242005.28 | "It's Way Past Your Bedtime"
Cry For Help
Location: CMO's Office, USS Sanctuary
=/\= CMO's Office, USS Sanctuary
“I told them,” he huffed through a cloud of tobacco smoke. “I told them, but those damn Marines...” and he took a long drag from his cigarette. With a slap to the badge with a three-fingered (four, if you count the thumb) he grumbled “Captain MayTa, report to Sickbay.” He slapped his badge again. If it weren't for the thickness of Tellarite hide, he may have developed a bruise.
Colonel MayTa, looking up from reports rubbed his eyes as he looked up at the clock. He had been up for 48 hours. “On my way, Doc,” he replied. He sat there for a bit—about 11 minutes—then got up and headed out to Medical.
With a puff of smoke exhaled through his nostrils, in what also appeared to be a sigh, the Doctor said: “Finally.”
Tellarites were known for one thing above all: debate. Other species may describe them as argumentative, but psychologists and anthropologists had come to realize that their often brusque nature was culturally based; the species found confrontational discourse to be at the heart of honest communication. If you didn't express displeasure at some aspect of the surroundings, appearance, or individual at the beginning of any interaction it was considered a lost opportunity to discuss why you were wrong.
Tragically, most species didn't understand this custom, and is why there are so few Federation Ambassadors of Tellarite decent in the long and storied history of Starfleet.
“You look haggard,” the Doctor stated plainly. “I'll assume that's why it took you twenty minutes to get here. Once we're done here, I'm gonna inject you with a sedative so you can't lie about getting a good night's rest.”
MayTa glanced at the clock again. “It's only been 15, and I was very busy. Yes, I'm toast; been up for 48 hours straight. No hypos; I'll sleep when find a damn cure fore whats going on down there,” he concluded, leaning against a wall.
Taking a PADD from the top of a pile on his cluttered desk and sliding it to where the Colonel probably would have been sitting if the Tellarite had offered a seat, Fytherix replied: “There are other means of administering medications, Captain.” Though it would arguably unethical in this specific circumstance, he recalled incidents when a doctor had to break a medication down to gaseous form, occasions when the medication was added to food or drink, or the rare opportunities to replicate a big-ass needle and take the 20th century route—intramuscular, via the buttocks.
“You staying up all night and the day after isn't going to help you do your job, or me do mine: finding the cure. t's Honestly, it's just another distraction that I'll have to deal with, diagnose, treat, and document. Y'know, I could threaten to relieve you of duty based simply on the fact that you just confessed to mental impairment related to sleep deprivation.”
Colonel MayTa looked at him,knowing he was right. “Okay, I'll go take a nap. Would 6 hours be enough?”. He glanced around lethargically. “If you don't mind, I'm gonna go and get some rest. Track me if you want Doc...” He smiles and though: I like this guy. I picked a really good CMO. He will fit in nicely.
“Six is better than none,” Fytherix replied. “Now, for the reason I called you here: the virus was definitely created artificially, but we don't know by whom. It's designed to be damn-near incurable, and that's what's holding us up here. I laid out the physical aspects of disseminating the cure to Lieutenant Razor, but none of that matters if we don't have a cure. Somebody needs to figure out who created it.”
“It's a good possibility the Tharians did this; I've got teams working on it.. They are a species that leans toward temporal technology, so its going to take a few more days. This is the main reason I've been up. If there is anything else, sleep sounds like a damn good idea right now...”
“Told ya so,” Fyth replied and he put his cigarette out, came to his feet, and left the room.
=/\= Colonel Steven MayTa
Commanding Officer, USS Sanctuary
=/\= Doctor Fytherix
Third Officer, USS Sanctuary