Surefoot 37: Second Class

The Horta turned and rumbled happily, "Hi, Captain Misha!"

Meanwhile, Kami tilted her head as she regarded the Squad Leaders still facing each other. "I heard raised voices from outside. Anything wrong I should be aware of?"

Zir took a step back from the Grazerite. "No, Ma'am."

Jexa-Naku had an identical reaction. "Nothing at all, Ma'am."

The Caitian made a dubious sound, but relented. "You're lucky Commander T'Varik wasn't passing by; she would have heard as easily as I did, and wouldn't be as willing to let this slide. Besides, I have to get this little tail-chaser fed and to his Papa." She tugged Misha's hand. "Come on, sweetheart."

Misha pointed at Stalac. "Admiral says Rocky Ride Time!"

"No, the cadet doesn't have time to let you ride around on him again, he has to eat his breakfast -- and so do you, remember?"

Misha's eyes widened with the reminder of breakfast. "Shuris strips! Shuris strips!" He raced out of the Cadets' Mess Hall.

"Wait for me, young man!" Kami called before the doors closed, before sparing the cadets one final glance, and, "You'll find few problems are solved with violence and threats. Try to be a bit more creative. You'd be surprised at what it'll get you."

"Yes, Ma'am." Zir replied.

"Yes, Ma'am," Jexa-Naku replied.

"'Yes, Ma'am'," Kami mocked with mild derision, before shaking her head and departing.

Zir waited until the doors shut, before turning back to the Grazerite. "Watch your step."

"Watch my step? Is that meant to be a threat, Orion?"

Zir shrugged. "It was a caution. You tripped over my squadmate. You seem a bit unwieldy; maybe you should spend less time in the Mess Hall and more in the Gym?" Then she returned to her place on the floor, catching from the corner of her eye the other woman walking away before muttering, "Bitch."

"Zir," Stalac responded. "Go sit up with the others."

"What? No! I'm not leaving you down here alone! Not after that! Besides, we always eat together!"

"We did -- when it was just the two of us. Now, there is six. And you're our leader. You have to face them, and not look like you are playing favourites with me."

She started to reply... but saw the wisdom in his words. "Okay, but if you need anything..."

"I know: squirt some acid on your boots."

"No. No, don't do that." She reached out and rested her hand flat on his surface, feeling the heat, the power, radiating just beneath. Then she extricated herself from her cross-legged position and returned to her seat with the others. She looked at them, as they made efforts to look anywhere else. "Thanks for stepping in to support us, by the way."

Peter and Tori dipped their heads, flushing with embarrassment. Kaldron stopped eating long enough to swallow and comment, "With my strength I might have caused excessive harm, Ma'am."

Astrid, meanwhile, leaned back and stared directly at Zir. "You seem capable of handling yourself. At least, that's how it sounded last night."

Zir scowled, fed up. "You know, I heard you ultra-wealthy Terrans were all supposed to be well-bred, sophisticated, polite. But you come across sounding no better than a Spacedock rat."

Astrid cradled her coffee mug, looking amused. "Speaking from experience, are we?"

Zir forced herself to not rise to the bait. Deciding to change the subject and hopefully lighten the mood, she asked, "Do all of you know what you're doing today? Mr. Boone?"

He started, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Mr. Stalac and I are in Sickbay, receiving the basic orientation with Doctor Masterson and Nurse Eydiir."

From below the table, the Horta's voice reached up. "The Boys in Blue will show them how Alpha Squad operates, eh, Pete?"

Peter grinned as he looked down at his squadmate. "We'll do our best, pal."

Zir felt herself frowning at him, not knowing why... was she jealous that Stal was making friends with others beside herself? Especially Peter? She looked to the rest. "Mr. Kaldron?"

Urad grunted. "I will be demonstrating to the Chief of Security the tactical advantage of having a soldier of the Hroch Ascendancy on her Security team. She will be most impressed, I imagine."

"I'm in Engineering," Tori announced simply, not offering or inviting elaboration.

Astrid sipped at her coffee. "Well, I have a simply exhausting day ahead of me: shuttle certification to complete for the lovely Lt. Velkovsky, then study for Subspace Field Dynamics in the Instruction Room, and finally what I'm sure will be a particularly boring Counseling session."

Zir nodded. "And then we'll all meet at 1700 Hours for Evening Meal, and then a Squad briefing to discuss our group study and duty arrangements for the rest of the week."

"And what will you be doing today, Fearless Leader?" Astrid asked.

The Orion had been raising her spoon, but now let it settle once more into her porridge. "I'll be shadowing the Captain."

The other woman smiled. "You'd best watch out, he might think he's being attacked by the Orion Syndicate again."

Astrid frowned. "The Syndicate? I'd heard a Klingon spy had been the assassin."

Tori muttered something about Ferasans.

Kaldron turned slightly to face her. "None of the above, Comrades. Lt. Shall confirmed it was an emotionally-troubled human."

"Well," Astrid concluded, still looking mischievously in Zir's direction. "Whomever was responsible, I wouldn't want to be working near him. He's probably psychologically scarred, ready to lash out at anyone he sees as a threat." She drank from her mug. "Don't make any sudden moves around him."

Zir slapped her hand on the table. "That's enough! A good man, a fine officer, a husband and a father, was almost killed on his own ship just days ago! You do not make jokes about it! And the next one who does will go on Report! I swear it!"

The table went silent.

Then from underneath, Stalac asked, "Does anyone want to finish off this feldspar? It's still warm."

PETER BOONE'S STORY:

Deck 3 Mid -- Main Sickbay Suite:

As Chief Medical Officer Doctor Masterson continued to expound on the routine onboard, Peter Boone continued to stare and think: you gorgeous-looking son of a bitch. It was more than just the tanned, rugged features, the dirty blonde hair and dimpled chin and icy blue eyes. It was more than just the sweet cowboy drawl like out of an old Terran vivid. The CMO just exuded that unflappable confidence, in both himself and his place in the Universe. It was something Peter seriously envied. He hoped to build up a tenth of the self-assurance that Masterson had.

Also, he wanted to kiss the man until their lips fell off.

"Mr. Boone?" Masterson repeated, grinning. "Still with us?"

Peter blinked, flushed. "Yes, yes, Sir."

"Call me Doc. Everybody does." He looked up at his companion. "Ain't that right, Nurse?"

Standing beside him, her arms folded across her chest, Ensign Eydiir Daughter-of-Kaas regarded the two new cadets with a stoic disdain. "If you must absolutely insist... Doc."

Peter looked up at her with no small amount of apprehension. She had skin a darker shade than Astrid Michel's, but had Zir Dassene's muscular build and pugnacious attitude. He had seen others like her; she was a fighter as well as a healer.

Masterson grinned and winked at Peter. "Don't y'all worry, she's like that with everyone. Now, I was asking if you were going to specialise following graduation? Any ideas?"

Peter blinked. "I, uh, really haven't given it much thought yet, Sir- I mean, Doc."

From the corner of his eye, Peter saw Eydiir sneering.

Masterson seemed more sympathetic, though. "Yeah, I was as aimless as a gun without a barrel when I was your age, too; don't worry about it. What made you choose Medicine as a Starfleet career?"

Now Peter felt his stomach twist -- and not because of the handsome doctor's proximity. Should he tell the man the truth? What would he say? Do? Could he even get him into trouble, expel him for falsifying information?

No. No, he couldn't risk it. Too much was at stake. "I want to save people, Doc. All the brave men and women out here on the front line are risking their lives for all of us. They deserve the best."

Masterson smiled warmly. "And they get the best on this ship. And you'll be learning from the best."

Peter smiled back. "I hope so, Doc."

Then he caught the look on Eydiir's face, and stopped smiling.

Then Masterson rose and drew closer to the other newcomer, regarding the Horta. "Now, as for you, Pardner: Regulations require all non-Medical crew on ambulance and hospital ships to have a minimum level of Medical-based training in order to supplement during emergencies. Now, being a Science cadet will certainly help--"

The limp of rock shuddered a little. "Doctor, I appreciate what the Regulations say, but... maybe I should be exempt from it?"

"Exempt? Why? Not squeamish about blood, are you, son?"

Stalac rotated slightly in place, as if looking at everyone in the room in turn. "Doctor, look at me: I cannot carry wounded, I cannot wield a scalpel or tricorder, or even reach the level of your biobeds. And if someone was in shock and saw me approach, I would most likely finish them off."

"Cadet, no one's expecting you to perform surgery, but there's other duties--"

"Doctor, I recognise that many are working hard to make me seem as equal as any carbon-based, bipedal sentient being... but we both know I'm not. I am extremely limited with regards to interacting with you. And as grateful as I am for everyone's help, we need to be realistic."

Peter looked down at his squadmate. He had seen that the Horta had some difficulty with certain aspects of a shipboard life -- though he always seemed, or at least sounded, upbeat and positive.

"So..." Masterson continued, "What do Horta doctors do without instruments? Assuming you have any?"

"We have them of course, Sir; if one of my people is ill or injured, they broadcast a distress vibration, a doctor tunnels straight through the rock to them, suffuses them with a diagnostic frequency, and, depending upon the problem, either clamps onto them and infuses healthy acid into their system, or amputates whatever part of them is diseased or injured."

"Oh." He glanced once at Eydiir before noting, "Well, maybe you should avoid doing any First Aid yourself using those methods?"

Before anyone could respond further, the Sickbay doors outside slid open, and a crewman from Engineering supported another under one arm. "WE NEED HELP HERE!"

Masterson and Eydiir raced outside, Peter following with Stalac directly behind him, Peter keeping back and watching in horror as he saw a man burned and seared on the left side of his head and upper body. Masterson took over, assisting with helping the man onto the nearest biobed, asking, "What happened?"

"EPS overload -- access conduit down by the morgue--" the other man reported breathlessly, looking pale as a ghost. Peter watched him step back, swaying, before racing up and catching him. He looked back at the doctor and nurse, but they were focused on the burn victim, so he eased the second man back onto a waiting chair, leaning him forward. "Keep bent forward, take deep breaths, I'll get you some water."

Peter moved away, glancing around for a dispenser or replicator, but then stopped as Masterson barked. "Pete! The Regenerator Unit! It's just behind you! Roll it over here!" Then he returned to Eydiir. "50ccs of anaprovaline, ready a shot of Lectrine, he's going into shock-- PETE!"

But Peter was transfixed, trying to get himself to get over it. Since arriving at the Academy, he had earned an unfortunate nickname among the other Medical cadets: Blackout Boone. He had fainted the first time he saw a holosuite program of an operation -- not even a real operation, a fake one! -- and despite his attempts to bolster himself, to take stabilisers and run through the mental disciplines the Academy Counselors had taught him, he couldn't help but react badly. But at least he thought he had conquered the urge to pass out.

But now, finally getting a direct look at the man's injuries, real injuries: the burnt, cracked flesh, blistered and smoking and leaking clear fluid and oh God the smell the smell--

He turned, wanting to find a place to throw up- and only succeeding in doing so over Stalac, who had somehow moved up behind him without Peter noticing. His breakfast projected onto part of the Horta's shell, making the latter rumble backwards instinctively and knock the Regenerator Unit over, before leaking some nervous acid onto the carpet.

Masterson cursed and ordered, "Computer: Activate the Emergency Medical Hologram!"

Instantly the image of a bald, pale-skinned human male in Medical Blue appeared nearby. "Please state the nature of--"

"Here, Dude!"

The EMH took one look at Peter, who was on all fours, coughing and looking ready to retch again from the smell of the vomit on Stalac. "Are you certain? That young man appears to have regurgitated a Horta."

"I said here, Bottlehead! Plasma burns! Eydiir, get the Unit over here!"

As the hologram and the Capellan complied, Eydiir rushed over, easily lifted up the Regenerator Unit with one hand, sparing a venomous look at an appalled Peter and saying, "You want to save people? Then quit, Fool!"

*

They pointed Peter to the nearest hygiene chamber to clean himself up, and then to the nearest Support closet to get the equipment needed to clean up his squadmate and the floor of Sickbay.

He felt particularly chagrined as he knelt beside the Horta with a sonic absterger. "Tell me if this hurts, it's only meant for carpets."

"I like it. The sonic shower's frequency is a bit too soft for me."

"Stal, I'm sorry, I am so, so sorry-"

But Stalac managed to somehow shrug without actually having any shoulders. "Believe it or not, this is not the first waste matter one of you Carbs has projected onto me. One night back at the Academy, I was out in the gardens meditating, and a drunken cadet came up to me, mistook me for a boulder and peed on me."

Peter stopped now, jaw dropping. "Oh my God, what did you do?"

"I moved, cursed him -- and the poor boy was so startled he lost control of the rest of his excretory system."

Peter made a sound, immensely grateful that his squadmate was so good-natured about everything. Then his dread returned. "They're gonna kick me out, aren't they?"

"What, a handsome young man like you? Nonsense. If nothing else, you've proved you can be a good janitor. Well, a serviceable one, anyway-"

"Cadet Boone."

Peter bolted to his feet, turned and shot to attention. "Yes, Ma'am?"

Eydiir scowled at him. "Do not address me as 'Ma'am'." She looked down at Stalac. "Cadet, you will proceed to the Library and Instruction Room and immerse yourself in the database of medical-related duties available to Starfleet personnel, and find something to do on this ship."

"Ma'am -- I mean, Nurse--"

"Any reasonable modifications to technology that can be made to accommodate your physical nature will be considered," she continued. "You will find something by the end of your shift today."

The Horta rumbled nervously. "Nurse... I want to help, I can assure you. But I am... handicapped... in a humanoid-run environment. I... I can't do anything."

"I will not accept that answer, Cadet. Go. Do not return without a solution to the problem. And if you do not return, do not make me come looking for you. Is that understood?"

"Uh... yes, Nurse." Stalac turned and scittered towards the doorway.

Peter watched him go. "Um-- maybe I should go help him--"

"You will accompany me. Now."

"Yes, Ma-- Nurse!"

Eydiir eyed him, before turning and striding towards an unoccupied office nearby, never checking to see if Peter was following.

Never needing to, either. He rushed up inside as the door slid shut and locked, and the Capellan woman darkened the tint on the surrounding transparent windows. "Sit."

He complied, watching her open a case on the desk and produce a hypospray. "This will deal with the after-effects of your nausea, and provide a vitamin boost." As she approached, she asked, "You don't faint at injections, do you?"

"What? No, Nurse."

As she injected him and returned the hypospray, he studied her. She looked like she was working up the will or the courage to tell him something. Her subsequent words confirmed it. "Cadet, this is difficult for me--"

"No!" he suddenly exclaimed, rising to his feet. He fought back his humiliation, his fear, and let his anger surface. It wasn't fair! They couldn't kick him out now! Too much was riding on this! "I want to speak to the Captain!"

"Excuse me?"

"It's not fair! You can't kick me out of Starfleet just because I reacted the way I did! Who wouldn't, after seeing something like that?"

"Cadet--"

"I wasn't prepared for that! I'll get better, I promise--"

"Cadet... Sit. Down. Now."

He did, as she approached him again, regarding him. "Mr. Boone, I didn't call you in here to expel you. For one thing, I do not have that authority. For another, if I thought you were unsuitable for this work I would have no difficulty telling you. Or do I seem the type inclined to spare other people's feelings?"

Peter looked up, the realisation that his worst fears weren't coming to life, striking him like a bucket of cold water. He even saw, or thought he saw, a hint of dry amusement in the nurse's eyes. "I, ah, I guess not."

She nodded, visibly steeling herself. "Mr. Boone, it has been brought to my attention that my reaction to your response out there earlier might be interpreted -- however inaccurately -- as uncivil. Maybe even... harsh." She clenched her jaw. "For which I have been compelled to express my regrets. I... apologise."

Relief washed through him. "That's-- That's not necessary, Nurse--"

"I agree. But I was ordered to do so, so there you are." She crossed her arms and leaned against the desk, scrutinising him. "Now that I have grovelled, tell me the truth: why did you choose to study Medicine at Starfleet Academy?"

He started. "Why? I-- I said--"

"I heard the prattle you fed us in Doctor Masterson's office... and I do not believe it. Tell me why." She paused and added, "I will not reveal what you say, unless I believe it necessary."

Peter looked up at her. He debated denying her, or trying to lie outright again... except that he knew he wouldn't get away with it. And besides, there was something in the woman's manner, beyond the gruff acerbity. He genuinely believed she was concerned. Or at least curious. "The Starfleet recruiter told me that based on my scores, I could only get into the Academy right away as a Medical cadet. And I needed to get away."

"Why? You're from Gault, a farm world. What was it, too boring a life for you? Are you looking for adventure, excitement?"

He stared hard at her. "Looking for a new home for my daughter."

That made her start. "You have a child?"

He nodded, reaching under the collar of his undershirt and producing a tiny gold projector. He pressed a button on the side, and a tiny hologram of a smiling, chubby-faced child with dirty-blonde hair appeared. He couldn't help but smile back. It was amazing, he thought. He had kept this quiet from everyone around him since he was accepted into the Academy two years before; people he lived and worked and studied with didn't know. And now he tells a complete stranger...