Noah sat at his desk deeply ensconced in a journal article on his PADD from Starfleet Medical regarding resistant strains of a Bolian influenza virus. Several antivirals had become ineffective and several deaths had even been reported, which was highly concerning. Luckily, there were several promising agents that were being tested to overcome resistance tactics and a trial had moved into the final stages of testing.

Outside of his office, the rest of the staff on duty were grooving to someone’s playlist and having a good time as they worked through the mundane maintenance tasks to keep Sickbay running in top condition and ready for anything. One never knew what they might encounter all the way out here in the Delta Quadrant and, as the only Federation starship present, they were possibly on their own. He wondered briefly if they would encounter some new diseases out here that he would actually have to do real research on to find a cure. Frontier medicine was both intriguing and anxiety provoking.

One of the newer junior officers, NE Greene, finished cleaning a rack of hyposprays and stood up to stretch letting out a comfortable yawn. “Gosh, I love a day like this. Getting to hang out with all of you, nice and quiet.”

As he said that the room came to a halt, the music stopped and everyone turned to glare at him.

“Why would you say that?!” one of the other NEs said exasperatedly.

Noah sighed, setting down his PADD, and stood to go lean on the frame of the door to his office. “Ensign, there’s just some things that you don’t put out into the universe. We don’t say the ‘q’ word and we don’t say the ‘s’ word. It rarely works out in your favor.”

Greene looked around with confusion, “What’s the ‘s’ word?”

Another person rolled their eyes as they walked by, “We’re not going to say it, genius.” But she mouthed the word ‘slow’ as she set down a tray of instruments on a nearby counter top.

This time Greene rolled his eyes, “Come on, you all can’t possibly believe that saying words somehow is going to ruin our day?”

At that moment, the comms system beeped and a message blared across the unit =/\= Lieutenant Alemna to Sickbay. Medical emergency in Cargo Bay 3, Deck Ten level. =/\=

Everyone stopped and turned once again to stare at NE Greene, who’s eyes slowly widened.

Noah let out another sigh and sprung into action. “Team 1 prepare the trauma bay. NE Swift and Sharpe grab med kits and a gurney, you’re with me.” He grabbed an emergency med kit and made his way quickly to the door, stopping briefly to turn. “And Greene…I trust we’ve learned something today?”

NE Greene’s face flushed as he nodded, while the response team headed out of Sickbay.

Dr. Astor - CMO