Whom Did You Say?

Posted on 31 Oct 2018 @ 4:56pm by Lieutenant Commander Lucy Inverness

2,789 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Empty Creche
Location: Starfleet Medical, San Francisco, Earth
Timeline: ED1 1245

Lucy Inverness had been in the middle of an extensive literature review on Tarkalian fever when, out of the blue, she was ordered by Admiral Shora to attend a critical patient in the VIP wing of Starfleet Medical Headquarters. Emergency calls from the admiral were not out of the ordinary in Lucy’s working role as lead researcher, but the fact that Shora had refused to give any further details about her patient, or the nature of their pathology, was unusual. As soon as the call was concluded, Lucy tied up her unruly blonde locks, logged out of her computer terminal and began sprinting towards the room number given to her by the admiral.

As she rounded the final corner before coming to the VIP wing, alarm bells in the back of Lucy’s mind began to sound. At least twelve heavily armed Starfleet security officers were positioned throughout the corridors of the wing. Within seconds of seeing them, the human slowed her sprint down to brisk walk and tried to pass the first of the officers: a heavy-set, muscular, Deltan male, identifiable by his hairless scalp.

“You cannot proceed any further,” the Deltan said, using his phaser rifle as a barrier to hold Lucy back. His deadpan expression told the doctor that he was being serious.

“I am Lieutenant Commander, or Doctor, Lucy Inverness,” she said, giving him an equally unimpressed look back. She would not be stopped from entering her patient’s by a Starfleet security grunt. Placing a hand on top of the rifle, she started to push it out of the way so that she could pass him. One of the other security guards, this time a fellow human female, saw the action and immediately lifted her own phaser and pointed it at Lucy.

“Step away from the lieutenant please, Ma’am,” the human ensign said to her as she approached her and the Deltan.

Lucy immediately removed her hand from the rifle and looked the ensign square in the eyes. She did not have time to be messing around with the hired help. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t point that thing at me, ensign,” she said, emphasising her rank in an attempt to get her to back off.

“We are under orders, Ma’am,” the ensign responded, tilting her phaser towards the floor but not withdrawing it entirely.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Lucy shouted, “so am I. I was just ordered down here by Admiral Shora, you know, the head of Starfleet Medical.” She disliked using sarcasm, but she had a natural tendency to use sarcastic quips when she was frustrated. In medicine, minutes and seconds counted; something these idiots didn’t seem to realise.

“It’s alright,” another security officer shouted from further own the corridor, a Trill this time. He dropped his own rifle so that it hung on the strap over his shoulder and approached the developing scene. He continued. “Captain Stroll is just after communicating with me and said to expect Doctor Inverness here.”

Lucy shoved the Deltan’s phaser rifle out of the way and walked straight past him, giving him a disapproving look that he wouldn’t soon forget. The Trill escorted her the last few meters to room number two, the largest infectious diseases suite within the VIP wing. The security officer nudged her in the general direction of the door; there was no personal protective equipment available outside, which made her think that her new patient was not contagious.

“Please,” the Trill, a full commander she noted from the pips on his collar, said as he opened the door for her.

Lucy stepped into the small anteroom; it was basically a medical airlock designed to stop the spread of deadly contagions from within the main room beyond. As the commander closed the door behind her, Lucy’s brain clicked into emergency medical mode as she prepared herself for what lay beyond the next door. She tried not to think about who her patient would be, as that just made her more nervous and prevented her from thinking logically.

When the door behind her locked shut, the one in front immediately opened. Inside the room beyond she could see a body lying on the state of the art biobed, although medical staff hovering around them obscured their face. In the corner of the room stood a tall, dark-skinned human male with a gold uniform, two silver pips and another phaser rifle dangling over his shoulder. The expression on his face looked grim; unlike the officers outside in the corridor, Lucy could tell that this lieutenant knew the patient well. Her years of breaking bad news had familiarised her with the expressions friends and love-ones pulled with the outlook was not favourable.

“Doctor,” a voice from around the patient’s bed announced her arrival and encouraged her to step closer to them. She immediately recognised Ensign Ulla, one of her deputies; a joined Trill with an extensive background in contagious diseases. Lucy counted her as one of her friends at Starfleet Medical, despite their disparity in rank. Ulla often acted older than her host belied.

“Darrin,” Lucy said, using the ensign’s given name instead of her title. “What is the status of the patient?”

Ensign Ulla’s face dropped as she saw Lucy. “Didn’t Admiral Shora tell you,” she said, stepping aside and letting the doctor see her patient for the first time. On the bed in front of her, unconscious, was a slender, middle-aged Trill female who she instantly recognised. Suddenly Shora’s secrecy made total sense.

“That’s Elesa Zal,” she said, louder than she had intended. Lucy was familiar with the Federation President, having met her on board the Redemption several years earlier. Although she was not a fan of politics, Lucy had quite liked the, then, Ambassador during her time with them. Her mind immediately started to make sense of what was happening in front of her: was this another assassination attempt on a Federation President, so soon after the death of former president G’ath?

“Yes, Lucy,” Ensign Ulla said, her voice urging her not to dwell too much on who their patient was. Ulla grabbed Lucy’s wrist and pulled her closer to the bed. Zal looked ghastly; her face was sunken, and her skin grey. Even her characteristic spots, in contrast to Ulla’s, appeared faded and devoid of pigment. Her breathing was also slow and shallow.

Inverness took a deep breath to calm her down. “What is the status of the patient,” she said, glancing over at the grim readouts from the biobed monitor.

“We are looking at complete mutli-organ failure, Lucy.” Ulla’s face became as grim as the security guard’s.

“Cause,” Lucy said, keeping their conversation short and to the point. She reached her hand out to touch the president’s arm and was shocked by how cold it felt.

“President Zal has been infected with an unknown virus. I have been working with Admiral Shora to find an anti-virus, but I am afraid we are too late in finding a cure.” The ensign looked first at Lucy, then at Zal as she shook her head.

Lucy said nothing more. She unholstered the medical tricorder from her uniform pants and started to scan Zal. The readings that came back were not positive: complete renal failure, hepatic damage, widespread vasodilatation indicating acute shock, and neural shutdown. And that was just the host; the symbiont was in as equally poor a state. Her first thoughts were that if they did indeed find a cure to the virus, the chances of saving host or symbiont were negligible.

“How?” Was all Lucy could say as she looked at her friend and then to the security officer still standing in the corner of the room. Ensign Ulla looked at the lieutenant to explain.

He stepped forward. “I am Dionne Johnston, the President’s personal security attaché.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Lucy said, lying. The doctor hated security officers; Tarran had seen to that. She stepped away from Zal and towards Lieutenant Johnston. Somehow the sad look in his eyes made Lucy warm up to him, slightly. “What do you know?”

“There is a lot that we still don’t know,” he began, his deep voice carrying easily around the small room. “But we suspect the timing of her infection coincides with a recent trip to Andor.”

Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t call myself a fan of the Andorians,” she said, surprising more than a few within the room. She was lucky that none of her staff were from Andor.

“I am aware of your personal experiences, commander,” Johnston said, showing more familiarity with her than she would like. He too stepped closer to Lucy, but never quite removed his gaze from Zal. “Our suspicion is that the Confederacy of the Underdark had something to do with her infection. Commander Rhyan…”

Lucy stopped Lieutenant Johnston immediately. “What does that son-of-a-bitch have to do with all this?” Her personal prejudice against the half-Romulan was well known to all her colleagues at Starfleet Medical. She had never quite seen eye-to-eye with the, then, lieutenant commander, blaming him for the death of her friend Sarah Kaminski. She recently learned of his promotion to full commander, which wasn’t taken well by the doctor.

Johnston continued, visibly annoyed with Inverness for her outburst. “As I was saying, Commander Rhyan found a link between the President’s infection and the Ee virus discovered on Romulus. In the last two hours he has just forwarded additional information that implicates the Andorians directly in the modification of this virus. He also claims to be close to developing a working anti-virus.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, waving her arms in front of her. “Why is Rhyan even involved in this? The last time he was near the Ee virus…”

“Lucy!” Ensign Ulla shouted, previous lifetimes as a parent coming through in the way that she scolded the doctor. Lucy was annoyed by the interruption, but let Ulla away with it. She had bigger concerns than Rhyan after all.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not meaning it but using the insincere apology as a way to take the heat off of her for a moment. When the adrenaline spike wore off she stepped back towards Zal and looked down at the dying woman. She tried not to think of what the consequences would be if they were unable to revive her. “What have we tried so far?”

“Every known anti-virus within the Federation, Klingon and Romulan medical databases. Nothing has worked,” Ulla said, picking up a padd and thrusting it at Lucy. The doctor knew that she had annoyed her friend with the emotional outburst.

“Well, if nothing has worked, why am I here?” Lucy asked the question she had wanted to from the very moment she first saw Elesa Zal lying on the biobed.

“Because,” Johnston said this time, “you are the only person in this building who has had experience treating the Ee virus. You helped Doctor Afton develop the original anti-virus that was used on Ensign Kaminski.”

“Look,” Lucy said, matter-of-fact, “It was Keisha and Rhyan who developed that virus, not me. I will do my best for the President; I will keep her alive for as long as I can. But the person you really want is Keisha Afton.”

“You worked under her for over a year, Lucy,” Ulla said, her temper having dissipated somewhat. “You are the closest thing we have until Commander Rhyan gets here.”

“Until…” Lucy said, about to have another outburst. Biting her tongue, she forced herself to calm down. The last person she wanted to see again was Rhyan, especially after their last encounter outside Starfleet Headquarters; she slapped him across the face in front of two-dozen of their peers. She doubted he would want to see her either. ‘What was Shora thinking?’ Lucy thought to herself.

Lucy looked over at the biobed readouts once again, distracting herself from thoughts of Rhyan. “I am going to be honest here, folks,” she said, stating the obvious to everyone in the room, “I would seriously be thinking about getting President Zal’s family here as soon as.”

“Lucy,” Ulla said, scolding her softly.

“Look, Darrin,” Lucy replied, a tone still evident in her voice. “You already have Zal on a cocktail of anti-virals. She is connected up to a neural stimulator, dialysis machine, with cardiac support and total parenteral feeding. Not one of her organs is working properly. Her symbiont is almost dead, and she isn’t too far behind. You are doing everything I would be doing in your position.”

The doctor let out a frustrated gasp and then continued. “I hate to say this, but even if Rhyan gets here with his supposed cure, I don’t think we are going to save the president.”

“Lucy,” Ulla said again.

“I am not giving up on her,” she said, truthfully. The doctor had her orders and she would follow them to the letter. But her orders were irrelevant when all she could see was a woman who was hours, maybe minutes away from death. Even if they could beam the entire virus load out of her system now, too much damage had been done. She doubted if the host would ever wake up again, or if the symbiont could even be healed.

“I know,” the ensign said in reply, sighing deeply as she did. “I did tell you that my second host was a member of the symbiosis commission on Trill?”

“Yes,” the doctor said, “some time in the early 2200’s, if memory serves.”

“You are correct. It is for that reason that Admiral Shora asked me to attend to President Zal.” She paused and placed her hand gently over Zal’s abdomen, approximately where the symbiont pouch was located. A great veil of sadness descended over her face. “I am afraid that under the circumstances, the symbiosis commission will not allow the Zal symbiont to be transferred to a new host. Protocol forbids it.”

Lieutenant Johnston made himself known to the medical team once again. “Are you saying that if Elesa dies, Zal will die with her?”

“Yes,” Ulla said, solemnly.

Lucy watched as her friend continued to rest her hand over the president’s symbiont pouch. She appreciated that it must be very hard for a joined Trill to watch as one of their precious symbionts be left to die. It was almost blasphemous within their culture to do so; Darrin must not be sharing this information lightly.

“Forgive me for my ignorance,” Johnston said to the ensign. “But does that mean Zal’s only hope is for Elesa to survive?”

“Elesa is not going to survive,” Lucy said, coldly. She surprised even herself when she said the words. But she could not deny the truth to the team around her. Ensign Ulla’s face seemed to imply agreement with the assessment. Perhaps their strategy should be reoriented towards preservation of the symbiont.

“Both have to survive,” uttered the lieutenant, almost pleading with the doctors in front of him. Lucy didn’t know what sort of relationship the Human and Trill had, but she could see that it included a friendship of sorts. Johnston continued. “The future of the Federation rests with Elesa Zal as President. You can’t begin to understand the turmoil her death with cause, even if we exclude the details about it being an assassination.”

“I don’t disagree with you, lieutenant,” Lucy commented, “but that doesn’t change the fact that she is barely alive, and I don’t know how much longer I am going to be able to keep her that way.”

Inverness looked down at Zal and realised, once again, that she was no ordinary patient. Her survival meant more to the Federation than even she knew. She hated politics with every fibre of her being; politics is what led to the launch of the Redemption, which gave her memories to fuel her nightmares for a lifetime. But the death of President Elesa Zal was not what the Federation needed; it needed a strong, professional leader. It needed Zal.

Lucy needed to do the impossible; she needed to keep Zal alive long enough for Rhyan to arrive with his cure.

“Nurse,” she said, calling out to one of the nursing NCOs who was also in the room. “Get me one of the experimental mark four neural stimulators, and as much synthesised Trill adrenaline as you can replicate. This isn’t going to be pretty, but I’m going to do my best to save the President…”

 

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