, and the beds could be dressed down and staffed in as little as 40 mins, depending on the number of wounded and what other medical services are required.

Foremost, sitting in his office. It was quiet on the Dreadnought. Today, he had to deal with a cut finger, an allergic reaction, an eco-cardio workup of three members, deemed necessary examination. It was a quiet day.

“I hate quiet days.” Ross lent his chin to the tabletop. He was concerned. This was the first time he ever had a loved one, a friend, whatever would you call it! A colleague, his girl, was missing. The USS Agincourt was battered quite well.

The thoughts. The horrors lent a shock of agonizing helplessness. He sat listening to the com traffic. There was nothing he could do. He knew this, RJ. Oh. RJ. “I’m strong for you….” He whispered. “I want you to be strong for me, RJ. The Barham is coming. We are not leaving you….”

Meditating lasted on sending those direct thoughts into RJ’s views. He had met a few Vulcans in his day. He knew the trick wasn’t all too above humans to master. He had read some promising medical literature on sending thoughts via psychological vibrational frequencies to a mental recipient.

“Dr. Ross” Ensign J’Nai and Crewman Roswell stood outside the Doctors Office doors.

“Yes. Ensign, Crewman.” Ross shot up his head from his metallic desktop. In doing so, the com padd still could be heard broadcasting the Agincourt and Barham traffic between them and the Dreadnought. The pad had stuck to his chin, lifting his weary, telepathic head in ache. “Have you finished with inventory? What level of Oxytoxcini-10-ZO ID 9909-09-090909.” Ross had asked verbatim to the two Ensigns. They had been studying for a week now the inventory systems of the Sick Bay.

The Ensign and Crewman had both thoughts and then turned to each other when they had seen how serious the Doctor was. Of course, Gavin was going to question them. It was a privilege for them to be on this vessel, follow the rules, and know the information as the Medical Department plays out.

“Alright. I’ll let you both go back and take a check on that ID tag. I’ve sent you my tag request to your pads each. While you’re at it, could one of you go to the main bridge and set the Medical Terminal to visual. “Do it. You don’t have to ask. Honestly, you’ll be in everyone’s way. Every department does it.” Ross scoffed. “Just will you.”

“Of course, Doctor. I will let it be set on wide feed. I understand you are concerned regarding a certain. Friend of yours.” Crewman Roswell had offered his sympathy.

“Crewman Roswell. There is nothing wrong. Thank you. I am asking you to complete a task. Everyone is concerned, would that not be a natural reaction for the human, most federation species with the ability of self-preservation can have these feelings….”

“I understand. I think.” Ensign J’Nai leaned against the door frame, concerned about RJ as well. “RJ. is nice. I like…” She then shut up, realizing stating her name would be hard.

“Please… Go.” Ross breathed inward, his face arching, trying to keep his cheek artificially higher as not to allow his tear ducts to start streaming RIGHT then and THERE when Ensign J’Nai mentioned his GF of over a year now RJ. She was missing. What did that mean? Lost? Lost in combat? Lost in Action?...

Only time would genuinely tell everyone awaiting the Agincourt’s lack of communication with RJ and other Officers.

[OFF]

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