Chapter Eight: Violent Reaction
Trystmar sat up suddenly, panting hard, his eyes roving wildly around the darkened infirmary. It was happening again; he could feel the disease beginning in his body. And those doctors were torturing him; keeping him alive as long as possible. Worse; when they finally admitted there was no hope and removed the symbiont, letting him die mercifully quickly of disjoining, it would only be to pass it on into another host. He couldn't let that happen; had sworn not to allow the cycle of suffering and death to continue. He had to get out of here; had to find a weapon to kill Shan.
It was not suicide, he felt now. No; Shan had become the enemy to his fevered mind; he must be killed before he could do any more damage. And if Trystmar must forfeit his own life to kill him, it was a worthwhile sacrifice.
He barely heard the alarm that shrilled out as he swung his legs over the side of the biobed and pulled out the iv line; barely heard or saw the nurse run into the room. ''Mr Shan!" she exclaimed, hurrying toward him.
''I…am…not…Shan!" he growled, baring his teeth.
''Mr…Trystmar…get back in the bed; let me call the doctor for you," she coaxed soothingly, approaching him slowly with hand outstretched.
''No more doctors!" he cried wildly, pushing past her.
She gave a short cry as she fell, striking her head solidly on a piece of equipment.
Trystmar continued on without looking back, but suddenly found his wrists caught in a pair of hands like steel bands as Dr Bashir materialized unnoticed from the shadows. Thrashing wildly and howling in rage, he attempted to break free, but the doctor's grip was firm.
Transferring both Trystmar's wrists to one hand for a moment, Bashir grabbed a hypospray from a nearby kit and injected the contents.
The sedative worked almost instantly, and Bashir was ready to catch Trystmar as he slumped over, unconscious. He carried him back to the biobed and lay him down, then glanced at Enorra's crumpled form long enough to assure himself that she was breathing and that her neck was not at an unnatural angle.
His combadge beeped as he turned his attention back to Trystmar. ''Odo to Bashir; is everything all right in there?"
''Yes; I had a delirious patient who became violent, but he's sedated now; it's not a matter for security."
''Understood. Odo out."
Bashir checked Trystmar's vitals, then ran a regenerator over his arm where he had torn it ripping the iv out. He reinserted the needle, then added a slow, steady dose of sedative to the cocktail of drugs Trystmar was receiving in the drip. He watched the monitors for a moment to assure himself Trystmar was stable, then knelt at Enorra's side, resting a hand on her cheek. ''Enorra?" he called softly.
She moaned, her eyes fluttering halfway open.
''Sh; don't try to move," Bashir cautioned, running his tricorder over her.
''Tried…to stop him," Enorra murmured thickly.
''I know. He's sedated now; I don't want you worry about him. Let's concentrate on you for a moment, shall we?" He slipped his hand under her head, probing gently until his fingers found the tender lump.
"Is there any nausea or blurred vision?" he questioned.
"No."
"Good. Now I want you to sit up…slowly…" He helped her with an arm around her shoulders, then held her leaning against him as he scanned her head with the tricorder. "Looks like just a mild concussion," he reported. "I can fix that up in no time. Are you dizzy at all?"
"No…just a bad headache."
"Little wonder," Bashir said wryly. "Let's get you to a biobed and get it taken care of." He helped her slowly to her feet as he rose; he could have carried her, but he wanted to observe how steady she was on her feet. He withdrew his support slowly, leaving only a hand barely on her arm to guide her and be ready to catch her instantly if she wavered.
"Lie down," he urged softly when they reached the biobed, and she gave a sigh of relief as her head touched the cushion.
"I'm not giving you pain medicine just yet; we'll see if you still need it after I resolve the concussion. Patient area, lights up."
Enorra groaned softly, closing her eyes as the lights above her biobed brightened to daytime intensity, leaving Trystmar still in night-cycle dimness.
Bashir mentally noted her light sensitivity, even as he reached for the device that would seal off any bleeding and reduce the swelling. When he had finished, he once more ran the tricorder over the area. A small pool of blood was trapped beneath her skull, but nothing he thought would be a danger until her body could absorb it naturally.
"Turn this way…let me see your eyes…good. How's the headache?"
"Better…I could still use something for it."
"Of course," he responded, reaching for the hypospray. "And then I want to keep you here for observation at least for a couple hours." He wouldn't release her until the trapped blood had dissipated, he had observed that some patients' brains were more sensitive to even slight trauma than others, causing symptoms even when a regenerator had been used to resolve the actual concussion.
He keyed something into the computer, setting the biobed to monitor her brain wave activity as well as her heart rate and breathing, and then went to check Trystmar and call for a backup night nurse.
Next chapter coming next week!
I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!
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