Warrior Doctors, Unite!

Posted on Tue Jan 10th, 2023 @ 12:20pm by Lieutenant Ramat'iklan & Lieutenant Bel Ragh MD

4,135 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: Short Treks
Location: Sickbay, Federation One

Ramat'iklan was used to working in a team by now, be it in sickbay on trivial matters or out in the field leading a team of combat medics to evacuate and treat injured personnel should things ever go sour. It no less surprised him still to find out from the charge nurse on duty today that he would be assigned a shadow - a former Marine corpswoman who'd since made the transition to Starfleet Medical proper. He respected the Marine Corps, every single one of them, and their bravery on the field, for he had met and dealt with them several times in his career, but to have one now learn from him was something quite different indeed.

She'll be along shortly, he was told, for she needed a bit of time to settle in. As such he went about his normal morning duties, wondering what she'd be like. He'd never had an understudy before - although he sensed she'd already done everything he could teach her and then some on the battlefield.

Having only recently come aboard, Bel had located her quarters, stowed her gear and headed the Sickbay. As she walked she familiarised herself with the ship.

Finally arriving at her destination, she looked around for the officer she was to shadow. She found the Jem'Hadar doing his rounds. "Good morning." She said. "I'm Lieutenant Ragh reporting for duty, sir."

Ramat'iklan, who'd been busy treating one of the outstanding injured at that point, looked up from his work to find... a Klingon. He was no stranger to breaking stereotypes (he himself being possibly the biggest living, breathing example) but it surprised him no less. "Lieutenant Ragh. Welcome." He said. "How have you settled in on board thus far? Have you encountered any difficulties?"

"Thank you, sir, I'm still getting settled in." Bel said. "I wouldn't call them difficulties, but I have received a few looks."

Ramat'iklan snorted and said, in fluent, accentless Klingon no less: "Do not worry about any strange looks you receive, or the words of any naysayers who say you cannot adequately perform the duties you have been trained for. Let them cry like baby targs freshly born from their mother's womb. Hpld your head high, for you have earned your way here. When it is you that saves their life when they need it, they shall then sing a markedly different song." Obviously Ramat'iklan knew quite well what he was talking about - perhaps he'd been a victim of such abuse himself, abuse that he did not let get through his thick, scaly hide.

"For now, however." He gestured to the rest of sickbay. "Your daily duties will mostly be within the confines of sickbay, lest, of course, you are required to attend a medical emergency elsewhere on board. Our combat medic practices shall happen... as and when we are able."

"Right now, we have a few recovering patients to attend to. Crewman Fitch here is ready to leave." This he said in Standard, while nodding at the curly-haired blond human man on the biobed in front of him. "Be careful, crewman - I do not wish to see you in here with your fifth plasma burn this week. Yes?" The crewman nodded and hurried out of sickbay, obviously eager to get back to work.

Bel took in the JemHadar's sage advice. In Klingon she said. "I can tell that speak from experience, thank you, for the advice. I will take it to heart."

Then she asked. "Crewman Fitch concerns me, is he clumsy or just bold?"

"Both." Ramat'iklan cracked a wry smile. "He is extremely eager to impress one of his colleagues whom he is apparently attracted to, and takes on any job he is given with gusto worthy of a Klingon warrior taking on a worthy opponent. Too bad his clumsiness often gets in the way. He nearly burned his index finger off at the joint on Monday, will you believe it. It took two nurses and the duty medical officer to fix up his hand again, though his ego remained entirely intact. I don't know if I ought to admire him, or send him to counselling, or both."

"Nonetheless." Ramat'iklan sighed. "We still have our morning rounds to do. It will be a while before we get an actual break."

"I've been like that before, but I'm a lot sturdier than he is." Bel confessed. "As for a break, perhaps we could have a little is celebrate your birthday."

Ramat'iklan froze, and stared at her in shock
"How did you know my birthday has passed? I have not told anyone save counsellor R'Elle.' Maybe she was the one who'd told Bel about it; back then they'd only talked instead of properly celebrating., leaving the day as boring as any other.

"I do not celebrate my birthday." He said curtly. "Not usually. I find celebrating yet another year spent without losing your life odd."

"I understand, we're warriors, we carve death in battle, but defeating death is also honourable, and we do that by celebrating our birthdays." Bel said.

Ramat'iklan raised an eyebrow, both surprised and amused, in a pleasant way. "I suppose that is true." He mused, as they moved from Fitch's now empty biobed to the next one over. "Do you have something in mind for a celebration, perhaps?"

"How about ice cream? I was thinking we could have a make your own sundaes bar." Bel said. "With chocolate, caramel, and, raspberry sauces, and sprinkles and wafer and other treats." She said. The Klingon wasn't sure if he'd go for it. Did JemHadar even like ice cream? She awaited his decision with some trepidation.

His answer and reaction then might've surprised her. The Jem'hadar smiled wryly and said, in a somewhat lighthearted tone, "I would like that. My favorite flavor of ice cream, by the way, is strawberry. If you know where on board I can get a decent scoop, I am eager to find out where." Hearing that one of the nearby nurses snickered, earning something quite close to a death stare from the Jem'hadar. "Don't worry. The nurses know I enjoy ice cream. They still haven't wrapped their head around the fact that I favor strawberry the most." He said to her, lowly, in Klingon. "Would you first like to change out of uniform when we are finished with our shift? I understand that is the norm for such... celebrations."

"Indeed." Bel replied. "We can hold it on the holodeck. I'll set everything up."She said. "Do you have a list of guests you'd like to invite?" She asked.

"I do not have very many friends on board. Just the two of us will do. I have never liked large parties with many guests." He responded, thinking back to the few parties he'd had thrown in his honor on previous assignments - each of them crowded and rowdy and oh so unlikeable. No, he liked his birthdays to be quiet and simple, and he preferred to keep them that way.

"For now, however, we still have a shift to complete. Let us finish our duties, and then we may celebrate." He said with a wry smile, leading her onward.

"Of course, tell me about the other patients we have here." Bel said as she took in the elaborate Sickbay. She supposed that made sense since it was the President's vessel. It rivalled some of the hospitals she'd worked in. The other medical went about their duties around her. Some smiled, others didn't make eye contact.

"Of course. You know that the crew has only just recovered from transitioning to the future, of course." He said. "Some here have outstanding injuries from the transition. Some are like crewman Fitch, except they get injured while being overzealous with their duties. Most are, thankfully, rather ordinary." They stopped in front of a pasty-faced human male, who had been treated for alcohol overconsumption. "Ensign Mayweather. I trust you are feeling better - you understand what we've told you about your intake, surely."

The man chortled and nodded, giving Ramat a thumbs up. "Gotcha doc. By the way, who's the hot Klingon chick?"

"I'm Lieutenant Ragh, Ensign. I'm the new medical officer here." Bel said. "I recommend you learn some manners, other wise things could get rather uncomfortable for you." What she wanted to say was 'talk about me like that again, and you'll find yourself breathing space'. But she found she came across more intimidating if she phased it as advice and didn't raise her voice.

"Yes, ma'am-"

"Okay, you can go, ensign. Let's move on." He whispered into her ear as they moved off, earning a snicker from the human as he scampered out of sickbay. You know, just in case Bel decided to throw hands - and then he'd need to patch them both up. Again, in the former's case. "Pardon ensign Mayweather. He lost his partner in the transition and has since been... looking. Counsellors are attending to him." He said lowly. "They suspect it's an abandonment disorder of some kind. I hope your previous patients did not give you too much trouble."

"Let's just say they learned very quickly not to." Bel said with a small smile.


Later on holodeck 3.

Bel and Ramat'iklan stood in a wood panelled room. Balloons and streamers had been hang. At one end of the room was large 'make your own sundae' bar, which contained both vanilla and strawberry ice cream and a multitude of sauces and toppings many more than the Klingon had originally mentioned. There was also a selection of fruits. Near the sundae bar were two wooden tables and to one side there was a bar for alcohol complete with a holographic bar tender.

"When you had said an ice cream bar I had expected something a tiny bit less... varied." Ramat admitted as he browsed the selection with visible excitement. "On my previous assignments the ones the holodecks came up with or those already on board were much smaller. I suppose this is what one gets from the President's flagship, not that I am complaining." He proceeded to pick up an ice cream scoop and fill a bowl with large spheres of strawberry ice cream, topping it all off with a lot of chocolate sauce and crushed walnuts. Yes, walnuts. Ramat'iklan was many kinds of odd and this was one of them. He began to pile on chunks of peach and ripe green grapes as well - maybe he'd just not had any in a while.

"Were you introduced to ice cream where you were raised, or did you come across it as a Marine perhaps?" He asked, while shoving a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. He'd changed out of uniform into jeans and a black muscle shirt that hugged his stocky frame and biceps nicely.

"I was born and grew up on a Klingon colony close to the Federation border, Federation merchant and Starfleet crews would visit regularly. Starfleet Marine SAR teams would even practice there due to some of our rugged countryside. As a child I had a great interest in the animals of my world. One day I was exploring a cave near my home, when I got lost. It was the Marines that found me that day and their CO, a Bajoran introduced me to ice cream." Bel explained. She walked over to the ice cream bar, her Klingon leather outfit creaking and swishing as she moved.

She made herself a 'sundae' consisting of both vanilla and strawberry ice cream, pour over caramel sauce, added tulaberries, peaches and crushed almonds, before heading to one of the tables.

Ramat'iklan took a moment to glance over at the contents of her bowl and smirk as he sat down with her, eagerly shovelling strawberry ice cream into his mouth. "It looks like someone is equally into strawberry ice cream as I am." He joked. "What a coincidence. Their commanding officer introduced you, you say. So you decided to repay them for rescuing you by joining them? If so - I don't think we're all that different..."

"Yeah, something like that. I believed their job was an honourable one, and it was something I must do." Bel said. "My father wasn't very happy, he expected me to follow him into the Defense Force, after all I am his only child." Bel explained. "My mother was more understanding, she saw it as a 'calling' and was able to convince my father that, my actions would still honour our family. " That said, she took a seat next to Ramat' and tucked into her ice cream with gusto.

"A warrior is still a warrior regardless of the battle they fight. Your father will come around to it eventually." He said. Yet again he seemed to know exactly what he was talking about - perhaps he'd experienced something along that line as an officer, much more so a medical officer at that. "If you feel this is the battle you would like to fight, so be it. Let no one else chart your destiny. At the end of the day when your life's battle is fought and won you can say with your chest out and head high that you lived well, regardless of what you did. Yes?"

"Indeed. My mother has always been the wise one in the family." Bel said. "So, how did you end up here, Ramat'iklan?"

"I am an exile from the Dominion." This he said nonchalantly as could be, but with a tinge of regret. "All because I dared to speak against a Founder. I was only lucky I was on the bridge of the Starfleet vessel that rescued me - if not, I would have died there and then." Ramat'iklan continued to eat as if this were the smallest matter in the world... which it obviously wasn't. "Now that I am gone I doubt the Founders care that I will never return to our time and return home. That is the extent of their nonexistent love for their creations." That he said with a little bit of bitterness. Perhaps he'd expected a bit more from the gods he'd always revered, only to be thrown the brutal, stinging truth. "To them I am one soldier, when they can make hundreds more by the day."

"My people did away with our gods centuries ago, only Kahless the Unforgettable, founder of the Empire is worshipped today." Bel said. "But, it was worse for you, because you lost your 'parents' and your 'gods' on the same day." She said. "Now some of those which you have pledged to help look upon you with disdain." She added. "Oops, I looks like I know how to bring down the party atmosphere." She laughed a little embarrassed. Take another spoon of ice cream, she rose it in a toast. "To Ramat'iklan my friend and fellow warrior may they sing great songs of your deeds." She said.

Ramat'iklan raised his spoon to hers, clinked them together and stuck it in his mouth, for it contained a little scoop of strawberry ice cream and chocolate syrup. "They would incredibly angry if they saw us like this." He noted. "Or possibly plainly puzzled. Even twenty years after the Founder Odo released us from the need for ketracel white in the hopes of allowing us to eventually become our own people most changelings find that idea preposterous." Following another moment or so he remarked, "I wonder what the Jem'hadar have become at this point. Have we all killed ourselves? Or perhaps the Founders have annexed us back into the ranks of their armies. Or perhaps we have somehow become our own people. What do you suppose?"

"From what I understand the ketracel white was one part of a two part scheme used by the Changelings to control your people. With the white gone they had to rely on your people believing they were gods. This was a very fragile tether, since now your people could think for themselves, and begin to question if they were indeed gods. Short of reinstating ketracel white, I don't believe the Changelings would be able to keep at least some of your people from defecting." She said. "The only problem I can see with your people founding a culture of your own, is that you are unable to sexually reproduce. If that problem has been solve by this time, I see no reason why your people can't have found themselves a home."

"Perhaps." Ramat'iklan remarked. "I would like to visit, if it exists. Perhaps we have solved that issue somehow. Perhaps now there are female Jem'hadar, however improbable that sounds. Perhaps we have found ways to organize ourselves into families and our own society. I imagine many of us still serve the Founders in some capacity." As he polished off his bowl of ice cream he noted, "We would make excellent Marines. I would not be surprised if the Marine Corps of this time is filled to bursting with us. There's probably enough to crew an entire ship, do you think?"

"I would like to visit as well." Bel said. "I wonder if they'll like ice cream." She said with a smile and finished her own.

"You plan to introduce ice cream into a society of genetically engineered warriors." Ramat'iklan raised an eyebrow. "You, my friend, are extraordinarily brave, possibly even braver than a Jem'hadar. What makes you think they won't try to kill you for the attempt?" His tone was joking, however - though was he really?

"No. I was going to get you to do it." Bel teased. "I was going to stand back and watch." She said with a smile.

"Stand back and watch as they descend on me like hungry predators, either beating me to death or devouring the ice cream we've brought them? That's not very Klingon of you." He noted. "Or it could also be that my people have served Starfleet for decades or even centuries and already know about ice cream and probably even produce it locally." Ramat'iklan let out a bark of laughter. "Well, I suppose it might go better than we both expect, at least. Don't you agree?'

"If they already have ice cream, I'll have to introduce them to blood wine floats." Bel said. "Its an acquired taste."

Ramat'iklan stared at her in surprise. Bloodwine floats? He'd had root beer floats before, several times in fact (including times when no one was looking), but the idea of fiery, strongly alcoholic bloodwine in place of sweet, foamy beer was utterly alien to him.

Well, thankfully he was in the perfect to find out just what that might taste like.

"Computer, one bloodwine float, vanilla ice cream." Indeed, he found it somewhat hard to reconcile the sight that was creamy white vanilla ice cream floating in the deep red of Klingon bloodwine placed in an extra large glass - but no way of knowing how good it'd be without trying it, right? Gingerly he picked up the glass and took a sip "Not bad." He admitted afterward. "I think I will have to drink this a few more times to get used to it."

"Computer one bloodwine float, vanilla ice cream." The drink appeared in front of her. without a word, Bel took the drink and downed it in one. "Could have been a little warmer." She said wiping her mouth with her arm.

"Warmer?" Ramat'iklan blinked. "Forgive me, but I cannot imagine this drink being any better when warmer. I find it quite nice as is." He swallowed another half of his cup before deciding to shift the topic back to something a bit more normal. "Where were we. The Jem'hadar society of this time, and their possible like of ice cream. You'll have to let them try this indeed - they'll probably venerate you somehow as the entirety of their society shifts while they battle it out over the best drink of their universe in their opinion." He joked. "We can be quite... opinionated."

"I'm sure you can." Bel said. "Perhaps we can visit Donatu V, my world, after we've visited your people." She suggested.

"Perhaps one of your family's descendants might still live there." He suggested. "Were you an only child?" As remotely possible as that was, he suspected that they'd likely have no luck in that department. Family bloodlines often didn't last that long.

"I have... did have two younger brothers, Tariq and Sydan." Bel said. "My father had a brother Gharen."

"Perhaps one of their children might still live there." He reckoned. "I am curious, however - why did your parents leave Qo'nos for the colony? I understand that Klingons don't usually leave to settle down in Federation space of all places." He downed the rest of his bloodwine float and set the cup aside. Unusual, maybe, but some part of him wanted to keep on ordering it. Maybe someday he'd get used to it.

"My father was 'awarded' Governorship of the planet, for his service to the Empire." Bel said. "At least that the official reason. The truth is there was a traitor in the High Council, the Chancellor knew it wasn't my father and they hatched a scheme to expose the traitor. With my father who was lead investigator, was reassigned, it was hoped the traitor would let their guard down a little and make a mistake. It worked the traitor was captured, but my family couldn't return as it was make the Chancellor's action appear dishonourable, so there we stayed." Bel explained.

Now there was a roundabout way to earn citizenship, he thought. At least his case of political asylum (or at least he liked to think of it as such) had far less twists and turns. "But you nonetheless found your life there pleasant?" He said. "Have you ever visited Qo'nos?"

"Yes, my life has on reflection has been pleasant." Bel said. "I've never had the opportunity to visit Qo'nos in person, but I have studied it and experienced certain places as recreations on the holodeck."

"Perhaps you might get to visit in this time period - if the Admiral deems fit, I suppose." He reckoned. "I can come with you if you'd like some company - I can hold my own against Klingons if need be. Though I doubt they'll disapprove of you. A doctor is a warrior in their own way."

"Perhaps," Bel said. "And if the Admiral does agree, I would be glad of your company." She added. "Indeed, to a Klingon physician, a wound or a disease is an enemy to be fought and defeated. The warrior ethos permeates all levels and areas of Klingon society."

"They will approve of your choice of career, I'm sure." He replied. "Though I suspect they may raise a few eyebrows at *my* choice of career. No matter. I suspect you will be quick to teach them otherwise, with physical force if necessary." Ramat'iklan gave her a friendly nudge in the shoulder as he put his empty cup down. "I wonder if any of your family's bloodline still remain on the planet. Imagine what they'd think if you told them that you're their long lost cousin by... oh, maybe a few hundred generations?"

"Who knows maybe the Orions and the Gorn have joined the Empire." Bel said. "My family may have some rather interesting descendants." She laughed.

"Perhaps a Klingon with green skin might be among them, you think. Or perhaps your descendant's spouse might be a Gorn." Ramat'iklan shrugged. "Perhaps. I suspect anything is possible at this point in our future. Or, even odder still - there might be a Jem'hadar or two in your family. Wouldn't that be fun." He canted his head with an eyebrow raised.

"If they're anything like you, I wouldn't mind having a Jem'hadar or two in my family." Bel said. "I've enjoyed myself, but I best go and get some sleep, I fear its going to be a long day tomorrow." She said.

"It will be." Ramat'iklan agreed, ignoring the little bit of warmth that rose to his cheeks at the first part of her comment. "I will see you in sickbay tomorrow. Rest well, my fellow warrior and doctor. And thank you."

"You're most welcome." Bel said. "Good night, my friend." She added and kissed him on the cheek before leaving the holodeck.

The heat that'd been in his cheeks before had been little more than warmth before - but as soon as her lips made contact with his cheek it intensified considerably... in good ways, mind. Ramat'iklan stared after her in shock as she left the holodeck before smiling to himself and shaking his head. What an interesting development.

END

 

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