Any Assistance Needed

Posted on Sat Oct 18th, 2025 @ 3:20am by Captain Andre Hunt & Major T'Ria

881 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Trillius Prime
Location: Sickbay

During the attack about seven people had been injured and taken down to sickbay. Including one of the MACOs who had been shot during the extraction mission. No deaths, but anything that required being dragged down to sickbay during a battle was serious to Captain Hunt. Entering sickbay, he saw various injured personnel sitting around waiting for assistance. The more serious injuries were currently being attended to. Spotting the T'Ria, he approached her. "In need of additional hands down here doctor?"

T’Ria did not immediately look up. Her hands were steady as she guided the dermal regenerator across a crewman's torn side, the faint hiss of the instrument lost beneath the background murmur of the sickbay. Only when the wound sealed did she set the tool aside and turn toward the captain.

“One is always in need of additional hands during a crisis, Captain,” she replied, her voice even. Her dark eyes flicked toward the waiting area, where several crewmen sat with bandaged limbs and bloodied uniforms, awaiting their turn. “We have contained the worst of it for now. However, another influx of casualties would place us at capacity. Starfleet might consider more medical staff, and perhaps a larger sickbay on future iterations of this vessel - especially if this war...lingers."

"A much larger sickbay and increase the staff," Hunt verbally noted. "From what I have been told you shouldn't be expecting any more wounded."

T’Ria inclined her head slightly, acknowledging both his words and the irony laced beneath them. “Indeed. The probability of further casualties remains low—until it is not.” Her gaze shifted toward the biobed where the injured MACO lay unconscious, the shimmer of the cardiostim monitor reflected in her eyes. “One cannot anticipate the exact moment when a single skirmish escalates into a disaster.”

She turned back to him, her tone carefully measured. “We will stabilize those here. Those fit to return to duty will be cleared within the hour. The rest will require monitoring until we arrive.”

Andre nodded in acknowledgement. Turning and looking around the room, he was very grateful that the injuries here simply injuries that were not too serious. And zero deaths. During his time in command of the Meridian, he hadn't dealt with losing a member of the crew. But he knew that the odds were based on reports from other commanding officer, that day was likely to come eventually. "So, what do you need me to do, if anything?"

T’Ria regarded him for a heartbeat before answering. “Your continued command presence, Captain. The crew finds reassurance in visible leadership. I will handle the rest.”

Simply nodding, he decided to tend to that reassurance part that she suggested. "And what about yourself?"

T’Ria’s gaze lingered on him for a moment—long enough for the steady pulse of the biobed monitor to fill the silence between them. Her expression did not change, but there was something almost imperceptible in her stillness, a subtle recalibration before she answered.

“I am functioning within acceptable parameters,” she said at last, though the words carried the faintest undercurrent of fatigue. The collar of her uniform was darkened slightly where perspiration had soaked through, and a faint green tinge beneath her skin betrayed the strain of hours without rest.

She turned back to the unconscious MACO, adjusting the man’s oxygen mask with quiet precision. “Vulcans do not experience exhaustion in the same way humans do, Captain,” she added, as if preempting his concern. “We simply… recognize when efficiency begins to decline.”

"Declining efficiency is still exhaustion," Hunt reminded. "Vulcan or not you need rest as well." Looking down at the MACO, he sighed. "How's the Corporal doing?"

At the moment, the Corporal opened his eyes. "Just a flesh would Sir." Trying to climb his bed to stand at attention, Hunt quickly placed a hand in his shoulder to prevent him from getting up.

"Relax Corporal. You've earned the right to be on your back right now."

T’Ria’s brow lifted a fraction, the only sign of what might have passed for amusement. “Indeed, Captain. I would prefer my patients remain horizontal until I say otherwise.” She stepped closer to the biobed, the gentle hum of the diagnostic scanner resuming as she ran it over the Corporal’s wound. “You were fortunate,” she continued, her tone neutral but not unkind. “The projectile missed your femoral artery by less than three centimeters. Had it been any closer, you would not be offering commentary quite so cheerfully.”

The MACO blinked, grimacing slightly beneath the oxygen mask. “Understood, ma’am. I’ll stay put.”

“An Logical decision.” T’Ria replied, setting the scanner aside and making a note on her padd. “You will remain under observation for at least four hours. If your vitals remain stable, I will release you to light duty, Corporal.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Turning back toward Hunt, she clasped her hands behind her back in that perfectly Vulcan gesture of composure. “He will recover fully...as will you, Captain."

Taking the hint, Andre threw up his hands. "Alright, I'll get out of your hair doctor. But if you need anything, do not hesitate to call me."

=================
Captain Andre Hunt
Commanding Officer
USS Meridian

Major T'Ria
Chief Medical Officer
USS Meridian

 

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