[USS Charon, Main Sickbay]
She woke from a light slumber to the familiar whirring of a medical tricorder. There was some background noise which suggested some other people had not walked away entirely unharmed from the incident in the gym, but the sound was muted even to the young Vulcan's sensitive hearing.
She stretched her cold muscles a bit, noticing that someone had gone to the trouble of procuring two more blankets.
Possibly the nurse who was now hovering over the black haired woman with a look of obvious concern on her face.
"You shouldn't move, Lieutenant."
"Considering that not moving would produce more discomfort, I am inclined to disagree, nurse." Sakarra stated levelly. Still, she could not deny that she was feeling unusually weak and it was not a sensation she much cared for.
A familiar figure appeared at the periphery of her vision and the young Vulcan quirked a brow when the nurse's face contorted into a frown. Stretching some more with near languid movements, Sakarra felt her blood circulation return to almost normal levels. Better.
Standing at the foot of the bed like some maniac wielding a butcher's knife Aehlen had the laser scalpel placed between his fingers like a pen. Looking at Sakarra he wore a placid almost psychotic look of a child was about to open a Christmas present. He looked at the nurse with pale lifeless eyes causing her to scamper a few steps back "hand me the magic stick."
The nurse stared at him "magic stick?"
"Dermal regenerator." Aehlen switched the scalpel off and slipped it into his pocket. Holding out his hand he accepted the device and pulled the Lieutenant's covers off "your injuries are minor." He said to her and slid his hand, along with regenerator into the wound. He did a little bit of probing, at one point the tip of the regenerator was pushing up against the flesh of her abdomen looking as though some tiny creature might burst through. However, after finding what he needed he carefully began repairing the damaged veins.
The surgeon's bedside manner was certainly … unusual. Let alone his approach to medical procedures.
When the horrified nurse had first handed him the dermal regenerator, Sakarra had rather suspected he would employ the same straightforward approach as before and very carefully adjusted her breathing.
Still, the cold air hitting her bare skin nearly succeeded in producing a flinch when he pulled the covers aside and the minimal warmth from the man's inquisitive hand did not much alleviate the unpleasant sensation.
"Minor? I am certainly gratified to have my assessment confirmed, osharushsu." The young Vulcan watched with interest as the surgeon finally ceased his probing around and set about his task with considerable speed.
The dull pain was becoming a rather sharp, burning sensation but so far nothing that could not be managed.
At least she was fully awake now.
"May I assume then that I will be free to return to duty before my next shift?"
"Nemaiyo" Aehlen stated rather dryly. His hand was still moving around in the wound but he was quickly repairing the damage. The nurse stood next to him stunned by the speed of his work.
When he finished with the interior damage he finally slid his hand out. Emerald life blood dripped from both hand and instrument. Aehlen raised the bloody wrist up to his nostrils, sniffed, and then licked it.
He looked at Sakarra "you have a slight mineral deficiency." The nurse nearly retched and turned around as he started to repair the large gaping wound. "You are not in the throes of death. Do you wish for me to exacerbate the injury so that you may be excused from your next shift?"
He asked pausing his work. The nurse looked as though she would pick up the medical tray and slam it into the back of his head.
At first, the young woman blinked at the strange suggestion but then she simply shook her head. "I think not. In fact, I would rather appreciate it if you could declare me fit for duty as soon as possible."
Something about this odd healer made it difficult for Sakarra not to show any outward sign of humor.
When he had licked at the green blood on his hand, one might have first mistaken his expression for that of a Le-Matya savoring the sweetness of a fresh kill, and then the thoughtfulness of a monk pondering the nature of the universe.
More astonishing even, he was quite correct about the deficiency.
She stirred a bit on the biobed, careful not to move even a millimeter in the vicinity of the dermal regenerator. The discomfort was subsiding slowly, although she now realized the well meaning nurse had obviously removed the tattered and stained uniform after sedating the young Vulcan and she would have to find a new one before she'd be able to go anywhere.
Not that some crewmen might not appreciate a female officer in shorts and tank top made of Andorian silk roaming the corridors, but it was truly getting rather.. chilly by now.
Sakarra just so managed not to shiver as she tilted her head at the Arrain "I must say however, your question does surprise me. I should not have thought such practice would be common in the Galae."
"Why such a thought?" Aehlen asked while he worked. Slowly the wound began to close- he was careful not to heal it too much so that the Vulcan's body could find the precise harmony needed itself. When he finished he stood back, set the bloody regenerator onto the biobed, and then casually massaged the wound. Behind him the nurse quickly secured the regenerator into a towel and made her way towards the sanitizer.
"Quite frankly, osharushsu, my observation of the Romulan crew indicates that one of the few things our races still seem to have in common is a strict sense of duty. Therefore, an offer to put an officer out of commission who is in fact not 'in the throes of death' as you so aptly put it, strikes me as rather… strange."
And speaking of strange.
Certainly, there had been the occasional unintended physical contact, most notably during the recent incident in the gym. But rather suddenly the thought occurred that she had never been in such... prolonged contact with one of the Sundered before.
Sakarra's expression changed ever so subtly in the tiniest prelude to an amusedly raised brow - of all people, it had to be an eccentric healer. Still, one could fault a great many things about this one, his skill was not one of them.
Rather than recoil from his touch as she had half expected she might, the young woman felt herself relax under the firm but casual enough massage.
As normal blood circulation returned to the repaired tissue, she could even feel that those hands were nearly as warm as her own skin. Quite interesting.
With her black eyes half closed, Sakarra wrinkled her nose just a bit at the still lingering scent of blood.
"However, there is of course a possibility that my observations are incorrect, since I have insufficient knowledge of Rihannsu society and cultural context."
"What is duty?" Aehlen asked his expression rather empty as his fingers gently pressed on the tender but regenerated area of skin.
"Though for a Vulcan it may require uninhibited loyalty- to a Romulan duty is just a phrase. Not all are as serious as some." He finished and stepped back, with a cock of the head he quietly admired his work for a moment and then walked next to the biobed and extended a hand "you may return to your work."
"I see." Sakarra said levelly, favoring the surgeon with a thoughtful look.
Reaching for the extended hand with the utmost care, she allowed him to help her up and stood still for several seconds until the brief moment of dizziness had passed.
She would certainly have to address the mineral deficiency as well as the blood loss. Looking down, the young Vulcan mused that her first order of business however should most likely be to procure some more suitable clothes.
"Shaya tonat, osharushsu" she gave a most polite half-bow and then strode off towards a replicator that would hopefully have her measurements on file and provide her with a new uniform.
While few Vulcans truly cared how little or much someone saw of them, they also did not usually care much for the odd looks that tended to follow a young woman clad merely in copper toned shorts and top.
And she would have to locate some hairpins.
Aehlen watched her for a moment; his eyes expressed the charisma of a rock. If Vulcans were the definition of logic the surgeon was the definition of emptiness. When she reached the replicator his eyes moved away. The semi-loud wheezing of old motors could be heard echoing across the sickbay giving the illusion to those in the outside corridor of tortuous machinery at work. For his part Aehlen didn't seem to even notice the strange looks from doctors, nurses, and patients. He walked into his surgical office and sat down staring off into space- or was it space? Maybe the good- or rather eccentric surgeon could see something in the endless void his eyes always seemed to stare into.
[End]
Lieutenant Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helmsman
USS Charon
&
Arrain Aehlen tr'Kethry
Surgeon
USS Charon
