Posted by Gamemaster Nosferatu (Gamemaster) in Main Sim: Sickbay

Posted by Lieutenant Dr Kahu Grahams (Chief Medical Officer) in Main Sim: Sickbay

Posted by Gamemaster Nosferatu (Gamemaster) in Main Sim: Sickbay
Snip
=/\= All Decks! Prepare for… err… prepare for synchronisation! =/\= Captain Glen announced to the ship, though no one knew quite what that would mean, even the Captain himself.

Suddenly there was a sudden shift of reality and everything stopped. The machines quit chiming, bodies quit phasing…silence filled sickbay. Every patient who had been sedated suddenly fell into a deep coma like state. Their minds were at rest.

For Grahams and the rest of the sickbay staff for just a heartbeat it was like time had paused for a moment. It didn’t register to him immediately, instead his heart sank, the silence feeling like death to him.

Then he saw the chest of the patient in front of him move in a slow but steady rhythm and it brought him back into focus. They weren’t dead, only in a coma. The machines hadn’t stopped for the complete desynchronisation that he had been expecting but for stabilisation. Something had indeed changed and he was hopeful that it was for the better.

=^= Sickbay to Bridge: We have signs of stabilisation amongst the crew. I will keep them here for close monitoring until I am confident they will remain stable but I am optimistic, =^=

=/\= Thank you Doctor Grahams =/\= Captain Glen replied from the Bridge.

Then he turned to his staff and the patients alike, “You all heard me. Nobody is allowed to leave Sickbay until I am satisfied that all neurological pathways are stable and side affects are completely gone,” He locked eyes with one particular Security NE “I don’t care how much better you feel, I am not taking any chances.”

“Nurses I want you to monitor the patients that are in coma’s, keep them stable but I don’t want any more medical interference than necessary until I say otherwise. A few minutes more of nap time isn’t going to hurt them, they probably need it, but if they show signs of waking up on their own notify me. The rest of my staff I want you to continue to triage, treat and monitor the patients, like we normally would. Be thorough and if you see any sign of temporal dissonance send them to me.”

He flicked his head subtly signalling his team to return back to work and happily noting that the nurse he’d sent to rest before had returned and was looking a markedly better colour than before. It seemed that now the phasing had stopped people were starting to look like they were feeling better.

They probably were, but although brains were plastic and could flex and adapt, they still had their limits and many of the patients in sickbay had been on the brink of that. He suspected that the most recent arrivals showing the least symptoms would be fine and he would probably be able to send them back to work. He imagined the second group’s symptoms would have disappeared as well but their scans would show signs of slight fatigue from the stress, nothing that a quick nap wouldn’t fix.

From the ones who had been suffering the worst of the temporal effects he expected there would still be some residue symptoms from the intensities their brains had had to endure. Those symptoms could be anything from severe fatigue to headaches, nausea and vertigo, it all depended on how much pressure their brains had had to suffer. Hopefully nothing too severe. He wanted to be sure before he started letting patients go that a) they would suffer no more effects and b) the temporal change he was seeing wasn’t a temporary fluctuation.

In the mean time he would continue to treat his patients and record data until he was certain. And later when all this was over and he had the chance to have his own rest he could review all the data from when the neural shifts began until now and examine it.

Lt. Grahams, CMO

The silence did not last—but it changed.

Monitors steadied. No more doubling. No more offset readings. Across Sickbay, neural scans resolved into single, continuous patterns.

NEURAL PHASE VARIANCE: RESOLVED
COHERENCE: STABLE

Patients remained where they were—those sedated resting in deep, stable states, their brain activity no longer strained. Others began to stir slowly, blinking without hesitation, the fractured “second track” of perception gone.

“…it’s quiet,” one crewman murmured, disoriented but clear.

Medical data updated rapidly, integrating shipwide telemetry:

EXTERNAL ANCHOR STATUS: STABILIZED
SHIP-WIDE SYNCHRONIZATION: ACHIEVED

The cause was clear—the Merrimack had synchronized, and the crew had stabilized with it.

Grahams’ countdown disappeared.

TIME TO NEURAL FAILURE: NULL
RECOVERY WINDOW: ACTIVE

Relief did not come without cost. Fatigue, nausea, and cognitive strain lingered across patients. Nothing critical—but not negligible.

Reports followed across Sickbay:

“Baseline cognition returning.”

“Coma-state patients stable—natural deep sleep patterns.”

A final system note appeared:

ANCHOR DEPENDENCY: ACTIVE
RECOMMENDATION: MAINTAIN CURRENT SYNCHRONIZATION STATE

The danger had passed. But stability now depended on whatever held them in this state.

For now, Sickbay held—calm, controlled, and recovering.

GM Nosferatu
Your Darkest Nightmare

With that Kahu Grahams let out a deep breath, it felt like a great weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Sickbay was still well over its usual capacity but it felt manageable now that it was back in familiar territory.

Fatigue, nausea and cognitive strain were treatable. He didn’t have to make decisions based off of intuition and cross his fingers hoping he was right and hadn’t just risked the lives of the crew.

He locked eyes with his head nurse and gave her the nod. A signal to let the rest of his staff know that he was satisfied. Once they had been checked over and treated the patients could be released. They would either be sent either back to their stations or quarters depending on the severity of their symptoms.

He took a brief moment to look over his staff. Assessing them to see if any showed signs of fatigue. The adrenaline would be running out now that things were beginning to settle. He’d have to remember to subtilty check on them ever now and then too.

He smiled as he moved towards the coma patients leaving the rest of his staff to treat the awake patients. He was ready to start waking them up.

Lt. Grahams, CMO

The transition from crisis to recovery came gradually.
Not with a dramatic shift, but with routine returning one small action at a time.

Around Sickbay, the atmosphere changed from survival to treatment. Nurses moved with steadier hands now, voices lower, calmer. Tricorders no longer screamed warnings with every scan. Medical monitors displayed stable, singular readings instead of impossible overlaps and cascading alerts.

The crew were exhausted—but alive.

As Grahams moved through the ward, he found the first signs of normalcy beginning to reappear. A crewman complained weakly about the taste of a neuro-suppressant. Another asked how long they had been asleep. Somewhere near the rear diagnostic stations, two nurses quietly argued over whose patient had snored loudest during the induced coma state.

It was mundane but after the last hour, mundane felt miraculous.

The head nurse caught Grahams’ nod and immediately began relaying instructions through the department.

“Ambulatory patients with stable cognition can be cleared for light duty.”

“Anyone with persistent vertigo or neural fatigue goes to quarters.”

“Repeat scans before discharge—no exceptions.”

Compliance came easily. Few of the crew looked eager to rush back into duty after what they had experienced.

At the coma ward, the readings remained strong and steady. Deep sleep patterns. Stable neural coherence. No residual phase variance.

One patient stirred as Grahams approached, fingers twitching first before a slow inhale expanded their chest. Their eyes opened sluggishly, unfocused at first before settling on the overhead lights.

“…did we make it?” they asked hoarsely.

Nearby, another began waking on their own, groaning softly and immediately regretting the movement as the lingering headache caught up with them.

Medical scans updated in real time as each patient regained consciousness:

NEURAL COHERENCE: MAINTAINED
TEMPORAL PHASE VARIANCE: NONE DETECTED

The synchronization held.

Elsewhere in Sickbay, the toll on the medical staff was becoming easier to see now that the emergency had passed. One nurse leaned briefly against a console while updating charts, eyes unfocused for just a second too long before continuing. Another medical technician nearly sat down on an empty biobed before thinking better of it and forcing themselves upright again.

The adrenaline was fading and morale was returning with it.

From the main medical display, a final shipwide update scrolled quietly across the screen:

CURRENT SYNCHRONIZATION STATE: STABLE
NO ACTIVE DECOHERENCE DETECTED

For now, at least, the nightmare had ended.

And Sickbay—overcrowded, exhausted, and running on the edge of its limits—had held the line

GM Nosferatu
Your Darkest Nightmare

Bump back onto the boards.

GM Nosferatu
Your Darkest Nightmare