Sickbay in shambles

Posted on Sun Oct 18th, 2026 @ 9:32am by Lieutenant Syvar MD

540 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Season 1 Episode 2: The Garden at the Edge of Night
Location: Sickbay

The medkit still lay untouched in his desk and Syvar hasn't been able to bring himself to open it. The shame he experienced was immense, especially after his brief talk with the captain. He understood he had quite a road ahead of him since it was made abundantly clear he would be able to carry a weapon in the long run. He just didn't understand where his fear came from and no matter how hard he tried, his memory came up blank.

He stood in the doorway of his office, just staring ahead when things seemed to get even worse. Sickbay went dark altogether for a moment before it went awash in the eerie glow if emergency lighting in combination with the lights of a red alert. Equipment started blaring in protest and Syvar put his hands over his sensitive ears in an attempt to muffle the noise. As he was currently alone in the bay, it was up to him to try and silence them all. His nursing staff was either busy helping elsewhere with injured, or stuck in quarters because of injuries themselves thanks to the incident earlier.

The only viable option he had was cut power altogether, which was what he started to do. He was thrown off his feet as the controls to the main biobeds exploded in a sudden power surge. Dazed, he shook his head, grimacing as he used his already injured arm to pull himself back to his feet. He cringed as the beds next to it went utterly dark as well and he coughed as smoke filled the bay. Thankfully only for a few seconds as the fire suppressant system kicked in, meaning at least something was still functional. But, sickbay was fully in shambles now, the only working option a tricorder. Whatever was going on, whatever staff that might still be able to assist would be reduced to archaic means if examination.

Still feeling disoriented, Syvar stumbled his way over to a cabinet and started to pull out old fashioned equipment which wasn't connected to any kind of computer or system. Along with it came old fashioned pencils and paper pads. At least, he reasoned somewhat proudly, his department was prepared for an emergency without power. Young and inexperienced though he might be, he felt a small touch of pride at his foresight and preparation.

As he touched his commbadge to call in the status of his shattered domain, he was met with only static. A feeling of dejection replaced his feeling of pride almost instantly, because he wouldn't be able to call in anyone to help now, and he was cut off from reporting in. And what was worse: he couldn't leave to deal with it because there was no staff on hand to cover for him.

The young Vulcan sighed somewhat miserably as he tried to carry the boxes to his office, shoving the kit aside as he placed the box on his desk. Setting himself to his new task, he started to make archaic examination sets for his staff, each put in a simple bag to carry around as needed. At least, it was something to do while he was cut off from the rest of the ship.

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