Triage in C Minor

Posted on Fri Apr 11th, 2025 @ 2:29pm by Lieutenant JG Sylorik MD
Edited on on Fri Apr 11th, 2025 @ 3:08pm

Mission: Season 6: Echoes of the Zynari
Location: USS Elysium, Deck 13, Medical Crew Quarters
Timeline: MD2, 2130 hrs
1626 words - 3.3 OF Standard Post Measure

The replicator came to life with a soft glow.

As commanded, it produced a transparent cup with a steaming, hot dark liquid contained within.

Sylorik carefully took the black tea with one hand, his eyes never leaving the screen of a data PADD he held in the other. Steam rose gently past his cheek as he turned, strolling leisurely across the room.

In his six months aboard the Elysium, he'd settled into a relatively decent rhythm helped in large part by shift rotations throughout the medical department. When he wasn't on-duty, Sylorik availed himself of the medical holosuites practicing everything from experimental surgical procedures to contagion protocols. And when he wasn't in the surgical suites, he could often be found in his quarters meditating.

Unsurprisingly, he kept his colleagues at arm's length often choosing to keep his own company and not involve himself in social gatherings which always seemed to be occurring. Emotional restraint, he reminded himself, was not an obstacle--it was clarity.

Sylorik found he could rely on Doctor Sthilg and the two had a very good working relationship. Sthilg's experience in medicine was a boon to the Vulcan who had spent his entire career in a well-stocked and technologically-advanced surgical theater at a top hospital. Unlike the Gorn CMO who seemed quite apt at performing emergency medicine with nothing more than his wits and artificial prosthetics.

He knew most of the medical staff by face, if not by name. They were professionals and Sylorik understood why Sthilg had so much pride in his department. Beyond being intelligent and capable, they were hard workers.

Taking a silent sip of the hot tea, Sylorik seated himself on the grey upholstered divan.

As he set the tea on the nearby end table, he realized he had reached the end of the document he was viewing on the data PADD. He placed it on the table next to his tea and gazed out of the viewport of his quarters into the blackness of space. The pinpricked starlight beyond was silent--the Circinus galaxy's ordered chaos distant and strange.

Letting his ordered mind wander slightly, he reflected on life aboard the Elysium. Yes, he had discovered a routine he found satisfactory, but there had been some unexpected hiccups that caused some stress due in large part to the mission the crew had undertaken since leaving home. Some crewmembers had died. There is no need to cover this ground again, he thought.

Sylorik was roused from his daydream by the comm's chirp.

[Doctor Sylorik,] came a sweet female voice. [Please report to Triage.]

Rising from the divan, Sylorik responded crisply. "On my way," he said. He shouldered his medkit and stepped out the door.

* * *

The woman grunted in pain.

Ensign Iozhara stood over the prone form of a young Bolian woman resting on a biobed, a forearm covering her face. She wore the gold colours of a crewmember assigned to Operations or Engineering and she was clearly in some distress. Her legs trembled slightly and small groans and grunts came from between clenched teeth--a body language familiar to those in emergency medicine.

Doctor Sylorik arrived through the Triage doors shaking his head in what could only be termed 'Vulcan annoyance.'

"My apologies, Ensign, " he said to the Barzan nurse while he quickly set about opening his medkit. "The turbolift was... uncooperative."

"Doctor Sylorik, meet Ensign Ritt."

The young Bolian peeked over her arm with a wry, pained smirk and gave a half-hearted sarcastic wave. Sylorik offered her a polite nod, having already shifted his focus to her injuries.

Iozhara nodded. "These systems glitches are wreaking havoc across the ship," she said. The Nurse removed a compress from a drawer next to the biobed and gently placed it on the Bolian woman's face. The patient seemed to bristle slightly before taking hold of the compress herself, pressing it more firmly against the burn.

"The doors to Sickbay are not opening," she added. "So here we are."

Sylorik had retrieved his medical tricorder and was immediately next to the nurse and the patient, beginning his initial scan. The soft whirr of the scan filled the room as he reviewed the readout. "I note burns in the zygomatic and temporal regions of the face."

Ritt rolled her only visible eye and exhaled sharply through her nose. "Power conduit blew-out while we were replacing an ODN relay," she said followed by a deep breath. "Face took the brunt of it."

Iozhara glanced down at the Bolian. "To do with these malfunctions?"

"No," she replied. "It was my fault for not checking if the conduit was connected to the grid. Stupid mistake."

Sylorik continued scanning with his tricorder while absently addressing Iozhara. "Ensign Iozhara," he said. "What was your initial assessment of the patient?"

"Mostly superficial," she replied while watching Sylorik's tricorder readings. "Possible partial-thickness burn around the right temple. Some possible eye involvement. I detected no airway complications upon initial contact."

The Vulcan nodded with satisfaction at the nurse's determination. Without looking at either of the women, he placed his tricorder down and reached into his medkit. "Very good," he said monotonically. "I concur."

Iozhara smiled gently at Ritt for moment and gave her arm a brief, reassuring squeeze.

"Nurse?"

"Yes, doctor."

The Barzan nurse turned to see Sylorik staring down at his open medkit, mouth agape. She followed his gaze--and froze.

Several of the doctor's medical instruments were moving on their own!

Not only were they moving, some were bouncing along in a row, hopping out of the medkit and arrayed in a line on the edge of the biobed.

"What the..." said a shocked Ensign Ritt, suddenly sitting up wide-eyed.

"Indeed," commented Sylorik, regaining his stoic Vulcan composure even as the dermal regenerator gave a tiny twirl.

Three types of Starfleet-issue bandages, a dermal regenerator, a tube of topical anesthetic and a cortical stimulator were dancing in rhythm, swaying back and forth. With a sudden leap, the hypospray Sylorik had been reaching for sprang into the air and joined the rhythm, settling in just behind the stimulator.

Sylorik quickly took his medical tricorder and began scanning the now-alive contents of his medical kit. Ritt, still sitting upright, stared with slack-jawed astonishment.

"Doctor?" asked Iozhara without taking her eyes away from the dancing.

"I know," came the reply from Sylorik. "I am not detecting anything unusual."

As the parade of medical instruments continued, a tiny high-pitched humming seemed to issue from nowhere. The hum rose and fell like a song struggling to find harmony, then shifted into a minor key. After a few moments, Sylorik discerned a tune. Though the 'music' did not seem to be coming from a specific place, it was near to his frolicking tools.

Ritt peeled the compress from her face exposing the nasty-looking burn as she remained with eyes locked on the event. "Computer, end program...?" she said.

"Are they... singing?" asked Iozhara haltingly. The expresson on her face revealed her astonishment.

Sylorik looked from one woman to the other, as if searching for an explanation. Then, with the precision of a surgeon, he reached out and snatched the airborne hypospray from mid-bounce.

The rest of the instruments collapsed instantly.

The stimulator tumbled off the biobed landing with a thunk on the floor. The bandages rolled onto the floor and the tube of topical anesthetic fell with a slight plop to the carpeted deck.

Sylorik calmly tapped his combadge, locking eyes with Ensign Iozhara.

"Doctor Sylorik to Doctor Sthilg."

Silence.

"Doctor Sylorik to Lieutenant Commander Rin."

Silence.

He shook his head in disappointment and his brow furrowed even deeper. Turning to Iozhara and pointing at the patient, he said, "Hydrocortilene for the pain, dermaline for the burns." Then, with his characteristic coolness, added, "We will not be using instruments from my medkit for the time being."

The nurse nodded and set to preparing the prescribed treatment, Sylorik gently helped Ritt to recline completely. "Now," he began. "I'd like to examine your eye."

Ritt stared back at the Vulcan healer in disbelief.

"Are we going to just pretend that didn't happen?"

"No, Ensign." Sylorik began a cursory examination of the right eye, lifting the eyelid to view the sclera. "However, your injuries require immediate treatment. We will contact a member of the senior staff as soon as possible."

As if anticipating his needs, Iozhara handed her own medical tricorder to Sylorik. He adjusted the settings and began a scan of the patient's eye area.

"Ensign, are you having difficulty breathing?"

"No," replied the Bolian officer. "None. Why?"

Sylorik blinked slowly, absorbing the readings of the tricorder. He tapped a few buttons then repeated his scan. He closed the tricorder with a click, handing it back to the Iozhara.

Iozhara noticed the Vulcan's raised eyebrow. "What is it, Doctor?"

"According to these readings," he said placidly. "Ensign Ritt is not breathing."

Ritt snorted. "I'm not breathing; your instruments have formed a music group--just another day aboard the Elysium!"

Sylorik gently guided Iozhara away from Ritt until they were a few feet away. In a hushed tone, he said, "For the moment, it would appear our instruments cannot be trusted. I would like you to locate Commander Sthilg or any member of the senior staff and report this incident."

Iozhara nodded, handing a prepared hypospray to Sylorik.

"I will remain with the Ensign until you return," added the Vulcan doctor.

As Iozhara departed the Triage room, Sylorik applied the hypospray. He glanced down at the end of the biobed and floor where his medical items were strewn.

At that moment Sylorik made a quiet vow--he would replicate a whole new medkit as soon as possible.