Calm before the Storm (Backpost)

Posted on Thu Jun 23, 2016 @ 1:31pm by Fleet Captain Rhea Kennit & Lieutenant Nicole Anderson

2,461 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: The Fall
Location: Helios Base

ON:
After thirty-six hours, Lieutenant Willam Monsoon was standing horizontal in the corridors of what was now Helios Base.

It had been chaotic to say the least and supplies were limited. Many of the officers there had become well equipped with the skills of improvisation and turning anything in sight into a tool or unit that would actually work. A lot of the team had been reassigned from their original roles into roles that were survival critical. The admiral had made sure the best people were in the right places at the right time to ensure the base was safe and habitable.

Willam was by the door to an what used to be a holodeck, which was now being made into a make shift triage unit in case the Borg decided to return and try to take more lives of the already limited crew they had stranded in the Delta Quadrant. He had been shifting bio beds for over 6 hours and arranging the room to follow the guidance system of a manual triage units in case the computer system went off line. The work was draining both physically and mentally, and truly he wasn't sure how much of it more he could take.

The air was weird--or at least it felt weird to him. It wasn't the same as what the oxygen generators used to produce when the saucer section was up in space; it felt thicker. At least, that was what was going through his mind and he shoved the last bio bed into position.

"Monsoon! We need you over here to help install these Med Carts!" A lone voice shouted in the distance.

"Um....." Willam semi-responded. "I'll be there in a second, I just need to catch some air."

He noticed the dressing on his head had started to bleed a little more--he hadn't the time to get it dressed by a professional--and resorted to using a mesh bandage to cover the wound. It wasn't that bad, in his untrained opinion, and he assumed he could continue. This was his thirty-fifth hour of working with sporadic naps taken in between duties, however, and he was struggling to keep up.

Willam was the kind of guy to make sure he always looked his best, but his hair had not seen a comb for a least a week and his uniform was torn and covered in sweat. This was not how he intended to look on any day of his life at work.

Taking a moment of rest, he stepped outside the door and rested his head on the hull of the corridor, trying to regain his composure and ability to work. Out of the corner of his eye he could see other Starfleet officers coming past. They were different: they were clean. The sight shocked him and for a second he thought they had all been rescued, and the officers in front of him were from the Alpha Quadrant. Their conversation however, told him the truth: they were not here to save, just to help. The sudden glance of hope dashed through his skin and made it bump up, like he had eaten something sour.

His body finally gave up and shut down. Willam slid off the side of the hull and on to the floor landing squarely on his back much to the shock of those fancy officers walking by.

**********************************************************************

"You need your medical staff working in medical," Nicole groused as she stalked down the corridor of Helios. "Transferring them to Engineering doesn't help those who are wounded. You want more engineers? Let your medical staff heal the ones you have."

"I'm sure the admiral knows what he's doing," Ensign Palmer said, nervously.

"Providence save me from Admirals who 'know what they're doing,'" Nicole said, rolling her eyes. "We'll inspect the triage unit before I return to--" She stopped mid-sentence at the familiar thud behind her. There are three sounds doctors always pick up on: irregular breathing, vomiting and the sound of a body hitting the floor.

Nicole whirled around to find an officer who had been leaning against the bulkhead by the triage ward was now splayed on his back, his eyes rolled back into his head.

She dropped to her knees without a word, flipping her tricorder open and scanning him. "Dehydration, severe drop in dopamine levels, serotonin...he hasn't slept in at least thirty hours." She shook him gently, then gave him a hard slap. He groaned and his eyes fluttered but he went back out immediately. "All right, we'll need to get him to the Victory. Help me get him to the transporter room."

"We don't have any anti-grav gurneys to spare," Palmer said.

"Well imagine that," Nicole said. "Whatever shall we do?" When Palmer just stared at her confused, she sighed and grumbled. "Get between his legs and grab by the knees, idiot." She grabbed the unconscious officer by the armpits and waited for Palmer to get in position.

"One....two....lift!" she pulled the man up with relative ease, watching with some amusement as Palmer struggled to get a grip on the dead weight. She immediately started walking backwards, Palmer struggling to keep up as they made their way to the transporter room.

Five agonizingly slow minutes later, they appeared in the Victory's Sickbay. "Beta team! Exhaustion, and superficial head trauma, no concussion. Get him stripped, cleaned, in a gown and on a bed."

"Yes, Doctor," her team said, grouping around Monsoon as Nicole stood up, brushing her hands on her pants. She turned to Palmer. "Get back to the station. Find out who this is and report that he's been transferred here. Inform the Admiral I want rest periods for the workers increased, and enforced."

"Yes Ma'am," Palmer said, rushing out.

Nicole went to her office and stripped out of her dress uniform, changing into her regular duty uniform and cleaning up. By the time she'd returned to Sickbay proper, their new guest was lying on a biobed, sleeping soundly.

"How long should we leave him?" Maggie said.

"Four hours," Nicole said. "He needs more like ten, but that will at least let his body recover from the damage he's done."

Maggie nodded and adjusted the intravenous nutrients that were being fed to him. Nicole gave him a final once-over then looked back at the room staff. "We've got twenty-seven wounded on their way, some requiring surgery. I want everyone suited up and ready in ten minutes!"

A chorus of "Yes Doctor" came from the staff as they scrambled to be ready.

**********************************************************************

Willam had been sleeping for a good while, his brain digesting all the information that had been forced into it over the last day and a half. It was a lot to compute and the sleep was well needed. His senses had changed, things felt a little different as he began to regain his consciousness. The air flowed through his nose and into his lungs and it tasted different. Before his eyes had opened he knew that he had been moved from where he was before.

He shifted position slightly and began to open his eyes, staring at what appeared to be a beige colored ceiling, it was completely different to the place he had been before. It was something alien to him, he had never seen this sort of style and class of ship.

"Hello.........." Willam groggily announced, he didn't know who, if anyone was even there.

Maggie spun and looked at his vitals. "Doctor Anderson?" she called quickly.

Nicole came around the partition from the surgical bay and grabbed a tricorder from a tray en route, flipping it open and scanning her patient. "Name, rank and excuse for passing out, please," she said quickly.

He could just about see the unknown woman standing in front of him. His eyes had not yet adapted to the artificial lighting which was acting like an interrogation light behind the questions that were being fire at him.

"Willam Monsoon......Lieutenant........Freaking tired would be my best guess, Doc," he responded, trying to use his wit as a get out clause for not looking after himself.

"Honest, if unoriginal," Nicole said. "Well, Lieutenant Monsoon, you've had a nice four-hour nap, your vitals are much more stable, and you are free to return to duty, provided you are taking at least an hour's rest every four hours. And since we both know you won't do that, just try not to pass out again hm? My staff gets bored with mundane unconscious crewmen."

Willam gave the doctor a side eye glance, he had never been called 'mundane' before. He took it as sarcastic humour and thought that she would be a one to watch. After all he knew a grand total of nobody on the vessel he was on, he needed to make friends pretty quick.

"I'll try my best doctor. Passing out is not one of the things I tend to do best." He smiled at her as he adjusted his body to get off the bio bed.

As she moved to help him up, the doors to sickbay opened. She glanced automatically and was surprised to see the Captain walk in.

Monsoon shifted his head to look at the door which had opened across from where he was, and saw a woman, who he had obviously no idea who she was, coming in. His eyes were still a little groggy from the brief sleep he had just taken, but he could just make out the rank pins on her collar. His stomach lurched as he realized this must be the Captain of the ship. He wasn't sure whether he would be welcomed, or if he was in for a bollocking.

Glancing around, and upon spying the Doctor not too far from her, the Captain walked to intercept the good doctor at her work. "Doctor," she greeted, "I know you are overwhelmed at the moment, however I do need a brief status update on the current needs of your patients and your staff."

"I have sixteen of the station's crew recovering from surgery ranging from minor to major," Nicole said, not needing to consult her charts. "The station is just now catching up thanks to their triage ward. It's going to be six hours before my patients are stable enough to return to the starbase before our departure. As for what my crew and everyone else needs? Rest. Allow me to present exhibit A." She gestured to the groggy man lying in front of her. "Lieutenant Willam Monsoon. He was giving Helios station a carpet inspection a few hours back, due to extreme physical exhaustion. Much of the station crew is going to follow, and the ship's crew is going to be very tired before we ship out if we don't encourage some rest periods."

"Monsoon?" Kennit echoed. "I don't know that name.. Is he from the station or one of the personnel they've transferred over. I haven't had time to review the transfer reports as yet..." Her expression indicated she wasn't too happy with either option, adding injured to her ship while at the same time ordering her to take her ship and crew into Borg space to obtain information.

"Captain, if I may...." He said sheepishly. "There was talk of my transfer before this incident, nothing was made official, however I believe my superior had filed a request for my transfer. I'm well versed in strategic operations, I could be an asset to you." Willam said wondering where this confidence in front of the Captain had come from.

Kennit glanced at the Doctor, who mouthed the words "two letters", then turned her full attention on Lieutenant Monsoon. "We do have a vacant position in Strategic Operations..." she allowed. "What are your qualifications? What experience do you have?" Rhea noted the Doctor's rolling eyes from the corner of her eye; it appeared the good Doctor was aware that the Captain already knew full well Mr. Monsoon had been transferred aboard, and was simply being her usual self, testing the new arrival so to speak.

Willam sat up in the bed and rested his back again the small raised headboard.

"Captain, I have a background in cyber espionage and tactical logistics. Before my arrival at Starfleet I had worked for a private company back on Earth using data encryption techniques and planting data recovery bots. This lead to a natural progression into data analytics, which eventually lead to my skills be adapted for modern warfare and far planning tactics missions. I guess you could say I was the eyes and ears of peace and conflict." Willam said, again the confidence had seemed to come out of no where. Talking about himself was not one of his best qualities. He broke eye contact with the Captain and began to rub his fingers nervously. He couldn't quite work out what the Captain would say next.

"Well we have enough asses on board, some eyes and ears would be welcome, I think," Nicole said, folding her arms and smirking.

Willam grinned at the Doctor. "I've dealt with a few asses in my time, I'm sure this will be a breeze.'

"On this ship," Kennit said in a slow drawl, "I rather suspect we have an over abundance of eyes and ears always watching .. However, I still have a vacant post which needs filling. As it appears Starfleet feels you qualify for a posting to my ship, welcome aboard Mr. Monsoon. As soon as Doctor Anderson clears you for duty, you may get to work."

His eyes lit up with excitement and a sense of adventure waved over him. Although he was at the same time scared he couldn't help but wonder what his family would be thinking of him now.

"Thank you Captain"

"Yes, jolly good and congratulations all around," Nicole said, looking at Monsoon directly. "And now that your posterior is in my possession, I order you to sleep another two hours before getting your things. I'll have quarters arranged."

Willam smiled back at the doctor and with a groggy eye thanked her for forcing him to have another 2 hours sleep. He was the kind of person who loved a little nap in the afternoon, work however got in the way of that habit quite a lot.

"Cheers Doc." He said out of ear shot of the Captain.

Both the Captain and the Doctor moved off and away from the bio bed where Monsoon was laying. He pulled the blanket he had draped over his knees up and over the midsection of his torso and laid flat. He shut his eyes and could hear the two conversing in the distance as he drifted off to sleep again.

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