A New Office

Posted on Thu Dec 29th, 2022 @ 6:55am by Captain Temperance Harding & Lieutenant Ashev

Mission: Lower Decks
Location: Sickbay
Timeline: Shortly after conclusion of Mission 2

ON

The doors of Sickbay opened. It was very unusual for a Captain to 'willingly' enter such a place, yet there she was. She was sure it didn't actually smell of antiseptic, yet her brain made the assumption it did. Like a beloved pet pulling against a lead, she had to force herself further into the room.

"Doctor Ashev?"

Ashev had been working at biobed two, reorganizing the equipment so it was just so. “Over here, Captain.” He hadn’t met her yet, or even heard her voice, but it was obviously her. People like her had a commanding presence. “You don’t seem unwell, but is there something I can do for you, ma’am?”

Harding smiled at the man. "Actually, a few things I wanted to discuss. Could we step into the office?"

The doctor nodded, set down the equipment he had in hand, and made his way to the office, its door in a familiar and frequented place. A few paces later he was inside, beckoning the Captain to follow. "Can I get you something?" he offered as he stood by the replicator next to the next.

Harding waved a hand as she took one of the chairs in front of the desk - this wasn't her office, after all. "No, thank you. I've been drinking far too much caffeine. Stress over too many recent events does that, and I'm trying to ease off."

"A good thing to be way of," Ashev conceded. "Water, four degrees." A transparent glass of cold water materialized, which he took and sipped, still standing. The office wasn't his either, and while he could sit behind the desk, it seemed...odd. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I am unsure if you are aware or not. Dr. Starkweather was recalled to Starfleet Command on short notice. Due to our current situation, we are unable to currently take on a replacement."

The doctor picked up on the Captain’s intent and cracked a smile. “You want me to take over then? Permanently or just until someone else is brought in?”

Harding weighed the question. Ultimately, for her, it came down to one single thing. "I always try to give my own people the chance. The job's yours, if you want it. For as long as you want it. If, later down the line, you want to go back to the Assist, I will respect that, and request someone new. No bad feelings. Also, effective immediately, I am promoting you to full Lieutenant. That is permanent, regardless of your future choice. Congratulations." Her tone was bright, and cheerful. Despite the way the last mission ended, it was always nice to give out good news. "You won't be Acting Chief, either. As of now, you are my Chief Medical Officer. For as long as you want the job."

"I accept," Ashev answered, straightening his stance. "Shame that Doctor Starkweather had to leave, but I'll take the opportunity his departure creates." He sipped his water, downing half the glass. "May I make a request?"

"I am always open to requests. I can't promise a yes, but feel free to ask."

"I have a wife." Ashev finished his water, recycled the glass, and moved to the main office chair -- his chair. "Lieutenant junior grade Zythao. She's a fighter pilot on USS Raal, where I was posted last. We didn't bother trying to get a transfer for her too. We knew we would be sent to different places sometimes and accepted it. But as a senior officer, with the privileges that affords, I thought I'd ask. Even if we can't make anything happen for a while, given where we are, maybe I can start the paperwork or something."

Harding allowed a broad smile to spread across her face. "I would never refuse to look into such a request. Leave this with me, and I will see what I can do. It may not happen immediately, but I will definitely do what I can."

"Thank you," Ashev said, smiling and bowing his head. "Well there's a lot for me to do then, Captain. My responsibilities have greatly increased in the past five minutes. Wait." He held up a hand, stopping himself from continuing. "Computer, how long ago was Captain Temperance Harding's last physical?"

The computer chimed before speaking. "Ten months, sixteen days."

"Well that won't do." Ashev shook his head. "Come on, Captain. My first official act as CMO, I suppose." He gestured to the biobed he had been working at before she had come in.

Harding's haw had dropped open. That couldn't be right, could it? The fact that she genuinely had to think back was evidence enough. "I guess work gets away from me." The Captain said sheepishly, as she followed the doctor out of the office, and into the main sickbay floor.

“Take a seat,” Ashev said, tapping the biobed. He found his tricorder — right where he left it — and opened it up. “Anything I should know about? Recent injuries or illnesses Doctor Starkweather might not have briefed me on?”

Harding eased herself onto the Biobed. "Just the retinal scarring, which down checked my flight status. Probably some high blood pressure." That last was a dark mutter. Her job was a stressful one.

The doctor slid an ear piece that was paired to the tricorder onto his ear and began his scans. “Higher than I’d like. Not enough to medicate but we’ll keep an eye on it, see if we need to change your diet or cut down your caffeine.” He held the scanner up to her face. “Retinal scarring hasn’t progressed. If you like I can look into options for fixing it. Others have probably told you they can’t but I can at least see if things have changed. You’d be surprised how often doctors say something is impossible without knowing for sure.”

Harding made a noncommittal sounds. It wasn't something she hadn't heard before. A lot of doctors had thought they could do something. "Sure, doc. Maybe something new has come up. Medical symposiums are full of bright ideas."

“Don’t knock it, Captain,” he replied. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but no hope at all isn’t good either.”

Harding almost shrugged. "It's been five years since the accident. Five years I've been out of practice on the stick." While it was true that no Starfleet craft used a manual control anymore, the term 'on the stick' had maintained its presence within the fighter community.

"That's an eternity for a specialty like that. Same for Medical. If you didn't practice for five years, you'd be too far behind to pick it back up. Sure, if it's possible, I'm sure you could fix my vision to perfect. I'd still never fly a Combat Mission again."

"Fair point," Ashev admitted. "And change is good. I'm sure in that time you've learned new skills to replace the unused and unusable ones." He put the tricorder and earpiece away. "Well, you're in good health, Captain. But if you're ever feeling off, don't hesitate to see me. You're tough but it's the little things that can knock us down a few pegs and make your job harder. I may be blind but I can still hunt you down on this ship and bring you here if I need to.

"Understood, doctor." Harding eased off the Biobed. "Regular check-up in... Six months?"

The doctor nodded. "With a standing order to return without hesitation if anything comes up in the interim. Recurring headaches, digestive problems, respiratory issues, reproductive health, anything."

Harding chose not to comment too much. Captain's, at least those who didn't already have a family, rarely had a chance to make one. "As you say, Doctor." She said, before heading out the door.

His patient out the door, Ashev resumed putting things where he wanted them. As Chief Medical Officer.

OFF