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"Whips, Chains, and Plomeek Soup"
Rating: PG-13 Three It was another busy day in Sickbay. Doctor Malcolm Reed wondered how Security ever got anything done, since at least two of its members seemed to be in Sickbay at any given time. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for security against germs or allergens or the like. Malcolm nodded at the latest victim of a training session gone awry. “Saying ‘I forgot to duck’ is like Lieutenant Commander Tucker saying ‘I ran into a door’,” he said dryly. “The thing is, Doctor, Commander Tucker has run into a door before,” grumbled Ensign Riley. The Irishman came from the same county that Malcolm’s Irish kin came from. “So it’s always possible, na?” “With logic like that, God help the lot of you,” Malcolm teased. “So...let’s remember to duck the next time Crewman El-Sadr throws a punch that isn’t a feint, all right.” “I still think Saeed pulled a fast one on me,” Riley muttered. He winced as he touched the goose egg on his head. “Do I really have to stay here for observation? I’ve got work to do.” Malcolm only gazed at him with “The Look”. Riley matched the stare, but after only a few minutes, he had to lower his eyes. “Damn it all, sir, I hate it when you do that.” “Then don’t make the Doc resort to the Evil Eye,” Trip Tucker said from the doorway. “It’s a registered weapon, Seamus, and no one’s immune to it. I’ve actually seen Andorians brought to their knees by a single glare.” “As well as loud, recalcitrant Armory Officers,” Malcolm added with a touch of sarcasm, “who try to get out of their annual physicals.” “What? I got your message. I’ll be here at zero-six hundred hours sharp tomorrow morning.” Trip didn’t sound fazed by the accusation, no matter how true it actually was. “C’mon, Seamus, I got Rochelle coverin’ for you. Head injuries aren’t somethin’ to take lightly. Saeed didn’t pull his punches, and I gave him a strict talkin’ to. He’s not gonna clobber you again like that.” “Thank God.” Riley put a hand on the side of his head. “Think I could get another dose of that stuff, Doctor Reed? Or at least a dram of whiskey?” “Sorry, lad. The analgesic will make itself felt in a minute or two and alcohol’s not a good thing to mix with it. Come on, I’ll let Lieutenant Cutler get you comfortable on one of our accommodating biobeds...” “Hotel Reed, indeed,” Riley slurred as Liz Cutler helped him off the examination table and towards one of the biobeds at the back of Sickbay. Malcolm blew out a frustrated breath. “Liz, Lieutenant Commander Tucker and I will be in my office.” “Okay, Doc. I’ll call you if anything earth-shattering happens.” Once they were in Malcolm’s office, Trip sat heavily in his chair as Malcolm sat at his desk. “Travis knows about Crewman El-Sadr’s penchant for blowin’ up,” Trip said quietly. “I think the man shouldn’t be in the Armory anytime soon. He’s on report and confined to quarters, pending Travis’s decision on what to do with him.” Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t understand. El-Sadr hasn’t always been this volatile.” “No, he hasn’t, but it started about two weeks ago. I can’t have him putting my people in danger, and I can’t afford to have him on a critical away team.” Trip sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his short blond hair. Malcolm hummed under his breath as he brought up Saheed El-Sadr’s medical record. “No major allergies, no extreme reactions to standard medicines. Broke his arm in hand-to-hand combat on Shubry’s Planet, alcohol poisoning from a spiked drink on Varitam—“ “Yeah, someone thought he was an informant and tried to off him. I remember that mission.” “—heat exhaustion from Hades Five, frostbite from the Andorian Ice wastes, surgery to take out his appendix and his gall bladder, cracked ribs from an altercation on Wrenlet, plasma burns from a engine leak while the Freeman was docked at Jupiter Station. My God, the man’s a walking medical case.” Despite himself, Trip’s mouth quirked in a grin. “That’s better’n my record, Malcolm.” Malcolm gave him an abbreviated version of The Look. “That’s just the first page, Trip. Most of this happened before he was posted to Enterprise. His psychological profile indicates he’s tough, resourceful, a quick thinker, and a team player. That sounds more like the El-Sadr I’m familiar with. You said this all started about two weeks ago.” “Out of the blue. No warnin’ whatsoever. He comes on-shift in the Armory and proceeds to pick a fight with Crewman Tanner. It didn’t come to blows an’ he did apologize afterwards. Then nothin’ for several days, seemed to be over whatever was botherin’ him. Then he kicks the crap out of Crewman Michaels during self-defense training—“ Malcolm pressed his lips together and kept his voice under rigid control. “Michaels never told me it had been El-Sadr that put him in Sickbay, just that he’d been clumsy and took a fall.” Trip shook his head and continued, “That’s when I first talked to Travis because what I was tellin’ him obviously wasn’t sinkin’ in. I don’t know all the details of their talk, but whatever Travis told him was effective. All was peachy till this morning until he decked Riley.” “Does Hoshi know about this?” “The captain? If she didn’t before, she does now. I talked to her before coming down here to see about Riley. She went straight to El-Sadr’s quarters for a chat.” At Malcolm’s expression, Trip raised his hands and said, “I sent Branway and Tsoramu with her, and she isn’t a slouch in the self-defense department either.” “I know that,” Malcolm snapped. Trip raised his eyebrows at his tone, and Malcolm sighed. “Sorry. It’s just this whole thing doesn’t make any sense. El-Sadr’s annual physical is coming up; this would be the perfect opportunity to examine him.” “Make sure he hasn’t been tampered with? I thought being paranoid was my department.” “One can never be too sure.” Malcolm replied primly. “You should’ve been in Security.” “Perhaps I should’ve,” he answered, “but while the prospect of blowing things up might be appealing, someone has to clean up the mess.” “And no one does it better than you do, Malcolm.” Trip chuckled and patted Malcolm on the shoulder. “All right, I’ll talk to Hoshi and tell her El-Sadr’s been bumped to the head of the physicals list.” Malcolm gave him a thin smile. “Don’t think that your physical will be delayed because of this, Mister Tucker.” Trip grinned and snapped his fingers. “Aw, damn, I was hopin’. Well, see ya later.” “Until later.” Malcolm sighed and gazed at El-Sadr’s impassive face on the screen; the young man’s black eyes glared back at him.He shook his head again and brought his attention to a more pressing matter. He went back to studying the database of Luran physiology. Although their outward appearance was humanoid, their internal organs resembled more like the Vulcans. A Luran’s heart was also on the right side of the abdomen and their muscles thicker and more defined, as befitted a planet with higher gravity than Earth. Their brain synapses fired at a higher rate than a Humans, which meant higher reaction times and amazing physical flexibility. Their immune systems were stronger, their healing rates phenomenal. My God, these people hardly even need doctors. As a result, their medical technology was not as advanced as Earth’s. They prided themselves on their physical prowess, like the Klingons, that they only accepted needles to inject medicines, not hyposprays. He shook his head in mixed awe and apprehension. And Hoshi had to impress them with her linguistic and her whip-wielding abilities? He was not looking forward to this particular Away mission. |
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