The CMO Meets Her Number One
Posted on Sun Apr 28th, 2024 @ 9:54pm by
Edited on on Sun Apr 28th, 2024 @ 9:59pm
1,348 words; about a 7 minute read
Mission:
Opening Moves
Location: Sickbay | Deck 4 | USS Thunderbird
Timeline: MD022-0800
With her hair pulled up into a high ponytail and a crate to stand on, Sloane O'Rourke was doing inventory. One of those essential tasks that doctors never did; most preferred to just hold their hand out and wait for whatever it was they wanted to just magically appear. And she could do that, and as Head Nurse was actually required to do that, because she took the time to know where every blasted thing was. Thus, inventory.
New ship, as in not even been launched yet, meant that she was doing set up according to the official diagram and, because it was only logical to get the hardest part over with first, she was standing on the short end of a rectangular crate, singing to one of her favorite power ballads while she slid things into place.
Find what she needed in the crates, hop on 'her' crate and slide whatever it was into position and if necessary, she would balance herself on the edge of a lower shelf so she could stretch farther back. She was dancing her way back to the crate, head bobbing up and down to the beat, when she noticed someone standing in the open doorway and slid to a stop.
The someone smiled and waved. "Please don't stop on my account. Really. There's a lot to get done and I'm glad to have some help." Walking over, she offered her hand. "Dr. Charlie Hart, Chief Medical Officer. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant...?"
"Lieutenant O'Rourke, Ma'am," Sloane said. "Pleasure's all mine, I'm sure. I was just getting Medical Stores set up according to the diagram."
"Sounds like a plan," Charlie nodded in approval, and reviewed the diagram. "I'm thinking this should work fine, but once we get underway let me know if it's working or needs rearranged. As Head Nurse you'll have a better idea than me." She selected an available crate and began to count and sort. "So, since we'll be working closely together, anything you'd like to know? Or share?"
"You know Starfleet, ma'am," Sloane said as she gestured toward the diagram. "They do like their standardization." She paused a moment, mouthing the words to the chorus, and then got back to work. "But there's no need for you to do all of this. I can handle it just fine."
"I'm sure you could," Charlie acknowledged. "But there's a lot more to get done after this. My granny always used to say, 'many hands make light work'. Between the two of us, we'll get this knocked out in no time and can move on to other projects."
Balanced precariously on the edge of the shelf, Sloane slid one of the dermal regenerators into place, turning her head to respond to the doctor, "Okay," she said and then hopped down. "Don't mind the music, I hope, it's a new band out of Alpha Centauri. The title translates to 'Midnight Tears'."
Charlie listened for a moment. She couldn't say it was to her personal taste in music, but it wasn't altogether unpleasant. "Not too bad... it's got a strong beat, which I like. It's a nice rhythm to work to." She set aside container after container filled with hyronalin, which it was nice to see they'd have a large supply on hand. Replicating this in the midst of large scale radiation exposure was not an ideal prospect. "Tell me, have you served as head nurse before?" she asked, when the music softened slightly.
Sloane almost laughed out loud but mercifully, her back was turned to the doctor-who-was-her-boss and the slight twitch of her lips went unnoticed. Growing up in South Boston, her mother had drilled all of her six children in the the whole 'say something nice' thing which had become a great source of torment between the siblings. 'You're skin is just the same shade as this Red Macintosh, did you notice that, Sloane?' or 'I love the way your skin glints through the hair on the top of your head, Patrick. In the right light, you can see them all individually.'
"How about you pick the next one, Ma'am," Sloane said as she knelt beside another crate. "And to answer your question, no, I haven't. I served nearly six years aboard the Phoenix and then returned to Starfleet Academy for an additional course in emergency medicine." She pulled the lid off and peered into the depths of the crate. Metorapan and Bicaridine. Because these needed to go toward the front for easy access, she piled her arms full and moved toward the first set of shelves, closest to the door on the right.
"I see," Charlie acknowledged while stocking the hyronalin. "Well, I like to think of myself as a fair and reasonable department head. You can come to me with questions at any time, and I mean that." She looked over to emphasize the point. "I don't care if it's night shift and I'm sound asleep while you're covering sickbay. If you have a concern, I'd rather help you address it than just have you make your best guess." Her attention returned to the vials in her hands. "That being said, I'm already impressed with your work ethic. As long as you keep patient care as your first priority, you're gonna do great."
"Of course, Ma'am," Sloane said as she slotted the vials into place. "Not completely new at this though. I've had plenty of experience in a busy sickbay and I functioned, more than once, as acting Head Nurse when ours had to be on a prolonged away team. I know the job but I'll certainly keep you informed. No worries on that score."
The doctor nodded. "Good to know. Do you have much away team experience yourself?"
"I did the certification for EMT," Sloane said, "after my last post. Before that, I went occasionally but our Chief hated the idea of nurses in the field." She frowned slightly at the memory. With five older brothers, Sloane knew all about the whole wrap the kid sister up in layers of protection and don't let her do anything remotely interesting phenomenon that was shared by her former Chief. "So I have some experience but nowhere near as much as I would like."
"We'll see what we can do about that. I can't make any promises, though. Unless its a medical away team, I don't have much say. But I will keep you in mind to suggest when appropriate. I'll also see if I can have you tag along with on occasion - again when appropriate." Charlie stood and headed for the next crate. "The good news is, our training kicks in when there's an emergency, regardless of environment. But I think it's helpful to experience a variety of away teams so that you can have that internal assurance that, yes, you can do perform your duties in whatever circumstances you find yourself."
"Understood, Ma'am," Sloane said. She let that line of thought dwindle away as she returned to the work at hand; it either happened or it didn't and that was about that. She was going through medications now because the ship would have a supply on hand, rather than requiring on the spot replication. This part she remembered well from her last posting and Starfleet, who loved uniformity, changed not at all from ship to ship.
The CMO looked up from her work. "Say, do you happen to have any plans this evening? I think I need to blow off some steam, and I booked some holodeck time... feel up for an adventure?"
"Always," Sloane answered with a grin. "Just about always."
"1900 hours, Deck 3, Holodeck 2. Where something formal for mid-1960s earth... I'll be the one in the catsuit, helping you save the world." Invitation issued, Charlie turned her attention to their next music selection. "Speaking of 1960s Earth, are you familiar with the music of Loretta Lynn?"
Lieutenant Charlie Hart, M.D.
Chief Medical Officer
USS Thunderbird
and
Lieutenant JG Sloane O'Rourke, R.N., E.M.T.
Head Nurse
USS Thunderbird
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