USS Vesta

A Play-by-Nova roleplay game.

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The Proper Babysitter

Posted on Mon Mar 29th, 2021 @ 2:43pm by Petty Officer 2nd Class Tarel Rilem & Commander Martin Sorenson

Mission: When the Bough Bounces
Location: Medical Bay
687 words - 1.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Over the past few hours, Tarel had been roped in to helping contain and corral much younger members of the crew. Her experience in the medical field was limited, which in turn determined that she made a much better babysitter than a makeshift nurse. But, in spending her time with the childlike versions of the crew, she had happened upon a Denobulan infant, who was brought to her by one of the now-teenage members of the science wing. At first, she had thought nothing of it. But the further that the illness progressed and the more people who were brought to her, the more she realized that this young child had not been identified.

Which was why she was grateful when someone unafflicted came to relieve her of the duty. Gurgling child in hand, she set off to find someone in the medical wing who could help her.

As she turned the corner into the larger portion of the medical bay, she realized that she had spent most of her time in with some of the more severely afflicted members of the crew. Her eyes were met with the sight of nurses and doctors at various stages of de-aging, much less severe than the crew that were currently through the door behind her. She frowned, approaching one of the various lanky teens, hoping for the best. The familiar-colored hair and pips on his collar likely denoted this was Doctor Sorenson. Unless they were all changing clothes on her. "... Ah, Sir, a moment?"

The doctor didn't look around. He was busy trying to figure out how - he did not want to even think about why - an ensign had a jelly bean stuffed up his nose. Still, it wasn't in his nature to be rude, especially to someone who had been helping as much as Tarel had. "A moment, possibly," he said with the weariness of someone who knew the jelly bean was far from the worst bit of immaturity he was likely to see today. "Nurse, can you handle this," he called, waving someone over to run the microtransport he'd just set to beam the foreign object out of the nose.

"Yes, Doctor." A 12 year old girl in medical blue stepped, shaking her head and tut-tutting at the patient.

Free of that, Martin turned to give Tarel at least a moment of full attention, but his eyes immediately went to the baby. His face fell. There were no Denobulian infants on the ship, which at the present rate of the disease meant that either a young child had become infected or something had caused more rapid de-aging. And the very last thing they needed was a mutant strain that accelerated the process. "Who is that?" he asked.

Removing her gaze from the patient, who looked rather uncomfortable, Tarel looked down at the baby. "That's what I was hoping you could help me find out, Sir," she said quietly, rocking the cooing bundle of happiness in her arms. "I'm not as aware of the Denobulan members of our crew, and I didn't want to wait too long. But whoever this is seems to have stopped de-aging at this stage. This is how we found him a few hours ago."

"Small blessings," Martin muttered, running a DNA scan of the infant - if nothing else he was getting a lot of practice with that these few days. "This should tell us who it is ...hmm..." he frowned a moment at the scan showing no matches for Vesta personnel. Either the disease altered things at the genetic level by that point in progression, or... "Computer, access records for Dr. Bathory. Check DNA scan against registered data."

"DNA is a match," the computer's voice reported.

Martin sighed. "Well, there's one mystery solved. Unfortunately, I doubt the doctor will able to answer any questions, let alone assist in solving the problem."

"Oh well that's a relief," Tarel stated in solid deadpan. "I was beginning to think we'd started growing extra members of the crew. I guess I'll go make sure he finds himself with the proper babysitter."

 

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