Ensign Quentin Beck - The Consciences of the ... Oh what was it ...

[LuxaLorana]

I loved this sim by @Quentin Beck! Mixing humour, suspense and action seamlessly, 

 

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((Sickbay Complex, Deck 10, USS Ronin))

 

Modern advances in technology had grown awe-inspiring, especially in the past decade; while it had been possible to track an away team's vitals previously, there had been a marked delay, so often when someone noticed something was wrong, it was too late to do anything to save the life of the patient. Now it was, more or less, in real-time, especially with the direct connection the ship had to the EV suits. Even when the comm lines were sketchy, that link usually remained, which at least allowed the ship's Doctor to prepare for casualties once those communication lines were restored.

 

That knowledge didn't help the way Quentin's heart rate raced in response to the vitals of the whole away team surging at once.

 

Beck: That can't be good.

 

Avae: I wonder what happened?

 

Musing on the possibility of remotely applying some anxiety relief in the future, he let out a sigh and rubbed the end of his thumb and middle finger together. 

 

Beck: ::glancing at her sideways:: What are you listening to?

 

The question made her brim with a smile.

 

Avae: Ushaanica! It’s an Andorian Synthwave Death Metal band I heard from a colleague back on Deep Space Twenty Six.

 

His brow arched at the band's name - in English, the suffix -ica was appended to words to make them feminine nouns, typically used to form diminutives, though it was also used to create a catch-all term for things that related to a specific thing. The first thing that popped into his head was a shen decked to the nines with Andorian blades and black leather while screaming into a microphone and making the Earth-style horn gesture. It was a silly amalgamation of what he was familiar with and what little he knew of Andorian culture from his friendship with Ghee. 

 

His eyes shifted back to the screens.

 

Beck: . . . pipe it through the speakers here.

 

There was an eager giggle from the tall Antosian as she pulled the PADD from one of her coat’s deep pockets and adjusted the settings, temporarily shifting the output source from her headphones to the speakers in Sickbay.

 

Wyla giggled in a manner unbefitting a Starfleet officer, a manner that also made him smirk as he shook his head. He was thankful for the sound suppression built into the walls - much like Avae, he didn't want to disturb anyone else.

 

Avae: Sure thing!....There!

 

The electronic modulation of the baseline beat filled the room first, deep, rhythmic and almost eerie in a way. Then the vocals kicked in. Guttural, also deep growling and lyrics in Graalen followed.

 

Quentin let his eyes drift shut. Maybe unsurprisingly, Death Metal of any kind wasn't really his jam, but he could appreciate why someone might enjoy it; there was something cathartic about the drums, in particular, and the way the lead singer growled into the mic.

 

Beck: That is… surprisingly mellowing.

 

Avae: Great, isn’t it!?

 

Beck: ::opening his eyes and nodding with a slim smile:: Just about what the doctor ordered, thank you.

 

They stood in silence for a while after that, listening to the music and watching the away team’s vitals fluctuate on occasion as something seemed to bother them.

 

Quentin was starting to appreciate the levels of stress that Kel must have gone through regularly when he wasn't dispatched as part of the away team and understood why even the best doctors in history had a regular drinking problem. How the hell else could they calm their nerves when they were stuck waiting so dang much for the worst to happen?

 

Avae's music helped, at least a little - it gave him something different to focus on instead of just watching the team's vitals slide up and down depending on whatever it was they were encountering. It looked like they'd split up at some point - Dekas, Rox, and the new girl, Barberra, all tracked differently than the rest of the team and their vitals spiked at much different times.

 

Stretching out his limbs and wiggling his fingers to dispel his nervous energy, he turned to Avae to make another observation but was interrupted by the comm, which muted the music.

 

Alieth: =/\= Alieth to sickbay. We have found part of a corpse of one of the ship's crew members. You may transport it for analysis. =/\=

 

Quentin glanced up at the ceiling quizzically, as if he could look at Alieth through the comm, then over at Avae, his brow arching. She returned the look, eyes wide with concern.

 

Beck: Part of…?

 

Letting out a slightly disgruntled sigh, he turned on his heel to approach Ward 4. Wyla had the wherewithal to turn off the music - he made a mental note to thank her for that once they were through with the investigation.

 

Beck: Wyla, you're welcome to keep an eye on their vitals or join me taking a look at this. ::tapping his combadge:: =/\= Sickbay to transporter room. Please send the item provided by the away team to one of the gurneys in Ward 4 for analysis. =/\=

 

Transporter Operator: =/\= Aye, sir. ::pause:: I'm detecting a weapon in the transporter signature. Should I prevent it from coming through? =/\=

 

Beck: =/\= ::frowning:: Not unless it's in danger of overloading or something. I'm sure Lt Commander Carpenter's team will want to take a closer look at it. Can you have the computer start scanning the database for a match while you send it through? =/\=

 

Transporter Operator: =/\= Can do. I'll have it send the update to the monitor in Sickbay. =/\=

 

As he approached the closest gurney, a green arm clutching a weapon of some kind materialized right in the center of the mattress, reminding him a little of what he would imagine the disembodied arm of the Statue of Liberty from Earth might look like still clutching the torch. Nose wrinkling, he tapped his combadge again.

 

Beck: =/\= Sickbay to away team. I've got the arm. Could you do me a favor with future corpses and try to send at least a little more next time around? Not giving me much to work with here. =/\=

 

Carpenter: =/\= We'll, uh...keep that in mind, Doc...=/\=

 

Beck: =/\= Kirsty, I had the transporter tech start scanning the database for whatever this weapon is - I was planning to call in one of your Security folks to check it out, too, and secure it, just in case. Any suggestions who I should ask for specifically? =/\=

 

Carpenter: =/\=Solana is on duty, Breeze is too. If one of them can't pin it down, try running it through Sec-Net. I'll give ya my authorization if it comes to it...=/\=

 

Beck: =/\= Thanks. I'll reach out to them once I'm done examining this arm. Sickbay out. =/\=

 

Avae: Let’s hope this is the only remains that’s been dismembered.

 

Whoever it was had been dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in, but since they'd been exposed to the vacuum of space, the arm had also frozen and decomposition had yet to set in.

 

Beck: Computer, begin medical log.

 

The computer chimed and he slipped on a pair of gloves before beginning to examine the arm directly, lifting it off the table to look at it more closely. Wyla slipped on her own gloves and stood on standby to assist him as needed.

 

Beck: Visual analysis of the amputated arm that was discovered on the unknown ship. Appears to belong to a species with copper-based blood, as the skin is quite green. Further analysis is required, but evidence suggests it may belong to an Orion. Speaking of, the fingers are currently clutching onto a rather nasty-looking weapon, some sort of pistol, and I'll be having our Security team analyze that further. Computer, run a full spectral analysis on the arm and compare it to the Federation database. Display on screen when ready.

 

He glanced at the monitor nearby, squinting a little as the computer started running the initial scan. The temperature was far too low for him to do much else with it at the moment, but he wouldn't need to speed up the thawing process to determine the species origin of the arm. That would only be necessary to remove the weapon.

 

Beck: Wyla, could you prep a thermal support frame, so we could speed this up a little? And send a message to the Security team asking for the officer Carpenter suggested to report to Sickbay when they get a chance.

 

Avae: Of course, doctor.

 

She stepped away to retrieve the thermal support frame while he called the bridge.

 

Beck: Thanks. 

 

((OOC: Rearranged this just a little bit to make sure it fits mostly intelligently in the timeline, as his call to the bridge happens only moments before hers. This gives her scene time to play out 😁))

 

He raised his hand, but before he could tap his combadge, Luxa's voice piped through the comm.

 

Lorana: =V= Lorana to Sickbay =V=

 

Quentin almost smiled for a second when he heard her voice… but then he remembered the events from a few days prior and his lips formed a thin line.

 

Beck: =V= Sickbay. Go ahead, Lieutenant. =V=

 

Lorana: =V= Could you send over the full report of the epidermic spectral scanning. Particularly around the severed section of the arm? =V=

 

He leaned over to make a note on the computer, nodding to himself.

 

Beck: =V= Will do. Expect it in the next five minutes or so. =V=

 

Lorana: =V= Thank you =V=

 

He hesitated during the moment before the comm closed, his brow creasing as he looked up at the ceiling. He felt like he should say… something. Exactly what, he wasn't sure. He'd had some time to think about things, how events had played out, but his feelings on the matter remained quite muddied.

 

Maybe later.

 

Beck: ::tapping combadge:: =/\= Sickbay to bridge. =/\=

 

One of the viewscreens at the side of the room flickered and a view of Raga and the others on the bridge appeared. Quentin stepped away from the table to approach the screen, shoving his hands into the pockets of his lab coat.

 

Raga: =/\= Go ahead, doctor.  =/\=

 

Beck: =/\= We have our first… uh… casualty, I guess you would call it. Commander Alieth located an amputated arm and sent it over for analysis. Since there wasn't anything else attached, I couldn't tell you yet if the person it was supposed to be attached to is still alive or not. =/\=

 

Raga: =/\= Understood. Were you able to learn anything helpful?  =/\=

 

Beck: =/\= What I can tell you is… they were green. And were ready to defend themselves, they're clutching a weapon. =/\=

 

Raga: =/\= Not surprising, I imagine everyone on that ship who wasn’t running for their life tried to fight. What kind of weapon? =/\=

 

Beck: =/\= I've already got someone from Kirsty's team coming to secure it once we can get it out of this vice grip. Still waiting on the computer's analysis for species origin. I'll keep you posted. =/\=

 

Raga: =/\= Please do. We’ll alert you if any other remains are ready for transport.  =/\=

 

Beck: =/\= Understood. Sickbay out. =/\=

 

Wyla looked at the screen a moment after it shut off while she slid the thermal support frame around the gurney the limb rested on. Quentin moved to join her, helping center the frame over the arm.

 

Avae: It's been a while since I’ve seen the Commander that rattled.

 

Beck: ::concerned look:: Not just his usual disposition, huh?

 

The Antosian shook her head and soberly turned on the frame. 

 

Avae: Last time I saw him like this, we’d just rescued him from imprisonment by the Consortium. ::She looked at Beck:: He’d been tortured for months.

 

Beck: ::sighing:: I know they don't let just anybody be an XO, and everybody has their limits, but… Raga is a force all his own. He'll shake it off.

 

Avae: I’ll go keep an eye on the monitor and let you know if there’s any more remains to be beamed in.

 

He nodded his thanks, glancing down at the arm under the frame, then frowned as he looked at the screen again. He hoped he was right about Raga.

 

The thermal support frame beeped ominously, as if to get his attention, but before he could look at the notification, a rather large figure appeared in his periphery. A large hairy figure with stripes and what looked like big teeth. A very irrational part of Quentin thought for a moment that this was somehow Luxa's older brother or cousin or something - historically speaking, at least on Earth, siblings often came to pick a fight for the honor of the offended party during a break-up - but he knew that was irrational, and not just because the Kzinti looked like a tiger and Luxa looked like a panther, by his limited experience.

 

He also realized he had nothing to worry about because the tiger-dude shuffled across the room like the Cowardly Lion approaching the visage of Oz, the Great and Powerful. Quentin tried to put on his best bedside manner and offered the new arrival a welcoming smile - though considering his current level of grump, it was probably less welcoming than he thought.

 

Briza-Kar: Sir, I've been requested to review some weaponry?

 

Beck: Hey, you must be Breeze. Thanks for coming by, I could use the expertise.

 

Briza-Kar: Let's take a look.

 

Beck: ::indicating the arm in the thermal support frame:: I'm working on getting it loose so you can properly secure it.

 

The thermal support frame chimed again and he glanced at the display - the temperature was increasing fairly rapidly, which was a good sign. Breeze could have the gun and he could better examine what was left of the arm. It rotated slowly as it was being reviewed and scanned, suddenly reminding Quentin of one of those old microwave ovens humanity used to use to 'nuke' their food, so to speak.

 

Briza-Kar: :: edges closer :: Look at the lines on that tear :: points to the edge :: Did you find any burns on the edging?

 

Quentin shook his head.

Beck: That wasn't visible when we first got the arm - looks like we'll be able to get a better idea of how it got lopped off once it's done cooking through. What about the pistol?

 

Briza-Kar: It's illegal, look at the power settings on the side. No stun. Most likely a custom design from one of the dealers in the Alpha Isles :: looks to Beck, his voice excited :: Weapons are big business in the Isles.

 

While not averse to weaponry, Quentin had never had a particular interest, mostly because he'd never been a particularly good shot; the fact he took an oath to do no harm also gave him a reason not to dig too deeply into it, though come to think it was probably a good idea to start getting familiar with burns like the ones that were becoming visible, so he could better recognize the weapon used without necessarily having to scan.

 

Beck: Yeah, I'm not surprised to hear that. Without Starfleet breathing down their necks, I bet they can make a fortune selling all kinds of illegal crap. ::indicating the pistol:: Well, at least there's one less for them to sell, I guess.

 

Briza-Kar: What is most concerning is the finger of the … arm. It's on activation trigger :: points to a very small flashing light on the side :: That's telling you that the power cell is loose. Happens all the time on these illegal designs. They don't go through the testing Starfleet weapons do.

 

Quentin blinked. Leaning down, he studied the scans of the arm on the monitor briefly before pushing that aside and leaning in closer, practically pressing his nose to the glass, so to speak, to get a better look at the thing. His eyes widened.

 

Beck: Oh, hell. That finger's shifted since it started to thaw - it wasn't pressing that trigger at all when it was first beamed over. ::blanching:: Do I wanna know what happens when a power cell jiggles loose on one of these things?

 

Briza-Kar: I'd say the power would overload and that :: points to it :: Is no longer a handheld weapon.

 

Beck: Crap. That mean's its–

 

Briza-Kar: It's a bomb. Doctor, I'm surprised it didn't explode in your face when you beamed it over.

 

Beck: ::glowering:: I'm not; it wasn't primed for it at all. Can't blame the stupid Transporter Tech, even if I wanted to - this is my own damn fault.

 

He tapped his combadge.

 

Beck: =/\= All hands, emergency evacuation of Sickbay and– ::to Briza-Kar:: how big would the blast be? =/\=

Briza-Kar: Response 

 

He swore under his breath.

 

Beck: =/\= Emergency evacuation of Sickbay and Decks 9, 10, and 11. We've got an illegal firearm here that's primed to blow and I'm not quite sure how big the blast is gonna be. =/\=

 

Briza-Kar:  Response 

 

Beck: Is there anyway to defuse that thing? Stop it before it can blow? What the hell could set it off?

 

Briza-Kar: Response

 

Beck: So transporting it won't work.

 

His brow creased and he suddenly remembered something he'd read in one of Kirk's old logs about a similar incident. He snapped his fingers.

 

Beck: There's a pressure vent disposal shaft right outside the door. If you think we can move that thing without getting it to blow, let's get it the hell off the ship.

 

Briza-Kar: Response

 

Beck: You grab the gun, I'll go with you and open up the vent, you drop it in, I close it, et voila, we save Sickbay and probably the rest of the ship, too.

 

Briza-Kar: Response

 

Quentin laid a hand over the power button for the frame and met Breeze's eyes.

 

Beck: Okay. I'm shutting it off and opening the frame now. Grab it and let's book it.

 

His palm slapped the switch and the frame opened as instructed; he trusted the Kzinti to do his job and darted around the gurney, heading for the main door to Sickbay. It cycled open after a moment and he had to search his mind to remember where that damned vent was…

 

His eyes lit up when he spotted it and he darted to the left, slapping the release for the vent's door and sliding it open.

 

Briza-Kar: Response

 

TBC/Tags

 

Ensign Quentin Beck

Medical Officer

USS Ronin NCC-34523

A238810SA0

 

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