A Change of Venue, Part 1

Posted on Fri Jan 8th, 2021 @ 1:28am by Lieutenant Tate Sullivan Ph.D.
Edited on on Fri Jan 8th, 2021 @ 1:36am

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Tags: Roll Call
1786 words - 3.6 OF Standard Post Measure

The tension left her shoulders slowly as she gently lowered the weapon and placed it under the counter that served as the clinic's reception desk, her trigger finger easing from its bent position to back to normal. It was the third time in the last half hour she'd heard weapon's fire seemingly just outside her clinic's doors. The walls of the cobbled together building continued to vibrate in time to whatever music Planet X’s night owls insisted on listening to. She smiled reassuringly at the meager staff of six nurses, four of whom were junior nursing students looking to gain more experience like herself.

“Tate!" came a shout from the doorway. Her hand went again to her weapon until she achieved recognition. One of the male nurses was supporting a wholly unkempt woman in tattered clothes - her dress nearly concealed all sign of her distended stomach, but Tate's trained eye detected immediately the source of the girl's troubles. She was groaning in pain and breathing rapidly. Her sweat-soaked face raised to eye Tate groggily, and abruptly screwed up as she emitted a pained scream.

"Over here," called Tate, directing the nurse to move the woman to the exam table. Her scanner was in hand, but she had a feeling everything she needed to know could be determined using more traditional means. "Alysa," she called over to the young female intern, "take over for Clint." Tate smiled apologetically to the male nurse, but he seemed to understand that a young woman would not want another man seeing her in such a position. What's more, he seemed relieved that he wouldn't have to assist.

The young female intern followed Sullivan to the bed and Tate closed the curtain that was to give the woman some semblance of privacy. The clinic's budget wasn't large enough to afford privacy forcefields. She spoke gently to the young woman who was currently gasping for air. "My name's Tate, and that's Alysa. We're going to take care of you, but I need to ask you some questions. Can you tell me your name and how far along you are?"

"How the hell should I know, lady?" she snapped breathlessly. "I didn't know I was knocked up until--" The young girl gritted her teeth and cradled her stomach.

Taking the response in stride, Tate knew for people living on the streets, showing any kind of emotion or tenderness could be akin to wearing a bull's-eye. "That's ok, but it would help if I knew your name." Sullivan directed Alysa to help the young woman into a gown. Despite obviously being in pain, scans showed it wasn't quite time for her to push yet and it would be helpful to get her in something clean. From what she could tell, the baby was healthy, if a little small, most likely from malnourishment. There were no signs the girl was a chronic drug user, but she would have to rule that out before administering anything.

Tate was just about to yell for one of her colleagues to set up a tray containing everything she would need to facilitate the delivery and attend to the baby once he or she arrived, when she turned and was pleasantly surprised to see it had been provided for her. Granted, it looked like half their inventory had been brought out, but at least she knew all was sterile and the instruments were calibrated correctly. The seven of them had done all of that previously.

Tate's attention returned to her patient just as the girl was being helped onto the examination bed. She was resisting and fussing, but the nurses managed to accomplish their task once the pain again overwhelmed the young woman. Her plaintive groans were punctuated by whimpers. "I should've been more careful," she sobbed. "I...I didn't think this would happen. I haven't been out there that long...."

Fortunately, Tate was too busy easing the young girl's legs into position to openly reveal her surprise. She'd forgotten just how young the girls could be who started their lives in the pleasure trade. "You've been working as a pleasure girl?" Sullivan's tone (she hoped) hadn't come across as judgmental. It helped, however, to have all the information she could to properly treat the dark haired, dark eyed slip of a girl who couldn't have been older than sixteen.

Tate saw from the corner of her eye that Alysa was already prepping an IV line full of fluids. They couldn't risk pain medicine this far along in delivery and she still had no idea if the girl had used any drugs.

"I had no other choice," the girl admitted weakly. "It...it was only supposed to be for a while - until I made enough to find a place and got a job..." She cried out and folded over her stomach as another contraction seized her. "Get it out!" the young girl screamed. "It hurts!"

Sullivan nodded and filed this information away. There was too much going on to shake her head at the travesty. "I know, hon, I know. This will be over soon. I want you to take some deep breaths for me." Tate took a last look at the scanner and saw that all was as it should be. The baby's heart beat was increasing with the contractions and recovering nicely between contractions. Alysa had managed to attach a fetal monitor to the girl's burgeoning abdomen and Sullivan was comforted by the dual sounds of mother and child heartbeats. "That's a fetal monitor, it's going to allow us to monitor you and the baby between your contractions. But I need to know, have you taken any drugs during your pregnancy?"

Even in the girl's agony, she managed a scathing glare askance at Tate. "I'm not a spicehead, if that's what you mean," the girl rasped. "I drink a little. Helps my nerves settle before I have to...to do stuff."

Sullivan held up her hands in apology. "I'm asking to protect the health of your baby. There are precautions we can take, but it helps to know."

Tate locked eyes with her nurse. "Prep an incubator and breathing mask just so we're covered."

Alysa was just about to leave the monitors when they began emitting a steady beep. "She's fully dilated, Tate." Alysa nodded to the closest intern, who appeared to be hovering just outside the curtain. "Get Tate an infant breather and the incubator." The student nodded and seemed relieved to be doing something besides listening to the poor girl scream.

"Ok, hon, the nurses are getting ready for your little one, but you have some work to do. On the next contraction, I want you to take a deep breath in and push. Once the baby's head is out, I'll ask you to stop pushing so I can suction his or her nose and throat. Do you think you can push?"

Alysa, clearly the most senior next to Tate, was prepping the pillows behind the girl and offering her a hand for support. Too pain-stricken to be wary, the girl accepted and pushed with all her feeble might. Her efforts lasted a brief time before the girl coughingly exhaled and wheezed in a breath. She shook her head vigorously. "Too hard... I can't. I can't!"

Tate wished she had at least the girl's first name so things wouldn't be so impersonal in this most intimate moment, but she understood the girl's reluctance. Trust no one but yourself was the unspoken motto. "I know it hurts, sweetheart, but I know you can do it. If you can survive these streets, you can survive anything. I promise, we're not going to let anything happen to you here, but you need to help your baby."

A harsh, bitter laugh spilled from the girl's lips. "Why? Why should I help it?! No one's helped me!"

"Because you're this child's mother, and because he or she didn't ask to come into this world," Tate replied evenly. "This baby's going to come, hon. You can't hold him or her in. Let me know when you feel the next one."

A grating moan rippled from her throat and the girl fisted the sheets in her hands. Her tearful eyes fixed on Tate, and in them was complete resignation for her situation. With a bob of her head, the girl indicated she was ready, if not still frightened about what was to come.

"I know you're scared, hon, but you're going to be fine. Take a deep breath in and push down. You can do this."

For a moment, as the young woman surrendered finally to Tate's gentle commands, watching her wide-eyed and bewildered, Tate caught a glimpse of the girl's true youthfulness. She truly was just a child herself caught unawares in a predicament she was hardly prepared for. And it showed in the utter fear written on her face. Accepting Tate's guidance, for there seemed to be no end to her pain if she resisted, the young girl bore down and pushed until her face was red and her eyes were clenched shut in strain.

Sullivan's brain snapped back to reality as she saw a shiny patch of black hair begin to shine through. "One more big push and the baby's head should be out." Alysa was leaning over the girl to wipe her forehead.

She sucked in a deep, shaky breath to prepare for the next push, and gagged on it. Then, she was hanging her head over the bedside and vomited what little she had ingested that day. And with the spittle still dripping from her lips, onto the stunned intern's shoes, the girl sobbed plaintively.

Alysa had the good sense not to react angrily or with disgust and like the trained medical professional she was, used the cloth to wipe the girl's mouth. The intern grabbed an emesis basin and held it under the girl's chin in case she felt sick again. "It's ok, sweetie, I hated these shoes anyway."

Tate wished for once that she could be beside her instead of cracking the whip. "That's normal, hon, that's your body's response to the pain and effort. Once this baby's out, you'll feel better, I promise." A quick glance at the monitors told her all looked well.

"What do I do?" the girl whimpered exhaustedly. She feebly pushed the basin away from her face and lay back against the elevated mattress. Stifling another pained cry, she watched Tate desperately for guidance. "I'm so tired..."

With another look at the monitors, Tate looked up at her most experienced intern. "Hey, Lys, you ever deliver a baby before?"

Alysa's eyes widened in surprise. "Sure. Once. In training."

***TBC***