by Ensign T'Dara
81203.20
Hours after As We Know It
-=/\=-
-=Sickbay, USS Serendipity=-
81203.20
Hours after As We Know It
-=/\=-
-=Sickbay, USS Serendipity=-
*Stay strong, my One. I am always here, beside you.*
Samthia Wej-Blakeslee stood just beyond the glass partition that separated the waiting area from Sickbay proper. Hands rising slowly toward the barrier, willing her thoughts beyond it and toward her husband's still form as he lay in critical condition, burned and broken on a biobed in the distance.
She closed her eyes, wishing that she could touch him. Knowing that their telepathic connection could be a powerful aid to his healing. Knowing that just her presence and the power of her Deltan pheromones would be enough to reach him, no matter how deep his seeming state of unconsciousness.
Believing that the strength of her very life force could be used to shore up his own will to fight; his own will to stay here, with her and their sons.
*Our sons.*
Thomas and Johannes were still so small. They did not really even understand yet what a great man their father was. They knew he had a capacity to love and that he cared for them with a bright smile and deep affection.
They were still too young to appreciate how hard won those traits in him were, and all he had been through in his own life that had taught him the power of the relationship between a father and his son.
There was no other way to put it, their boys simply needed their father.
There was absolutely no way that Zander could surrender to his injuries. It simply could not happen.
*You are strong,* she repeated, focusing her thoughts upon him as intently as possible. *With every breath you take, your life force gains power. Draw from me, my One. I will not leave your side until your eyes shine their light upon me once again.*
She tried to clear her mind of all troublesome thoughts, struggling to see him in her mind as the man she knew him to be, not the injured body who appeared as a stranger before her. *Let me be your peace, my One,* she thought, *find sanctuary and safety here, with me.*
Her inner oasis of calm evaporated as a mirage in desert sun a moment later, interrupted by the sound of a slamming cabinet and stomping footsteps. She became concerned as she heard the sound of voices rising in volume for the third time since she'd been summoned here.
To say that it was out of the ordinary for a nurse to challenge a doctor's authority or decision, especially in a Starfleet Sickbay, would be an understatement.
To see a Vulcan nurse do it, truly incredible.
"Doctor Frist, " T'Dara held the hypo in her ever-steady hands. "Are you certain that you want to administer another dose?"
"We have already had this conversation Ensign T'Dara and you are entirely out of line." Ensign Thaddeus Frist was perspiring heavily, and he wiped his sleeve against the receding hairline upon his head as he checked Zander Blakeslee's vital signs once again. "This man's condition is tenuous at best and if you continue to interfere with his course of treatment he may die. If he lives, he may suffer permanent disfigurement, he may,"
"Sir, with all the respect that you are due," T'Dara lowered her eyes in deference to him, but only for a moment. Then her piercing, ebony iris' locked upon his, and refused to let go. "I believe that the risk of infection goes up exponentially the longer you delay giving him the antibiotic medication in addition to-"
"The antibiotic must be spaced out between the doses of the sedatives and the- damn it T'Dara we have been over this!"
"I know that we have, Sir. But I would be remiss if I did not give you my honest opinion that the greatest risk to this man's life is infection. We must put the sterile field into place around him, we must administer this hypo," she held out the antibiotic hypo to him pleadingly. "Doctor McKay-"
"Is not here." Frist replied angrily. "Ensign, I am warning you. One more outburst and you are relieved. Are we clear?"
T'Dara was now a woman in a great predicament. She was reminded of a phrase that she had heard Dr. McKay use, a Terran expression, that seemed to suit the newly posted doctor before her perfectly. 'The ink on his medical degree ain't even dry yet,' McKay had opined, while walking away after overriding one of Frist's previous orders to T'Dara in caring for a different patient, on a different day, after adding, 'thinks he knows it all...'
T'Dara found that she now missed the presence of the ship's LMH more than she could have imagined.
Working with him was effortless, because his programming was so close to perfection that he rarely if ever struggled with a decision as to how to proceed in treating someone, and when he made a decision, he never doubted himself afterward but followed through quickly, and with conviction.
Frist was floundering here. She knew he was in way over his head, and she also knew that with her years of experience as a nurse, she had far more experience in actually treating burn victims than he did.
The question remained, did she do as he ordered or did she do what she knew was right?
She looked beyond the window and saw the face of Blakeslee's wife. She knew that they had two young sons, and she knew that in this instance, Frist was making a mistake that would in all likelihood seal their father's fate.
Her eyes met Samthia's, and just as Samthia was about to rush into the room, take the hypo from the nurse's hands and administer it to Zander herself, she saw the Vulcan slowly raise her hand and shake her head barely perceptibly from side to side.
T'Dara parted her fingers, making the gesture known the Universe over as a greeting of her people.
She waited until the moment that Frist had turned his back, then she turned down the dial on the sedative medication that was being steadily fed into Zander's system by a pump to a level that would allow him to tolerate the administration of the potent antibiotic cocktail as well. He may wake up for awhile and be in considerable pain, but he would survive.
The sound of a hiss was heard, and the decision was made.
She may have just sacrificed her career, but she would save the life of her patient, and that was the only course of action that Logic would allow.
"What have you done?" Frist gasped, tapping his badge. He was about to summon Security to place her under arrest, but T'Dara serenely turned to him and held her hands out at her sides.
"Before you place me into custody," she said evenly, "Might I remind you that there is, at the moment, no one else with my level of experience available to assist you?"
Realizing quickly that if he sent her away that the least pleasant tasks, such as regenerating Blakeslee's worse burns by hand-held device, would be left to him alone.
"When this is over," he growled, "You are going to regret what you just did."
"Regret is an emotion," T'Dara informed him matter-of-factly. "I am Vulcan."
His face burned bright red as he stormed off, unable to stand her unrelenting gaze any longer.
Samthia stood on the other side of the glass, still and silent, as the Vulcan returned to tending to her husband. "Peace, and long life, Zander Blakeslee," T'Dara said to the man, even though he gave no sign he could hear her.
"Live long and prosper, T'Dara." Samthia whispered softly, as she closed her eyes once again and continued to send all of the positive telepathic energy she could, to the man she called My One.
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Ensign T'Dara
Nurse Practitioner
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
Ensign T'Dara
Nurse Practitioner
USS Serendipity NCC-2012