Poking Around Inside

Posted on Mon Jun 16th, 2025 @ 9:12pm by Lieutenant Commander Drevas & Commander Cressida Vale MD

841 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Sickbay
Timeline: January 2389

Now, Drevas didn't terribly mind doing all his checkups. For one, there's no use fighting due process - if not, due process comes to find you, Simple as that. He'd seen sickbay attendants drag his crew off mid training for whatever tests they'd neglected since God knows when. All in all, he'd save himself a lot of unnecessary trouble by just being a good, cooperative crewmate.

Besides, sickbay staff were, in his experience, already overworked and somewhat understaffed anyway - making their lives harder by making their jobs even harder to do wasn't the way to pay them back for keeping the ship on its feet.

So, he'd decided to come in on his own instead of having to be called. Besides, it wasn't as if he had anything to hide when it came to his medical history.

He felt a little out of place, as he always, did, sitting as the only obviously nonhumanoid biped in the not terribly empty waiting room. Eventually, though, one of the nurses called him in, and his lanky frame sort of unfurled as he stood up and followed her through into sickbay proper.

"Take a seat on the biobed here," the nurse told him. "Doctor Vale will be with you momentarily."

"Of course." Drevas settled himself on said biobed, and waited. Medical staff worked at their own rhythm.

As promised, just a minute later, the Chief Medical Officer came out of her office and approached the biobed where the new Chief Tactical Officer was located.

"Good morning, Lieutenant Commander Drevas," she said. "I'm Doctor Cressida Vale, Chief Medical Officer. I'll be performing your arrival medical exam today. Before we begin, do you have any questions for me?"

"No, not currently." Drevas replied with a polite smile. He couldn't really imagine people having terribly many questions for her before the examination even started. Maybe the odd 'are you free for dinner later'. Or something.

“Alright, then let’s get started.” The doctor picked up a tricorder off the bench near the biobed and started slowly passing its hand scanner over her patient. “Your file shows you’re thirty-nine years old, and have passed vahar’ai. For some reason it doesn’t show when that happened. How long ago did you experience it?”

Drevas makes what is definitely a long, ponderous sigh in response. "When I was twenty, and working for my aunt. I insisted on working my shift while suffering the precursor symptoms and keeled over on the floor with a tray of dishes in hand." He recalled, with a mix of amusement and fondness. "So she dragged me upstairs to her home and let the process run its course while I drank cups of herbal tea. She didn't believe in medicating or seeing a physician unnecessarily when homemade remedies would also work."

"Regardless, I've learned not to be quite so zealous about work since then, I promise - nor do I hold her beliefs by transference." He adds, with a slight smile.

“Good,” the Doctor affirmed, smiling back. “On my first assignment, I was on duty when our intel chief went through it. It was rough on her but our tender care and good pharmaceuticals helped. All that to say, I have experience with Kelpien physiology and biochemistry, so you’re in good hands.”

"Ah. Alright. That's good." Drevas smiled. He'd met a handful of CMOs who didn't - as well as an entire spectrum of reactions to realising that they didn't. Suffice to say he'd come to realise that some chief medical officers could be a little more avoidant than others. Vale, at least, wasn't, which he was grateful for.

“Your file said you spent some time doing harsh environment tactics training on Korvat,” she observed as she continued scanning. “Not a medical question but a curiosity, what was it like there? My wife wants us to hike some of its famously extreme ecosystems, but she’s crazy about that kind of thing,” she added with a chuckle.

"I do not recommend it." Drevas replies with a low chuckle. "Assuming the Klingons allow you onto the planet, the deserts contain sand-dwelling worms hundreds of meters long, amongst other unsavory conditions. The climate is fickle. It can rain intensely one week, be snowing the next, or be so unreasonably hot the sweat from your body vaporises the one after. It will not favor the unprepared."

“Well, that’s either more ammunition to have her come with me to a hot bath instead,” the Doctor replied, “or it’s all the more reason she’ll want to go.” She closed her tricorder and put the scanner away. “Everything’s looking good. Your baseline is now on file, should there be any problems. Welcome aboard, Mr. Drevas.”

"Thank you, doctor. In my personal opinion, the hot bath would be far less risky." Drevas quips as he stands and trots out of sickbay.


-------

Commander Cressida Vale, MD
Chief Medical Officer, USS Guinevere


Lieutenant Commander Drevas
Chief Tactical Officer, USS Guinevere

RSS Feed