Shore Leave
Title: Shore Leave
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Summary: Written for eliteofthefleet Writing Assignment #1. A view of Sickbay after a shore leave from the perspective of an OFC - Doctor Halder.
Ensign Burrows looked sheepish as he perched on the med bay cot, his Starfleet uniform soaked and dripping sadly onto the floor, his usually well-groomed hair a frazzle of un-gelled chocolate squiggles. As he twisted uncomfortably, trying to find the most comfortable way to sit with a first-degree burn on his butt, Doctor Halder, the CMO managed to retrieve her stethoscope from a very drunk engineer, who continued to giggle intermittently, and made her way towards the rather pathetic looking ensign.
“Would you care to explain?”
Burrows opened his mouth for a few moments of silence before commencing a series of oral gymnastics that would have made an Olympic level athlete jealous and turned his eyes into two tiny grey prunes of avoidance.
Halder sighed. “I’ll take that as a no, shall I?”
Without waiting for an answer, she ordered the ensign to lie down on his front in order to get a better look at his singed derrière. Burrows’ uniform - aside from being wet and muddy, had been burned away in uneven strips of cloth around his butt, exposing what, in other circumstance could have been described as a pretty cute tushie. Halder was about to reach for the dermal repairer when something about the pattern of the burn caught her eye. Near the gentle crease where butt meets thigh, she could make out the tiniest image of Sira Starr, one of the latest hot commodities in the music industry. Her nose was a little distorted by her unfortunate positioning but then it wasn’t her nose that she was known for.
“Ensign.”
“Doctor?”
“Is that - and I cannot believe that I’m asking this - a picture of Sira Starr burned into your butt?”
Burrows attempted to look over his own shoulder and look innocently confused at the same time.
“Hwha? Sira Starr? I... don’t think... not that it’s... but I can’t think how... eh?”
“Fine,” replied Halder. “Normally I would love to mentally torture you until you ‘fess up in about ten minutes time but I have...” She checked her PADD for the numbers, “fifty three more people to see, so why don’t I just fix you up and we can share embarrassing moments in corridors for the next few weeks instead?”
Burrows seemed pathetically agreeable to this option and Halder ran the dermal repairer over the burn for a minute or so - watching the image of Sira Starr fade into obscurity, much like its original would in two to five years time.
Another ten or so officers and ensigns passed through Doctor Halder’s capable hands before a very lanky and very wet ensign fell onto the cot before her.
“Ensign...”
“MacNamara, Sir, Doctor!”
Halder barely glanced up from her PADD. “Hold your horses there buddy, haven’t been knighted yet.”
MacNamara tried to laugh but it emerged more like an asthmatic wheeze.
“So, any rashes, bad reactions, cuts, abrasions or nausea from you shore leave?”
“Erm well, I do have some slight ah, pain in my ankle from the tmm mrks.”
Halder raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the boy and carefully rolled up the ensign’s trouser leg to reveal what looked like an anklet of human teeth marks. They actually would have looked quite stylish if it weren’t for the fact that they were party central for bacteria.
“And these are from?...”
“Well, actually I was... and then... Sira Starr on fire...so I couldn’t really...”
“Stop. Right. There!” she barked. “Now. I am a patient woman and I have seen a lot of weird and wonderful things in my time as a Doctor in Starfleet. But unless you tell me in the next thirty seconds what happened to your ankle, I’m going to assume you were bitten by one of the Alverian wild dogs that roam freely down there and give you a full course of rabies shots, ok?”
MacNamara nodded meekly. “Well... Ensign Jones, Burrows and I? We decided to check out the House of Fantastic Etherea in the lower quarter and I found this really cool ring of Sira Starr that projected a laser image of her up to ten feet.”
Halder resisted the impulse to slap the silly out of the ensign for spending good credits in a plainly shady establishment and tried to keep her ‘listening’ face on.
“Well we were down by that giant lake that they have down there by the Capital City? And Jones and I started fooling around with the ring. Eventually, she dares me to shine the laser onto Burrows’ butt for a laugh but he’s a lot closer than ten feet and all of a sudden, his uniform is smoking and then ‘whoomph’! His trousers catch fire. Hey, by the way who do we talk to about changing the uniform to something made of fire retardant material?”
MacNamara took the proper cue from Halder’s Stare of Death and continued his story.
“Right. So. Anyway, he’s on fire and Jones and I are thinking, ‘what do we do?’ And there’s a lake right next to us so we... threw him in.”
“And the teeth marks?”
“Well, about ten seconds later we realise that he’s stopped flailing in a burning pain way and started flailing in more of a ‘help, help, I’m drowning!’ kind of way. So, I jump in to rescue him but it turns out that the lake is sorta... alive. A bit.”
Halder just pinched her brow with her hand and silently gesture for him to continue.
“Right. Well, it’s trying to pull me under too, so Jones grabs my ankle and I reach for Burrows. Then, ah, Jones starts to get pulled in so she needs to grip the edge of the lake with her hands... Actually, I’m grateful, you know? I mean it was quick thinking on her part. Quick, painful thinking.”
Halder snatched an anti-viral and biotic shot off the tray next to her and jabbed it rather harder than necessary into the unsuspecting ensign.
“Go. Now.”
“Ooowww...okay Doc, thanks, I think.”
As MacNamara limped out of her med bay, a tiny mop of long brown hair in a red dress squelched her way in, a very long and very green tentacle looped around her from her thighs to her neck.
“It won’t come off!” The red dress squeaked.
“That’s it, I’ve had enough of this!” shrieked Halder, slamming her tools down onto the med tray. “Bates?!” Halder’s head nurse looked up sharply.
“Tell the Captain, I’m on shore leave!”
Fandom: Star Trek
Pairing: Gen
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, just love 'em
Summary: Written for eliteofthefleet Writing Assignment #1. A view of Sickbay after a shore leave from the perspective of an OFC - Doctor Halder.
Ensign Burrows looked sheepish as he perched on the med bay cot, his Starfleet uniform soaked and dripping sadly onto the floor, his usually well-groomed hair a frazzle of un-gelled chocolate squiggles. As he twisted uncomfortably, trying to find the most comfortable way to sit with a first-degree burn on his butt, Doctor Halder, the CMO managed to retrieve her stethoscope from a very drunk engineer, who continued to giggle intermittently, and made her way towards the rather pathetic looking ensign.
“Would you care to explain?”
Burrows opened his mouth for a few moments of silence before commencing a series of oral gymnastics that would have made an Olympic level athlete jealous and turned his eyes into two tiny grey prunes of avoidance.
Halder sighed. “I’ll take that as a no, shall I?”
Without waiting for an answer, she ordered the ensign to lie down on his front in order to get a better look at his singed derrière. Burrows’ uniform - aside from being wet and muddy, had been burned away in uneven strips of cloth around his butt, exposing what, in other circumstance could have been described as a pretty cute tushie. Halder was about to reach for the dermal repairer when something about the pattern of the burn caught her eye. Near the gentle crease where butt meets thigh, she could make out the tiniest image of Sira Starr, one of the latest hot commodities in the music industry. Her nose was a little distorted by her unfortunate positioning but then it wasn’t her nose that she was known for.
“Ensign.”
“Doctor?”
“Is that - and I cannot believe that I’m asking this - a picture of Sira Starr burned into your butt?”
Burrows attempted to look over his own shoulder and look innocently confused at the same time.
“Hwha? Sira Starr? I... don’t think... not that it’s... but I can’t think how... eh?”
“Fine,” replied Halder. “Normally I would love to mentally torture you until you ‘fess up in about ten minutes time but I have...” She checked her PADD for the numbers, “fifty three more people to see, so why don’t I just fix you up and we can share embarrassing moments in corridors for the next few weeks instead?”
Burrows seemed pathetically agreeable to this option and Halder ran the dermal repairer over the burn for a minute or so - watching the image of Sira Starr fade into obscurity, much like its original would in two to five years time.
Another ten or so officers and ensigns passed through Doctor Halder’s capable hands before a very lanky and very wet ensign fell onto the cot before her.
“Ensign...”
“MacNamara, Sir, Doctor!”
Halder barely glanced up from her PADD. “Hold your horses there buddy, haven’t been knighted yet.”
MacNamara tried to laugh but it emerged more like an asthmatic wheeze.
“So, any rashes, bad reactions, cuts, abrasions or nausea from you shore leave?”
“Erm well, I do have some slight ah, pain in my ankle from the tmm mrks.”
Halder raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the boy and carefully rolled up the ensign’s trouser leg to reveal what looked like an anklet of human teeth marks. They actually would have looked quite stylish if it weren’t for the fact that they were party central for bacteria.
“And these are from?...”
“Well, actually I was... and then... Sira Starr on fire...so I couldn’t really...”
“Stop. Right. There!” she barked. “Now. I am a patient woman and I have seen a lot of weird and wonderful things in my time as a Doctor in Starfleet. But unless you tell me in the next thirty seconds what happened to your ankle, I’m going to assume you were bitten by one of the Alverian wild dogs that roam freely down there and give you a full course of rabies shots, ok?”
MacNamara nodded meekly. “Well... Ensign Jones, Burrows and I? We decided to check out the House of Fantastic Etherea in the lower quarter and I found this really cool ring of Sira Starr that projected a laser image of her up to ten feet.”
Halder resisted the impulse to slap the silly out of the ensign for spending good credits in a plainly shady establishment and tried to keep her ‘listening’ face on.
“Well we were down by that giant lake that they have down there by the Capital City? And Jones and I started fooling around with the ring. Eventually, she dares me to shine the laser onto Burrows’ butt for a laugh but he’s a lot closer than ten feet and all of a sudden, his uniform is smoking and then ‘whoomph’! His trousers catch fire. Hey, by the way who do we talk to about changing the uniform to something made of fire retardant material?”
MacNamara took the proper cue from Halder’s Stare of Death and continued his story.
“Right. So. Anyway, he’s on fire and Jones and I are thinking, ‘what do we do?’ And there’s a lake right next to us so we... threw him in.”
“And the teeth marks?”
“Well, about ten seconds later we realise that he’s stopped flailing in a burning pain way and started flailing in more of a ‘help, help, I’m drowning!’ kind of way. So, I jump in to rescue him but it turns out that the lake is sorta... alive. A bit.”
Halder just pinched her brow with her hand and silently gesture for him to continue.
“Right. Well, it’s trying to pull me under too, so Jones grabs my ankle and I reach for Burrows. Then, ah, Jones starts to get pulled in so she needs to grip the edge of the lake with her hands... Actually, I’m grateful, you know? I mean it was quick thinking on her part. Quick, painful thinking.”
Halder snatched an anti-viral and biotic shot off the tray next to her and jabbed it rather harder than necessary into the unsuspecting ensign.
“Go. Now.”
“Ooowww...okay Doc, thanks, I think.”
As MacNamara limped out of her med bay, a tiny mop of long brown hair in a red dress squelched her way in, a very long and very green tentacle looped around her from her thighs to her neck.
“It won’t come off!” The red dress squeaked.
“That’s it, I’ve had enough of this!” shrieked Halder, slamming her tools down onto the med tray. “Bates?!” Halder’s head nurse looked up sharply.
“Tell the Captain, I’m on shore leave!”