Not Rocket Science

Posted on 10 Nov 2014 @ 3:13pm by Lieutenant Olsam Mott & Lieutenant Tuula Voutilainen M.D.

1,634 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: USS Galileo Deck 3, Sickbay
Timeline: MD-24, 0800 hours

[ON]

Bright and early, right after his shift, Tyrion walked into sickbay. He looked pale and nervous, dark circles under his eyes from lack of proper sleep. Best get this over with now, he mused while covering his mouth with his hand to hide a yawn. "Ensign Faye reporting," he called, "as per agreement ma'am, sir?"

"Good morning, Ensign!" Olsam said cheerily, rounding the corner from the office and stepping into the main area of Sickbay to greet the young Betazoid. He drew up a little short upon seeing him, but tried to keep the look of shock off his face. "We could have given you a sleep aid... For future reference, I mean. Uh, I believe Dr. Voutiilainen is almost finish preparing the surgical ward for the procedure. Do you have any last minute questions or concerns?"

"I'm nervous about this," the Betazoid confessed, echoing his appearance, "I'm scared about it too. Anxious about what I might remember, I mean, because I want to. I don't like having this timeframe I can't recall, I don't like my lover's murder to be meaningless. I want to know who killed him and I'm afraid I saw who did it. I also want to know why his killer didn't kill me too."

Olsam nodded, appearing sympathetic. He'd once slipped on some spilled plomeek soup at an interplanetary buffet on Rinor VII, hit his head on a serving platter and couldn't remember the next two days. Worse, he couldn't remember the meal, and there were few things worse than forgetting a meal. It was almost like being present during your lover's murder and having no recollection of the events surrounding the death. Almost.

"Of course," Olsam said, nodding as he took Tyrion gently by the arm to guide him over to the small surgical ward. "That's all perfectly reasonable. You're in very good hands, of course, and hopefully we'll be able to get to the bottom of this. Dr. Voutilainen, all ready?"

"Just about," replied Tuula as she finished arranging all the instruments she could possibly need on trays beside her. "If you'll lie down here," she said, motioning towards the bed in front of her, "it will all be over in no time." She smiled at Tyrion, not realizing the possible double meaning of her words.

Nervously, Tyrion returned her smile and laid down where indicated. "I won't feel anything will I?" he asked. "Of the surgery, I mean. "

"Of course not," replied Tuula. "You'll be out like a light while we're operating. And even if you were somehow awake, the brain itself doesn't have any pain receptors, so you wouldn't feel anything. Well, except for me drilling through your skull with the microdrill, you would feel that." Tuula cringed, realizing she gave her patient possibly more information than she wanted to know. "But don't worry, we're trained professionals. The odds of you experiencing anasthesia awareness are about 700,000 to one, right Dr. Mott?"

Olsam tried not to grimace too much and made a mental note to talk to Tuula a little bit about bedside manner. In his experience, the less the patient knew about the procedure the better. 'Doctor, will I be all right?' 'Yes, of course.' The End. Odds on anesthesia awareness and opening up someone's cranium to dig around in their brain didn't put one at ease, unless they were asking those sorts of questions.

"Uh, right," Olsam added, smiling confidently. He gestured to the biobed next and rushed into the sentence, hoping to gloss over anesthesia awareness. "Tyrion, just hop up here for us, and we'll get you all set up. As soon as you're settle we'll administer the anesthesia and before you know it we'll be waking you up in recovery. It's a pain-free procedure, there's nothing to worry about."

Tyrion nodded and settled on the bed. Black eyes filled with anxiety
stared up at both doctors. "Just...let's get this over with," he whispered anxiously.

"All right," replied Tuula. "Dr. Mott, the anasthetic?"

Olsam nodded and administered the pre-loaded hypospray of anetrizine to Tyrion's carotid artery. Thanks to the injection site and the marvels of modern medicine, the young Betazoid painlessly fell into an anesthetized sleep.

With the patient out like a light, Tuula was ready to get started. The procedure was rather complex, and she knew she must have impressed Dr. Mott for him to allow her to take the reins on this. After the events of the past few days, she couldn't afford to let him down, not for his sake, her sake, or Tyrion's sake.

After aligning Tyrion's head just right, she activated a force restraint to keep it perfectly still. This surgery would be less hands-on and messy, but no less delicate than her emergency surgery on Siren. Here, tiny machines, no more than a micron in size, would do most of the work, as she guided them with a joystick and a microscopic imager.

"All right, here goes nothing," muttered Tuula as she began drilling into Tyrion's skull.

Olsam kept one eye on the surgical support frame and its many bio-readings and the other on the progress of the procedure as Tuula used the modified exoscalpel to make two incisions through Tyrion's cranium. Once completed, the physicians would use modified neuralyte probes to inject specially programmed nanites into portions of the brain that had experienced the induced retrograde amnesia. The detailed neuroimaging Olsam and Tuula had completed earlier in the week provided the base with which they identified the disconnected synapses associated with Tyrion's memory but the real breakthrough had come in integrating nanotechnology into the treatment process; designing a procedure that should have taken weeks had only taken a little less than one.

"Okay, the neuralyte probes are in place and prepped to release the nanites. Keep a close watch on the ones in the neocortex, especially. That's where the synaptic connections were most muddled," Olsam said, glancing over the clamshell-like surgical support frame at Tuula.

"Gotcha," replied Tuula, staring intently at the multitude of readings on her screen. Everything was going smoothly, but the tricky parts were to come. Well, as tricky as brain surgery gets; thought it was a challenging operation, for Tuula it wasn't exactly rocket science. "Releasing nanites now."

As the nanites flooded into Tyrion's brain, they utilized the cerebrovascular network to effortlessly glide through capillaries to pre-identified synapses that needed to be induced into reconnecting to recover the lost memory engrams. Working together in small teams, the nanites performed a task not unlike the more crude tri-laser connector that had been used in decades past to repair individual nerve connections. The entire procedure, while cutting edge, was hardly experimental and had been based on sound theoretical and clinical evidence from several studies and procedures done at Starfleet Medical on patients suffering from retrograde amnesia brought on by natural causes. It stood to reason that Tyrion's "accidental" retrograde amnesia should be no different.

***********************

After an unknown length of time, Tyrion stirred as he drifted back to consciousness. He had expected to be waking up with a pounding headache but he was surprisingly pain free. Probably drugged then, he mused as he opened his eyes.

The Betazoid shifted uncomfortably as he didn't feel much different than before the surgery. Until, after a few minutes his memory engrams started to reassert themselves, following the repaired pathways. He was aware of the doctors watching him, studying his reactions, but he was lost for the moment.

Blood drained from his face as memories resurfaced, his black eyes going wide in shock. "No," he groaned, shaking his head, "no, no, no! No this can't be." Tears welled up in his eyes and found their way down his cheeks as they spilled. "Call security," he whispered, his voice dropping to an almost inaudible level, "you must call security... I killed him. I killed Tyrek.. but why? I loved him, it makes no sense. Oh Tyrek, please forgive me..."

Tuula slowly backed away from Tyrion. She had no idea what to do. "Dr. Mott..." she said in an unsure voice, looking up at her Bolian mentor.

"There, there," Olsam said, placing a comforting arm around the grieving Betazoid. While the young man's head was lowered in a sob, the Bolian mouthed 'call Security' to Tuula then jerked his head toward Allyndra's office to indicate the computer console located therein. Assured that Tuula would summon the authorities, he turned his attention back to the patient, gripping Tyrion's shoulder to squeeze him closer in a comforting embrace. "I'm sure we'll have this all sorted out shortly; it's entirely possible something went wrong with the procedure."

The Bolian gave a comforting smile, inwardly admitting that it was possible something had gone wrong with the procedure. Perhaps there was some unforeseen differentiation between naturally- and artificially-induced retrograde amnesia, or the nanites may very well have made some mistakes in inducing the synapses to reconnect and reform the memory engrams. But, that was all unlikely. More likely was that the young man had killed his lover and someone had found it more convenient that he forget the act altogether. Such was the price one paid when digging too deeply into things that may very well be best forgotten, Olsam reasoned.

Tyrion leaned against the Bolian doctor, shaking his head. "No," he whispered, "nothing went wrong.."

Meanwhile, in the privacy of the office, Tuula was on call with security. "...yes, I need a team down here... a patient just admitted to murder... yes, I know what I said... please hurry."

[OFF]

Lieutenant (J.G.) Tuula Voutilainen, M.D.
Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Ensign Tyrion Faye
Intelligence Officer
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

Lieutenant Olsam Mott, M.D.
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

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