Chapter Eight
The interior of the science station was shadowy and gray, much like that of the Enterprise, though substantially darker by Doctor Zeller's estimation. A product of joint fleet operations with the Vulcans and intended for use by both races prior to the disaster at P'Jem, the station had both a certain familiarity and a certain inconsistency its design. Perhaps no one but Astrid Zeller would have picked up on the subtle Vulcan elements, which were more aesthetic, or anti-aesthetic, than technological. She found it displeasing.
Astrid thought it strange that no one came immediately to greet her. The reports had led her to believe that at least a few members of the station's crew could still man their stations. Had that changed in the past twelve hours or was it merely an oversight on their part?
When she left the docking area of the station, the sound of slow, shuffling steps reached her ears. Walking vaguely in their direction, she soon found herself face to face with a grim, pale man in a Star Fleet uniform, leaning heavily on a makeshift cane, which had in a former life been a slender piece of a bulkhead. He coughed softly as he leaned on the support.
"I am Doctor Zeller. Can I assume that you are in charge here?" she asked him, straightening her own uniform, which she had elected to wear that day, exchanging her civilian clothing for the attire of an Academy doctor.
"Lieutenant Alonso Nogales, doctor, and I suppose if anyone here is still in charge, then I am." he told her.
"Good." she nodded curtly. "I want to see my patients now."
"Of course." agreed Nogales, motioning for her to follow him down the corridor. "Our medical facility is rather small, so all but the worst cases have been restricted to quarters. Everyone, of course, is very ill, but some of us have had to keep the station running, regardless of our condition." he continued to explain as they walked.
"So I've heard." she acknowledged. "How many patients do I have?" she questioned, asking him as tactfully as she knew how.
"Thirty-one, doctor. We lost another crewman this morning." he replied, shaking his head.
"Do you mind quickly going over the common symptoms with me, lieutenant?" she asked as they stepped aboard a lift.
"Fever, coughing, and loss of appetite were the first symptoms that we were aware of. At first our doctor believed that it was just a common cold or perhaps influenza. Then a few days later he was dead. Everyone else become to exhibit symptoms around that time as well, although some cases have been more severe than others."
"Additional symptoms?" she questioned, momentarily wondering if the man had a medical background.
"Weakness in the extremities, general fatigue, and several mild instances of convulsions." he answered.
"Followed no doubt by coma and death." she commented.
"Then you know the disease." said Nogales with some relief.
"It is some manner of exotic fever, doubtlessly alien in origin, but I cannot be more specific." Astrid told him as they stepped from the lift. That had been her original assessment, and it had not changed.
"But you do believe that you can find a cure for us, doctor?" the lieutenant questioned as he led her toward the medical facility.
"Of course." Astrid chuckled confidently as she followed.
Doctor Zeller had read hundreds of text books and studies regarding the conditions in hospitals during the times of great plagues and epidemics on earth and on Vulcan. She almost felt bad calling the outbreak of disease on science station three an epidemic, but it had infected one hundred percent of the population. What else could she be expected to call it? When she followed Lieutenant Nogales into the small infirmary that day, Astrid was nevertheless unprepared for what awaited for her. Six patients, all of whom seemed to coughing painfully and intermittently, had been wedged into a room expected to hold only three. A pair of them looked slightly jaundiced. One was obviously nearly unconscious, possibly approaching a comatose state. These were merely six of her thirty patients, and Astrid felt very much overwhelmed.
Then she took a deep, calming breath and told Nogales, "This will never do, lieutenant. Do you have an area, a cargo bay or perhaps an empty storage area, that can be converted into a field hospital?" She fell back on the antiquated jargon as mental images of the World War I Spanish Influenza epidemic came unbidden to her mind.
"Large enough for thirty people, doctor?" he questioned skeptically.
"Or perhaps two rooms that are close together?"
"The main shuttle bay and the mess hall might do it." he said.
"Then as soon as I attended to these patients, we should begin setting up that hospital. Assuming, of course, that you are well enough to work."
"Four of us still list ourselves as able-bodied and on active duty. I will have them begin clearing out the areas you wish to use."
"And moving patients in." she added for him in a tone that did not invite discussion.
"Of course." nodded Nogales.
"And have someone patch me through to the Enterprise. I will be needing supplies and perhaps additional personnel." she said, though not quite ready to admit defeat.
"Anything else?" questioned the lieutenant as he coughed quietly and leaned on his cane.
"That will be all for now. Report back here as soon as you can. I will have to do something about that cough if we are going to be working together." she told him.
Phlox was worried. That was understandable, given everything that he knew about Astrid Zeller, but it showed all too plainly on his face and that made the young crewmen nervous as they walked with him to the airlock. Zeller had contacted the Enterprise an hour earlier, requesting that her people and supplies be sent over immediately. That did not include Phlox, of course, but he walked with the medical personnel to the docking area nonetheless. The request had come suspiciously soon. It meant that Astrid was scared, frightened even. It was uncharacteristic of her in so many ways, and that caused Phlox considerable concern.
He glanced at Crewman Cutler who was walking at his side, carrying two heavy kits with one in each hand. Her face was grim, as though she intuited the same thing that he did, that something was obviously wrong. Phlox momentarily contemplated holding her back and sending someone older and more experienced. She had no special expertise in medicine. She had merely been chosen, almost at random, from the roster of available personnel. He sighed softly and decided against the idea. Cutler would resent the loss of opportunity.
As the group of medical personnel approached the docking area, Phlox was surprised to find Captain Archer waiting for them there. He looked quizzically at the chief medical officer. He had not expected to see him there.
"Captain." the doctor acknowledged, his voice only hinting at the apprehension he felt. It was enough to tip off Archer, even if he didn't immediately let on.
"Phlox, are they ready to go in there?" he questioned, nodding toward the airlock separating the ship and the station.
"They are as ready as they will ever be, sir." said Phlox with a forced, but nevertheless pleasant smile.
"You have my permission to go over there and assist, if you want to do it, Phlox." said the captain, making his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. "I imagine she will be happy to have all the help she can get before the is done." he added.
"Oh, no, captain. I wouldn't dream of stepping on Doctor Zeller's toes in this matter." said Phlox with what sounded like a nervous chuckle. Turning back to the medical team, he told asked them, "What are you waiting for? Go on." Phlox motioned them toward the airlock.
When the doors had closed behind the five crewmen, Archer asked, "So what's happened over there? Hoshi said that Zeller seemed nervous when she called for assistance."
Phlox leaned against the bulkhead and shrugged stiffly before telling him, "I haven't seen any data yet, but I imagine that Doctor Zeller has been caught off guard. Her intention, I believe, was to treat everyone over there herself. She is what Crewman Cutler calls a perfectionist. I am quite surprised that she has asked for anything at this point."
"I see." nodded Captain Archer, frowning. "Worried?"
"Yes, captain, I think I am, but only time will tell if my concern is warranted." he answered.
"I don't think Doctor Zeller is going to bend over backwards to keep me informed. So would you mind keeping me posted on the situation?" Archer asked.
"Of course, captain, presuming that Astrid is willing to relay any pertinent information to me either." said Phlox.
The expectations of the medical team were that they would be filling hyposprays, taking samples, and possibly performing lab tests either in the 'field' or back aboard the Enterprise, but in reality they found themselves moving beds and setting up cots in the shuttle bay. It was a far cry from what they had anticipated, but they dutifully dropped off their medical kits at the small sickbay where Astrid continued to treat the worst cases of the disease and then proceeded to help put together a field hospital in the two large rooms of the station.
As Crewman Cutler and Ensign Knight worked together to assemble cots in the mess hall, which had been emptied of tables and chairs, Knight questioned, "Why not just move everyone to the Enterprise? The sickbay would be a far better place to treat patients than this."
"Yeah, but if this is an airborne virus or something, then Phlox and Zeller would have almost one hundred and ten people infected instead of just thirty-seven." Cutler pointed out to her as they struggled with the metal frame of the makeshift bed.
"That's including us, right?" asked Knight with a short laugh.
"All in the line of duty." answered Cutler.
"Right." said the ensign, barely containing the urge to roll her eyes. If something had to happen to her in the line of duty, she would much rather it do so onboard the Enterprise, under the command of Captain Archer, and not on an away mission with this demented and xenophobic Doctor Zeller.
"Five more to go." said Cutler with an encouraging smile as they finished assembling the cot.
"And then what? I can't imagine Doctor Zeller actually asking us to help with the real work."
"I heard something about setting up data pads to keep track of vitals and so forth." shrugged Cutler, understanding all too well the frustration that the young ensign felt.
"Well, that's something at least." sighed Knight as she watched two crewmen carry an obviously very heavy bunk into the mess hall. "Bend at the knees, guys." she called to them.
The hours passed uneasily for the doctor who remained onboard the Enterprise. He played a few lackluster games of chess against himself as he waited for word from Astrid or from the members of the medical team that had received communicators as a precaution. Phlox wanted his people to have a connection to the ship that could not be easily compromised by mechanical failure on the station nor by Doctor Zeller's stubbornness. It was easily midnight before the device on his desk beeped, alerting him of an incoming message from the medical team.
"Phlox here." he answered.
"How much Anaprovalin would you recommend for a stiff back, doctor?" inquired Crewman Cutler, sounding uncharacteristically surly.
"Have you been on your feet all day, crewman?" he inquired with some sympathy.
"No, I've been assembling and rearranging the furniture." she informed him.
"Just you?"
"All of us actually."
"You have my sincere condolences, but I suppose someone had to do it." he sighed, finding perhaps a little humor in the crewman's irritation. "How is it over there?" he inquired more seriously.
Cutler was quiet for a moment before answering, "It reminds me of the hospital on Valakia, only it's kind of worse because the medical facilities here ... they just weren't meant to handle more than a few patients at a time."
"And how are the other members of the medical team handling the situation?" he questioned.
"They all wish that we were doing more." she replied.
"I understand, crewman, maybe by tomorrow you will be."
"It is tomorrow, Phlox."
"By morning then." he amended.
"Yeah, maybe." she chuckled tiredly.
"You wouldn't happen to have a progress report or anything of that nature to transmit, would you, crewman?" he asked, hoping to have something to tell the captain should he ask before morning.
"Sorry, Phlox, but none of us have had more than cursory contact with the patients." sighed Cutler.
"I see." he said slowly.
"It's getting late over here, Phlox, and Doctor Zeller ordered us all to get some shut eye." she told him.
"Have a good night then, crewman."
"I would sleep better in my own bed on the Enterprise." she answered with a dry laugh before closing the comm channel.
The non-critical patients had been moved to the shuttle bay and the mess hall by morning, although Doctor Zeller had not realized that night had already passed. The condition of her patients had been partially stabilized with hyposprays of Anaprovalin, but she still could not determine what disease afflicted them, save that it was similar to influenza, although far more virulent. Astrid had checked the medical database of Enterprise again and again without success. She needed more information and more time to gather it, but time was a precious commodity when it came to treating patients with high fevers.
It was with great reluctance that she transmitted the data she had collected to the sickbay on the Enterprise. And with tantamount reluctance, she also summoned her team to the medical bay of the station to give them their assignments and hand out tricorders. It was going to be quite demanding dealing with what she considered non-professionals, but the stakes were too high to avoid doing so.
When they tumbled into sickbay that morning, the five of them looked as though they had been awakened rather abruptly, which is exactly what had happened. Astrid frowned when she saw them, ruing that her selections could not have come from a larger and more qualified pool of candidates. They looked nervous and expectant, the lot of them, and she didn't particularly care for either characteristic in medical personnel. She was looking for confidence, for competence at least, in their gazes.
Little did Doctor Zeller realize that when they looked at her, they saw a tired, cranky, and arrogant doctor with little self-discipline and tact, who did indeed make them very nervous.
Zeller looked incredibly put out as she gave them their orders: "You will all grab your medical kits. Then two of you will proceed to monitor patients in the mess and two of you will do the same in the shuttle bay. One will remain here with me. Your assignment is to collect data that will help me in my diagnosis and treatment of these patients. You will also forward collected data to the Enterprise sickbay. This should not be difficult."
Then she looked at Crewman Cutler, who seemed substantially more awake and aware than the others, and informed her, "You will be the one who assists me personally, crewman."
Cutler suppressed an involuntary shudder and smiled benignly at the doctor, who gave her a case of the good, old-fashioned creeps, and collected her gear from the pile by the doorway as the others rushed to obey her orders. She wished in vain that she were going with them.
"Anywhere, but here." she thought with a soft sigh.
"I seem to recall that Phlox was training you himself, correct?" questioned Zeller, pressing a finely calibrated tricorder into the young crewman's hands. "You can leave your kit where it is." she interjected before Cutler could reply. "Well?" pressed Astrid, frowning at her.
"Yes, he was. He is. He's still training me." stammered Cutler, thrown very much off balance.
"Calm down, crewman. I didn't ask for you because of any aptitude that he may believe you to have. You won't be called upon to perform thoracic surgery. I just want someone competent enough to perform some data entry and statistical analysis for me." Zeller reassured her with considerable condescension.
The remarks made by Doctor Zeller were insulting, of course, but Cutler found some relief in them. She knew that she was significantly less qualified than Zeller. If the doctor had indeed required her to assist with surgical procedures, she would have been substantially out of her element. Nevertheless, the lack of tact exhibited by Zeller was also a little startling, despite the fact that she was rapidly being accustomed to it.
"Of course, doctor." Cutler mumbled.
"Then let's begin. We don't have all day." said Zeller curtly.
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The interior of the science station was shadowy and gray, much like that of the Enterprise, though substantially darker by Doctor Zeller's estimation. A product of joint fleet operations with the Vulcans and intended for use by both races prior to the disaster at P'Jem, the station had both a certain familiarity and a certain inconsistency its design. Perhaps no one but Astrid Zeller would have picked up on the subtle Vulcan elements, which were more aesthetic, or anti-aesthetic, than technological. She found it displeasing.
Astrid thought it strange that no one came immediately to greet her. The reports had led her to believe that at least a few members of the station's crew could still man their stations. Had that changed in the past twelve hours or was it merely an oversight on their part?
When she left the docking area of the station, the sound of slow, shuffling steps reached her ears. Walking vaguely in their direction, she soon found herself face to face with a grim, pale man in a Star Fleet uniform, leaning heavily on a makeshift cane, which had in a former life been a slender piece of a bulkhead. He coughed softly as he leaned on the support.
"I am Doctor Zeller. Can I assume that you are in charge here?" she asked him, straightening her own uniform, which she had elected to wear that day, exchanging her civilian clothing for the attire of an Academy doctor.
"Lieutenant Alonso Nogales, doctor, and I suppose if anyone here is still in charge, then I am." he told her.
"Good." she nodded curtly. "I want to see my patients now."
"Of course." agreed Nogales, motioning for her to follow him down the corridor. "Our medical facility is rather small, so all but the worst cases have been restricted to quarters. Everyone, of course, is very ill, but some of us have had to keep the station running, regardless of our condition." he continued to explain as they walked.
"So I've heard." she acknowledged. "How many patients do I have?" she questioned, asking him as tactfully as she knew how.
"Thirty-one, doctor. We lost another crewman this morning." he replied, shaking his head.
"Do you mind quickly going over the common symptoms with me, lieutenant?" she asked as they stepped aboard a lift.
"Fever, coughing, and loss of appetite were the first symptoms that we were aware of. At first our doctor believed that it was just a common cold or perhaps influenza. Then a few days later he was dead. Everyone else become to exhibit symptoms around that time as well, although some cases have been more severe than others."
"Additional symptoms?" she questioned, momentarily wondering if the man had a medical background.
"Weakness in the extremities, general fatigue, and several mild instances of convulsions." he answered.
"Followed no doubt by coma and death." she commented.
"Then you know the disease." said Nogales with some relief.
"It is some manner of exotic fever, doubtlessly alien in origin, but I cannot be more specific." Astrid told him as they stepped from the lift. That had been her original assessment, and it had not changed.
"But you do believe that you can find a cure for us, doctor?" the lieutenant questioned as he led her toward the medical facility.
"Of course." Astrid chuckled confidently as she followed.
Doctor Zeller had read hundreds of text books and studies regarding the conditions in hospitals during the times of great plagues and epidemics on earth and on Vulcan. She almost felt bad calling the outbreak of disease on science station three an epidemic, but it had infected one hundred percent of the population. What else could she be expected to call it? When she followed Lieutenant Nogales into the small infirmary that day, Astrid was nevertheless unprepared for what awaited for her. Six patients, all of whom seemed to coughing painfully and intermittently, had been wedged into a room expected to hold only three. A pair of them looked slightly jaundiced. One was obviously nearly unconscious, possibly approaching a comatose state. These were merely six of her thirty patients, and Astrid felt very much overwhelmed.
Then she took a deep, calming breath and told Nogales, "This will never do, lieutenant. Do you have an area, a cargo bay or perhaps an empty storage area, that can be converted into a field hospital?" She fell back on the antiquated jargon as mental images of the World War I Spanish Influenza epidemic came unbidden to her mind.
"Large enough for thirty people, doctor?" he questioned skeptically.
"Or perhaps two rooms that are close together?"
"The main shuttle bay and the mess hall might do it." he said.
"Then as soon as I attended to these patients, we should begin setting up that hospital. Assuming, of course, that you are well enough to work."
"Four of us still list ourselves as able-bodied and on active duty. I will have them begin clearing out the areas you wish to use."
"And moving patients in." she added for him in a tone that did not invite discussion.
"Of course." nodded Nogales.
"And have someone patch me through to the Enterprise. I will be needing supplies and perhaps additional personnel." she said, though not quite ready to admit defeat.
"Anything else?" questioned the lieutenant as he coughed quietly and leaned on his cane.
"That will be all for now. Report back here as soon as you can. I will have to do something about that cough if we are going to be working together." she told him.
Phlox was worried. That was understandable, given everything that he knew about Astrid Zeller, but it showed all too plainly on his face and that made the young crewmen nervous as they walked with him to the airlock. Zeller had contacted the Enterprise an hour earlier, requesting that her people and supplies be sent over immediately. That did not include Phlox, of course, but he walked with the medical personnel to the docking area nonetheless. The request had come suspiciously soon. It meant that Astrid was scared, frightened even. It was uncharacteristic of her in so many ways, and that caused Phlox considerable concern.
He glanced at Crewman Cutler who was walking at his side, carrying two heavy kits with one in each hand. Her face was grim, as though she intuited the same thing that he did, that something was obviously wrong. Phlox momentarily contemplated holding her back and sending someone older and more experienced. She had no special expertise in medicine. She had merely been chosen, almost at random, from the roster of available personnel. He sighed softly and decided against the idea. Cutler would resent the loss of opportunity.
As the group of medical personnel approached the docking area, Phlox was surprised to find Captain Archer waiting for them there. He looked quizzically at the chief medical officer. He had not expected to see him there.
"Captain." the doctor acknowledged, his voice only hinting at the apprehension he felt. It was enough to tip off Archer, even if he didn't immediately let on.
"Phlox, are they ready to go in there?" he questioned, nodding toward the airlock separating the ship and the station.
"They are as ready as they will ever be, sir." said Phlox with a forced, but nevertheless pleasant smile.
"You have my permission to go over there and assist, if you want to do it, Phlox." said the captain, making his feelings on the matter abundantly clear. "I imagine she will be happy to have all the help she can get before the is done." he added.
"Oh, no, captain. I wouldn't dream of stepping on Doctor Zeller's toes in this matter." said Phlox with what sounded like a nervous chuckle. Turning back to the medical team, he told asked them, "What are you waiting for? Go on." Phlox motioned them toward the airlock.
When the doors had closed behind the five crewmen, Archer asked, "So what's happened over there? Hoshi said that Zeller seemed nervous when she called for assistance."
Phlox leaned against the bulkhead and shrugged stiffly before telling him, "I haven't seen any data yet, but I imagine that Doctor Zeller has been caught off guard. Her intention, I believe, was to treat everyone over there herself. She is what Crewman Cutler calls a perfectionist. I am quite surprised that she has asked for anything at this point."
"I see." nodded Captain Archer, frowning. "Worried?"
"Yes, captain, I think I am, but only time will tell if my concern is warranted." he answered.
"I don't think Doctor Zeller is going to bend over backwards to keep me informed. So would you mind keeping me posted on the situation?" Archer asked.
"Of course, captain, presuming that Astrid is willing to relay any pertinent information to me either." said Phlox.
The expectations of the medical team were that they would be filling hyposprays, taking samples, and possibly performing lab tests either in the 'field' or back aboard the Enterprise, but in reality they found themselves moving beds and setting up cots in the shuttle bay. It was a far cry from what they had anticipated, but they dutifully dropped off their medical kits at the small sickbay where Astrid continued to treat the worst cases of the disease and then proceeded to help put together a field hospital in the two large rooms of the station.
As Crewman Cutler and Ensign Knight worked together to assemble cots in the mess hall, which had been emptied of tables and chairs, Knight questioned, "Why not just move everyone to the Enterprise? The sickbay would be a far better place to treat patients than this."
"Yeah, but if this is an airborne virus or something, then Phlox and Zeller would have almost one hundred and ten people infected instead of just thirty-seven." Cutler pointed out to her as they struggled with the metal frame of the makeshift bed.
"That's including us, right?" asked Knight with a short laugh.
"All in the line of duty." answered Cutler.
"Right." said the ensign, barely containing the urge to roll her eyes. If something had to happen to her in the line of duty, she would much rather it do so onboard the Enterprise, under the command of Captain Archer, and not on an away mission with this demented and xenophobic Doctor Zeller.
"Five more to go." said Cutler with an encouraging smile as they finished assembling the cot.
"And then what? I can't imagine Doctor Zeller actually asking us to help with the real work."
"I heard something about setting up data pads to keep track of vitals and so forth." shrugged Cutler, understanding all too well the frustration that the young ensign felt.
"Well, that's something at least." sighed Knight as she watched two crewmen carry an obviously very heavy bunk into the mess hall. "Bend at the knees, guys." she called to them.
The hours passed uneasily for the doctor who remained onboard the Enterprise. He played a few lackluster games of chess against himself as he waited for word from Astrid or from the members of the medical team that had received communicators as a precaution. Phlox wanted his people to have a connection to the ship that could not be easily compromised by mechanical failure on the station nor by Doctor Zeller's stubbornness. It was easily midnight before the device on his desk beeped, alerting him of an incoming message from the medical team.
"Phlox here." he answered.
"How much Anaprovalin would you recommend for a stiff back, doctor?" inquired Crewman Cutler, sounding uncharacteristically surly.
"Have you been on your feet all day, crewman?" he inquired with some sympathy.
"No, I've been assembling and rearranging the furniture." she informed him.
"Just you?"
"All of us actually."
"You have my sincere condolences, but I suppose someone had to do it." he sighed, finding perhaps a little humor in the crewman's irritation. "How is it over there?" he inquired more seriously.
Cutler was quiet for a moment before answering, "It reminds me of the hospital on Valakia, only it's kind of worse because the medical facilities here ... they just weren't meant to handle more than a few patients at a time."
"And how are the other members of the medical team handling the situation?" he questioned.
"They all wish that we were doing more." she replied.
"I understand, crewman, maybe by tomorrow you will be."
"It is tomorrow, Phlox."
"By morning then." he amended.
"Yeah, maybe." she chuckled tiredly.
"You wouldn't happen to have a progress report or anything of that nature to transmit, would you, crewman?" he asked, hoping to have something to tell the captain should he ask before morning.
"Sorry, Phlox, but none of us have had more than cursory contact with the patients." sighed Cutler.
"I see." he said slowly.
"It's getting late over here, Phlox, and Doctor Zeller ordered us all to get some shut eye." she told him.
"Have a good night then, crewman."
"I would sleep better in my own bed on the Enterprise." she answered with a dry laugh before closing the comm channel.
The non-critical patients had been moved to the shuttle bay and the mess hall by morning, although Doctor Zeller had not realized that night had already passed. The condition of her patients had been partially stabilized with hyposprays of Anaprovalin, but she still could not determine what disease afflicted them, save that it was similar to influenza, although far more virulent. Astrid had checked the medical database of Enterprise again and again without success. She needed more information and more time to gather it, but time was a precious commodity when it came to treating patients with high fevers.
It was with great reluctance that she transmitted the data she had collected to the sickbay on the Enterprise. And with tantamount reluctance, she also summoned her team to the medical bay of the station to give them their assignments and hand out tricorders. It was going to be quite demanding dealing with what she considered non-professionals, but the stakes were too high to avoid doing so.
When they tumbled into sickbay that morning, the five of them looked as though they had been awakened rather abruptly, which is exactly what had happened. Astrid frowned when she saw them, ruing that her selections could not have come from a larger and more qualified pool of candidates. They looked nervous and expectant, the lot of them, and she didn't particularly care for either characteristic in medical personnel. She was looking for confidence, for competence at least, in their gazes.
Little did Doctor Zeller realize that when they looked at her, they saw a tired, cranky, and arrogant doctor with little self-discipline and tact, who did indeed make them very nervous.
Zeller looked incredibly put out as she gave them their orders: "You will all grab your medical kits. Then two of you will proceed to monitor patients in the mess and two of you will do the same in the shuttle bay. One will remain here with me. Your assignment is to collect data that will help me in my diagnosis and treatment of these patients. You will also forward collected data to the Enterprise sickbay. This should not be difficult."
Then she looked at Crewman Cutler, who seemed substantially more awake and aware than the others, and informed her, "You will be the one who assists me personally, crewman."
Cutler suppressed an involuntary shudder and smiled benignly at the doctor, who gave her a case of the good, old-fashioned creeps, and collected her gear from the pile by the doorway as the others rushed to obey her orders. She wished in vain that she were going with them.
"Anywhere, but here." she thought with a soft sigh.
"I seem to recall that Phlox was training you himself, correct?" questioned Zeller, pressing a finely calibrated tricorder into the young crewman's hands. "You can leave your kit where it is." she interjected before Cutler could reply. "Well?" pressed Astrid, frowning at her.
"Yes, he was. He is. He's still training me." stammered Cutler, thrown very much off balance.
"Calm down, crewman. I didn't ask for you because of any aptitude that he may believe you to have. You won't be called upon to perform thoracic surgery. I just want someone competent enough to perform some data entry and statistical analysis for me." Zeller reassured her with considerable condescension.
The remarks made by Doctor Zeller were insulting, of course, but Cutler found some relief in them. She knew that she was significantly less qualified than Zeller. If the doctor had indeed required her to assist with surgical procedures, she would have been substantially out of her element. Nevertheless, the lack of tact exhibited by Zeller was also a little startling, despite the fact that she was rapidly being accustomed to it.
"Of course, doctor." Cutler mumbled.
"Then let's begin. We don't have all day." said Zeller curtly.
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