From: Bethany \ (mouse3of3_at_yahoo.com)
Date: Mon Feb 11 2008 - 13:55:03 PST
Note: forwarded message attached.
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“Field Medicine”
Cont. from “Deep Trouble”
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Location: LIOUN V
Stardate: 2.80211.1044
Scene: Plains
Tam heard what the Vorta said, but ignored it. Not only did she not believe him, sleazy as he seemed, but the Marine was still losing a lot of blood, even with the tourniquet, and nothing she or Dr. Clarkson were doing was stopping the problem. She couldn’t realistically expect clotting, not with a wound this size, but some slowing would have helped a lot.
“Maybe some coagulating agent?” she suggested, tightening the tourniquet a little.
He shook his head. “No. He’s been injured before, and he reacted badly to it. I don’t want to risk it without a full sickbay.”
One of the Jem’Hadar walked over to them. He had a handful of Starfleet-issue phasers; Tam didn’t want to think about whether they were from the living or the dead. “Drop your weapons.” When they didn’t respond, he repeated himself, louder and this time accompanied by his own weapon being pointed at the wounded man. “Drop your weapons.”
Sighing in disgust, Clarkson pulled a hand away from the man and handed his phaser off, barely even looking up. Tam decided to follow his example. It would be miserable to have him shot a second time after they had started treating him. This was why she hated battlefield medicine: you never had any guarantee that your patient would be alive to be treated, and if he did, whether he’d survive after the treatment. No sickbay, no real equipment, and more often than not enemies that were more than willing to kill or further injure the wounded. She checked his pulse again. “I think his bleeding’s slowing. His pulse isn’t getting any weaker.”
“Good.” Just then the Marine moaned and tried feebly to push them away with his good arm. Clarkson muttered, “Dammit, I thought he was unconscious. I’m going to risk sedating him, it’ll be better for him that way.”
Tam nodded. “I’m going to check some of the others. They might--”
“No.”
It was the sleazy Vorta this time, the Jem’Hadar stepping back in deference. He still had the weapon pointed at their patient, though. “No, you’re not checking them. They are all dead, or if they aren’t, they will be soon. And what will prisoners of war do with multiple wounded? Make sure they’re all dead,” he announced to the Jem’Hadar soldiers, though not looking away. “I don’t want any surprises.”
Tam flinched when she heard the shots. Clarkson didn’t, although she noticed his voice shake slightly in apparent anger when he said, “I think we’ve done all we can for him. It’s up to whether we can get a sickbay now.” She moved to pack up their instruments, but was stopped by the Vorta holding out his hand in front of her. “You want our medkit now, too?” Clarkson demanded, standing up. “You already have everything that we could defend ourselves with.”
The Vorta’s eyes flicked over him, impassive. “Very well, keep it. You may need it before long.”
Tam registered the threat, and kept packing everything into the case, perhaps with more care than before. She knew Clarkson had to as well, but he very calmly said, “I’d like one of the Marines to help me carry him. He’s in no condition to walk, and I assume you’re going to take us somewhere as your prisoners.”
Tam saw the Jem’Hadar raise his weapon again to aim at the unconscious man, but she flung her arms over him, for what it was worth. “No!”
The Vorta sighed. “Very well. Don’t kill him. Let one of the Starfleet take him, they can wear themselves out.” He smirked. “We have plenty anyway, one or two less won’t make a difference.”
None of the officers reacted to the goad. Instead, Maverick motioned over one of the Marines, who picked up his fallen comrade in a fireman’s carry. The Jem’Hadar surrounded them, weapons drawn, and they began to walk.
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NRPG: So... Now what?
Bethany B.
Tam Niala
Counselor
USS PATRIOT
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