The Night Shift At Rivhal
The Night Shift At
Rivhal (1998)
amantari2001@yahoo.com
Based on: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine copyright Paramount/Viacom
and George Simpson's The War Room at Bellevue, (c. 1983,
News Group Publications). Though no canon Star Trek characters
are in this story, it is set in the Deep Space Nine universe.
This is my take on 24th century journalism.
FROM THE CARDASSIAN
NEWS SERVICETM, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
SELADE JASIN, CORRESPONDENT
Rivhal. The name symbolizes
a tradition of excellence. Two centuries ago, it was the Ministry
of Health's shining jewel. Within these immaculate gray walls,
Cardassian doctors worked tirelessly to develop standards that
were admired (and emulated) by the entire quadrant. But that luster
has tarnished somewhat with time. Despite the Ministry's promise
to provide each district with its own fully-equipped medical center,
Rivhal remains one of the few coastal facilities capable of handling
severe emergencies. While this was once considered a "minor
inconvenience," budget cuts and an increase in crime and
pollution have tripled the number of incoming patients in the
last five years.
Though Rivhal faces
numerous problems, it remains a commanding presence. Equipment
is outdated and often breaks down, but 95 percent of their patients
survive. And while their emergency room reaches capacity night
after night, the people refuse to go anywhere else. Why? The answer
lies in the staff.
----------
STARDATE: 50567, TIME:
22:00 HRS.
I arrive two hours after
sunset. After wandering around the lobby a few minutes, an intern
greets me. Her voice brims with enthusiasm, despite the dark circles
beneath her eyes. She proudly notes that in the past eight hours,
some 200 people have been treated here. The figures seem impressive
until a nurse whispers that only 30 percent of the cases were
from their district. When it's time for budget allocations, Rivhal
will only receive partial compensation for all the non-coastal
residents they've served.
----------
TIME: 22:25 HRS.
The lobby erupts as
the bodies of seven youths materialize. Each look as if they'd
just come from a battle field. None look older than fifteen. Several
nurses rush forth with tricorders. In the room to my left, the
body of a fourteen-year-old girl is gently lowered onto a treatment
table. "A bystander?" asks a doctor, staring into her
innocent-looking face. "No, the leader," a nurse replies,
noting the insignia bracelet on the girl's right arm. Though conscious,
she twists and gasps for each breath; a large dark burn runs across
the front of her lavender jumpsuit. The doctor performs a pulmonary
scan while a nurse attaches monitors to her body. Another nurse
administers a hypospray, rendering the patient unconscious. Though
her breathing steadies, the doctor looks concerned. The blast
has destroyed half of her lungs.
An hour later, five
of the young patients have been stabilized. The other two were
dead on arrival. A nurse begins to search for their families,
but isn't having much success. "Probably orphans," he
notes matter-of-factly. Meanwhile, in the room next door, an assistant
retrieves a phaser from one of the deceased. He holds it before
me, casually recalling the time when adolescents settled disputes
with their fists. When I pointed out that the weapon looked Uridian,
the elderly man says he suspected as much. Cardassian weapons
don't leave anything for the doctors to save.
----------
STARDATE: 50568, TIME:
13:10 HRS.
A cadet hobbles in,
supported by several of his comrades. He says he slipped while
completing mock combat exercises in Patriot's Field. A half-hour
later, he emerges from the treatment room with only a slight limp.
Though grateful, the cadet is upset because he's lost all training
points for the day. Meanwhile, in the room to the rear, a little
boy wildly sobs in his mother's arms as the intern peels a bloody
bandage from his left hand. The young woman nearly slips from
her seat when she sees the deep, penetrating teeth marks of a
wild grekhol.
----------
TIME: 14:00 HRS
The lobby is wonderfully
quiet. After giving the treatment rooms a through scrubbing, the
staff turns one of them into a makeshift bowling alley. With much
fanfare, a nurse grabs a toy ball and steps back five paces. She
takes a deep breath before swinging her arm back and letting go.
The ball rolls quickly and steadily towards a row of gauze "pins."
It reaches the first one... then stops. Everyone moans loudly
as the nurse covers her face in embarrassment.
The game is interrupted,
but not by the disapproving stare of a supervisor. Without a word,
two regional patrol officers approach the front desk. One laughs
to himself as he begins filling out forms. The other stands silent,
firmly gripping the arm of a young man. All are soaking wet. The
first officer explains that the man had been missing from the
Central Technical Academy for over a week. When they tried to
question him, he ran half a mile before jumping a bridge and attempting
to drown himself in Lake Eldar. As the nurses help dry the men
off, the officers conclude that this was simply a misunderstanding.
The young man suddenly beings shaking his head. "There's
no need to lie for me," he says in a soft, calm voice. "
I jumped." "Why?" asks the shocked officer. "Don't
you see them?" he replies. "The ghosts. They just won't
leave me alone." One of the nurses recognizes the complaint.
After accessing the patient database, it is revealed that the
man has been hospitalized three times before.
----------
TIME: 14:30 HRS.
Patients continue to
arrive at a steady pace: a bar fight, two heart attacks; and one
broken neck have passed through the lobby in the last fifteen
minutes alone. The room becomes so crowded that the staff begins
checking ID's. Non-coastal residents will have to take numbers.
With the exception of the most severe emergencies, people living
outside Rivhal's jurisdiction will have a long morning's wait.
----------
TIME: 16:00 HRS.
The parents of the attempted
suicide arrive. Though outwardly charming, the Legate and his
wife appear deeply embarrassed. They thank everyone for their
help, noting that such efficient service will not go unrewarded.
This pleases many of the doctors, for a top official's good word
can always help in acquiring more supplies. The gray-haired man
tells a nurse that a little vacation would help their son get
over this "unfortunate accident". When the nurse politely
suggests further evaluation, the man gives him a cutting glare.
A doctor quickly signs the discharge papers. Before the nurse
leaves, he manages to slip a note into the mother's hand. She
reads it, then quickly hides it in the folds of her dress. The
Legate addresses the staff once more, this time reminding everyone
that "accidents happen, and that it is best not to dwell
on them." With that, the couple gently lead their son away.
As they beam out, the young man begins to laugh uncontrollably.
----------
TIME: 16:15 HRS.
A nurse treats an infant
with a severe cough. He's using an older, slower acting remedy
because the shipment of tremethorphan still hasn't arrived. Suddenly,
he looks up. "Oh no," he mutters as he hears the sound
of scrambling footsteps. A second later, several people burst
into the lobby. Two women in construction uniforms carry the body
of a man. Three others follow, screaming for help. The intern
cringes when he notices the man's bluish complexion. In the trauma
room, doctors and nurses hover around the lifeless body. The man
is given a hypo at the neck. Nothing happens. "It was just
a minor cable leak," one of the women cries. "He said
it wasn't going to be a problem." Over the next ten minutes,
more hypos fly and various equipment is scattered about the small
room. They try shocking his heart, but to no avail. A doctor looks
at a scan, and suddenly it's all over. "We've done what we
can," he says grimly. The room is still for a moment, then
several of the man's co-workers begin to sob. The nurse sighs,
quietly placing his tricorder away. The staff look dejected as
they file out of the room.
----------
TIME: 16:45 HRS.
A middle-aged woman
and several young children are ushered into the lobby. It's the
dead man's family. The children are taken into a separate room,
and the wife is asked to take a seat. "He's gone, isn't he?"
she asks calmly. Within seconds, family and colleagues surround
the covered body. Several of the medical staff are also present.
Her voice choking, the widow thanks all who tried to save her
husband. They all lower their heads and begin to pray quietly.
"I feel like an idiot," a doctor whispers. "I don't
know how to do this." "It's not that hard," the
youngest child says reassuringly." Just let your heart do
the talking."
----------
TIME: 17:10 HRS.
The staff prepares for
the changing of the guard. Throughout the dimly lit lobby, doctors
and nurses are still reeling from the evening blitz. Some sit
quietly drinking their tea while others are clumped around the
admitting desk discussing Sirval's latest enigma tale. In the
waiting room to my right, several people continue to wait for
word on relatives and friends. One of the interns falls asleep
on a stretcher, and is taken to the nursery. A roomful of crying
infants should wake him up.
Six cases of zalidian
flu beam in--all members of the same family. The virus is unpredictable;
killing some while merely making others appear intoxicated. In
the middle of the assessment, the grandmother disappears. The
110 year-old-woman is eventually found in the east wing. Sweating
and delirious, she waltzes up and down the corridor urging everyone
to love each other. "We will," a nurse says sweetly
while leading her back.
In another room, a woman
is about to give birth. The father, a newly appointed Gul, is
annoyed; he goes from doctor to nurse, blustering at the top of
his lungs. He demands different doctors, better surroundings,
but it's too late. A minute later, the man of power and influence
sits in a corner, dazed, with a squirming infant girl in his arms.
...And so it continues.
A broken generator, a viral infection, another phaser fight. The
nurse stands at the desk, smiling as he counts recently arrived
vials of tremethorphan. Through they certainly have the right
to complain, the people of Rivhal choose not to focus on the negative.
With determination and a sense of humor seldom seen these days,
they make the best of what they have. In retrospect, that intern
had reason to be proud.
THE END