242004.27 || Dr Fytherix || “What am I walking into?”

Posted on Tue Apr 28th, 2020 @ 1:15am by Lieutenant Fytherix

Mission: Cry For Help

“Chief Medical Officer's Log, 242004.27...

“The urgency with which Captain Bravado delivered me to this ship is... well, quite frankly it was jarring. There are a significant number of injured people, and apparently the Science team has been working on isolating a viral pandemic which is killing off the planet's citizens within hours of initial contact.

“From what I've read so far it appears that the virus is undetectable at this point, as a result of it's molecular size in contrast to those of regular humanoid cells. While normally I'd prefer to get a better look at the research that's already been concluded we've been innundated with physical injuries—the backstory of which I'm completely unaware of.”


=/\= Surgical Bay #3, USS Savior

“Is Bay 2 ready?” Fytherix demanded of the assembled medical staff. With the Emergency Holographic Surgeon, and a Holographic Nurse assisting him Fytherix had no choice but to grab a couple of med-techs and drag them into emergency surgery with him. Though they didn't have anywhere near equivalent training to that of the nursing hologram the Tellarite was able to complete the surgery through a veil of expletives and a few tossed instruments.

These kids experienced the rare opportunity to assist an actual doctor—versus a complicated computer program--through a complicated surgical procedure. This was experience they were bound to hold onto throughout the rest of their careers. 'Therix was certain that they felt especially priviledged after being chosen as the first people to work alongside their new department head and be awed by his skill with a laser-scalpel.

“I asked you a question crewmen!” he exclaimed about two seconds later. “You could easily have looked across the room and answered that question; the fact that you couldn't makes me wonder whether or not you're pre--”

Having glanced across the bay at Surgical Suite #2 it was easy enough to see that they were anesthetizing his next patient. “Scrub in,” he snapped, stripping off his surgical gear and discarding it on the floor as he walked briskly into the preperatory area. Suite #3 would need to be sterilized; a trail of used scrubs on the floor were of no concern.

“What am I walking into?” he asked aloud as he began the resterilization process.

The operation he was walking into turned out to be a triage situation, the anesthetizing doctor informed him, reciting information from a nearby monitor as Fytherix donned a new set of scrubs, gloves, and all the other protective gear required for an emergency lung and liver replacement. What the hell were these Marines doing before he'd arrived? Perhaps these procedures were an attempt to keep these people alive while the infecting agent was diagnosed and a treatment was synthesized.

In any case, this was hardly the time to ruminate on getting caught up and applying his expertise to the task of curing an entire species. Stepping into the next surgical ward, he was glad to see that the slightly more experienced staff waiting for him—they began applying the second and third layers of protective garments the moment he stepped through the door. Within 45 seconds he was exploring the sedated crewman's inner organs; searching for the best way to do what he'd come to this ship for in the first damn place: to heal.


=/\= LtJG Fytherix
Acting Chief Medical Officer, USS Savior
“Be the person you want to be until the day you die”