On The Wrong Side

Posted on Sun May 24th, 2015 @ 12:29pm by Captain Aidan Rackham & Commander William Carver M.D.

Mission: The Belle of Bellatrix
Location: Sickbay Complex [G Deck, USS Farragut]
Timeline: 2278.49: 0740hrs.

What exactly was it about Starfleet engineers? Carver wondered. Just once, I'd like to see them design two ships of the same class that actually looked the same. They had five years ahead of them in the same tin can, and if they were going to make it back alive, they were going to need enough medical supplies. But that was always part of the trouble. How much do you pack when additional supplies took up additional space in the cargo hold. But it wasn't the amount of the medical supplies that was gaining Carver's ire, it was the placement. His last assignment had the sickbay on the other side of the ship, and naturally the beds, offices, operating room, and storage areas were all mirror images. He was adaptable, certainly. One had to be when being a doctor in Starfleet. But that didn't mean that he had to like it.

He turned to the nurse assisting him with the inventory. She was still young, and probably hadn't quite realized what she was getting herself into on a five year mission, Carver theorized. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, and was probably on her first deep space mission. He could tell it from her enthusiasm. "Alright, nurse..."

"Moreno!" she chimed in excitedly. "Ensign Lydia Moreno, RN."

It took Carver a second to realize what just happened. He hadn't been fishing for a name. "Right, nurse, I want you to go ahead and inventory the analgesics. I want to know just what we're dealing with. We're going to be out here for a while. I don't want to be giving away all our supplies for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes in here with a headache."

"No problem, Commander," Ensign Lydia Moreno, RN replied.

Carver cringed. There was a lot he could tolerate, if he had to, but ranks were not one of them. "Doctor will be fine, Nurse Moreno."

"Of course, sir," Moreno replied just as enthusiastically before moving away to tend to her task.

"Maybe I'm going to be the first to be treated for a headache," Carver muttered as he moved to his next task. Besides just the medicine, he wanted to make sure that his instrumentation was organized in a suitable manner. Just as he started going through those supplies, he heard the recognizable sound of the sickbay doors sliding open.

"Have you got anything for a headache, Doc?" The voice of Captain Aidan Rackham seemed to fill the sickbay for a moment. One of the strange quirks of a new ship was working out how loudly one had to speak in each compartment to be heard over the various whistles, bleeps and engine noise.

Carver turned to look at the new comer. He didn't care that it was the captain. For that matter, it could have been an admiral. He would have gave him the same incredulous stare. "You can't be serious." He sighed loudly, but not going into detail why. "How bad of a headache are we talking?"

"The kind of headache that you get after spending half an hour in the engine room with no significant ear protection." He harrumphed and took a look around the sickbay. "Is it just me or does this room seem... off?"

"My recommendation would be to not spend time in the engine room, but I suppose that works better for me than it does for you." He followed Rackham's gaze around the room. "It's not just you. I think it's on the wrong side of the ship. I'll survive, but it means that I have to relearn where everything is."

"Oh, well I'll bear that in mind. I don't think I'll stand a chance throughout a five year mission but I appreciate the counsel." He finally settled his eyes back on his Chief Surgeon. "Yeah, that's it. Wrong way round."

"You know how those Starfleet engineers tend to be," Carver added with a nod. "If it's not broke, then let's change it around. Do you want something for your head? I've got one of the nurses taking inventory on the medical supplies. I want to make sure we have enough to get us through all of our scrapes, but I can probably spare something for you. On the other hand, I have a few things in my private stock that will get rid of that headache tonight, but I can't guarantee you won't have one in the morning. It's your call."

"I'll probably be fine for now. I can feel it subsiding." The Captain admitted, before flashing a slight smile. " I hope you've registered your private stock with the relevant authorities, Doctor."

Carver looked at Rackham as if he had two heads. "Please. Until recently the relevant authorities were Elsa Gunning. You and I both know that she wouldn't have approved. Now don't get me wrong. I'm no drunk, and I would never drink on the job, but a little medicinal scotch can go a long way."

"Just kidding, Doc." Rackham smiled. "I might take you up on that. Officer's mess at twenty-two-hundred?"

Carver smiled, realizing Rackham's joke. "That sounds like a good plan. I trust they still left the officer's mess towards the front of the ship when they refit this boat. I wouldn't put it past Starfleet engineering to put it in the shuttlebay."

"I think there's something about not drinking and driving that means they can't put it down there. I'll see you then."

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Captain Aidan Rackham
Commanding Officer

Commander William Carver MD
Chief Surgeon
USS Farragut