Necessary No-Hurty Check

Posted on Wed Oct 15th, 2025 @ 6:46pm by Captain Doran'atar & Lieutenant Commander S'Von Hill

1,503 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Laying the Groundwork
Location: Sickbay 1, U.S.S. Koinonia

Doran'atar had never been fully comfortable with the idea of sitting in a ready room somewhere, whiling the day away on paperwork while his crew hummed on around him. Sure, with well-trained, well-oiled crew that was definitely ideal, but he much preferred to see and understand things for himself. The needs of each department could be ascertained with his own two eyes and ears - something dry, clinical text reports never properly captured. He could gauge the morale of the crew by watching them at work - discreetly, if needed. Most importantly of all, he could watch and assess his heads of department in action - he'd need to appoint a Second Officer from amongst them all and he intended not to waste his choice the first time round.

But first, a trip to one of the Koinonia's three massive sickbays. The you are to report to the medical facilities aboard your new assignment for assessment written into his posting orders was a line he'd learned not to ignore over the course of his career unless he wanted the fury of an exasperated charge nurse upon his head, and hell hath no fury like sickbay's treatment of defaulters.

Yes, Jem'hadar do actually fear some things. They're mortal too, you know.

Doran'atar materialised right outside the entrance to sickbay. The entire hallway was brand spanking new; he could smell it in the air, literally, from the walls to the carpet on the floor to the programmable matter doors that served as the entrance. They hissed open as he stepped forward; the poor young technician carrying what seemed to be a humungous crate of equipment who noticed him enter only got to 'Captain-" before being waved off. Stupid courtesies. Doran had grit his teeth and dealt with the formalities for years, but now that he was on the receiving end, he found surprisingly little joy in it. Formalities and protocol did not go away simply because he didn't like them, of course, but there was always space for him to make it his own.

A sharp whistle pierced the air and the medical personnel looked over at the source. A tall, lean Vulcanoid had just put a sizeable crate on the floor and opened it. "Tricorders are in," he said, his voice steady but carrying through the open room. "I need Epsilon and Iota teams to get them calibrated and distributed to primary and secondary locations. Once they're stocked, report back for next assignment."

As a half dozen people moved quickly to put their cases to the side and approach the box of tricorders, the Vulcanoid looked at the Jem'hadar standing off to the side. He raised an eyebrow and walked over quickly, his longer legs making it a quick trip. He looked the other man over and nodded. "Captain," he said, nodding his head. "Doctor S'von Hill. How can I help you?"

"Routine physical assessment, Commander. Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you." Doran'atar grunted, showing the Vulacanoid the screen of his holo-PADD, containing his posting orders and instructions to report for a physical exam. "And a seperate... checking in. I prefer to see what my departments need with my own two eyes." Looking out over sickbay, he could definitely see for himself that sickbay was busy - understandably so. His CMO had probably had not much more time than he to prepare up till this point, surely. "I can come back later if now is inconvenient."

"I'm sure we can manage," S'von said. "Please, follow me." He turned and began to weave his way through the constant stream of personnel towards his office.

"Of course." Doran'atar walked behind him, taking time to watch the environment around him . So far, so good - testament to his CMO's organisational skills, surely.

As they entered the Chief Medical Officer's office, S'von pressed the panel and the doors closed, the sound of a busy sickbay being cut off, but the view through the one-way viewports still showing it bustling. S'von reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a tricorder he'd brought with him that was ready for use. "If you'll have a seat, Captain," he said, gesturing to a couch on the side of the office.

"So I did come at a rather inopportune time." Doran'atar muttered as he sat on the couch, arms folded. "I take it most of your equipment is not yet ready for use?" It certainly seemed that way, given that he was in here and not outside on a biobed. "Rest assured that, at all other times, I shall try to visit when times are better."

"Your crew is adapting well, I take it." He added.

S'von raised an eyebrow and nodded. "They are at that. I've had them distributing equipment most of the day so far. I'll begin a hands-on-inspection of most of the emergency supplies shortly. The exam beds in Sickbay are, according to diagnostics, working fine, but we haven't checked calibration yet, and I'd assume you'd prefer some discretion when examined." He gave a small smirk. "Captain's privilege, and all that." He flipped open his tricorder and began scanning.

"'Captain's privilege' is a myth. The minute I am seen to be receiving special treatment from any one of my senior staff, least of all my Chief Medical Officer, the seeds of rumors will be planted. As far as I care, unless I am about to die without immediate attention or if I need to be isolated for any reason, I can afford to wait to be examined in sickbay, on a biobed, like all the rest of my crew." Doran grunted with a shake of his head. "That is how I build trust. Remember that for next time."

"Do you require anything else at the moment, Commander? Expertise, resources and such." Doran added, moving swiftly on without room for S'von to comment. "Now, while we are not entertaining guest delegations, is the opportune time to ask for them."

"Once we have our inventory completed and double-checked, I'll prepare a list of requests," S'von said, finishing his scan. "So far I have all the staff I could want. I've had some specialty items on order, but the courier assures me they'll be here within twenty-four hours."

"Let's hope these 'specialty items' rarely, if ever, see use. Least of all the equipment designed for use by only specific races." Doran sighed. "There are a few, aren't there, as I recall. Though I expect that soon enough that hope will be dashed. Nerves are still frayed, even two decades of diplomacy on."

"Indeed," S'von said, nodding. "However, where hope fails, preparedness steps up. I prefer to be prepared." He sat down behind his desk and accessed the scans of the Captain, looking them over in more detail. "Other than elevated blood pressure, no doubt due to the stress of launching a new ship," S'von said, looking pointedly at the Captain, "you are in excellent health. I would suggest, however, something to calm your own nerves. Stress will not do you any favors."

"I intend to - but this is only the start of the day. I will need to look around the ship first." Doran'atar quipped.

"There are several options for recreation on board the ship," S'von pointed out. "You have options ranging from holodecks to the Gardens, to a restaurant or cafe. Find something where you can sit and have a moment to yourself and unwind."

"Commander, you know very well that Starfleet Command is very rarely ever quiet, less so for commanding officers - even less so for new commanding officers." Doran'atar grunted. "Sooner or later I will be pulled away from whatever respite I find by whatever Command thinks needs immediate, urgent attention lest the universe itself implode." He'd done the work as First Officer elsewhere - and god, did he wish at times that he had time to do literally anything else.

"I didn't suggest it would be easy, only that it would be necessary," S'von said.

"Of course. Rest assured I will carve out a time for recreation - by hell or high water." Doran'atar stood up off the sofa and stretched once. "I believe I will seek out one of the cafes on board and peruse their menu, and see what variants of hot chocolate they have." Yep, a big, spiky dude like him that could probably throw some small but heavy electronic appliances, originally bred to fight and kill or be killed... preferred chocolate for his choice of drink to unwind with. Adorable.

"A warrior's drink, if ever there was one," S'von deadpanned. He stood up and nodded. "It was good meeting you, Captain. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go see how my secondary and tertiary locations are progressing."

"Let me know if there are any... issues." Doran'atar nodded and stepped out the door to sickbay.

S'von closed his terminal down and nodded goodbye, tapping his tricom and vanishing.

 

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