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No Prep H For Asshole

Posted on Sun Jul 16th, 2017 @ 1:07pm by Lieutenant Arkady Sjet Dr & Lieutenant Kazyah Linn

Mission: S2E1 - Secrets
Location: Sickaby
Timeline: MD 99, Morning

Kaz sauntered into Sickbay, his hands in the pockets of his tight-fitting jeans. He looked around, hoping to not see anyone so that he had an excuse to leave without being seen. But unfortunately, luck was not on his side this morning, as he immediately locked eyes with a burly man he'd never met before.

"Ah! Yes! Mission Advisor!" The burly man said, putting down a padd he had been examining, and rolled up his sleeves. He then turned and walked with solid, earth cracking deliberation towards him. "You and I must have talk."

"Fantastic," Kaz said, his voice betraying his lack of enthusiasm at the idea. He did his best to keep from rolling his eyes, but wasn't quite sure if he had succeeded. "And you are?"

"Luetenant Arkady Sjet, Chief Medical Officer," he said briskly. "I have been trying to make an appointment with you to visit, though I am to assume that is not why you are here?"

"Actually it is," Kaz said. "Though, I was hoping that I could pop in and out quickly. Why do you need to see me so urgently? You've left me four different messages while I was away from the ship."

"Merely trying to get to know senior command team, making sure that all of my medical records are in order. For instance, there is note in your file concerning your eyes, but records of treatment and prognosis have...oh word is not so good in English. Is, er, name of small forest gremlin. Likes to steal things." Arkady said, picking up another padd and tapping it against the desk, "It would seem Vindex has one in the main computer."

Kaz's eyebrows came together in confusion, "I have no idea what you're trying to say."

"I am saying, with much attempt made for understanding, that your file has been devoured by little LCAR's demon. Has name, serial number, blood type but that is all. No history, no notes of serious injuries or ailments that might affect future treatment. I am much in the hoping that you would allow a small meeting to fill in the gaps."

With a wave of his hand, he gestures to a small table with....with a small plate of pastries and a teapot...

It was the Checkov's gun of tea services apparently.

"I see," was Kaz's response. He stood there, making no movement towards the offered delicacies. "I'm sure you can understand why I will be declining your offer. If you don't understand, perhaps the large Classified label that appears on all my records could give you a clue?" The man turned to leave Sickbay. "And if that doesn't help, perhaps you should reflect on whether you're intelligent enough to be a physician," he said without turning back to look at the man.

"Well, rudeness appears to be endemic. I intended no desire to break seal of classified information. But it is difficult to treat injuries I have no record of. Should you fall under my care I will do best to see you well. But, like yourself I have no doubt, you do better job with as much information as possible. Please, " Arkady gestured to the seat. "Sit, for five minutes. Merely so I might know if you have allergy, or prophetic leg. I will make no pithy comment if you decline, I will merely do my best."

Kaz took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he considered the idea. "Five minutes, and I will be counting." The man turned and walked to the seat.

"Otlichno" Arkady beamed, taking the seat opposite. He picked up his padd, opening a new page, and slipped the small pair of reading glasses onto his nose. "So, simple things first. Allergies? Chronic illnesses, anything your family is known for? I know Starfleet does a lot of genetic screening, but the more we know yes?"

"None," Kaz replied with finality. While the Doctor seemed to be taking notes, his eyes slowly slid to the side, eyeing one of the pastries. After a moment, he picked one up and immediately took a bite.

“All for the good. Myself, being Martian, find pollen to be most disagreeable. On shore leaves I find myself popping bills just to see clearly,” Arkady chucked, and then noticed the Mission Advisor’s chosen pastry. “Ahhh, the baklava: never fails. And whilst it is hard to make with the ingredients I have on hand, it is worth while. Is good for the soul if not for the body.”

He chuckled again.

“Try the green one next if you are agreeable, it is made with Bajoran kava beans. They are like little green peanuts, except are not nuts. Nor bean really,” he commented, pouring himself a measure of the tea into one of the gold rimmed glasses. “Now, we come to the meat of things. Have you in the last six months suffered any serious injuries. I m not interested in cause, merely the fact of them. Concussions, plasma burns, gene targeting bio agents, Citrazine 7 gas? I am informed the Federation destroyed every bottle of that stuff from the Dominion War, but my lungs never seem to stop reminding me of how they fizz. Would be nice to find other veteran who walked away from such things.”

Kaz considered the question for a few moments, actually thinking about it. "Yes," he said. "I've had quite a few serious injuries."

"Maybe we compare some times. I am pretty sure I could beat your record for ships that have come apart from under my feet," Arkady chuckled. "Okay I will speak names of weapons, and you just tell me if you have been hit by them. Reason I say this is that some have long lasting side effects. Romulan disruptors, for example, can lead to cardiologic anaemia. The heart stops because there is a conflicting electrical impulse. This usually happens during minor surgeries and is quite vexing."

He took his padd, and pushed it across the table towards Kaz. A blinking 'recording' symbol spinning on it.

"Have you ever been hit by Klingon disruptors?"

"Yes," Kaz said in answer.

"Breen plasma burst's?"


"Cardassian disruptors?"


"Have you ever been exposed to active biological agents or chemical agents?"

"That's classified," Kaz said, looking down at the recording PADD for a moment, then back up to Arkady.

"Have you suffered any gross crush traumas or replacement of organs?"

"How long is this going to go on?" Kaz asked, feeling exasperated. "As a POW, I sustained quite a few traumas. Even if I could give you details, I wouldn't." Kaz stood, almost knocking over the table of pastries, "Now, unless you have a good reason to keep me here, I'm leaving."

"It will take as long as it takes. Whining will only make this last longer," Arkady said, plucking the padd from the table and working the controls for a moment. "We are done, for now. I apologise if my attempt to better understand one of my patients. I am sure you will tell me what I need to know, should you come to be in my care. If you are unable..."

He shrugged.

"I will do what I can. Though I am sure you know how many missions fall apart on the ground because key facts are not shared," Arkady said guardedly. "I am not your enemy Kazyah. one day, I think, we will be friends."

"If I'm ever to the point that I can't make medical decisions on my own, I'd rather you let me die," Kaz said, his words pointed, with an almost accusatory tone, as he walked away from the man.

Arkady watched Kaz leave, and then slowly shook his head.

"No one man walks alone, committing no sins," he grumbled as he picked up the padd, and turned off the recording function. "We are much more complicated than elephants walking in the forest."


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