USS HORIZON: Into the West

[[[SD:21.0526.1548]]]
[[[Scene: Sickbay, USS HORIZON]]]
[[[Location: Somewhere on the Telmerc Neutral Zone]]]

Work is good.

Work keeps the mind occupied. Unable to wander. Unable to regret. Unable to
wonder why you lived while others did not. Why you made it out. Why you
survived.

Work is definitely good.

Kelsi stretched her arms over her head and stifled a yawn. Every general bed in
sickbay was filled, occupied by the old and the young. Most were injured. Only
a few were sick. Broken bones, respiratory inflammation, and muscle trauma.
Many were malnourished; thin skin stretched taught over ragged bones spoke of a
consistent lack of food. Reintroduction had not been gentle for several of the
refugees. Starved bodies moved much slower at healing than a healthy one, so
open wounds and oozing sores were weeks old.

There were several surgical beds still available, as well as her ICU units. She
would fill the floor before she would occupy her emergency space when it
wasn’t required. Being on the HORIZON, the ship’s flagship did come with
several perks, and that was dropdown cots and bunks on every available spare
wall of the medical ward. It came in mighty handy when dealing with extremely
large number of patients: a planet/settlement evacuation, a destroyed ship, a
plague, or even the refugees from some infernal civil war in which the
Federation was forced to sit back and watch, only being able to help those to
managed to cross the agreed neutral zone on their own.

Many tried. Many more tried and failed, never reaching the saviors on the far
side. Though her medbay was filled to the brim, this was but a fraction of
those that needed help. These were the survivors. They persevered while their
neighbors faltered. They still stood, while those who attempted the same escape
to safety a moment earlier or later were cut down.

They were kindred spirits. The hollow broken bodies who only distantly felt the
guilt that would onslaught them sometime in the future. The empty eyes watching
those around them for the person or persons who would appear to kill them. Ever
on watch, ever unable to sleep.

Kelsi saw herself in all of these people. She saw herself in their fear and
their pain. She couldn’t point to a way out, as she hadn’t yet found that
particular route in live. She plodded down the road she was currently on,
always hoping that this was the one to ease the pain, ease the burden. It was
her promise to Darr’chuh to not give in and give up, but it was so difficult
some days, when she saw too much of herself staring back at her from the faces
of the Telmerc refugees.

She doubted that she could push herself much farther, and always at that point
of breaking down, of shutting down, of backing away, the Mystic would stop by
for a word or two. It never had anything to do with the small Orion doc, and
everything to do with the refugees, but the timing correlated to her weakest
moments. And was use was a weak and broken doctor. Kelsi wondered if Commander
Nova’song was consciously aware of her tiny suffering within the sea of
suffering she stood among. It was more likely that the CO paused on her rounds
to stop by the medical ward to ease those gathered there with her presence
alone, than the idea she consciously knew when Kelsi was at her lowest. But one
never knew. Especially with the Mystic.

The flood of relief that always preceded the COs presence washed through Kelsi
as she administered a hypo to a middle-aged man sporting an old fracture that
had healed incorrectly. She needed to dull his pain receptors to rebreak the
bone, so that it could heal properly, set in a cast to guide the process.

The doors slid open behind the small doc revealing Cmdr Nova’song, sunlight,
warmth, and a hint of joy. The man’s face slackened slightly and Kelsi took
her instrument and quickly rebroke his arm, just a hair away from the initial
fracture. He didn’t even wince, and no sound broke through his throat.
Positioning the arm bones in their proper location, a nurse began to roll out
the material cast the bone for repair. The bone would need gently guiding in its
healing, so that the man would regain use of his arm properly. Just fixing the
suture quickly wouldn’t prompt the muscles to realign and heal, so an old
fashion cast would be used between slower and more gentle repairs of the bone.

Kelsi nodded towards the nurse who indicated back to that she could take it from
here. A shadow of a smile warmed the Orion doc’s face, but it was gone before
it ever truly surfaced. Kel moved towards the Mystic and for a moment their
eyes met and warmth filled Kelsi to the brim, like swimming in liquid light.

“Commander” Kelsi began. “How can I be of service to you today?”

<tag Geoff>


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With Wings of Light

LtCmdr Kelsi Biaret
CMO, USS HORIZON
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EJ