Getting creative

Posted on Sat Jun 25th, 2016 @ 6:55pm by Captain Rueben Gregnol
Edited on on Sat Jun 25th, 2016 @ 6:58pm

Mission: Mission 1 - Bridges
Location: Deck 7- Sickbay
Timeline: MD 02 - 13:34
1688 words - 3.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Harkins had described the Sickbay Complex as five empty rooms with three stretchers. Unfortunately that was less than accurate as Doctor Jefferson Mosley was finding out. There was debris everywhere, stripped wiring where the biobeds and other diagnostic tools had been removed, shattered glass here and there, empty boxes that by their labels might have once held something useful and help him there was a thick layer of mold growing in the morgue and stasis units.

"By the Holy Rings of Betazed, I had better working conditions in the Maquis," Mosley mumbled to himself.

While he didn't have designated rooms, the half-Betazoid often had supplies and medical tools of sorts, even if it was just portable medkits, usually stolen or otherwise obtained under the table. The doctor was afraid he'd have to resort to similar circumstances here if he wanted to do anything more than set a splint. Or at least get creative.

Still, the first order of business would be a through list of what the Sickbay needed to be operational again. Producing a Farian datapad from his duffel bag which he'd stored in the empty room labelled his office, he began drawing up a list of what he didn't have. At least a desk for him shouldn't be too difficult to conjure up. Or cleaning materials, hopefully. Sometime later, he heard the doors to the main complex open (that they were functional was a surprise in of itself) and footsteps approach. Mosley didn't look up as he continued typing into his datapad.

"Whatever it is you need, it best not be anything major," Mosley announced in an irate tone, "As I don't exactly have much to work with here."

“Me and you both.” A gruffly voice answered revealing Rueben Gregol stood there still looking at like hell. “You a decent Doc?” He asked his Russian accent showing through. He needed someone to look at his damaged shoulder. He hadn’t had time on his transport to Deep Space Seven.

Offering a sigh as he finally looked up from his datapad, Mosley gave Gregol a once over flick of his eyes. The dark orbs briefly flashed with indignation at being called Doc. What he saw was another would be hotshot human who didn't take care of himself. Why he always seemed to be cursed with such individuals was beyond him, except perhaps the whole of the universe was cursed with them.

"I'm a fine doctor," Mosley remarked putting emphasis on the last word, "And if you don't care for that you're of course free to visit our sister facility down the hall. Perhaps they'll have staff to your liking. Now if you'll state the nature of the medical emergency?" Whatever else you wanted to say about Starfleet, they knew what they were doing by having the EMH's ask that upon activation. Even injured people seldom seemed to get to the point.

Rueben stopped and noticed the dark eyes. Betazoid... And I am being a jerk, he realised as he held up his hand in a peaceful nature. He wasn't sure if Barton had told the crew he had acquired who he was.

"Apologises for my gruff nature. I'm very tired. Let me start again. I'm Rueben..." he started in Betazoid. "And you are Doctor?"

Mosley cordially inclined his head at Gregnol's comment. "Jefferson Mosley," he introduced himself, "Think nothing of it. Apparently my own flippant tongue has gotten me in trouble a time or two myself, perhaps you've already noticed."

He gave the human a more thorough look before narrowing his eyes. "Well it can't be too bad as there don't seem to be any bones sticking out," Mosley remarked, "Now Rueben, what is it I can do for you?"

"I need it checked... your understand why when i take my shirt off." Slowly he undid the tunic showing burn scars all over his right shoulder. "It's a long story but basic is a console blew up and then my shoulder was shattered and repaired badly. Can you do anything?" He said carrying on it Betazoid. It was nice to talk it again.

"Who operated on you, a drunken Klingon with a rusty d'k tahg?" Mosley said with some amount of disgust, though answering in Betazoid as well, even if he was more comfortable with Federation Standard. He shook his head disdainfully, before producing a medkit of blocky Farian design from his belongings. He wasn't prepared to admit to it's existence but try as he might he still had a soft spot. Mosley took a quick tricorder scan of Gregnol and examined the results with another sigh.

"Pretty much," Rueben answered thinking of the Orion Surgeon who had fixed him up.

"This is well beyond what I have the tools for in my belongings, a portable bone reginerator wouldn't be able to scratch this. If this Sickbay had even period medical equipment in it..." Mosley mused regretfully as he prepared a hypospray, "For the moment all I can do is give you a hypospray for the pain and encourage you to stay off it until I come up with some other options." As he applied the hypospray to Gregnol's neck, Mosley hoped he'd be able to do that before he ran out of injections. If he didn't come up with some medical equipment, he'd be forced to barbarically cut open the human's shoulder like they did in the 20th and 21st centuries.

"I had a feeling you were going to say that." He should have drunk less on the transport to Vulcan and got it fixed more.

Rueben rolled his shoulder as the hypospray worked on his system. Not many doctors outside of Starfleet had half the equipment he had. He obviously was ex starfleet.

"You ex starfleet aren't you like me... I might be able to get us supplies... I know people." It was the least they could do.

"Not like you, I expect." Mosley replied almost tersely. "But if you must know, I did get my doctorate from Starfleet Medical once upon a time, yes." Somehow the doctor doubted their experiences were remotely similar beyond having worn the uniform in the past. By his looks he wondered if Gregnol was even old enough to have fought in the war.

"The medkit is from Farius, if you must know. The primitives outside the Federation do manage to produce medical gear beyond leeches and scalpels now and again." Mosley explained with a shrug as he put the medkit up, "I've a few ideas myself regarding equipment, since apparently I'll be the one taking the blame when someone hurts themselves and I've nothing beyond a band-aid to offer."

The man nodded. It would take while for the crew to work together, there was alot of unanswered questions.
“Well not just you there is another Betazoid who is coming onboard he can help in situations.” He muttered thinking of Leiddem Kea, he might be coming on-board as a soldier, someone completely loyal to him, his back up. Rueben sighed a bit rolling his shoulder again, maybe he should talk to Barton about his shoulder. Maybe he had some wacky drug to help or maybe he could get help on the station before he left. It just seemed like they didn't have time.

"Oh?" He inquired, prompting Gregnol to elaborate. Mosley was always full of doubts and he had ran into more than one charlatan across the course of his career claiming to know something of medicine. Though at least the ulterior motive of getting near the drugs wouldn't be a factor in this case. Another Betazoid would be... interesting. It had been years since he identified with being a Betazoid and that was just with his mother and sister in happier times.

"He is a former Marine Medic." Rueben said softly thinking of Jeassaho's brother who would be coming along with them. The man had been less then happy at the first meeting of them after all the years but he had calmed down when he realised it really wasn't his fault.

"A marine? I suppose he'll be useful." Mosley remarked with the air of someone making a great concession. "He'll have some practice with all the head smashing and brawling anyways." He had a certain amount of distaste for the Marine branch as a leftover relic from his Starfleet days. Starfleet was always a cliquish place, and he realized he still shared that mindset in some ways. But it wasn't helped by the fact that the Marines were standoffish and acted as if they didn't need the rest of the fleet. Chances are this other Betazoid would be more interested in blowing things up than getting in his hair anyways, even if the doctor idly wondered how this former marine screwed up to end up here.

"You will like him Jefferson... I wouldn't have brought him along if he wasn't going to fit in and be an asset. He is kind of my former Brother in Law... Well would have been if... That doesn't matter. He is a good man and there isn't many of them in this neck of the woods." He knew the conversation would bring up questions but he hoped the doctor gathered enough to not question it.

Mosley frowned at the dual presumption of the usage of his first name and that Gregnol knew him well enough to know what he'd like or not. But just as quickly the doctor offered a shrug. "Perhaps you're right," Mosley offered in an open ended reply. He could sense clearly enough that Gregnol didn't want to go on in that direction. The other man still had plenty of Starfleet mannerisms in him without a doubt, which made Mosley wary. About the only people he'd be more nervous to crew with less than ex-Starfleet would be ex-Orion Syndicate members all told.

Rueben nodded. He could feel that the man didn't trust him just yet and that was fine. Trust always came in time, time was something he had in buckets.

OFF

Rueben Gregnol
Executive Officer
SS Mary Rose

Jefferson Lee Mosley
Head Doctor
SS Mary Rose