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Exemplary wibbly wobbly timey wimey simming from @Sal Taybrim

"So what is it?!" 😜

 

(( Trauma Center Eight, Main Medical Facility, Starbase 118 ))

Foster: Come on you bastard, live…

The words were gritted through clenched teeth as Wyn Foster tried to use every ounce of his stubbornness and will to ensure his patient would live.

And then everything went completely and utterly sideways.

Zumagi: Get OUT of MY surgery!

He could hear the leonine roar in Zumagi’s tone as the massive Bajoran surged forward and made his body the block in the doorway that separated the assassin from the surgical suite.

Wyn pinned his antennae down to the top of his head, drew in another short breath and pushed the energy in the regeneration tool just a little higher.  Please just seal this tear.  Please let this artery stabilize.

Nniol: Get out of my way!

Disruptor fire lanced out and he was aware that Ivin pushed forward.  Wyn imagined that he had grabbed the assassin’s hand trying to direct the fire away from innocents.  Or patients.

Or him.

He would be a blue stinky liar if he said he wasn’t terrified right now.  But terror would have to sit down and shut up for a moment, he had a patient to save.

Zumagi: Make me.

That’s right, taunt the super dangerous guy.  

Wyn pushed the oxygen a little higher.  He had to get the blood oxygen levels up to a point where he could let the life support take over.  So he could stop Praetor’s heart and fix the extensive valve damage.

Nniol: damn you…

And that’s when something happened.  Wyn was focused totally on the very careful process of getting Praetor’s heart to stop without jeopardizing his brain health.  But the intonation of the assassin gave him the slightest clue that something was about to go down.

Orange disruptor fire lanced out again.  This time with Zumagi dodging for his life several shots slipped past his guard and slammed into the back wall of the surgical suite.

Wyn’s antennae were ringing and his vision when white for a second.  Blinking constantly, as it clearer he could hear the shrill wail of alarms.

That last shot cut life support.

Prateor, heart stopped, started to plummet into oblivion.

Foster: no, no no no no…

He started to work, frantically fast, trying every single thing he could think of to preserve this life.

Zumagi: Get out of my sight, kasvak.

He could hear the meaty thump of a foot onto flesh.

The scream.  The hatred.  The anger.

And the Praetor flatlined.

Wyn gave a strangled cry.  He could try to cryofreeze the body, but that was a last ditch effort.  And now there was brain damage.  His old nemesis.  No one was the same after brain damage.

And still he kept trying.  Anything, everything to save his patient.

And just as he was about to curse in despair, giving up all hope, something happened.

There was a static pop.  And the entire world turned sideways.

Foster: Come on you bastard, live…

The words were gritted through clenched teeth as Wyn Foster tried to use every ounce of his stubbornness and will to ensure his patient would live.

Wait a second.  What in the seven layers of Gret’hor was going on?  How was he here again?

He looked down.

Prateor was alive!  And the tear wasn’t fixed yet…

Oh crap, fix that tear.

Zumagi: Get OUT of MY surgery!

He could hear the leonine roar in Zumagi’s tone as the massive Bajoran surged forward and made his body the block in the doorway that separated the assassin from the surgical suite.

Oh, gods, he didn’t have much time.  Work faster, Wyn!  Think faster, Wyn!

No, stop.  Don’t think about how strange this is or why it[‘s happening.  Act.

Foster: Somebody cover the door!  Before he shoots!

Nniol: Get out of my way!

The trauma team who wasn’t directly assisting surgery hustled.  Someone pulled a laser scalper and pulled the door override panel off.  Wyn was glad someone had more technical skills than he had.  If a life or death situation came down to Wyn Foster having the engineering knowledge to block a door… they would all die.

He slept through Engineering 101.  Because he had spent all his nights doubling up on surgical intern work.

Which was, incidentally why Praetor wasn’t dead yet.

Come on, artery.  Close.  

He would be a blue stinky liar if he said he wasn’t terrified right now.  On this second go around the stress had mingled with the terror to make his entire body feel ice cold.  Like he had been woken up by getting dumped into a pool of ice water.  There was that pins and needles clod shock feeling on his skin.

Please let this time be different.

Zumagi: Make me.

Come on Ivin, don’t die.

As the arterial tear closed and the artery held stable, Wyn worked on increasing the oxygen levels in the blood.

He wished he could also increase the oxygen levels in his blood.  His breath was coming in with short little pants.

Nniol: damn you…

Oh, gods, here it comes…

Orange disruptor fire lanced out again.  This time with Zumagi dodging for his life several shots slipped past his guard.

And slammed into the closed door.

Sparks erupted from the access panel and one of the orderlies shrieked as the surge burned his hands.  That was a yelp of pain, but not one of death.  Burns could be easily fixed.

Praetor was…

Alive.

Zumagi: Get out of my sight, kasvak.

If he was paying attention he could be learning all the fun curse words right now.

He was not paying attention.

He was monitoring the blood oxygen levels.

And… stopping the heart.

Life support held strong.

Wyn was barely breathing as he started working on the tear in the left atrium.  Slowly building up new layers of tissue with biomaterial to patch over and fuse into the existing tissue.  The body would heal and recycle the biomatter.

And it was… working.

The door opened.

It was quiet.

Well, kinda quiet.  A little quiet.  There were injured doctors, nurses and orderlies.

Ivin was breathing.  Big heaving breaths as if he was confused as to what the heck just went on.

Wyn tested his voice.  It was thin and thready and it sounded like it was ready to crack.

Foster: Is that guy gone?  Praetor’s not dead, should have been dead, what the hell happened… time is messed up… somebody come help!

Zumagi: Wait, he’s fine and alive? That’s a good thing, that’s very good.

He was not dead.

That was a very good thing.

The last thing Wyn needed was an entire Romulan empire wanting to kill him for not saving their Praetor.

Foster: Fine?  Uh, no.  But alive?  Yes.  Now.  I swear he died, then time reversed and this time we didn’t have a disruptor bolt but life support so his blood oxygen is … well… it’s not great but I’ll take it.  Oh and I also stopped his heart and I’m working on the atrial damage.

You know, add those tiny details at the end.

Zumagi: What the hell. You know what, I’m not complaining, I’ll take it. Are you injured? We’ve got a lot more injured now. Dammit!

Injured?  No.

Absolutely emotionally wrung out and exhausted?  Yes.

He had about two more hours in him before he would completely collapse.  There was the boon and the bane of his accelerated Andorian metabolism all in one.

Foster: I didn’t take any damage.  Some others were caught in the crossfire.

Zumagi: Let’s get the Praetor sorted and stable, then we can help the others. Praetor needs to be a priority patient till he’s stable.

He tipped his antennae downwards in assent.

Foster: You’re right.  Release whoever is available on the trauma teams to treat the injured.

At the very least they were already in a trauma bay.  That was good, right?

Zumagi: ?

Foster: We’re back where we were before, except the Aorta tear is mended and of I can fix the atrial and myocardial damage then we’ve got a working circulatory system and we can put all efforts into removing any remaining shrapnel and fixing that damage.

Zumagi: ?

He drew in a sharp breath and considered that.  They would, sooner or later, be exhausted – both of them.  They needed to get Praetor to a point where the severe damage was treated and the patient was stabilized, allowing another set of surgeons to seek and fix any minor damage.

Foster: We need to make sure the lungs are functioning to full capacity so that we keep proper blood oxygenation levels – and remove any of the shrapnel you located as a critical or level 1 damage issue.  After that we can check vitals and see if we can pull in backup.

Zumagi: ?

Foster: You just fought off a rabid assassin.  That’s no slouch move.

At this point he was working a fairly routine set of movements to mend the deep tear in the heart tissue.  With the heart stilled it was almost a soothing job.

If life support and vitals stayed steady.

Zumagi: ?

~*~
tags/tbc
~*~

Lt Commander Shar’Wyn Foster
Chief Surgeon

StarBase 118 Ops

 

 
"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"

~Julian Beck
E239010ST0
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