Star Trek: Phoenix

by Dewdrops on the Grass


Season 2 Mini-Episode 6: "Doctor/Patient Confidentiality”

STAR TREK: PHOENIX

S02ME06

“Doctor/Patient Confidentiality”

Doctor Selar was many things. A Vulcan. A medical doctor. An expert in rare diseases and autopsy. The first doctor anywhere to study the Equestrian pony species.

What Doctor Selar was not, was overly emotional. Unlike some Vulcans that she would never name publicly, she fully embraced the teachings of Surak, and ruthlessly crushed any of her emotions under the boot heel of unyielding logic. Whenever she thought she might be upset, frustrated, or dissatisfied, she thoroughly buried those emotions.

Thus, it was not irritation that colored the tone of her voice as she examined Counselor Belle Hendricks. It was not disdain that guided her hands and equipment in ways rougher than strictly necessary. It was not scorn that contorted her face into an ever so slight frown.

No, regardless of the… distastefully emotional way in which Hendricks carried herself, Selar would not succumb to any such deviant thoughts.

“So, doc, how’s my heart ticking?” Hendricks said, her mouth crinkled with a smile. She sat on a biobed tucked away in one of the many corners of Sickbay, her flowing gown blasting Selar's eyes with its inappropriately bright colors. She'd changed the color of her hair again, this time to a florid pink that clashed horribly with the dress. Even the perfume she was wearing stung Selar's nose with its obnoxiously strong floral scent. Altogether, it was as if Hendricks deliberately set out to assault Selar's senses.

But Selar shoved any emotional reaction--anger what kind of Vulcan is she--aside and brought up her hand sensor, running it over Hendricks' chest. "Your heart is functioning as precisely as it should given your age."

"So, stone cold and frozen, hmm?" Hendricks said, her grin taking on an edge of mockery. "Too bad. I thought I still had some emotions left in me."

Selar refused to rise to the bait. "The rest of your organs are also functioning satisfactorily, though I am showing slightly elevated cholesterol levels. You should alter your diet to lower them."

"Noted," Hendricks replied, chuckling under her breath. "Oh come on, Selar, I know as well as you do you’ve got to be feeling something underneath that cold-hearted exterior. Come on. Let it out. Be mad, sad, glad, something!”

Selar paused for a moment as she warred internally with her self-control. A deep, primitive part of her desired very much to give in to Hendrick’s banter, to show this, this faker what it meant to be a true Vulcan. But she managed, with some effort, to shove that back down. Outwardly she showed no sign of her hesitation. “Feeling and expressing emotions the way you do is not logical.” She slapped her sensor back into her tricorder and folded it up. “Or healthy.”

“Not healthy?” Hendricks burst out laughing. “Not healthy? You do know you’re speaking to the ship’s counselor, right? I was treating psychological issues in patients from dozens of races while your parents were enrolling you in logic kindergarten on Vulcan.” 

“At least I was raised on Vulcan,” Selar retorted, immediately cursing the lapse of her self-control.

“Aha!” Hendricks pointed right at Selar. “I knew it. I knew I could get something out of you.”

Selar bowed her head a moment, refocusing her thoughts, before rising to stare directly into Hendrick’s eyes. “With respect, Counselor, I do not understand what you hope to achieve by goading me. It strikes me as unprofessional, especially coming from a therapist.”

“Maybe so,” Hendricks allowed, dropping her hand to her side. “But can you blame me? I don’t get to see a lot of Vulcans in my line of work. T’Lona, at least, she admits to her emotions.”

T’Lona. A name that so often rang through Selar’s head, usually as a curse of aggravation. It was thanks to her that Selar's career had been defined by, and now seemed inextricably linked, to the Equestrian ponies. Selar never saw Sunset or her sister after their first few examinations, yet despite her best efforts Selar spent nearly all of the next six years researching these two beings, from how their bodies functioned to how their unique powers worked. When Dr. Crusher contacted her with an offer to join her medical team on the Enterprise-D, Selar had never been more thankful for a reassignment in her life..

Only for the ponies to show up once again in her life when Sunset Shimmer was posted to the ship. In a fit of what surely was logic and not pique, Selar managed to arrange her duty shifts and all of her assignments so as to avoid ever seeing Sunset during the two years she was aboard the ship. Selar’s pon farr came upon her, prompting her to return to Vulcan with her husband just before the battle at Veridian III, and in retrospect she was very pleased that she didn’t have to thank Shimmer for saving her life like so many others did.

Or she would have been, had her husband not suffered a fatal heart attack during their coupling. She blamed herself… The added frustration and stress from dealing with the Equestrians had in one way or another heightened her pon farr to the point she effectively exhausted him to death.

She took a leave of absence from Starfleet after that, and ignored all offers, including the Excalibur. She buried herself in logic, even beginning the pursuit of the ultimate expression of logic, Kohlinar. but eventually, the desire to travel the stars again overcame her regrets. While colder and harsher than most Vulcans, Selar nevertheless decided to return to Starfleet, and took the first posting offered, the Phoenix.

Had she known who the first officer was, she’d have fled to the most isolated, darkest temple on Vulcan and remained there for the rest of her life.

But now she was stuck with her position. In wartime, Starfleet stopped giving its officers the ability to choose their postings. They went where Starfleet ordered them, and Selar was no different. And while she could always resign, she knew that would not only be giving into the very emotions she so despised, it would also be the height of foolishness. The Dominion was as much a threat to Vulcan as the rest of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. Better she be here to help heal those wounded in battle, than hiding away in a temple.

Still, that wouldn’t stop her from obtaining satisfaction where she could. Perhaps she should return the favor to Hendricks. “One other question,” she said, unfolding her tricorder and bringing out the hand sensor again. “Tell me: how long has it been?”

“Since what?” Hendricks’s eyes twinkled.

Selar arched a single eyebrow. “You know of what I speak.”

“Nope,” Hendricks replied, crossing her arms. “Can’t say I do. You’d better be more specific, doc.”

Selar’s lip curled ever so slightly downward. “Your cycle.”

“Cycle?” Hendricks raised a hand to her chin and scratched it for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “Oh, you mean my pon farr, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Selar all but hissed as her eyes darted about. Fortunately, no one else in Sickbay was within hearing distance. She already regretted bringing this subject up; of course Hendricks wouldn’t understand the need for propriety in such sensitive matters.

“Funny, I’d think you of all Vulcans would understand how improper it is to even ask one about such a thing,” Hendricks said, smirking. 

Selar nodded, conceding to Hendricks' logic. “You are correct. However, as a Vulcan doctor, given your personal history it seemed logical to investigate.”

“Because I've lived on Earth my whole life, you mean.” Hendricks deflated, all amusement fading away. "You're not wrong, Selar. It's… frustrating at times. Especially when I don't have a spouse."

Selar waited patiently, but when no further details came she submitted to further prodding. “But you have found solutions.”

“Yesssss… though not ones you would approve of, I’m sure.” Hendricks faced away from Selar, but she couldn’t hide from Selar’s tricorder, which showed elevated levels of adrenaline. Embarrassment. “They work for me, they’re legal, and they don’t cause lasting harm. Let’s leave it at that.”

“And is it something you can manage aboard the Phoenix?”

Hendricks spent several long moments quiet as she seemed to close in on herself, like a child trying to hide in plain sight from an upset parent. “...probably not,” she whispered.

Any satisfaction Selar might have felt at turning the tables on Hendricks faded away, replaced by her medical professionalism. “...will this be a problem?”

Hendricks sat up straight, and when she turned back her face was impassive, cold, exactly as any Vulcan’s should be. “Yes.”

“When?”

“My cycle is very regular… two, maybe three months at most.”

Selar nodded. “And you did not consider this when accepting this assignment?”

Hendricks’ lips thinned, but she showed no other sign of emotional response. “I did. I considered it worth the risk.”

“Because of your… methods.”

“Yes.” A pause. “I didn’t anticipate how much harder it would be to… implement them.”

Selar arched one eyebrow. “I fail to understand, but I do not need to. We have alternative treatments we can look into.”

“If you’re about to suggest I go screw a hologram, it doesn’t work for me,” Hendricks replied, though despite her words her face remained impassive. “I need to know they’re real.”

Selar's other eyebrow didn't so much rise as it twitched. She tamped down any feelings of revulsion in favor of the medically appropriate response, “The alternate techniques I speak of involve deep meditation.”

A small smile briefly appeared on Hendricks’ face. “Of course they do.” The smile vanished. “I’ll figure it out, Doctor. Thank you. And for what it’s worth, I apologize for trying to get under your skin. Is there anything else you need from me?”

Selar shook her head. “No.”

“Then excuse me.” Hendricks hopped off the biobed and departed without another word.

Before Selar could even fold her tricorder, the doors swished open again, bringing with it the sounds of pained laughter, groans, and plenty of raucous voices. Her keen Vulcan ears instantly recognized most of the voices, and she immediately recited a few meditative techniques to herself to stay calm.

“Owww…” Ensign Sparkle moaned as she was carefully carried in, floating in the yellow aura of Commander Shimmer’s magic. Welts and bruises covered most of her exposed skin, and one of her legs was bent in a way it should not be. A pained giggle escaped her lips. “I still say you cheated, Maia.”

Ensign Maia stumbled in next, clinging to Lieutenant Cadeneza for support. Like Sparkle, her body was covered in bruises, welts, and several large burns, including one on her cheek. “I told you I was letting you win before,” she shot back with a grin. “It’s not my fault you made me prove it.”

“By breaking my leg?!”

“I thought it was hilarious,” said a short stranger with aqua and purple hair following them in. Two others, one with dark and light blue hair and the other with a gigantic puff of orange hair walked in behind her. It took Selar a moment to realize these were the Sirens. Selar forced herself to focus on the fact that protocol dictated she perform an initial examination of all three of them, rather than the fact that even more Equestrians had intruded upon her life.

The one with blue hair, whom Selar remembered was named Sonata Dusk, let out a loud guffaw. “It was sooo loud! Snap! Ah, music to the ears.”

“I admit, it was an excellent fight,” said the third siren, their leader if Selar remembered correctly. “Seeing a human take down a pony who was free to use magic… it was quite a treat.”

“But my leg…” Twilight whined, still hovering in the air like a ragdoll.

Lieutenant Cadeneza hauled Maia up to one biobed and promptly let her sit down on it. “Hey, she’s right. An equine with a broken leg…” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Might have to put her down.”

“Oh haha, very funny,” Sparkle shot back with a flat look, her words dripping with the kind of sarcasm that Selar loathed. “Can you get me on a bed already?”

Selar’s self-control twitched by a miniscule amount as she surveyed them, her tricorder at the ready. “What precisely happened, Commander?”

“Sorry, Doctor,” said Shimmer as she floated Sparkle over to the nearest biobed. “They were sparring in the holodeck, and things got a little… heated.”

“Heated?” Cadeneza snorted with laughter. “Eight rounds. They went eight. Rounds. It was crazy. They just wouldn’t stop.”

“Curious,” Selar commented as she brought her medical scanner over to Sparkle first. “My understanding is the two of you usually have more restraint.”

“I… had a lot of steam to blow off,” Sparkle muttered. “And my leg hurts like hell. Did I mention that? Because it’s broken.

“Least you’re handling the pain a lot better than you used to,” Maia said, her smile partially ruined by a couple of missing teeth, which Selar quietly noted she’d have to regrow. “Remember our first fight?”

“Oh don’t even start about that,” Sparkle groaned. “Doctor, not to be rude, but do you mind putting that tricorder down and giving me something for the pain before I start screaming?!”

Selar nodded, picking up a hypospray. “This will help numb some of the pain while I perform my examination,” she said, pressing it to Sparkle’s shoulder and thumbing the activation button.

Sparkle let out an almost instant sight of relief as she collapsed onto the bed like a sack of plomeek roots. “That’s better,” she murmured, blowing a few relieved horse noises with her lips.

Selar continued to run her scanner over Sparkle. “You have numerous contusions, abrasions, and several small lacerations, in addition to the snapped cannon bone. Fortunately, the analgesic I administered will not interfere with the bone-knitter or the dermal regenerator, but you will have to remain still for some time.”

She engaged the automatic equipment to perform Sparkle’s treatment while she moved on to examine Maia, swiftly passing her scanner over the injured ensign. “Multiple fractures of the ribs, contusions, and first to second degree burns over five percent of your body. Dermal regeneration should be sufficient. You may take this for the pain.” She swapped vials then injected Maia right in the carotid artery, perfectly placed as always. Selar took satisfaction in never missing her mark with hyposprays.

“Thank you, doctor,” Maia mumbled, her limbs falling limp like wet noodles as Selar treated the rest of her wounds. Between the additional burns and the missing teeth, it took Selar just shy of an hour to treat Maia. Selar took it as a small mercy from the hands of fate that both Maia and Sparkle stayed quiet and still while she worked, leaving only idle chatter among the others to contend with.

Finally finished, she helped Maia sit up on the biobed. “I’m tired. Do you need me here, or can I return to my quarters?”

Selar shook her head. “You are dismissed. Please avoid any strenuous activity.”

“Mind if I tag along?” asked one of the sirens, Aria Blaze was her name, a small smirk on her face. “You’re from a pretty tough place, and I want to hear some stories about it.”

Maia considered that for a moment. “Alright,” she said with a shrug.

“I’m afraid I have to disagree,” Selar interjected. “We have yet to perform a physical examination of our guests, to ensure their health. They may as well do so while they are here.”

“Sorry. Another time perhaps,” Maia said, leaving before anyone could respond.

“Doctors? Feh.” The sirens’ leader, Adagio Dazzle, sneered at her, radiating a flood of something that caused Selar’s latent touch telepathy to tingle as if she’d attempted a mind meld with an electric eel. “We’ve lived without doctors for centuries.”

“Perhaps so,” Selar said with a brief nod. “But Federation protocol dictates that all guests staying on a starship for an extended period must undergo a cursory examination. In addition, it would be prudent for you to take advantage of our medicine regardless. If you were to be injured, we would not understand how to treat you without understanding how your body functions.”

“And I wanted to be here for that anyway,” added Cadeneza. She jabbed a thumb into her chest. “I’m a doctor too, of xenobiology. Studying alien races and species is my raison d'etre.”

“Just as a warning,” said Sparkle, her words coated in syrupy sweetness, “her idea of studying usually involves the bedroom and copious amounts of alcohol.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hmph.” Dazzle crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. So long as these… scans aren’t intrusive, we’ll submit to it. And I still expect the alcohol as well.”

Selar frowned. “I will be unable to provide any alcohol, but I do promise the scans are not intrusive.”

“Wow,” said Blaze with a small laugh. “What a stick in the mud.”

“Yeah, a real party pooper,” chimed in Dusk.

Dazzle snorted. “Is this just how you act all the time? They said you were something else… Vul-can?”

“Vulcan,” Selar corrected gently. “And if by ‘stick in the mud’ you mean, I do not regularly display emotion, you would be correct.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,” Blaze quipped.

Dazzle threw her hands up to let them clap at her sides. “Oh, fine, let’s get this over with.”

“Very well.” Selar gestured to an empty biobed. “Please be seated. This will not take too long.”

Consenting to the request, Dazzle took a seat, allowing Selar to run her tricorder over her, though she cringed away when it neared her head. “Can you turn down the noise on that thing?” Dazzle growled. “It’s...shrill.”

Selar arched an eyebrow, then fiddled with the tricorder, adjusting the sonic frequencies. “I apologize, as I was unaware those frequencies would bother you. Is this better?”

Dazzle sighed and nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Cadeneza brought out a PADD and scribbled down some notes with a stylus. “Sensitive ears… hmm…”

Cautiously, lest she upset the siren again, Selar ran her sensor over Dazzle’s ears and around her head. “Your ears are quite fascinating,” she commented. “I take it they are similar to your original form.”

“Almost identical, actually,” Dazzle said as she glanced at her fingernails.

“May I ask how your forms shifted?” Selar said her scanner switched to internal scans, building up images of the brain and nervous system. “When Commander Shimmer first explained you to us, she said your forms were very different.”

“Ugh, we already answered this at that boring as hell briefing,” Blaze groaned.

“Seriously, I don’t wanna go over it again,” added Dusk.

Dazzle’s lips spread, showing her teeth in an angry growl before she turned to Selar. “If you’ll pardon my idiotic sisters… in short, we changed ourselves on purpose to try and imitate the species we lived among on our first world. But we could only change so much.”

Selar nodded in understanding as her scan moved to Dazzle’s lower body. “Hence the eyes, teeth, ears, and tail. Are these changes permanent?”

“Yes,” Dazzle admitted with a shrug. “Maybe at some point in the past they could’ve been reversed, but we’ve been like this for so long, we’re stuck this way.”

“It’s not so bad,” Dusk added, glancing down at herself. “Sometimes I still can’t get over how jiggly these are!” She raised a pair of fingers and pointed them at her chest, rearing back to poke.

Blaze’s hand snapped out like a predator to take hold of Dusk. “Seriously, Sonata? Even I know that’s rude.”

Repressing a sigh, Selar switched settings on her tricorder again, and ran the scanner along Dazzle’s body one more time. “Your magic has a different signature to that of Commander Shimmer and Ensign Sparkle. It is quite… hmm.”

“What?” Dazzle grunted.

Selar frowned. “While I was examining Ensign Sparkle, I discovered a different magical signature on her. One that matches yours.”

“Mine?”

Taking a moment, Selar turned and briefly scanned the other two Sirens. “In fact, it matches all three of you.”

Blaze rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. That. Remember, Sonata?”

“Oooh, ooh, yeah!” bubbled Dusk. “I uh, I might’ve sung for them a bit. To cheer them on.”

“Sung,” Selar said flatly. “To what end?”

“Doctor, I saw the whole thing," Sunset interjected. "Their singing is their magic. Trust me, nothing weird was going on."

“We were just happy to have a healthy dose of negativity to soak up,” said Blaze.

“And while it might be… entertaining to manipulate minds,” Dazzle added with a disdainful smile, “we’re no fools. We’re not here to abuse your hospitality.”

Selar took a long moment to digest that before nodding in acknowledgement. “Very well. I am finished with my examination of you, Miss Dazzle. I would like to scan Miss Blaze next.”

The examinations of Blaze and Dusk proceeded with little fanfare, with Selar asking a few other basic questions about their diets and sleeping patterns. Once finished, she went over to check the instruments working on Sparkle and nodded in satisfaction. “We are done here. You are all free to go.”

“Ugh, thank goodness,” murmured Sparkle as she started to amble off her bed.

“Here, lemme help you Sparkie,” Cadeneza said, reaching out with a hand.

“Oh, thanks,” Sparkle murmured as she allowed Cadeneza to take her hoof.

Slowly, Cadeneza lowered Sparkle’s hoof to the floor, and went to do the same with the next, only to suddenly cry out and stiffen as Sparkle brushed her side.

Selar was upon her in an instant. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Cadeneza growled, waving her off. “Just… aggravated one of my injuries from earlier. It’s fine.”

“Odd,” Selar commented as she brought up her tricorder, ignoring Cadeneza’s disdainful look. “Your wounds should be entirely healed.” She ran it up and down Cadeneza swiftly, cocked her head at the results, then tapped a hand on an empty biobed. “I am detecting a new injury. We should examine it.”

“H-huh?” Cadeneza protested, swallowing noisily. “N-no there isn’t. You’re wrong.”

And she was not the only one. Selar’s keen ears caught the sound of Shimmer whinnying quietly under her breath in distress, a sound she knew the pony only made when she was afraid. Afraid of what?

Selar resolved to press the matter. “I apologize, but it is an order, Lieutenant. Allow me to examine you.”

“...tch. Fine.” Cadeneza leaned against the biobed. “Just… make it quick.”

Sparkle finished getting off the biobed and stretched her limbs. “Yeah I think I’m not gonna watch this,” she muttered as she trotted over to hide behind Shimmer.

Had Selar been one to emote, she would’ve rolled her eyes at such a display. As it was, she moved over to locate the seam in Cadeneza’s uniform, pulling the pants down with one hand while holding her tricorder with the other, just enough to expose her hip and the top of her rear. “It appears to be a deep contusion. Very deep. Almost as if you were…” Selar found herself trailed off, uncharacteristically forced silent at what she uncovered.

It was a contusion alright. Gleaming, glistening almost, black and blue. 

In the exact shape of a hoofprint.

The three sirens burst into immediate laughter at the sight. “Wow. That’s hilarious,” Aria said between low chuckles.

“Looks like she’s been branded!” Sonata giggled.

“Nice tattoo,” Adagio added, shoving a hand into her mouth as she doubled over with her belly-shaking laughter.

“What are you laughing abou--oh my god!” Sparkle snapped, glaring directly at Shimmer. “Seriously? Again?! When did you even have time to do that?”

“W-w-wait a minute,” Shimmer stammered. “It’s n-not what it looks like. We didn’t–”

“No, you know what? Forget it,” Sparkle interrupted, holding up a hoof. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t. This is not what I needed to see! Bad enough I smelled it the other day…”

Cadeneza whirled on Sparkle. “Hey, I thought you said it didn’t bother you, Sparkie.”

“Yeah, in the abstract!” Sparkle retorted. “It’s a bit different seeing my sister’s hoof print on your ass. I don’t need to see that. No one needs to see that!”

Selar took a step back from the bio bed as Cadeneza shot up, pulling her pants back up. Every bit of exposed skin steamed red, her adrenaline readings spiking rapidly on Selar’s tricorder. “Shut up, Sparkie! You don’t know anything,” she grunted. “Like Sunny said, it’s not what it looks like, okay?”

“Oh really,” Sparkle asked flatly. “Then what is it?”

Shimmer sighed. “When we finished eating, Twi, I went to Sickbay to check on Ja...er, Lieutenant Cadeneza. I escorted her back to her quarters. I didn’t stay for long, but before I left, she made some random comment about my wings.”

“Her feathers were kind of a mess. Like bedhead but with feathers instead of hair,” Cadeneza added with a shrug. “So I offered to help her fix ‘em.”

Sparkle blinked. “So… you helped preen Sunset’s wings.”

“Yes. And that was all.” Cadeneza glared back. “See? I told you. Not like you thought.”

“Logical,” Selar commented, tapping a finger to her chin. “But how did you get the bruise?”

“Oh, that was my fault,” Shimmer said, her face aglow with a blush. “I was standing on the couch so she could reach me, and she kinda sorta accidentally touched the base of my wings the wrong way, so my back leg… lashed out.”

Cadeneza rubbed her hip, wincing. “Yeah, sent me straight into the wall.”

“I said I was sorry!” Shimmer blurted.

“Hey I know, Sunny, I forgive you. Not a big deal.” Cadeneza sighed and looked right at Sparkle. “That’s all it was, Sparkie.”

Sparkle cringed, her muzzle contorting in what looked like disgust to Selar’s eyes. “Okay, okay, fine. But I still don’t want to picture that. Preening… getting that oily stuff in your mouth. Ugh, so gross.”

“I dunno, sounds pretty good to me,” Blaze countered with a smirk aimed Cadeneza’s way.

“Maybe you were onto something when you suggested she was branded,” Dazzle added, nudging Dusk in the shoulder.

Dusk simply giggled and snorted.

Cadeneza and Shimmer both shared a look. “Uh, okay then,” Cadeneza said. “Look, just don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Seriously,” Shimmer added. “It’s embarrassing enough. We don’t want to give people the wrong impression.”

“Oh, if you insist,” Dazzle said, rolling her expressive eyes. “I suppose I can understand one wanting privacy. Pony.”

“Do we have to?” Dusk said, holding up her hands to her chin as she stared at Dazzle with misty eyes.

“Yes. Fool,” Blaze barked.

“Aww…”

“Thank you,” Shimmer said, though Selar heard the slight growl undercutting Shimmer’s voice.

“I will, of course, respect doctor-patient confidentiality,” Selar said with an agreeable nod. 

Shimmer looked over at Sparkle, who pointedly rolled her eyes and flashed her a grin. “Oh come on, sis. You really think I’m going to blab about this?”

“...no.” Shimmer stiffened. “I just… don’t want it to come between us.”

Sparkle waved a hoof, beckoning Shimmer to come closer to her. Once Shimmer did so, Sparkle set her hoof on Shimmer’s shoulder. “It won’t,” she declared, her words falling into place like an avalanche of stones. “I promise.”

Shimmer visibly wilted, letting out a breath Selar hadn’t realized she was holding. “That’s good to hear. I was a little afraid I’d just…”

“What? Messed up? Nah.” Sparkle patted her sister on the shoulder then withdrew her hoof. “I’m sorry I overreacted. Forgive me?”

Shimmer beamed back at her. “Sure thing.”

“Well if we’re done with the sappy pony crap,” Blaze grumbled, thrusting her hands onto her hips, “let’s get out of here. I’m wiped.”

“Saaaame,” Dusk said.


After escorting everyone out, Selar was left alone in a quiet Sickbay. “Computer, time?”

2339.

Near the ship's midnight, a time Selar preferred for quiet. While any starship had its constant ups and downs no matter what time of day its computers declared it to be, the Phoenix tended towards calm around this time, most likely, in Selar’s opinion, because the Gamma shift was about to start and those working on Gamma shift were not nearly as... eccentric as those on Alpha or Beta shift.

Her own shift would normally be ending in twenty minutes, but not tonight. Tonight her relief, a surly Telleratie who’d followed Selar to the Phoenix from the Enterprise, was sick with some illness that would last several days, requiring Selar and Doctor May to pull extra long shifts on opposing days. Today was her turn for the sixteen hour shift, which made Selar appreciate the quiet all the more.

Thus the sudden burst of noise and boisterous laughter preceding the Sickbay doors swishing open acted fiercely upon Selar’s nerves, forcing her to take a deep breath lest she start to display a loss of control.

“Ah, Doctor, there you are!” boomed Lieutenant Commander Ishihara. The towering woman’s left arm hung limply by her side, the other wrapped around the shoulder of her accomplice, Lieutenant Rodriguez, whose left arm was similarly limp. “I’m afraid we need your help.”

“Yes, please be seeing to us,” Rogriguez added, forcing Selar to repress a slight frown at his manner of speech. Much of the crew found his mannerisms and odd phrasings endearing in some way, but Selar found it… displeasing.

“Very well,” Selar said, gesturing to the nearest pair of biobeds. “Be seated.” She went to collect her medical tricorder and brought out the scanner, starting with Ishihara. “What happened?”

“Rodrigo here cheats at cards,” Ishihara said with a smarmy grin. “And I’d had enough of it, so I called him out on it. He challenged me to some arm wrestling and, well… we were enthusiastic.”

“I see.” Selar’s eyebrows twitched as she ran her scanner over them. “Enthusiasm seems to be contagious this evening.”

“As I was telling you, Ajay, I do not cheat,” Rodriguez said, grinning in turn. He raised a finger to tap his heart. “Spanish luck, nothing more.”

Ishihara snorted. “Spanish luck. Sure. Good thing your piloting is better than your lying, Rodrigo.”

“I speak nothing but the truth, my friend,” Rodriguez replied with a shrug. “It is not my fault if you do not believe me.”

Selar actually breathed a slight sigh when the doors swished open again, the room filling with a thundering shout of “There you are!”

Lieutenant Zhidar stomped into Sickbay, his Antican feet thumping the floor like a herd of stampeding sehlats. Letting loose a laugh of his own he clapped a hand each to Ishihara and Rodriguez’s shoulders, ignoring their winces of pain. “Don’t think I forgot about the deal! Whichever one of you won promised to wrestle the victor between Williams and me.”

“Was there a winner, Rodrigo?” Ishihara inquired.

Rodriguez shook his head. “I do not believe so, Ajay. I believe we both, how do you say… came to a draw?”

“Oh, ridiculous,” Zhidar rumbled, clapping them both on the shoulder once more. “Your contest was superb! Don’t tell me breaking your arm is enough to stop you. On Antica that’s expected from every match.”

“Is it now?” Ishihara said, chuckling to herself. “So where’s Williams then? Please tell me you left our second officer alive.”

“Alive? Yes. Whole?” Zhidar’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Not a chance.”

Were it not for Selar’s sense of logic and self control, she would be palming her face then, trying to rub away the frustration of dealing with these muscleheads. Where Commander Shimmer dug any of these people up, she didn’t understand, nor did she care to. Instead she tapped her combadge. “Selar to Williams. Commander, are you injured?”

Before her combadge could chirp in response, the doors swished open again, revealing Lieutenant Commander Williams, who, like Rodriguez and Ishihara, had one arm dangling at his side, though it was bleeding for good measure. “Zhidar, you little piece of trash,” he teased as he stumbled inside, a wide smile plastered on his face. “This hurts like a bitch, you know.”

“Commander,” Selar greeted, though privately she wished was somewhere, anywhere else on the ship. Maybe down in the bowels of the ship, a jefferies tube perhaps, or the cargo bays on Deck 28. They seemed suitable enough to escape the madness aboard this ship.

“Ah, Doctor,” Williams replied, nodding to her. He tried to hold up his broken arm only to fail, wincing in pain. “As you can see, yes, I am injured. But it was all in good fun.”

“Strange,” Rodrigo commented. “I am not sure I would use the word fun, considering we are once again here in Sickbay.”

Williams rolled his hands in the air. “I mean fun, so to speak. At least with this lot. I swear, dealing with you three is like serving on a Klingon ship.”

Selar reached for her bone-knitter and brought her tricorder up. “Shall I treat you then, sir?”

“No, no,” Williams said, waving her off. “Ajay and Rodrigo were here first, see to them. I can wait.”

Selar frowned. “Are you certain, sir? Your advanced age–”

“Is meaningless when it comes to this,” Williams interrupted. The look of amusement on his face dimmed considerably. “It’s a broken arm, Doctor, not lung cancer. I’m not so fragile that a broken arm’ll reduce what’s left of my lifespan.”

“As you wish, sir,” Selar replied, returning to Ishihara, who obligingly held out her arm.

Ishihara gritted her teeth even as she let loose another flurry of chuckles. “Damned bone knitter. Always feels like a swarm of bees stinging you. But it was worth it, to try and put Rodrigo in his place.”

“You know I do agree with him, Ajay,” Williams said as he took a seat on a third nearby biobed. “He wasn’t cheating.”

“Uh huh,” Ishihara grunted. “Zhidar, you were playing. Was he cheating?”

“Of course he was cheating,” Zhidar agreed, flashing Rodriguez a toothy grin. “He always cheats.”

“Zhidar, my good man, you know that is not true,” Rodriguez replied with a serene shake of his head. “But I do not blame you for having poor memory. Guarding Boothby’s flower beds for thirty years must have left you severely understimulated.”

Ishihara and Williams broke out laughing as Zhidar fired off a nasty glare Rodriguez’ way. “If you’d like, Rodrigo, I can just break your other arm now and have the good doctor ship you back home to Spain until you recover,” he growled.

Before Selar could intervene, Williams raised his good hand. “Now now, let’s not be too hasty here. We all found our careers circling the drain after the Fletcher.

“Speak for yourself, sir,” Ishihara said. “I was never on the Fletcher.

“And you’re lucky you weren’t, Ajay, trust me.”

“Commander, I am finished with your arm,” Selar said. “You will want to rest it for at least a day, light exercise only. Do you need any analgesics?”

Ishihara tested out her freshly repaired arm, curling her fingers one by one, forming a fist, very lightly swinging it through the air. “That’s much better Doc, thanks. And uh, no. I’ll be fine. Better get Rodrigo treated though. Make sure he gets his lollipop afterwards.”

Fortunately Selar had heard enough similar jokes from Commander Riker while serving aboard the Enterprise that she understood what Ishihara was saying. “Very well. Lieutenant, if you would present your arm please?”

As she bustled about fixing the pointless damage these imbeciles had wrought upon themselves, the four of them continued to jibe and make juvenile conversation, displaying the typical sort of military bravado that Selar had heard all too frequently from others of their ilk. As much as she understood people like them were necessary in Starfleet, especially during wartime, it didn’t mean she had to put up with them.

Fortunately she managed to escort them out in a hurry, leaving her Sickbay in blessed silence once again. She began to wonder just then if it wouldn’t have been better to take up that position on the Excalibur after all. Surely Captain Calhoun would never allow the kind of shenanigans that occurred aboard the Phoenix.

Unfortunately for Selar’s blood pressure she failed to get much peace. “Danielle to Sickbay,” chimed the intercom.

Selar stepped over to the console and tapped a key. “Go ahead, Ensign.”

She recoiled at the sound of a lusty moan that blasted through the intercom, followed by heavy breathing and the sound of someone being pushed away. “Doctor, I have a medical emergency I am bringing to Sickbay. There has been a… breach of protocol.

Selar read between the lines easily. “Species of the victim?” she inquired.

Caitian.

“Very well. Do you require a security escort?”

Another female voice came over the intercom, one that Selar didn’t immediately recognize. “Clarica, where’re you going? Why are you going into a turbolift? Kitten, come back!

No, Doctor, for better or worse, she is following me without much trouble. I should arrive at Sickbay soon.

“Understood. Selar out.”

Selar immediately set about preparing one of the surgical biobeds with a sterilizing field and several strong anti-pheromone treatments.

Her timing was good, for less than a minute after finishing the biobed setup, Ensign Danielle strode through Sickbay’s doors, with Ensign R'el literally hot on her tail.

“Clarica,” R'el purred, her chest heaving as she stared at the half-Deltan with naked lust in her eyes. “Why’d you make us come all the way to Sickbay? We were doing just fine in your room.”

Danielle ignored R'el with a serenity that struck Selar as almost Vulcan in its lack of expression. “Preta and I were having a late dinner in her quarters,” she said. “And I accidentally cut open my glove with my knife slicing a steak.” She held up her left hand, revealing the damaged glove and the laceration.

Selar nodded. “Therefore, Ensign R'el immediately reached out to apply pressure so she could treat it.”

Danielle arched an eyebrow and glanced back at R'el, who’d sidled up to her and stretched an arm around her waist. “Yes.”

“Oh kitten, come on, enough with the boring Vulcan,” R'el murmured as she nuzzled her face into Danielle’s shoulder. “Let’s find a bed. Or a couch. Or the floor. Or somewhere, anywhere. I need you.”

Danielle’s lips curled in disgust. “Doctor, are you ready to treat her?”

“Yes, though she may need persuading to lay on the biobed.” Selar gestured to the bed in question.

“Putain de bordel de merde,” Danielle muttered under her breath as she faced the pheromone-addled R'el. “Preta, you said you wanted a bed, yes?”

“Yes kitten, yes.” Thankfully for both Selar and Danielle’s sake, Preta managed to keep her hands to herself, despite them curling closed and open repeatedly as if she wished to use them upon Danielle. “Where?”

Danielle strode over to the biobed. “Right here.”

R'el giggled uncharacteristically and leapt onto the biobed with reckless abandon, flipping over onto her back in a heartbeat and opening up her arms. “I’m ready for you. Take me.”

“Not this time, I’m afraid,” Danielle said as she switched on the restraining field. The forcefield buzzed to life even as the clamshell closed around the pinned R'el.

“Hey! What gives?” R'el growled as she fruitlessly fought back against the restraining field, her words rapidly descending into feline hisses and spitting.

“I’m sorry, Preta,” Danielle said, her voice turning sincere to Selar’s ear. “This won’t be very fun for you, but trust me… it is better than the alternative.”

“Wha… I… oh…” R'el’s eyes fluttered closed as the biobed automatically administered a sedative, sending her into unconsciousness.

“It will take a while for her system to be flushed of pheromones,” Selar stated. “Especially given she was exposed to blood. We will need to heal your wound in the meantime.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Danielle said as she sat down on a nearby biobed.

Selar took every precaution, putting on a pair of sterilized surgical clothes and subjecting her dermal regenerator to three full passes through a sterilization field before bringing it over to repair Danielle’s hand wound. “I will also have to file a report with the Captain over this incident,” Selar said.

Danielle exhaled a deep sigh. “I understand,” she murmured. “What else will you need to know?”

Selar liked Danielle, as much as she liked anyone. Danielle, even more so than the other full blooded Vulcans on the crew, understood the need for logic, for the proper chain of command, and for respecting her fellow crew mates. As such, Selar found herself closer to Danielle than most of the crew, albeit for a very Vulcan definition of closer.

“I will need to know why you and R'el were eating dinner together.”

Danielle sighed. “After the away mission to the planet, Preta called me up to the bridge to assist her with a number of duties that required Ops and Helm working together. It took us many hours, but when we finished, Preta offered to make up for the extra hard work by treating me to dinner. Preta and I have been friends for years, because of our mutual association with Ensign Sparkle.”

“I see. There were no romantic overtures involved, then,” Selar concluded.

Danielle’s face turned stony. “None. No offense to her, but I am not the least bit interested in her that way. Besides...she might have eyes on someone else.”

“Of course,” Selar said with a nod, repressing the tiny bit of curiosity compelling her to ask who Danielle was speaking of. “I am well aware, Ensign, but protocol requires me to ask.”

“...stupid protocol,” Danielle muttered, so quietly Selar barely heard her.

“I beg your pardon, Ensign?”

Danielle turned away, so Selar was willing to let the subject drop. Then Danielle spoke up. “I said it is a stupid protocol,” she repeated, her accent growing thicker with every word. “For every other species in the Federation, they are free to be as sexual as they want, with whomever they want, so long as they are consenting adults. Polyamorous marriages are common. For heaven’s sake, Risa is considered one of the crown jewels of the Federation and its entire existence is based on sex! Sex is a part of life, of culture, and everyone can experience it freely. Except for Deltans.”

Selar tried not to let the sudden ferocity in Danielle’s voice interfere in her work with the dermal regenerator. “But that is because unlike every other species, Deltan pheromones can act as a form of mind control, overwhelming entire ships with desire.”

“Hmph. Betazoid telepathy is capable of controlling the minds of others, but no one has ever suggested they be forced into never practicing it!” Danielle scowled, though she didn’t budge, allowing Selar to finish with fixing her hand.

“The difference, Ensign,” Selar said as she set down her tool, “is that Betazoids can actively control their telepathy. Deltans cannot control their pheromones except through vows of chastity. While it may be unfair, it is the most logical course of action.”

“Va te faire foutre!” Danielle declared. “As if it would be that difficult for the Federation to create a genetic treatment to solve this problem once and for all. It has been done on a few worlds outside the Federation, you know!”

Selar drew herself up, unwilling to bow to this Ensign whom she was beginning to rethink her respect for. “And any Starfleet officer found guilty of using such a treatment would be summarily dishonorably discharged for breaking one of the Federation’s most important laws. Genetic experimentation and manipulation is forbidden for many good reasons. You are half human, Ensign. You should be well aware of humanity’s disastrous experiences with the follies of genetic engineering.”

“Connerie,” Danielle muttered. “Genetic engineering should not be forbidden because a few humans made mistakes centuries ago. Why should we suffer today for the sins of our ancestors?”

“Those mistakes led to the Eugenics and subsequent Third World War on their planet, with over one billion dead between the two,” Selar countered. “Not to mention the later fallout with the Klingons in the 22nd century, which saw tens of millions more dead, or Captain Kirk’s encounter with Khan in the 23rd. And many other instances. Besides, were it not for his heroics out on Deep Space Nine, Doctor Julian Bashir would have been imprisoned for life the moment his genetic manipulation was discovered.”

Danielle bristled, her features twisted with an anger that some might have called ugly. “Imagine if you had to walk around with a blindfold on all the time because everyone else was scared you might go pon farr on them, when all the while there's a possible solution right in front of you.”

Selar nodded. “Your position has logic to it, Ensign. For what it is worth, I do agree that there is a sense of unfairness to the way Deltans are treated, relative to other sapient species.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Danielle said, her tone still bitter. She moved away from Selar to look over the sleeping R’el. “How much longer will the treatment take?”

Selar moved over to the biobed to check a few measurements. “No more than a few minutes. It was only necessary to sedate her due to the blood exposure.”

Danielle remained silent and still while the process finished, which Selar appreciated. Selar kept a close eye on her instruments, and the instant the system indicated R’el was cured, she administered a stimulant to awaken her.

“Mrr...what...where am I?” R’el muttered after a moment, blinking her eyes.

“You’re in Sickbay, Preta,” Danielle said, an apologetic smile on her face. “It was my fault.”

R’el stared at her for a moment, puzzled, until her eyes widened with what Selar assumed was a sudden regain of her memories. “Oh dear. Oooh no. Oh Clairica I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–I never wanted to–”

Danielle held up a single finger to her lips. “I know, I know. Like I said, my fault. Pheromones.”

Despite Danielle’s tone, Selar’s keen senses noticed the pain and anguish hidden behind it. She was putting on a front, and not a very good one.

R’el’s face flushed a deep crimson through her fur as she looked away from Danielle. “Um, doctor, may I be released please?” she asked quietly, pressing gently against the buzzing forcefield keeping her restrained.

“Of course.” Selar obliged at once, unclamping the clamshell and allowing R’el to leap free of it.

R’el instantly leapt off the bed, stretching out all her limbs while making cat-like noises until she finished and faced Danielle. “I’m, um, I’m guessing that we probably should call it a night.”

“Probably for the best.”

R’el squirmed in place for a moment. “You’re not going to tell Twilight about this, right? … o-or anyone else?”

“Of course not, Preta,” Danielle said, her smile turning warm. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Okay... goodnight then.” With one last glance back at both of them, R’el scurried out the door.

“Preta…” Danielle sighed and faced Selar. “Thank you Doctor. I think that will be all. I should return to my quarters.”

Selar nodded, and after Danielle left she swiftly cleaned up the area, prepping it for the next patient. Judging by her evening so far, she didn’t have long.

So naturally her combadge rang the instant she finished, reminding her she should look up the Murphy’s Law that May was so fond of mentioning. “Hill to Sickbay! Medical emergency in Main Engineering!

Selar promptly tapped her badge. “On my way.” She grabbed up a triage kit and an anti-grav stretcher. She rushed to the nearest turbolift, used her medical override to force the swiftest possible transit to Deck 24, and emerged into Main Engineering.

The instant she entered the hallway her nose was assaulted by the stench of burning circuitry and, more disturbingly, cooked meat. Unease warred in her stomach as she pushed past the crowd of engineers. “What is the nature of the emergency?”

Hill waved Selar over and around one of the consoles where Lieutenant Wattson was laying on the floor, groaning as her hands and arms shuddered and shook. Nearby an unusual device Selar did not recognize sparked and sputtered. “She was messing with that magic converter thing Sparkle and Shimmer built. Blew up in her face.”

Selar’s medical professionalism and Vulcan detachment combined to keep her from reacting the way a small part of her wished she could when she knelt down to examine the burns on Wattson’s face. Over three quarters of her face was covered in second degree burns, with a few third degree spread across her left cheek and nose. “Lieutenant, can you hear me?”

Wattson’s whole body shuddered as she looked up in Selar’s general direction, her body wracked with coughs. Fortunately a passing visual inspection showed no obvious damage to her eyes. “D-d-doc?” she spluttered. “I…” She broke off into fresh coughs.

“Help me get her on the stretcher,” Selar ordered Hill as she bent down to pick up Wattson by the legs. He swiftly assisted her, and followed along as Selar guided the stretcher out.

Selar tapped her badge as she walked. “Selar to Greer and Kinsey. Prepare the surgical bay for an incoming burn victim.”

Aye, ma’am.

“Tell me what happened, Hill.”

Hill squeezed his fists together, and even past the stench of Wattson’s burning skin Selar could smell the reek of sweat off him. “Wattson came running into Engineering about twenty minutes ago, claiming she’d had some brilliant idea how to boost the power in the converter more quickly while still within safe parameters. I told her we shouldn’t experiment with it without Commander Shimmer or Ensign Sparkle but she insisted she’d be fine.”

“And then?” Selar asked as they stepped into the turbolift.

“I’m not sure. I was watching her alter the circuitry. She was manipulating one of the wires next to the dilithium crystal when…” Hill reached up a hand and wiped off his sweat-slicked face. “The crystal shattered and blew out half the boards with it. The whole converter is busted now.”

“We will need to report this to the Captain,” Selar said as the turbolift discharged them on Deck 12.

“I’m going to file a report right away,” Hill said. “I don’t understand why she didn’t want to wait.”

“We’ll have to get that answer from her, I suspect,” Selar said as they entered Sickbay. She crossed through several units directly to the main surgical bay. “Excuse us, Lieutenant.”

“Right, right…”

Selar entered the bay where her nurses were waiting, already clad in surgical prep ware. “Please get her onto the table. I will prepare at once.”

“Yes ma’am,” said Greer, a male, dark-skinned human nurse.

Kinsey, an equally dark-skinned female human nurse, assisted with moving Wattson then focused on the console readouts. “Second and third degree burns over the face, torso, neck, arms, and hands. Multiple minute lacerations from debris... twenty grams of dilithium crystal buried in her skin. More in the uniform.”

“Stripping the uniform now.”

“Mggh… I…” Wattson stammered. “What’s…stop...”

“Easy, Lieutenant, you’re in Sickbay,” Kinsey said as Selar returned, clad in the red gloves, suit and surgical hat that was standard Starfleet surgical wear. “We’re going to treat you.”

“But… the conv… augh…”

Selar brought up a hypospray. “Please do not attempt to speak right now, Lieutenant. I am administering 50 ccs of melorazine.”

Wattson fell unconscious immediately as Kinsey continued checking the scanners. “Looks like major nerve damage, including her face. Flash blindness damage to the eyes… should be easily fixed.”

“Noted,” Selar said. “Surgery begins at 0102.”


The surgery itself consumed another six hours of Selar’s time, but by its conclusion they had successfully treated Wattson’s wounds and the nerve damage, and discharged her into the ship’s ICU unit for monitoring. She would be unconscious for another fifteen hours, then bedridden for several days after that.

Selar shucked the surgery wear off into the replicator and finalized her report on the surgery. Even her vaunted Vulcan stamina couldn’t hold out much longer, but fortunately it wouldn’t have to. Doctor May would be starting her shift in less than an hour.

All she needed until then was some peace and quiet.

And then the doors to Sickbay swished open yet again.

“What in the bleedin’ ‘ells were you thinkin’, James?” emerged May’s Scottish brogue, especially thick as it so often became when she was off duty.

Doctor May, clad in her typical off-duty clothing, stepped inside, followed swiftly by Captain Liang, who was smartly dressed in a casual suit, with his usual cane oddly absent. “I did tell you my dear that I apologized,” said Liang, his voice so hoarse even Selar could barely make it out from this short distance.

“And I’m sure you’re thinkin’ that’s good and all but apologies don’t fix me hand!” May held up the hand in question, which sported a nasty impact wound, clearly delivered by a blunt object.

“Sarah, honestly, you are a doctor, you know well enough that can be easily fixed–”

“Not the point, James,” May retorted. She raised a finger from her good hand and shoved it into his chest. “And I’ll be thankin’ you to tone down the enthusiasm next time.”

Liang harrumphed, drawing himself up. “You told me you liked my enthusiasm.”

Selar’s lip curled slightly when she heard the word, making her begin to think if she heard the word any more she’d lose it.

“Not when it ruins your throat I don’t,” May countered. “I’m still your doctor and I won’t be havin’ you mess up your health.”

“Oh come now, you’re being patently unfair.”

“Are you listenin’ to yourself, James? You can barely talk! I’ve been enjoyin’ bein’ with you but that don’t mean I want you to run yourself into the grave tryin’ to please me.”

“Well then! Forgive an old man if he thinks a woman’s pleasure ought to come before his own.”

In Selar’s imagination, she all too briefly pictured herself falling over and cradling her own face in her hands, too overwhelmed by all the ridiculousness of this ship. Even the Captain was getting in on it… the last thing she ever wanted to hear was what sounded like the sexual habits of her commanding officer and direct superior.

Outwardly however she barely frowned as she approached them, medical tricorder in hand. “Pardon me, sir, ma’am, what is the medical issue?”

“Oh, Selar,” May said with a shake of her head. “I’m so sorry to be botherin’ you just before the end of your shift, but I’m afraid we’ll both be needin’ your services.” She held out her hand.

One eyebrow crept up Selar’s forehead as she ran her tricorder’s medical sensor over it. “Fracture of the third, fourth, and fifth metacarpals and a significant contusion to match. Blunt force trauma… may I ask what hit your hand?”

Selar dearly hoped she wouldn’t regret the answer. Too many nasty possibilities flew through her head and each was worse than the last.

“A cricket bat.”

“A what?” Selar asked, nonplussed.

“A cricket bat,” May repeated. “We were on the holodeck, watching a cricket match.”

“One of the very best cricket matches of all time, mind you,” Liang interjected, a big smile on his face. “The world cup semifinal match between Australia and South Africa at Edgbaston, 1999. Rooting for South Africa, of course. The underdog.”

“They lost,” May added with a quiet snort.

“Of course they lost, Sarah,” Liang said with a brief shake of his head. “We went in knowing they would lose. That wasn’t the point. The point was the competition, the drive, the skill!”

“Didn’t stop you from swingin’ that bat around all angry like when the game ended.”

“I was swept up by the crowd, Sarah,” Liang retorted. “The enthusiasm carried me away so much I’d hoped maybe the game would end differently!” As his voice rose on that final word he burst into a coughing fit, wet and ill sounding to Selar’s ears. “Oh... excuse me.”

“I was tellin’ you, James, shoutin’ so much ruined your throat,” May grumbled. “Selar, would you please examine him and figure out what he’s done to himself?”

Silently grateful that the situation wasn’t what she feared, Selar turned her tricorder on Liang. “Curious,” she commented as she ran the scanner up and down his throat. “It seems you have contracted a bacterial throat infection. Streptococcus pharyngitis.”

Liang blinked. “Strep throat?”

“Indeed,” Selar said, folding her tricorder and setting it back down. “It will be a simple matter to treat, though we may wish to enact sanitation protocols about the ship. It is rare for an illness such as this to come aboard a starship.”

“...I’m not especially vulnerable to this, am I, doctor?” Liang inquired, his face turning grim.

Selar shook her head. “No, sir. Standard treatment will see you recover within the day. However I will recommend that you pursue light duty only, to allow your body to heal.”

Visibly relaxing, Liang flashed May a soft smile. “I’ll take that under advisement, Doctor.”

May lightly smacked him on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t be grinnin’ now. I’ll be holdin’ you to that light duty.”

“I’m sure you will, Sarah.”

“While I have you here, sir,” Selar added, reaching over for a nearby PADD, “there is one other matter. An unfortunate incident occurred last night, necessitating the hospitalization of our chief engineer.”

Liang stiffened, all sense of amusement vanishing instantly. “Is there a reason I was not informed sooner?”

“Unfortunately I was in surgery until just a few moments prior to your arrival,” Selar replied. “Her life was not in danger, but she will need several days rest in the ICU. However, there is a much more pressing matter, that being the reason why she was injured.”

Taking the PADD up, Liang’s eyes scanned it line by line, narrowing more and more by the second. “Damn it,” he cursed. “The converter.” He set the PADD down. “When can I speak with my chief engineer?”

“At least fifteen hours, sir,” Selar answered.

“Hmph. She’d better have a damned good explanation for why she thought she needed to experiment with it.” Liang tapped his chest. “Liang to Shimmer.”

Selar watched May stare at Liang blankly for a moment before the Scottish doctor broke into quiet laughter. “James, you don’t have your combadge on.”

Rolling his eyes, Liang fumbled in his suit pocket till he’d plucked the silver badge out and placed it on his chest. “Liang to Shimmer,” he repeated.

...yes, sir, Shimmer here.

“Apologies for waking you, Number One, but I’m afraid we have an urgent matter that requires your attention as well as Ensign Sparkle’s. The magic converter was destroyed last night.”

What? Why?

“Lieutenant Wattson was experimenting with it, for reasons unknown. I’m ordering you and your sister to create a new one immediately.”

...yes sir, we’ll get right on that.

“Good. Liang out.” Liang dropped his hand to his side and sniffed, then swayed a moment. “Oh dear. Perhaps that fever is starting to hit. Doctor, please make with the treatment so I can return to my quarters and change.”

Selar nodded and reached for a hypospray and several vials. She injected each one into Liang’s blood stream. “You will need to take another dose every four hours,” Selar said. “I can provide you with a kit with the necessary medications, as I would prefer you minimize the amount of walking around you do.”

“Please do.”

Selar quickly assembled the necessities and handed the kit over to the Captain, who proceeded to nod to them both and wish them a good day.

As soon as he left, May wilted just a little. “Oooh, that man will be the death of me one day, I tell you Selar,” she murmured as she brought her hand up.

Selar nodded politely as she picked up her bone-knitter for what felt like the twentieth time that day. “This will sting,” she said.

“I know it wi–ooh, that is harsher than I remembered,” May hissed, closing one eyelid as she cringed away. “Well, nevermind me. How was your shift?”

Selar stopped in the middle of her ministrations to fix her gaze on May’s eyes.  For a moment, just a brief moment, she was tempted to erupt, to explode, to vent all the myriad frustrations and stupidities she’d encountered.

Then the urge was gone, just as quickly as it came. “Eventful,” she replied as she resumed her procedure.

“Sounds like it,” May chuckled. She stood still for several moments longer to allow Selar to finish, then flexed her freshly fixed fingers. “Ah, that’s much better, thank you. I’ll be watchin’ out next time I go to the holodeck with him, that’s for certain.”

“I would hope so, ma’am,” Selar said. “It would not be logical to allow such an error to be compounded.”

May’s chuckle switched to an outright laugh. “No it wouldn’t.”

The doors to Sickbay opened once again, eliciting a slight twitch from Selar’s eye muscle. Eye strain, of course. Nothing more. She certainly wasn’t feeling frustrated to the point of madness that even Surak himself couldn’t stop.

She should’ve expected the one who strutted through the door, her dress flowing behind her. Inanna Eresh, the only part of the senior staff that hadn’t bothered Selar during her shift at some point or another. “Oh, Doctors, pardon me,” Eresh said in her lilting voice.

Selar swallowed back any remnant feelings and faced her. “What can we do for you, Counselor?”

Eresh smiled enigmatically. “I’m certain that, as one of the ship’s doctors, you’ve been made aware of my artificial organs.”

It took Selar a moment to recall the details, then she nodded. “Yes, if I recall correctly from your file, you have an artificial kidney, pancreas, and liver due to a climbing accident.”

“Yes.” Eresh brushed a bit of dust off the front of her dress. “I don’t like to talk about them, but they are necessary for my continued life. They need maintenance every three months. I was hoping to accomplish that this morning, if it would not be any trouble.”

While only a slight frown touched her face on the outside, inwardly Selar was moaning, her control rapidly beginning to fade. Eresh’s request was perfectly reasonable. It would also take her at least an hour or more, and after the day she’d had...

May interrupted her thoughts with a quietly whispered, “It’s okay Selar. I can see you’re exhausted. I’ll take over from here. Give you some extra rest.”

Selar nodded gratefully. “Thank you ma’am.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good day.”

Selar rushed for the door as quickly as a brisk walk would take her. Various emotions warred within her, ranging from leaping for joy to falling to her knees and unleashing tears.

But she pushed them aside, and remained cold and impassive all the way back to her quarters. Only then, with a bowl of plomeek soup and a cup of warm Vulcan spice tea did she dare to relax.

What a day it had been. At least, she comforted herself, she only had to worry about a short shift tonight. And with luck, she would have peace and quiet until then.

So she picked up a PADD and lost herself in a Vulcan novel, letting the world around her fade away.