SMT Snippet 4

Sitrep: Dad apparently glossed over his X-ray report. The infection did get to the bone. The surgeon talked him into amputating his toe which is happening Friday. :P
He's okay, they actually found a bed that fits him. (barely) but he's so bored he's starting to climb the walls.

Anyway, on to the snippet:

Chapter 3

Tortuga

 

Doctor Sho and the senior staff held a brief consultation over a meal. It was a grim meeting. They went over the symptomology of each plague and how to diagnose and treat it for each species. Many were common treatments. Most were fairly basic; bed rest was all they could do. They were reduced to what most medics were, people who could help the body heal but were at times like this, bystanders.

Helpless bystanders sometimes.

“We're so screwed,” a nurse murmured.

Doctor Sho glared at her. The woman was tired, she had circles under her eyes and her hair was a mess. So was her outfit, someone had barfed on her. She was punch drunk honest. He had to admit, they were on borrowed time. At least some were more than others.

“No, they are, the poor devils,” an orderly said. Doctor Sho's head swiveled to him. It was only then that he realized most of the people in the room were human or chimera. Had he not noticed the other medics had dropped one by one? He kicked himself for that. “What do we do? There is no way we can lick this, not all of them at once! They are dropping like flies out there! I think someone said there are a dozen or more viruses and bacteria? And quarantining the entire sector and having us on our own life support is having us stew in our own juices!”

“Did we get the entire package or just a few? Can we get a list and start treating now? Is environmental doing their part? Flushing the system? We are on our own life support right like you said George?” the head nurse asked. She was nervous; she had gotten a bad bruise from a chimp who'd grabbed her arm. The wrist might be sprained or worse. She had an ice pack on the wrist but refused to let anyone check it.

“Now you know what I meant about screwed. It's a simple matter of someone turning off the life support,” the pessimistic nurse said with a shake of her head.

“Can that,” Doctor Sho growled. Privately he had to admit they had little chance against the plagues. But that didn't stop them from being duty bound to try. Duty bound and bound by the Admiral looking over their shoulder.

“Okay, we need to work on both avenues. And we need to triage. Diagnose early and begin treatment. We have oxygen treatment for those who have gotten hit with pneumonia or such, work with that for some of the early stage. Those who are infectious we'll have to isolate further to halt the spread of contamination. Get the lab on cultures; we need a better idea of what we're dealing with.”

“Understood doctor,” another doctor said, grasping at Doctor Sho's sign of leadership desperately like it was a life line. Which it was. They all knew they couldn't panic or give in.

“Doctor! We've got ten more coming in! And we're low on dressing! And the sewer system is backed up, I think there is something wrong with environmental! A low ranking orderly pressed into a nursing position said, coming in to the office.

“Okay, we'll get on it,” Doctor Sho said with a nod. “Get someone looking into those things. Any human in quarantine with us is hereby drafted.”

“You mean press ganged?” the head nurse asked, lips quivering.

“Whatever,” the head doctor stated. “Use them. Have them change bedding, move patients, play gopher, whatever they can handle.” The nurse grimaced but nodded. “Make sure everyone eats and stay hydrated. Naps, no more than four hours in shift. I'll work on the roster once we have this under control...”

If we can ever get it under control he thought tiredly. He knew he wasn't going to be much good to anyone if he drove himself into fatigue and exhaustion.

<()>^<()>

Captain Gutt heard the chatter behind him and grimaced. He could see the fear in the eyes of his crew, smell it in the air despite everything the techs were trying to do to get it out. And he was an ape, so his sniffer wasn't as acute as one in a mutt or cat.

Sucks to be them he thought in amusement at their plight.

“Well, I can safely say for once that I'm glad we're not in the thick of things,” he growled. “Right?” he asked, pitching his voice to his bridge crew.

Heads turned and then immediately began to nod in earnest.

“Good then. Get a status report on the picket ships. Let's get that mangy lot sorted out. I want a proper picket of the jump point by the time we get there!” he growled. “Let them know we mean business! The admiral sent us to the jump point to put some spine in them. The first to flinch gets keelhauled maties!” he growled, eyes glittering as he showed off his horrible teeth in a malicious grin.

There were a series of guttural growls from the crew. He waited the Yar's out. Some were token, but he didn't care. They'd come around. Hell for anyone who came down with a sniffle in the next week or so. They'd be out the nearest lock faster than they could blink.

But he left unsaid that he was indeed glad to be far away from Tortuga. Very far away.

<()>^<()>