Chapter 7
The man passed out again and Dr. Crusher had barely heard his response. Her other staff were helping the others and were paying no attention to her over with the mutant man. His eyes... they had been red of black she spied.
She walked over to the blood cabinet and handled a bag of A- blood. One of the avians, the only one that looked like a female, was watching her now as she took the blood away from where the avians were being treated.
"Well, Remy," she muttered to herself, "Bottoms up!" And she slowly began to pour the blood down his throat, making him swallow so that he didn't choke.
A few pairs of the avian eyes were staring oddly over her way as she looked back at them all defiantly. "He had the same symptoms as you all." Then she remembered they didn't speak English.
Hank wasn't all together too sure that he understood the method the Shi'ar had chosen to deliver the blood products to their fellow compatriots; however, he could not argue with the results it produced. All of them were improving and their vitals were stabilizing. Hank was beginning to see some of the quick recovery he knew the Shi'ar for start to emerge.
He heaved a sigh of relief. The crisis was averted. Now Hank could go visit with Scott, which is what he originally came to the sick bay for. He draped the lab coat he had been given over the chair next to Scott's bed, and read the vitals on the panel displayed at the head of the bed. His vitals were good; however, a chart note indicated that he was being kept sedated. Hank mentally shrugged, not being able to argue with the medical logic being used, knowing it was for the better.
He looked over to Remy's prone form, concern forming a lump in his throat again. The 'Bête,' as Remy so like to call him, was quite worried. He knew Remy to be a fighter, but he just wasn't sure if he would be able to fight back from this one. He'd taken many serious blows in battle which just might hinder his ability to come back, this time.
But to Hank's amazement, this Dr. Crusher was speaking to Remy. Focusing his attention on the biobed across the room, Hank could see Remy's head moving. He was awake! Oh, thank the heavens! Now if only Hank could lip-read, he'd know what they were talking about. He saw the doctor squeeze his shoulder, supportively, perhaps signalling the end of their conversation, and very soon after, Remy's head rolled to the side, asleep.
Dr. McCoy stood up from his spot near Scott's bed, deciding that now would be a good time to relay Gambit's medical history to Dr. Crusher, but he sat back down again when it appeared she wasn't finished treating Gambit. So, Hank watched her operate, with curiosity, as to what her next step in treatment was. It would give Hank a good idea of Remy's condition if he could figure out what Dr. Crusher was doing to treat him.
The red-headed chief medical officer strode back to Remy's biobed with a unit of blood in hand. Hank knew Remy was anemic from the sheer amount of blood he lost from his injuries and resulting surgeries. Perhaps he was at the point of needing another transfusion. It wasn't so out of the question.
However, what was out of the question and had Hank bolting out of his seat but glued to his spot in horror was the fact that she started feeding the blood to Remy just as the Shi'ar had done to their shipmates.
"Oh, my Stars and Garters!"
Dr. Crusher was oblivious to the rest of the med lab as she held her breath feeding this man what she believed he had asked for - A neg. Her gut told her so, too, and her gut was something that she had learned to trust after treating hundreds of different species and coming out at the top of her class at Star Fleet Academy. She was Chief Doctor aboard one of the most prestigious flag ships in the Federation.
And it was in her medical opinion that this was going to help the man. After all, she had asked him what he needed.
She watched his eyes flutter open. She watched her scanners blip as the blood entered and then the blood disappeared.
Where the hell did it go?!
His eyes fluttered open. "More..." he said, his vision swimming.
And she did just that. Another bag she had brought was opened and poured down his throat just like the last. And finally she was rewarded with a smile.
"You gave us a scare there Remy," she smiled softly. "But you'll be okay. You're on your way to recovery, and your wounds are healing nice-" She looked at his vitals and they were remarkably improved.
"What the…?" she said softly, uncovering one of his wounds. Taking out her tricorder, she scanned the area. His cellular tissue regeneration had begun to improve it's rate making Beverly believe for the first time since this man arrived that he just might pull through.
"That's remarkable," she thought out loud. The man was pulling a similar stunt as the rest of the avians in the sick bay. Was he really homo sapien superior?
She performed the scans again and yes, he did scan as such.
What the hell is going on?
