Special Delivery Part I
Posted on Sat Oct 17th, 2026 @ 11:24pm by Rear Admiral Nevin Enor
2,378 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
Chimera and Deep Space 16
Location: USS Fleming, Olympic-class Medical Support Vessel
USS Fleming — Main Medical Bay
“Bell, either convince that woman to stay on the biobed or get somebody who can.”
Lieutenant Marcus Bell looked over his shoulder, visibly frustrated with the elderly Tellarite woman who had spent the better part of fifteen minutes refusing his examination. “Commander, I've tried everything short of bribing her. She's threatened to bite me twice.”
“Three times!” the Tellarite corrected.
“See? Three times. Thank you for clarifying.”
Chief Petty Officer Tessa Morgan passed behind him carrying a tray of hyposprays. “Have you tried being charming? Actually, never mind. That'd probably make things worse.” Lieutenant T'Varek approached and examined the patient's readings before calmly explaining the examination to her. Within moments, the Vulcan had convinced her to cooperate. Bell watched in disbelief. “Unbelievable. I spend fifteen minutes negotiating with her, and you walk over here like some sort of Vulcan miracle worker.”
“Perhaps your approach was inefficient, Doctor.”
Morgan chuckled. “That's Vulcan for you're an idiot, Marcus.”
Across the medical bay, Lieutenant Commander Cassandra Vale sat reviewing the overnight reports, wondering if fourteen hours was too early to start contemplating retirement. Before she could finish her coffee, a priority notification appeared on her terminal.
**STARFLEET MEDICAL — PRIORITY DEPLOYMENT**
**MOBILE CRISIS RESPONSE TEAM**
Vale opened the orders, read the first few lines, and sighed. “Well, there goes my evening.”
Bell approached. “What's happening?”
“Pack a bag. We're going to Deep Space Sixteen.”
“Please tell me there's a beach involved.”
“Senior Chief Petty Officer Jadizon Enor. USS *Chimera*. Severe psychological trauma, currently nonverbal, and possible impairment of telepathic function. We're to evaluate him, stabilize him, and transport him to Betazed when medically cleared.”
Lieutenant Elara Venn, a Betazoid physician specializing in neuropsychiatry, joined them and immediately requested the PADD. “He's Betazoid? How long has he been nonverbal? Have they established whether the impairment is neurological or psychological?”
“That's part of what we're going to determine,” Vale replied.
T'Varek glanced over the incident summary. “Prolonged exposure to a non-corporeal entity. Suspected psychological manipulation and telepathic intrusion. There are several possible neurological complications.”
Bell folded his arms. “Let me guess. Somebody encountered something they didn't understand, it crawled into this poor bastard's head, and now we're supposed to figure out how to put him back together.”
“An oversimplification,” T'Varek replied, “but not entirely inaccurate.”
Morgan leaned over Vale's shoulder, examining the patient's name. “Enor? Wait a minute. Rear Admiral Nevin Enor?”
Vale scrolled farther down. “His father.”
Bell whistled. “Oh, that's wonderful. We're going to pick up an Admiral's kid.”
Venn looked up. “We're going to treat a Senior Chief Petty Officer.”
“I'm aware, Elara. But there's a difference between an angry family member calling your office and an Admiral calling your office.”
“Not as far as I'm concerned,” Vale interrupted. “We treat him like everybody else. If he's fit to travel, we take him. If he's not, he stays. Simple as that.”
The medical bay doors opened, revealing Captain Adrian Kessler, commanding officer of the USS *Fleming*. He approached with a PADD tucked beneath his arm.
“Good. Saves me having to give that speech.”
Vale stood. “Captain.”
“I assume you've received the orders. Your team will depart aboard Medical Transport Two. The *Fleming* is remaining on her current assignment, so you'll be operating independently until you reach DS16.”
“Who's taking us to Betazed?” Morgan asked.
“That's still being coordinated. Petty Officer First Class Elias Mercer is qualified to get you to the station. We've requested Petty Officer Second Class Ronan Drake, Chief Support Craft Pilot aboard the *Chimera*, for the longer journey. Captain Skyie is forwarding the request through Lieutenant Windancer. If Drake volunteers and his assignment is approved, he'll take over at DS16. Otherwise, we'll find somebody else.”
Bell shook his head. “So we're heading out there without knowing who's flying us home?”
Kessler shrugged. “You'll survive, Doctor. It's a medical transport, not an escape pod.”
He turned toward Vale. “Cassandra, I want you to remember something. Whatever pressure comes from Headquarters, your medical judgment comes first. That young man has apparently been through hell, and I don't want anybody rushing him onto a transport simply because his father has stars on his collar.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Good. Departure in forty-five minutes.” Kessler started toward the exit, then stopped. “And tell Mercer that if he damages the *Juneau* again, I'm assigning him to inventory bedpans for six months.”
Morgan laughed. “I'll make sure he gets the message, Captain.”
“Please do. I mean it.”
USS Fleming — Medical Preparation Area
The team spent the next half hour gathering equipment and reviewing what little information was available. Morgan organized medications, portable monitors, and emergency treatment kits while Bell checked the diagnostic supplies. Venn and T'Varek reviewed the potential effects of sustained telepathic trauma, occasionally disagreeing over which examinations should take priority.
“The first thing I want established is whether he can understand and respond to us,” Venn explained. “Being nonverbal doesn't mean he isn't aware of his surroundings. We need to give him other ways to communicate.”
T'Varek nodded. “Agreed. Furthermore, any telepathic examination should be approached with caution. If his neural pathways have been compromised, additional stimulation may cause distress.”
“Or make him relive whatever happened,” Venn added.
Vale closed her PADD. “Then nobody goes poking around in his head without his permission. We start with observation, establish communication, and go from there. If he doesn't want to be touched, we respect that unless there's an immediate medical concern.”
Bell glanced up from his equipment. “And sedation?”
“Only if clinically necessary. We're not putting somebody to sleep just because he's frightened or difficult to work with.”
Morgan secured the last case. “What if he refuses to come with us?”
“Then we find out why,” Vale replied. “He's a Senior Chief, not a prisoner. I'd rather spend another day at DS16 than drag a traumatized man halfway across the quadrant against his wishes.”
Bell nodded. “Fair enough.”
“Good. Everybody grab something. We've got a shuttle to catch.”
USS Fleming — Shuttle Bay Two
The team emerged from the turbolift looking as though they were preparing to relocate an entire medical department. Vale carried her command case and patient-transfer documents, Venn had her neurological assessment equipment, and T'Varek carried a portable diagnostic module. Bell struggled with two medical cases while Morgan guided an antigrav trolley stacked with supplies.
“I'm just saying,” Bell complained, “we live in an age where ships travel faster than light, and I'm still carrying equipment like a twentieth-century delivery boy.”
Morgan didn't look back. “Want me to find you another trolley?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Great. Run back and get one.”
Bell continued walking. “Never mind.”
The shuttle bay doors opened, revealing Medical Transport Two, the *Juneau*. Larger and considerably more luxurious than a standard runabout, its white hull displayed the markings of Starfleet Medical. The interior had been designed for extended patient transportation, with two fully equipped biobeds, a compact laboratory, independent life-support systems, private resting accommodations, and a comfortable aft lounge.
Bell stopped just inside the hatch. “Well, look at this. It's nicer than my quarters.”
“Marcus,” Morgan replied, steering her trolley past him, “most storage closets are nicer than your quarters.”
Petty Officer First Class Elias Mercer appeared from the forward compartment carrying a maintenance case. “Welcome aboard the *Juneau*. Finest medical transport in the fleet.”
Petty Officer Second Class Naomi Chen followed with a diagnostic PADD. “He says that about everything he flies.”
“Because I only fly the best.”
“You scraped a Type Nine against a maintenance platform last year.”
“It was a minor incident.”
“You removed half the starboard sensor assembly.”
“Naomi, do we have to discuss this in front of guests?”
Vale handed Mercer the flight plan. “Apparently Captain Kessler thinks so. Something about bedpans.”
Mercer closed his eyes. “That man really needs a hobby.”
The team began securing equipment while Chen gave Vale an overview of the transport's medical systems. The *Juneau* offered a comfortable environment for patients requiring extended medical care, complete with private treatment accommodations and a dedicated diagnostic workstation. The forward command compartment was compact but well appointed, with two flight stations and a central command chair intended for the senior medical officer.
They were nearly ready to depart when somebody came running across the shuttle bay.
“WAIT! HOLD THE TRANSPORT!”
A young crewman approached the boarding hatch carrying a duffel bag and a medical field kit.
“Crewman Noah Ellis, Emergency Medical Technician trainee. Reporting for duty!”
Vale stared at him. “Reporting for what?”
“Captain Kessler assigned me to your team for a training rotation, Commander.”
Morgan slowly turned around. “Oh, you've got to be kidding.”
Ellis handed over his orders. Vale scanned them, then shook her head. “Of course he did.”
Bell leaned over her shoulder. “What?”
“Supervised emergency medical experience. Effective immediately.”
Morgan approached the young man. “Ever worked an emergency transport, Crewman?”
“No, Chief.”
“Ever treated somebody outside a controlled medical facility?”
“We did simulations at the Academy.”
Morgan stared at him. “Simulations.”
“Yes, Chief.”
Bell grinned. “Oh, this'll be good.”
T'Varek reviewed Ellis's academic record. “His examination scores are satisfactory, although his practical experience is limited.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Ellis replied.
“That was an observation, not a compliment.”
Mercer looked at the duffel bag. “What'd you pack, kid? Your entire quarters?”
“Just clothes for three weeks.”
“Three weeks? We're going to DS16, not establishing a colony.”
Chen glanced up from her station. “Elias, you packed four pairs of boots for a five-day assignment.”
“Different boots for different situations.”
“What situation requires dress boots on a medical transport?”
“One you clearly aren't prepared for.”
Vale handed Ellis his orders. “Crewman, listen carefully. You're here to learn, not impress anybody. If you don't know something, ask. If you make a mistake, report it. You're dealing with real patients now, and some of them may not be able to tell us what's wrong. Understood?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Good. Help Chief Morgan finish loading, then report to Doctor Bell.”
Ellis hurried aboard. Bell watched him disappear into the medical compartment.
“Give him six hours.”
Morgan shook her head. “Four.”
From inside, Ellis called out, “I can hear you!”
Bell smiled. “Good. Your hearing works. We're making progress already.”
Medical Transport Juneau — Departure
Mercer settled into the port flight station while Chen occupied the adjacent console. Behind them, Vale took the central command chair and brought up the mission information.
“Fleming Control, Medical Transport *Juneau*. Preflight complete. Requesting departure clearance.”
“*Juneau*, Fleming Control. Flight plan approved. You're cleared for departure. Captain Kessler sends his regards.”
Mercer glanced toward Chen. “Did he say anything else?”
There was a brief pause.
“Just something about bedpans, Petty Officer.”
Chen laughed as Mercer shook his head.
The *Juneau* rose smoothly from the deck and passed through the atmospheric containment field. Outside, the immense spherical forward section of the Olympic-class *Fleming* dominated the view.
Mercer smiled. “Beautiful ship, isn't she?”
Chen glanced up. “Beautiful? Elias, she's an old medical starship. She's not a *Prometheus* or a *Sovereign*. I'm surprised we can push her past Warp Eight without something breaking.”
“She's been retrofitted. New warp components, updated power distribution, modern medical systems. She's got plenty of life left.”
“New parts in an old body.”
From the medical compartment, Morgan called out, “Sounds like my ex-husband.”
Bell burst out laughing.
T'Varek glanced up from his workstation. “While the comparison is unusual, Lieutenant Chen is correct. Retrofitting does not eliminate the structural limitations of an aging vessel.”
Mercer sighed. “Does anybody aboard this transport actually like the *Fleming*?”
Vale leaned back in her chair. “Mercer, I love the *Fleming*. I'd also love to reach Deep Space Sixteen before I retire.”
“Understood, Commander. Course laid in. Warp Seven.”
Chen glanced toward him. “Seven? Thought she could do eight.”
“She can. I'd prefer to bring her back with the engines still attached.”
“Since when do you care about preserving engines?”
“Since you started keeping a record of everything I break.”
With that, the *Juneau* accelerated into warp, leaving the *Fleming* behind.
Medical Transport Juneau — En Route
The journey to DS16 was relatively uneventful, although the same couldn't be said for the crew. Mercer and Chen continued their ongoing disagreement over the *Juneau's* maintenance requirements while the medical team prepared for their patient. Bell spent much of the trip putting Ellis through emergency response exercises, Morgan reorganized the medical supplies twice, and T'Varek reviewed neurological treatment options with Venn.
“Alright, rookie,” Bell said, leaning against an empty biobed. “Our patient refuses to speak, won't let you touch him, and becomes agitated whenever somebody approaches. What do you do?”
Ellis considered the question. “Attempt to establish communication, explain what I'm doing, and ask permission before examining him.”
“Good. And if that doesn't work?”
“Give him space, continue observing, and ask for assistance.”
Morgan nodded approvingly. “Look at that. Kid's got a brain.”
Ellis smiled. “Thank you, Chief.”
“Don't get excited. We haven't tested the rest of you yet.”
Venn looked over from her workstation. “Noah, there's something I want you to remember. Some patients have been through things we can't begin to understand. They might be angry, frightened, or completely withdrawn. That doesn't make them difficult people. It makes them people who need help.”
T'Varek added, “And an inability to communicate verbally should never be mistaken for an inability to comprehend one's surroundings.”
Ellis nodded. “Understood.”
Vale entered from the forward compartment. “How's our newest addition?”
“Still alive,” Morgan answered.
“Encouraging.”
Bell smiled. “He's actually doing pretty well.”
Ellis looked between them. “Is everybody always like this?”
“Pretty much,” Bell replied.
“Most days are worse,” Vale added.
The conversation was interrupted by a chime from Vale's PADD. She reviewed an updated message from Starfleet Medical concerning the *Chimera* and its injured Senior Chief.
“Alright, people. We've received confirmation that Enor remains off duty pending further medical evaluation. His condition hasn't significantly changed. We'll coordinate directly with the *Chimera's* medical department once we're at DS16.”
Venn nodded. “I'd like to speak with whoever has been treating him before we attempt an examination.”
“Agreed. Nobody's rushing aboard and hauling him out of his quarters. We meet with the medical staff, review his condition, and determine what happens next.”
Morgan glanced toward the empty biobed. “Hope he's doing alright.”
For once, Bell didn't have a joke.
(TBC)
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