Of all the brain joints in all the world

Posted on 22 Jul 2017 @ 3:26pm by Ensign Miraj Derani & Chief Warrant Officer 3 Greg Mitchell
Edited on on 21 Aug 2017 @ 12:39pm

1,952 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - Starfleet Medical
Timeline: MD 05, 1130

[ON]

"...I appreciate the help, I really do. But I have a good hospital already. Carle, back home. Which I really want to get back to visiting since I'm back on Earth for some time."

"Which is all well and good Mr. Mitchell, but command wants to make sure you are doing 100 percent ok." The orderly pushing the gurney responded. "They put a lot of hours into training you, they want to make sure you aren't going to break."

"I can understand that. But why for any reason couldn't I just walk to the examination rooms. My brain is affected, not my legs."

"I recall you getting shot being listed on your chart."

"That was four months ago!" Greg responded.

"Hospital policy." The nurse finally responded.

His gruney was pushed into the imaging suite, an airy, sunny room with two bays off the central area, and the orderly put the stand down before turning the anti-grave off with a barely detectable drop. He had been parked next to another gurney, already parked, whilst is occupant waited for the same treatment he was

in the bays on either side of then, technicians were making last minute adjustments to the scanners that would take a detailed image of his brain down to a sub-cellular level to inspect the damage that the Klingon torture, and subsequent lack of treatment on Kreanus, had left behind.

"Don't be intimidated," The occupant of the other trolley said. "Its really very boring." Miraj sat forward and nodded at the scanner to Greg's left. The action set her bunches swinging, and she gave him a sunny smile. "I've had lots. They just ask questions until they've made all the little bits light up."

Greg turned to the other occupant, who he just now noticed as he got wheeled in. He recognized her, mostly form her pink hair. This was the officer who had been in the cell adjacent to him on the Klingon vessel, before he completely blacked out.

"Ensign Derani, it's good to see you again ma'am." He looked back at the nurse who was walking away, "It's not so much intimidation, then it is I want to go home until my next deployment. It's been forever since I've visited there. And also being treated like I'm about to fall apart. But trust me, if my brain has any problems with it, I want to know about it."

Miraj stared at the man. She hadn't got a clue who he was. And yet he knew who she was. Was it written anywhere she couldn't see? She didn't think so. She went through her list of identifying features, but he was just too normal. Normal human, brown hair. It covered a lot of people, including her own family. "I'm sorry, have we met?"

Greg laughed, "As the head NCO of security, it's my job to memorize all commissioned officers on the ship, especially in the chain of command, ma'am. In case something goes wrong. I'm Greg Mitchell, Chief Warrant Officer Third Class on the Galileo...or what used to be the Galileo. They'll probably transfer me now to some boarder patrol ship like the old days."

Miraj stared at him a bit more. "Greg?" She was sure she had met him, but his face came up like everyone else's, a big fat nothing. "I'm really sorry. I don't recognise anyone at the moment. You were one of the security people yes? You got beaten up by the Klingons?" She knew she shouldn't be talking about it, but it was also her only real frame of reference for him.

Greg thought back to what he could remember of the interrogation. It was hazy. All he could really remember was a lot of pain. In order to compensate, he had forced his brain to focus on the sarcasm he had given to the Klingons. Which still made him chuckle a little, just for the face he pissed them off more than anything.

"Yes ma'am. We've never really interacted that much. I just got on the ship not long before we were attacked. Maybe half a year. Don't worry about it, though. I tend to blend in until I'm needed." He laughed, "Easier to observe, and easier to stay out of the spotlight."

Miraj felt somewhat uncomfortable, not just because he called her ma'am, but because in all that had happened in the last few months, she barely remembered him. "You don't have to call me ma'am. I'm relieved of duty."

Greg looked over with surprise. He wanted to ask why, but knew it wasn't appropriate. "I'm sorry ma...Ms. Derani. I had no idea. How are you doing otherwise?"

"Kind of in limbo, like everyone else," Miraj admitted. "Except I'm not even on desk duty, just hanging around waiting for my surgery, and literally watching cells grow - they're trying to map my brains' neurogenesis," she said the world slowly and carefully, to make sure she got it right, "So they can work out what my prognosis might be. Brain scans everyday."

"I get that. I was cleared for duty by my Counselor after a thorough exam. My team couldn't exactly explain what happened, and I can't remember any of it." He rubbed his head, "So one ordered transfer later, and Starfleet evidently wants a look at me. I'm just worried about what my next posting will be. Which reminds me, I need to debrief with my CO the next chance I get."

Miraj looked confused, "Surely someone told you?"

"I'm sorry?" Greg asked.

"About the hearings? And not talking to people?" Was it possible Greg wasn't aware of all the restrictions in place? Would that explain him being so happy to talk to her?

"Ah...ok, that would explain a lot." Greg responded. "So...I may or may not have been in a coma the entire trip, so I've not been told to hold commentary yet. Also, they sent me to a civilian hospital because they didn't have room here in the ICU at the time. Something about a training exercise accident." He looked back over at the Ensign. "I hope I didn't get you in trouble ma'am."

Oh hells bells, he didn't know. "We're not supposed to have any contact with any other crew from Galileo. Not until we've all been debriefed or whatever," she explained. She looked around conspiratorially. "Though I guess we're only in trouble if we get caught."

"So, asking the five other nurses on my way in here about the status of you guys was probably a bad idea?" Greg asked.

"They're probably safe enough." Miraj eyed the technician now heading her way, "Its just me, if they figure it out we were seen together. I wont tell if you won't.

"Agreed." Greg answered. He laid his head back. "One thing that we can talk about, that really upsets me about this whole ordeal. I lost my music playlist when the ship blew up. Had all my songs saved on it, that I would love to be listening to right now."

Miraj sighed. That reminded her of all her precious memorabilia. "At least you can replace that. I've lost all of my collectables. Including my antique sextant. It was supposed to be owned by Calico Jack himself." She sighed again. It was theoretically possible it had survived. It was stored in its big heavy case. But that case was still less than a meter square, in a space more than a light year and a half wide.

"Ooh..." Greg responded, then whispered "So...that was a charge self destruct, not a anti matter self destruct. Potentially, parts of the ship could have survived. Do you know if maybe crew quarters section could have made it in one piece?" Greg knew it was a massive stretch, especially since the saucer section was the biggest thing to explode, but he wanted to at least try to cheer her up.

"I'm sure some of it survived." Miraj had seen her fair share of charge detonated ships. It was never as thorough a job as it needed to be, often the second choice to creating a failure in anti-matter containment. "But going after it could take months, and with everything else going on in there, I'm not sure if its safe to ask Dad to go in after it."

"Dad?" Greg asked, "Does your father work in salvage?" At the same time, Greg felt that he had also lost something of more value on the ship, but his mind was still hazy.

"Yes. Goes out to flotsam and jetsam, moves them, strips them, retrieves bodies, whatever needs doing. Sometimes we've done a rescue, but its mostly recovery. Hard to do jobs a speciality. Going into a nebula is childs play. But not if there's a small fleet of people who don't want you to be there shooting at you."

"I can understand that. I wouldn't want to go anywhere without any kind of weapon to protect me from..." Suddenly, Greg's hazy memory returned for a split second. "Oh, damn!" He said, laying his head back.

"What?" Miraj asked, curious to know what would break his stream of thought.

"My Bible. I left it on the ship when it blew. I never got a chance to get it." He couldn't believe how scrambled his memory was, "My parents gave it to me as a gift on my 15th birthday. It was an actual physical copy with my name stitched on the cover. I guess I did lose something that couldn't be replaced after all.

"That's a hideous thing to loose." Miraj agreed, "I mean, its terrible, because its really special, not that your book is hideous."

Greg laughed, "No, I got ya. It's just one of those things, I guess." He turned to her. "How long do you think they'll keep us here?"

Miraj glanced over. She could tell her machine was nearly ready. "Not long now. The calibration takes time, the scans themselves are super quick. Few questions, its all over." The radiographer finished the last adjustment and came over. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Science can work miracles these days."

"Well, for what it's worth, I don't know what religion you have if any. But I'll be praying for you. If you managed to survive what I've been told everyone has survived, I'm sure you'll be fine." Greg smiled.

In reality, he was unsure. While he attempted to write off the experience and bounce back to his normal self on the outside, on the inside he was...different. His mind was filled with holes, his attitude changed every once in a while, and he was more skittish than usual.

Something was very wrong with him. And he didn't know what.

Miraj's happy demeanour faltered. If they couldn't fix her, she wouldn't want to survive. Life without flying wasn't life at all. "Thanks." The radiographer on Greg's side finished up as well and started to come over. "I guess you;ll know soon. Good luck."

"And you too, ma'am." Greg said, adding the "Ma'am" as a formality instead of a rank acknowledgement.

Before they ended their chat, Greg added one more thing."And ma'am? Don't worry about what happens next. If you survived that hell, you'll survive this. I have been to countless calls when I was an officer of injuries people didn't think they would recover from, and they did. You'll be fine."

She looked away as the radiographer guided the bed into place in the scanner. His definition of fine and hers were probably not the same.

[OFF]

--

Ensign Miraj Derani

CWO3 Greg Mitchell
Security Officer
Former USS Galileo

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