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What's Up, Doc?

Posted on Thu Mar 14th, 2019 @ 4:14am by 1st Lieutenant Christian Rogers & Senior Chief Petty Officer Coltan Xan

Mission: From the ashes...
Location: Marine Country
Timeline: Current

Colt whistled as he walked towards Marine country. As usual, he was in a good mood. He was busy, but he figured he had time to stop in to see the new Marine CO. Arturo had said the guy was a little prickly, maybe a little to full of the usual Marine baloney, but generally okay, and that Xiulan seemed to like him. Of course, Arturo wasn't in the position of being able to be too friendly with anyone other than Leigh, Xiulan, and Colt himself, being the XO and all. Xiulan, on the other hand, could be as friendly as she wanted to. So all in all, he assumed both of their assessments were correct.

Colt approached the Marine sentry standing outside the entrance to Marine Country. "Senior Chief Hospital Corpsman Coltan Xan, Chief of the Boat to see Lieutenant Rogers."

"Yes, Cob," the lance corporal at watch said. He motioned the other Marine over. "Lance Corporal Erickson will escort you to the CO's office."

The trip was short, the Marine did, however, point out various parts of Marine Country to Colt as they walked, but didn't offer or seem inclined to take the Chief into any of the areas he mentioned. They finally came up to the office, and true to his word, the door was already programmed to remain open while Rogers was inside or he ordered it shut. "Lieutenant," Erickson said standing just off to the side of the door, keeping away from the 'fatal funnel' of the doorway. He'd already screwed that up once today and was sure he'd have a bruise from the unexpected football thrown at him. "Senior Chief Petty Officer Xan to see you, Lieutenant."

Rogers looked up as the lance corporal started speaking and frowned before he remembered this was the corpsman and chief of the boat Fluffy mentioned. "Thank you, Lance Corporal, I'll call you when he's ready to leave." He stood as he waved the CoB into his office, then closed the door behind the SCPO. "Doc, how are you?" Rogers asked as he indicated one of the two chairs in front of the desk. A couch was to the side and behind Rogers, on the wall, were two crossed baseball bats with a third underneath, not quite forming a pyramid as the lines weren't closed. A well used baseball was in a clear container in the center of the bats. Another baseball sat in a holder on the desk, along with a Terran rules football that appeared to have been set down casually. Otherwise, the rest of the office looked as if someone worked to make things orderly and squared away.

"Outstanding, Lieutenant," Colt said. "I'm alive, I have the best job in the world, and as far as I know Captain Jacobs hasn't gotten any complaints yet today about me deflowering some admiral's virginal daughter. I call that a banner day."

"Would there be any truth behind those rumors?" Rogers asked, "Or have they finally declared 'admiral's virginal daughter' to be as much a myth as Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster?"

"You know, Lieutenant," Colt said. "You might have something there. So, Arturo and Xiulan--Commander S'Rohass, and Lieutenant Song said that you asked to see me. What can I do for you?"

Rogers nodded as he looked at the wall opposite where he was sitting. "I thought we might have to dance around this for a bit more but right to the point. I like that." He sat up straight and turned to look at the CoB. "I need your discretion on a slight problem I'm having and I just don't want getting around."

"Okay," Colt said. "Lay it on me, Lieutenant, and I'll see what I can do to help."

"Before getting assigned here, I was assigned to a planet experiencing a tactical crisis. We were there six months and, well," he grabbed the baseball from his desk and started tossing it hand to hand. "My knee's been acting up lately and, well, it's getting to the point where there's pain when I PT and it lingers." He glanced to make sure the door was still closed. "One of the sergeants even asked if I was 'okay'."

Colt nodded. "Well," he said. "Then it's a good thing that I stashed a kit down here in your office before you moved it. You've probably found a compartment you can't open. That was me. There are some good drugs in there. Can't just let you have free access. And don't feel bad. There's one in Captain Jacobs' Ready Room and in Commander S'Rohass' office, and Xiulan keeps one in her office for me because some crap for brains inevitably will forget the Chief of Ops is blind and leave some obstacle in the way for her to trip over or bang into. If you'll allow me?"

"Please," Rogers said, looking around. Honestly he hasn't spent a lot of time in his office yet so if there was a panel he didn't have access to he didn't find it. But, a large part of him, didn't like the idea of being locked out of something in MC. "I'd ask my own corpsman but, he's not aboard yet and until I spoke with the Jacobs I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to bring him. If I went to Medical for something like this, then it'd get around."

Colt went over to a compartment and entered a code. He opened it and pulled out a field kit. "Computer, tint the office windows opaque please." The windows tinted completely black. "Okay, I'm going to scan your knee just to see if there's anything obvious, but then I need to visually and manually examine it. In other words, I have to look at it and touch it. But let's start with the scan."

Colt took out the medical tricorder and scanned Christian's knee. "Okay, I think this is going to be a quick solution, but again, I have to get touchy feely. So, Lieutenant, bare it and share it."

"Alright, but I heard about you Fleeters, so don't be falling in lust with my beautiful quads and hammies," Rogers said as he stood and removed his tacvest and blouse before removing his boots and trousers. Fortunately, he'd once been enlisted so the idea of being barely clothed was broken out of him during basic. Also, because he was genetically Betazed, everyone just assumed he was comfortable with nudity anyway. But he did fold everything and lay it on the desk for when they were finished and he had to dress again. "And if you do, just remember I'm not an admiral's virginal daughter."

"Just keep telling yourself that, Lieutenant," Colt said. "Just keep telling yourself that." Colt examined the knee, checked for bruising, manipulated the knee and the leg. While a tricorder could tell him a lot, it wasn't, say, a biobed, so it wasn't as exact. That meant getting back to basics a bit. "Okay, yeah, you tore some cartilage. Fortunately, I am not just your average, everyday corpsman, nor am I only an average, everyday Independent Duty Corpsman. I, Lieutenant, was a SAARC, a Special Aerospace/Amphibious Reconnaissance Corpsman, a trained Special Operations Independent Duty Corpsman. In other words, I can do meatball surgery. Also, this kind of tear is pretty minor. I should be able to get it externally, so no meatballs. I'll take a crack at it for you, anyway. But if it acts up again, you're going to speak to a physician about it. Deal?"

"Crap," Rogers said, shaking his head. It sucked getting older. "As long as the doctor can keep their mouth shut around my Marines. Thanks, Doc, I appreciate your help. I try skip another day of PT and the troops might get uppity."

"No problem," Colt said. "Can you clear some space on your desk so you can sit on it with the bum leg laid out straight in front of you while I get set up? Thanks." Colt went through the kit and started taking out what he'd need. It wasn't much. Field surgery techniques were designed to require as little equipment as possible. SAARCs in particular had to get their charges back on their feet and moving as fast as possible and couldn't break out a whole surgical tray in the middle of the field. "Okay. Ready when you are."

Rogers looked at the desk and shrugged, moving the few items to the back counter, underneath his autographed bats and the ball. Then, while the SPCO was finishing up, he sat on the desk and waited. "Good to go, Doc," he said as the corpsman stated he was ready to go. He made sure he was far enough on the desk to keep his leg straight out while he angled the other off the edge, planting his foot firmly on the floor to keep some stability.

"Okay," Colt said. "This might feel a little warm or maybe tickle, but it shouldn't cause any real discomfort. Here goes."

Colt began using the deep tissue regenerator on Christian's knee. He had handheld imaging device in his other hand that he kept glancing at to check his progress. The whole process took about fifteen minutes, mostly because Colt want to make sure he repaired everything and that the repair was going to stick.

"Okay," Colt said. "You can get dressed." Colt put away his equipment while Christian put on his clothes. "So, I need you to do a couple of things. First of all, rest the leg the rest of the day, and apply a cold pack, ten minutes on, twenty minutes off, for the next four hours. Ah! Nope! If you don't let the treatment set, you'll be in Sickbay! Find an excuse to stay in your office or just go back to your quarters. If you do that, and there is no pain, no swelling, no weakness, you may resume PT tomorrow, but don't push too hard. Go slowly. You're a Marine, improvise. However, I'll be sending you a list and description of some exercises you're going to do. You could replace some of the normal PT routine with some of these exercises to mask what's going on. If you do that, replace the ones that will be most damaging to your knee. Again, find away to avoid pushing too hard. Demonstrate the exercise to them by doing it the prescribed number of times, then maybe walk around under the guise of making sure they're doing it right, then finish up with them. You can alternate sets with walking around. That should cover you pretty well actually."

Rogers had a few choice words float through his mind at what the Doc told him but he also knew that it was something he was going to have to do. You didn't ask someone for their expertise then argue with it. "Thank you," he said, not sure what was more annoying - the four hours of sedentary duty or that he was in this predicament in the first place. "I may not seem it, but I do appreciate your help with this problem. Rest assured, I'm a mustang so the fear of the Senior Chief is enough to keep me in line with your medical orders."

Colt laughed. "Whatever gets you to follow the treatment plan, Lieutenant," he said. "Okay, I'm going to lock all of this up again. I'm not going to give you any painkillers, because if you have pain in the next few hours, I screwed up somewhere. If you have pain over the next couple of days, well, then it's a toss up over who screwed up more, me or you. I'll come back through tomorrow and see how you're doing."

"Roger that, Doc," Rogers said as he completed dressing. He looked at the items he removed from his desk and decided to leave them there for the time being. He knew himeslf and if he stayed at the office, he'd continue working and that was contrary to what he was just told. "I hate to be selfish, so is there anything you'd like to bring up to me about my unit onboard?"

Colt shook his head, then decided maybe there was. "I know it's easy to make fun of the XO because of his height and the fact that he's a little out there. But don't let that convince you that he's any less capable, loyal, dedicated, or dangerous. Not only is he one of the best pilots in the fleet, he was once, during a little falling out between him and Starfleet, one of the best pilots and privateers in the Nyberite Alliance. He's also very capable with his hands, and downright frigging scary with a blade, long, medium, or short. He usually carries a very long, very slim, very nasty folding blade known as a Liccasapuni in his boot and a smaller, leaf bladed folder in his pocket where he can easily get to it. I think that one is called a...San Fratellano. Anyway, not only has he been teaching me a little of what he knows, but I've seen him use a blade in action. I can't say where or when, but I can tell you I've seen him at work with one. It was not a pretty sight. So, yeah, you can joke about his height, or his comments about brigands, bandits, road agents, corsairs, pirates, buccaneers, and the lot. But never forget that if the excrement hits the oscillator and you need his help, he won't let you down."

"You mean, Fluffy?" Rogers asked. He shook his head and held up his hands to forestall any comment. "I don't need to be a telepath to know that's the kind of thing you're talking about. And, mostly, you'd be right. I probably took a few alpha male liberties that I hadn't yet earned with the nickname. Rest assured, the XO will be afforded the proper respect his position deserves by every Marine aboard this ship. Including me." Rogers shrugged. "But, you have to admit, it's a good nickname. That will never ever be used again. Until the right to do so has been earned."

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Colt said. "Arturo will appreciate that. He's not exactly sensitive, but he's also new to a lot of the crew and I'd rather not have to go around applying my boot to the asses of every enlisted Fleeter whose wise cracks go above and beyond good order and discipline. Once everyone is used to him and knows where they stand it won't cause as much of a problem for him." Colt grinned. "And I'm not lying about seeing him fight with one of his blades. He cut these guys we were locking assholes with so cleanly and elegantly that some of them didn't even realize they were dying until they passed out from blood loss. The guy's a bloody, and I do mean bloody, artist with those things. His fighting style is unique, too. A lot of the popular Earth martial arts come from various East Asian cultures. My father is Human and that's what I learned. But Arturo learned martial arts from Earth's European continent, mostly Italy and a little bit from Spain." Colt finished putting everything away. "Okay, last thing. Part of my IDC and SpecOps IDC training included some mental health care. From experience I know that Marines who need to talk to a mental health professional will schedule their first appointment on the fifth of Never. So, if you need to talk, and you don't feel comfortable talking to one of the ship's counselors, give me a call and I'll find some time for you. I figure that's better than nothing. Same goes for any of your Marines."

"Thank you," Rogers said as he played with the well worn baseball from his desk. He looked as if he was going to say more when the communicator beeped. "Lieutenant, there's a problem with quarters, are you available?" the voice sounded young but confident and capable. Rogers rolled his eyes as he tapped his badge. "I'm on my way."

Turning back to Colt, "I'm sorry, Senior Chief, but duty calls. I'll have the guard come to escort you out." With that, confident the Senior Chief could handle himself, Rogers left to go take care of some unknown problems in the crew quarters. But mindful of the medical procedure, walked slowly and calmly. This only proved he needed to go to his quarters for the next several hours.

 

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