EPISODE CCXXII - JAMIE SUMMERS INADVERTENTLY CRUSHES HER GLASS OF ORANGE JUICE
Schrader came to slowly, noting that he was once more in sickbay. He was alone, but for the still, covered figure lying on a gurney across the compartment. He scanned his
surroundings, hoping to catch of glimpse of Nurse Yahbo, but found the area eerily quiet.
Laboriously, the lieutenant swung his legs over the side of his perch, noting with some concern the lingering numbness within his limbs. How long had he been unconcious, he wondered, his head swimming despite
the deliberate pains he took to make it otherwise. When the room stopped spinning, he set a tentative foot on the floor, testing its strength as though unfamiliar with its use. Not too bad, he
surmised, as it held some weight and only trembled slightly. The other foot followed, and soon Schrader was standing unsteadily on bare feet, though leaning heavily against his bed.
He studied the form across the room, unsure of whether he truly wanted to know what lay beneath the sheet, but attempted the few shaky steps that would close the distance regardless. His apprehensions returned
as his hand closed around the sheet. Why am I doing this?!? he wondered incredulously.
Schrader turned to leave, but something (call it fate, call it kismet, call it creative embellishment) caused him to halt. He turned back slowly as the hair on the back of his neck began to rise. Had
it moved, or had it just been his imagination...
The LieutenaLieutenant leaned forward, listening intently for any sign of life. Unbidden, his hand began to drift toward the sheet a second time, and he watched in detached horror as it grasped the covering
and began to pull it back.
Dr. Egan arrived at the Detention Unit nearly three quarters of an hour after called, striding in casually with his hand thrust deeply into his lab coat pockets. Private Nation sprung up from where he was
tending to Orwig's wounds.
"Thank God you're here!", the private exclaimed.
The doctor eyed the barely conscious, wheezing form of Hillier across the room. "Is that the patient?"
"Nah", Nation remarked, "that's my partner. He's just goofin' around."
Egan nodded as he was led by the wrist to where Orwig lay unconscious. "How long has he been like this?", he queried, poorly feigning concern.
"Uh...I found him just like that", Nation replied guiltily, hiding the shock-stick behind his back, "maybe an hour ago."
Egan eyed him curiously. "Why didn't you simply take him to sickbay?"
"Hmmm", the private considered thoughtfully, "that's a really good question."
"Thank you", Egan remarked, the statement catching him a little off guard. "I've often been complimented on my observation skills."
"So what do we do with him?", Nation asked.
"With who?"
"The patient."
"What patient?"
"The one at your feet."
Egan looked down and noticed again, for the first time, the wounded, shirtless corporal. "What's this guy doing here?"
"Uh, he's the one we called you about", Nation advised the somewhat confused physician.
"Why'd you call me?!?", Egan demanded, grabbing the private by the shoulders and shaking him vigorously. "This man needs a doctor!"
"You...are...a...doctor", the private managed weakly, overcome by a wave of nausea from the jerky movement.
Egan stopped abruptly, releasing the private. "So I am", he uttered with child-like wonder, his eyes taking on a familiar distance. He let his less than lucid gaze drop to where Orwig still lay
unconscious. "We've got to get him to sickbay!"
Nation, though bent over and drooling, nodded agreement.
