What I Did On My Terrible Long Weekend

Posted on Tue Jun 4th, 2019 @ 12:41pm by The Narrator & Lieutenant Commander Mara Ricci & Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang & Stephen Spires

Mission: S1E3: Moments Of Consolidation
Location: USS Resolute, Sickbay, Sleepers Bazaar Parking Swarm
Timeline: MD9 13.00PM

The sickbay of the Resolute looked the same as every other sickbay in the fleet. Smaller perhaps due to its size, but no less capable for it. Every modern medical miracle had been crammed into the tight space, hidden behind wall panels, fitted to the ceiling, or programmed into the snazzy Mk9 Emergency Medical Hologram.

The one thing that had not been programmed into the EMH was what to do when confronted by something dreamed up by Ridley Scott.

"Chief Ricci, you need to remain on the biobed," the EMH said in an accent so British it should have come served with tea and scones. Sandy-haired, with a smile on its perfectly programmed face, you wanted to hit it. Just to watch the teeth fly off into pixilated oblivion. It again leaned over, trying to use a pair of forceps to get under one of the faintly glowing tendrils still wrapped around her arm.

The door hissed open, the main access to sickbay.

"There is a level 5 quarantine field in place. If you pass beyond the demarcation I cannot assure your safety," the Mk9 EMH said, and then looked at Ricci. "Though I am doing everything I can to assure your's Ma'am."

"Fuck you, Sparky," Spires said to the EMH. "Whatever contamination there is, I already got it." He grabbed Mara's free hand and squeezed it tightly. "You're gonna' be alright, principessa."

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” replied Mara, but with significantly less venom than was usual when speaking with him lately. “Of course I’m going to be all right; we’ve got the best doctors in the Fleet with us. Even our EMH is top of the line.” But there was definite worry in her voice as she spoke, almost as if she was trying to convince herself.

"Well flattery is always appreciated," the EMH said with a smile. "It really is a rather fascinating organism from what the bio scanner is reporting. Its already infiltrated your nervous system, its why you're not in incredible pain right now. It wants to live with you, like a parasite. In fact, I'd wager it was designed to go after you. There is...worryingly familiar DNA signature to it."

Sparky gestured to the quarantine field, where a DNA map was projected onto the field.

"Human, Trill and....those there? Vulcan DNA chains. Just enough to make it compatible with baseline human physiology. Trill and Vulcan too, come to think of it," Sparky returned to looking at the still latched on barnacle. "It's a fascinating animal. And you say it came from this Varkin fellow? And he was covered in biomass just like...oh."

Sparky held up the forceps. In their padded claws the barnacle hung limp, the once glowing blue tendrils that had anchored it to Mara's arms now looking like overcooked noodles.

"I believe my cultural database has a few references to when this sort of thing happens..." Sparky said with a smile. "But I'm sure its nothing to worry about."

A wriggling blue light seemed to shine up from under the skin of Mara's forearm.

"Okay, that might be worry-worthy."

Mara squealed, terrified, and subconsciously squeezed Spires’ hand tightly. “Never mind that!” she exclaimed frantically. “Can you get it out?”

"Okay. Nurse let's sedated Chief Ricci, 5cc's of moxasosin should suffice," Sparky said. "Miss Ricci I'm going to have to sedate you whilst I work-"

The blue light suddenly glowed brighter, seeming to blister the skin of Mara's arm as sudden red scabs began to appear. But instead of sores and weeping wounds, the scabs began to form serrated interlocking plates of rough chitinous material. They coloured slightly, forming the red and fading to the white of a crabs shell. Sparky leaned back on the stool he was sitting on, examining the bracer of shell-like material now ringing Mara's forearm.

"Interesting. I tell you we're about to sedate you, your blood pressure rises due to stress and...it reacts. The reaction suggests intelligence," Sparky looked at Mara. "Tell me, did this Varkin fellow say anything? Describe what he or they were undergoing?"

“He called it a rider,” replied Mara tensely, twitching slightly. “He was... liquifying, it seemed. Bits of him were growing into the platform he laid on. I don’t care if this thing is intelligent, it’s going to kill me! Get it off!” The twitching grew worse. Was it subconscious or had the thing secreted some sort of toxin into her system? She didn’t know and didn’t entirely care just as long as this thing went away.

"No horseshit," Spires said. "It will eat her alive if you don't do something and quick!"

The doors swished open to let in the tall form of Commander Ritter, who entered with all brusque assertion of a man demanding the attention of the room. So at once he saw the state of Ricci's arm and the quarantine demarcation and the general chaos and ruined the effect by skidding to a halt and giving a noise of surprised disgust. It took a moment's reeling before, lurking at the demarcation like a desperate bureaucrat rather than the commander of the away mission, he rocked on his heels and called out, a bit plaintively, "Report?"

With a flicker of holographic light, a second EMh appeared, same as the first but on the right side of the quarantine field with the Commander.

"Cheif Ricci has been exposed to a highly adaptive parasitic organism, apparently tailored to infect and subvert human physiology along with two other known species native to the Alpha Quadrant. How that is possible I do not know, but currently, deep tissue bio scans have concluded the parasite is located in her arm...for the time being. I say that as the parasite seems to have a hook into her central nervous system, including her auditory nerves. Or possibly a deeper hormonal reaction to what's going on, given it has reacted in a defensive manner when I suggested sedating her. I believe if we leave it alone, we will lose Chief Ricci," Sparky the EMH looked at Ritter. "I require vocal authorisation to commence with treatment beyond this point, as a number of ethical subroutines will need to be disabled."

The EMH's manifestation was a chance for Ritter to look into the quarantine field, see the situation, get a grasp of the desperation and screaming, and steel his expression. "Commander Wolfgang Ritter, XO, Canopus Station, giving authorisation for treatment," he drawled to the hologram as the mask came down. Now it was as if he were ordering a casual aperitif. "I expect you to make sure Chief Ricci's in a state to be debriefed."

"Acknowledged."

The EMH wasn't smiling when it said that.
The EMH did not have a sudden twinkle in his computer-generated eye.
The EMH most certainly did not harbour the thought that, in this moment, he might trot the cobbles of old London town and practise scalpel form by gaslight.

The second instantiation vanished, and the first still sitting by Ricci's side seemed to shiver ever so slightly.

"Don't you worry my lovely," Sparky the EMh said, it's English accent slipped into a more lyrical tone of voice. His free hand went to the tray of surgical instruments under the biobed, and without looking he selected one of them. "I'll have you all fixed up and well in but a moment."

And then the EMH moved. There was a flicker of light, a sizzle that sounded worryingly like bacon dancing in the pan, and an odd lightness. Ricci's arm was still there, the lower half of it slowly becoming more and more armoured as the parasitic rider made up new blueprints for her cells to use. But she couldn't feel it growing anymore, that odd sense that the armoured plates were shuffling slightly over her skin.

In fact everything from above the elbow down was numb.

And an inch lower that the rest of her arm, as it was detached from her body. The EMH held the surgical laser up like a conductor about to start a symphony, looking down at its work as it deactivated the azure cutting tip. With its free hand, it gripped the changing and severed forelimb and moved it into the biocontainment vessel set up beside the biobed.

"I think we'll need some painkillers soon nurse," Sparky said,

Mara screamed. “We have prosthetics, right?” she asked frantically. “Of course we have prosthetics! Why would we have prosthetics?” Her voice grew higher in pitch and it was clear she was panicking. “You’d better have a prosthetic!” she growled just before beginning to hyperventilate.

In the biohazard container, the severed limb began to twitch, as the glowing tendrils under the skin moved at a fever pitch. More armoured scales began to appear, the fingers melting it seemed until they were more lobster like than claws. Bead black photoreceptors began to appear near the stump, which was scabbing over nicely for dead flesh.

"We have a selection," Sparky said, its demeanour returning to normal as it began the work of cleaning and dressing the wound. "We'll need to assess nerve damage and other factors first, but I'd not worry unduly."

The bio container rocked as 'Handy' get rowdy.

Now attempting to control her breathing- and failing quite miserably- Mara nodded her understanding. We have prosthetics, she told herself. Better to lose a limb than die, right? But it didn’t seem to be working very well.

"If you can give me an hour or so, I should be able to hook something up that should suffice. Though I hasten to add it will not be fully functional. A modern prosthetic is not 'plug and play', it takes time for the new limb to learn what the body is attempting to communicate to it," Sparky said. He then waved over an orderly. "Take the hazard container to the stasis chamber, full lockdown in case it somehow finds a way to fiddle the lock from the inside. I look forward to comparing it to this Varkin fellow."

Stephen Spires had maintained a stoic vigil during the procedure, but the EMH's had just amputated Mara's strong if infected arm from her beautiful body. "Shit..." He looked up at her face twisted in fear and uncertainty, and found he was at a loss for words.

TAG-Mara/Others

=/\="Bridge to Sickbay, Commander Ritter? The ferry from the Harbour Master has arrived, I think we've stalled them as long as we can."=/\= The officer of the deck reported over the comm. =/\="Its begun transmitting a countdown of sorts before 'punitive penalties are incurred for tardy docking'. I don't think it's talking about fines."=/\=

Ritter's eyes turned skyward, as if that helped in talking to the disembodied voice through the comms. "Acknowledged," he replied tersely. "Allow them to dock and have Commander Jiang and Lieutenant th'Zohan meet me there. I will join them presently."

=/\="Aye aye, Sir.=/\= came the little chrip of the intercom cutting off.

Ritter looked back to the quarantine zone, and the individuals inside. "Chief Ricci," he called out, apprehension by now faded for a dull irritation at the many inconveniences besetting him. She'd lost an arm but he was on the clock. "I'm Commander Ritter, Canopus' new XO. It's necessary I now speak with this Harbour Master; if I had more time for an actual debriefing or for you to... recover, I'd take it. Give me the salient points what happened - who's responsible, anything I need to know before entering a dialogue." The civilian was given a querying look, too, as Ritter couldn't have cared less at that point from where an explanation came.

"Sir," the EMH spoke up as he began to use a medical tool on the stump of Mara's arm. A nurse in arm length biohazard gloves began to apply little bright orange bio tag's to the arm, the medical cocktail within them beginning the work of nerve repair and holding off cell death. "She's currently under medical observation, and I believe asking your questions now may not get you the answers you seek."

Stephen swallowed his own turmoil in order to speak up. "Ritter, you say? I was with her the whole time. Stephen Spires, embedded journalist. I can tell you the whole thing."

Meanwhile, Mara had buried her face in Spires' chest to avoid looking at what was left of her arm. It wasn't so much that she needed comfort as that she wanted to avoid seeing what was really there. She was also still twitching- possibly out of stress- and trying to slow her breathing, so she didn't have any idea what was really going on around her. She was definitely not going to be able to answer.

"He's a slaver," Spires told Ritter. He ran a comforting hand behind Mara's head and let her take refuge against him. "Gastarox. His ship is stolen. The original captain is nearly deceased by way of that...coral parasite. The crew is mercenary. Together they brought everybody to a slave market. Said something about some 'Harbor Master.'" Stephen scrunched his brow as he said the words. "Apparently he doesn't take kindly to runaways or troublemakers."

"Mister Spires. Did you have any dealings, or hear anything more about the Harbour Master himself?" Ritter asked, giving the civilian a quick once-over. Beggars couldn't be choosers when it came to gathering information at this moment. "He's expecting a meeting. There is a difference between meeting a businessman who hosts a slave market, but is still a power in this region, and handing ourselves over to a slaver." In other circumstances he'd have taken his people and fled, and worried about placating locals later. But this was far too volatile a situation, on the edge of the unknown - and with the navigational concerns to boot.

"Gentlemen?" Sparky spoke up, still working on Mara's arm. "As fascinating and potentially useful as these insights might be, this is not the best place to answer them. My nurses and I have work to do. Mr Spires, you might rejoin us once Ritter is finished with you, or Commander you might wait outside until he is ready to depart. Or stay. I find I have an entire file tree marked 'ire' I've been warming up to. Some rather fascinating subroutines stored in there."

He reached out with a hand and plucked another tool from the surgical tray.

"Do you know there is an entire sea of difference between causing actual pain and causing emotional pain?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Spires scolded the EMH. "Stow the creepy serial killer talk and get Mara patched up."

"Don't blame me. Blame the good people at Silicon Avatar, a subsidiary of Ingram Nanoscale Solutions. I'm just coded to enjoy my work," Sparky retorted.

"INS... figures," Stephen muttered. Turning back to Ritter, he said, "No. That toad Gastarox dropped his name like it was supposed to be scary. Apparently this place he was headed is real big on recycled body parts." Looking down at Mara's severed arm, he resisted a shudder.

In return, the served arm quivered, as more of the oceanic mutation took hold of the severed limb. Now sea urchin-like spins were growing on it, sputtering out a viscous yellow liquid that when it hit the remains of human flesh began to eat away at it. Sooner or later there was going to be something in that that had only be classified as human remains thanks to thorough record keeping.

"Can we dispose of that?" Stephen asked, his aplomb expended. "It's freaking me the fuck out!"

Ritter's eye had twitched at the EMH's reference to Ingram Nanoscale Solutions, but he'd been otherwise doing his level best to ignore the hologram and its gruesome work. And words. And ignoring the severed arm. There was an awful lot to be disregarded and compartmentalised under present circumstances, in fact. So he focused on Spires. "Then I will have no apprehension about throwing all blame for any potential conflict on this Gastarox when I meet with the Harbour Master. Thank you for the clarification. If there's nothing else urgent, I'll head to the meeting and be out from under everyone's... feet." This last was added with a gesture that did, technically, take in the EMH after its urge for them to get out of the way. But he still preferred right then to not acknowledge its existence more than he had to.

"That would be wonderful," Sparky said in a sing-song voice.

Creepy fucking hologram. Spires shook his head and continued to cradle Mara. This day was only getting weirder.

"I'll - speak with you soon," Ritter said, trying to sound like a reassuring superior officer and mostly lost in the hubbub and upset and amputations. Instead, he deemed that the moment to beat a hasty getaway, and disappeared through the sickbay doors.