810: Loser Buys the Booze

by Lance Hartcort and Dane Cristiane
90312.12
Concurrent With/Following Teamwork At Its Finest

-=USS Serendipity=-



Lance strode into Sickbay and came to a stop about halfway to his office.

It was quiet, very, very quiet.

It was not all that surprising that it was so quiet. With the Sera still in dock for repairs, Lance had dismissed the majority of the medical staff for a much needed shore leave. The repair and upgrade crews had not yet reached Sickbay, so it remained extremely inactive.

Of all of the medical staff assigned to the ship only Hartcort and Nurse T'Dara remained on board the Sera to care for their sole remaining patient, Commander Blakeslee.

Lance made his way over to the bio-bed that had been Zander’s home for the past few weeks. He found Zander sitting up and talking quietly with his wife.

“Hi Doc.” Zander greeted him with a smile. His voice was getting stronger but still had a raspy sound to it. The burns that covered his body had been regenerated but his skin still had a reddish-pink hue to it, similar to a mild sunburn. His eyebrows had grown back as well as a rough beard.

Lance smiled. “Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Blakeslee.” He picked up the PADD that hung at the base of the bio-bed. “How are you feeling today?”

Samthia glanced to her husband, who was drinking from a cup of cold water.

“We are feeling much better.” She answered for them both.

Zander put down the cup and nodded his agreement.

Lance continued to read the chart. “Yes, you should be. Larynx is still irritated I see. That is to be expected and will probably continue for a few more weeks. There is a lot of scar tissue in there still.” He put the PADD down and crossed his arms.

“It will take time for your body to adjust. Also your voice may not return to what it was. Its pitch and tone may be different. We could go in and clean out the scar tissue if it becomes a concern for you. I don’t see a reason for such an invasive move just yet, I'd like to wait and see how you do on your own first.”

Zander and his wife shared a glance and then turned back toward the doctor, indicating that they understood and agreed with his assessment.

“Good.” Lance he clapped his hands together. “Well then, I do not see any reason why you can’t finish your recovery in your quarters or better yet on shore leave.” He stepped aside and waved towards the door. “Get out of my Sickbay. I have some redecorating to do.”

-=Later=-

"I have been reading your file, Cristiane," Lance announced as he wielded a dermal regenerator, waving it slowly over the bridge of Dane's swollen nose. "Looks like somebody needs to teach you how to duck and cover."

"Well, Lair and the beer bottle I kind of deserved." Dane grumbled. "But anyone assigned to work with Landry Steele should get hazard pay."

Lance shrugged his shoulders. “The accident report filed by Commander Blane says the cause was, let me see if I remember the exact wording, ‘a lack of reflexes and an abundance of stupidity’ if I remember correctly. He even suggested that I run a scan to make sure that you do, in fact, have a brain.” Lance smiled.

“He filed the accident report already?” Dane asked. He then frowned. “Did he actually say that?”

Lance nodded. “What do you think?”

Dane knew enough of Hartcort after the time they'd worked together on Bajor to suspect that the man was joking; but not quite enough of him yet to be entirely certain of it. So he took his best guess.

"I think that Blane told you to tell me that but that the actual report says it was a 'simple miscalculation of trajectory' or some other perfectly precise and appropriate military term. In other words, it was just an accident."

Dane knew that as much hell as Blane gave him, he wouldn't put such language into an official report.

At least, Dane didn't think he would...

"But I guess if it does say that, then Steele and I had it coming."

Lance turned the regenerator off and tilted his head side to side, taking in Dane's appearance anew. "Your nose is going to smart for a day or two and if you want me to take care of the black eyes you'll have to stick around a little longer for more regeneration."

"I'd love to." Dane replied, "But if I'm conscious and able to remain vertical then O'Sullivan is going to expect me to see my task through. So I'd better see if the shuttle's back. Knowing Steele, she's waiting for me with the hardware in hand ready to finish knocking my block off since she didn't succeed the first time."

“Then it is my expert opinion that you should wear a helmet. Preferably with a face mask.” Lance offered.

"Thanks, Doc, I'll take that under advisement." Dane rubbed his throbbing temples. "By the way, I do know my way around here, so if there's anything about life aboard the Sera that you want to know." Dane left his offer open, and stood up. He stopped, waiting a moment for the room to stop spinning before he tried to step forward.

Lance quickly touched a hypo to Dane’s neck and the room promptly stopped the merry-go-round. "Give it a second..." They both waited, and finally Lance noticed Dane releasing his deathly tight grip on the edge of the bio-bed. "Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

“A little something to take the edge off of the dizziness.” Lance explained as he tossed the hypo onto the tray. “You do have a mild concussion in addition to the busted nose so if the dizziness continues or you feel sick to your stomach, come back right away.”

Dane nodded and then groaned at the pain the motion produced. "Ow..."

“As far as life on this ship…” Lance draped his arm across Dane's shoulder as he escorted him towards the door. “…Poker. I really need to find a good Poker game. I am afraid my skills are getting soft.”

"Just so happens there's a game planned for tonight," Dane informed. "I'll be there all night, provided I don't get sent on another errand, I'd love to see if your card playing skills live up to the hype."

He'd heard Hartcort speak of Poker more than once while they were on Bajor, but had never gotten to sit across the table from him and try to read the man over a deck of cards. Dane was an expert at reading people; a skill carried over from what he now thought of as his 'former life' but it was a talent he kept close to the vest.

Lance smiled charmingly. “I’m in.”

"Excellent. Eighteen hundred hours, then. The Afterthought Cafe'. Normally we would play in one of our quarters but since the ship is virtually empty we could use a bigger venue.”

"Deck eleven, aft observation lounge. I'll be there."

"Be warned. We take our Poker seriously on the Sera." Dane glared as menacingly as he could for a man who looked like he'd gone ten rounds with an angry Gorn.

"Meaning..."

"Loser buys the booze."

Lance nodded as he watched Dane leave.

“Losers my buy the booze, but they make their money back from drinking the winners under the table and pick-pocketing them,” he said at the door. He then turned back towards his office.

“There are advantages to being one quarter Vulcan, ya know.”

Commander Lance Hartcort
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

and

Ensign Dane Cristiane
Accident Prone Temporal Investigations Intern
USS Serendipity NCC-2012