1.2 The Fluidity of Truth
Jun 27, 2014 20:44:49 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jun 27, 2014 20:44:49 GMT
The warm water enveloped her as she sank beneath it until only her nose protruded above the perfumed bath. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind, or tried to, and concentrated on how good real water felt. Rachel had opted for a bath, a luxury to be sure, instead of the usual sonic shower just to help her relax. She needed the reward, she told herself, after the last few weeks.
Her mind wandered and began to worry. Did she make certain he had enough isoboramine? And of course he wouldn’t heed her mandate of resting every 20 minutes after any walking or vigorous activity. He was a command officer. They never listened.
She immersed her head underwater, letting her ears fill, muffling all sound. A distorted whistle, indicative of an incoming comm., made her bolt upright. She grabbed a nearby towel and dabbed at her right ear, hoping to clear it of its watery impediment.
The call was from Commander Hope.
=^= “(muffled sounds) ….access all medical information on Species 8472. A security team will arrive in sickbay and will help you test every single crewmember of this ship.” =^=
The comm. was broken before she could manage an answer.
Strange. The Commander should know that every member of the crew had been tested just weeks ago. A crewmember having triple helix DNA could not have escaped notice even by the most inexperienced medic.
But, orders were orders.
Rachel sighed heavily as she dressed. To her shock, there were no clean uniforms hanging in her closet.
“Computer, where are all my uniforms?”
“Ship’s laundry.”
“And when will I get them?”
“Quartermaster services have been interrupted. Main power has been reserved for essential systems only.”
“Great,” she thought. “Now what?”
Deep into her closet, she moved a few dress uniforms aside and rummaged through the scant number of civilian clothes she had. The only thing halfway appropriate was a light blue, wraparound jumpsuit, close to the color of most Starfleet-issue scrubs. It was tight-fitting and she usually reserved it for use under an enviro suit to keep things less bulky. It would have to do.
Back in sickbay once again, she called all medical personnel, off-duty and on, to report.
Dr. Fisher was the first to arrive. He did a double-take upon seeing Lassiter’s choice of attire, raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.
Once they were assembled, she explained that they would have to again perform DNA scans of all the crew.
“I know you’re tired,” she said in response to several eyerolls and frustrated sighs. “I know you may think this is unnecessary, but don’t let that cause you to cut any corners,” Lassiter chided. “We’re looking for any signs of the Species 8472 who have masked their appearance, and even their DNA, to appear human. Scan closely for any sign of a triple helix strand and be certain to use the micro-cellular setting.”
Her team stood frozen, blank looks on their faces. There was unbelief behind their eyes. To think they would again have to scan every single soul aboard was unreasonable.
“Let’s get to work!” Lassiter barked and they scurried away.
They may be strained to their limits and they may not like it, but they were good officers and would perform their duties admirably.
She sighed to herself, grabbed a scanner and headed to the bridge. This time she was going to get ahead of the curve. She was bringing the doctor to the bridge officers instead of waiting for them to come to her.
Her mind wandered and began to worry. Did she make certain he had enough isoboramine? And of course he wouldn’t heed her mandate of resting every 20 minutes after any walking or vigorous activity. He was a command officer. They never listened.
She immersed her head underwater, letting her ears fill, muffling all sound. A distorted whistle, indicative of an incoming comm., made her bolt upright. She grabbed a nearby towel and dabbed at her right ear, hoping to clear it of its watery impediment.
The call was from Commander Hope.
=^= “(muffled sounds) ….access all medical information on Species 8472. A security team will arrive in sickbay and will help you test every single crewmember of this ship.” =^=
The comm. was broken before she could manage an answer.
Strange. The Commander should know that every member of the crew had been tested just weeks ago. A crewmember having triple helix DNA could not have escaped notice even by the most inexperienced medic.
But, orders were orders.
Rachel sighed heavily as she dressed. To her shock, there were no clean uniforms hanging in her closet.
“Computer, where are all my uniforms?”
“Ship’s laundry.”
“And when will I get them?”
“Quartermaster services have been interrupted. Main power has been reserved for essential systems only.”
“Great,” she thought. “Now what?”
Deep into her closet, she moved a few dress uniforms aside and rummaged through the scant number of civilian clothes she had. The only thing halfway appropriate was a light blue, wraparound jumpsuit, close to the color of most Starfleet-issue scrubs. It was tight-fitting and she usually reserved it for use under an enviro suit to keep things less bulky. It would have to do.
Back in sickbay once again, she called all medical personnel, off-duty and on, to report.
Dr. Fisher was the first to arrive. He did a double-take upon seeing Lassiter’s choice of attire, raised one eyebrow, but said nothing.
Once they were assembled, she explained that they would have to again perform DNA scans of all the crew.
“I know you’re tired,” she said in response to several eyerolls and frustrated sighs. “I know you may think this is unnecessary, but don’t let that cause you to cut any corners,” Lassiter chided. “We’re looking for any signs of the Species 8472 who have masked their appearance, and even their DNA, to appear human. Scan closely for any sign of a triple helix strand and be certain to use the micro-cellular setting.”
Her team stood frozen, blank looks on their faces. There was unbelief behind their eyes. To think they would again have to scan every single soul aboard was unreasonable.
“Let’s get to work!” Lassiter barked and they scurried away.
They may be strained to their limits and they may not like it, but they were good officers and would perform their duties admirably.
She sighed to herself, grabbed a scanner and headed to the bridge. This time she was going to get ahead of the curve. She was bringing the doctor to the bridge officers instead of waiting for them to come to her.