Post: # 4658Post
Tournneau
Fri Mar 08, 2019 7:00 am
ON:
<<USS Malinche-A -- Observation Lounge -- Mission 25, Day 01 -- 1348 Hours>>
Throughout the mission briefing, Derek had been fidgeting in his chair. His stomach was not taking kindly to the lunch that he had eaten earlier - it was one of his “usuals”, a catfish poboy. He’d eaten it pretty frequently, and typically replicated food didn’t cause this kind of upset. It wasn’t exactly alarming, but it was definitely out of the norm.
Surely, it can’t be….
After Kersare dismissed the crew, Derek leaned over to catch Doctor Toren’s (PNPC) attention before he left.
“Hey, Doc - are you heading back to sick bay right now?”
The young Vulcan officer stood from his chair as he answered Derek. “Yes, the department is getting their team assignments as we speak, and I will be making my own preparations.
“Can I come see you in a few minutes about...something?”
“Sickbay is always open to the ailing, Commander.”
“Thank you - I’ll see you in a bit.” Derek patted him on the shoulder as he hurried out of the lounge towards the turbolift.
“Of course, sir.” The Vulcan regarded the senior officer as he left. Heightened perspiration, rapid eye movement, increased pulse, change in skin color - certainly, anxious about something. Or perhaps, some sort of somatic symptom of an underlying illness. We shall see. The doctor gathered his belongings and made his way to sick bay.
<<CEO’s Quarters -- Deck 3-Alpha Starboard>>
Derek hurried inside his quarters and sat down at his desk. The file that he had requested earlier was sitting on the top menu of his private terminal.
Bolian Physiology: An Overview
He began to read it quickly, jumping through different sections.
...copper-based hemocyanic blood, knew that already…..aquatic species….bifurcating skull ridge, isolated brain hemispheres, neat….skip, skip, skip….ah.
I know I heard about this before, and I remember seeing something about potential side effects, but maybe I missed something.
Interspecies Relationships
Due to the irritant nature of their saliva, and the corrosive aspects of their bodily fluids, intimate relations with a Bolian can result in non-Bolian species experiencing fatigue, nausea, and inflammation of the joints. Bolian saliva is an irritant to most other humanoid species.
Well, shit.
Derek continued reading.
Treatment options are available aboard most starships, starbases, and other Federation facilities to ensure physical compatibility between members of most humanoid lifeforms. While any deleterious effects of a short-term or one-time relationship can be dealt with over a few days, a long-term relationship or marriage between a Bolian and a member of a non-cuprous species is not recommended without medical consultation.
“Medical consultation it is, then,” Derek said aloud as he closed his terminal.
<<Main Sickbay -- Deck 6-Beta -- 1400 Hours>>
In preparation for the mission to Torva IV, the sickbay had become a hive of activity. Away team members were coming and going to get supplies and medical kits, and several of the nurses were being briefed as to which teams they would accompany as medic.
Derek stepped into the busy room and spotted Toren in his open office in the middle of sickbay, typing a report on his terminal. He came up to the doorless archway and knocked on the wall. Toren looked up and waved him in. Derek sat down on a stool in front of Toren’s desk.
“Yes, Commander, what can I do for you?”
“Well, Doctor, I wanted to come talk to you - I haven’t been feeling so well this afternoon.”
“Yes, I observed that earlier. What symptoms are you feeling?”
“Well, my stomach has been upset since I ate lunch today.”
The Vulcan raised a perplexed eyebrow. “Oh? Did you eat anything unusual, or do you have any food allergies?”
“No, nothing like that - just a catfish poboy - “ Derek caught a confused eye squint from the doctor. “It’s a sandwich, with a seafood base.”
“Ah, I see. Is there anything else that may have been a factor in this?”
“Well, yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about - you see, I...erm, well I -” Derek stopped, looking toward the open archway and the busy room behind it. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the best time, but is there somewhere more private that we can talk?”
“Not a problem, Commander.” Toren pressed a control on his desk. A holographic door appeared in the open archways on either side of his office, shutting out the occupants on the other side. The windows became grey and opaque. The office suddenly became completely quiet, save for the soft rumble of the Malinche’s warp core. “You were saying?”
“Nice touch! Yes, well, I was saying….erm...well, you see…”
Toren smiled politely as the Commander struggled to find his words. It was an affectation, of course, but most non-Vulcans found the gesture reassuring. If only all species embraced Logic - the universe would be so much more efficient.
Derek found his way out of his stammering. “You see, I’ve started a...relationship. With a Bolian member of the crew.”
Toren raised an eyebrow. “Ah, I understand. You are not aware, I gather, of some of the incompatibilities with cuprous and ferrous species?”
Derek looked down as he wrung his hands. Oh my God, I want to die. “No - well, yes. Well, I had heard about it before, and I knew that there were potential side effects, but I didn’t realize how severe they could be. I just did a little reading on this before I came down here, and I see now that I’m going to need your help - as well as your discretion, I hope?”
Toren nodded. He knew full well that Mr. Tournneau was referring to Ms. Beladd, but plainly he needed to spare his patient’s emotions the perceived indignity of revealing who his partner was. “Yes, of course Commander - everything you have to say is strictly between the two of us. Not even the Captain can know what you have to say to me in regards to your health, so long as the ship’s safety is not a concern.”
“Wonderful,” Derek breathed in relief. “Well, what can be done about this?”
“Do you mind if I scan you?”
“Not at all.”
Toren retrieved his tricorder from a pocket in his light blue lab coat, and began to run the medical scanner up and down Derek’s torso. “Yes, I see that you are suffering the effects of mild cupric chloride poisoning - nausea, upset stomach. Any nervous symptoms, either tingling or unexplained feelings of heat or coldness?”
“Yes, ah, my lips and tongue felt tingly, ah, earlier.”
Toren ran the scanner over Derek’s face. “Indeed. Tell me, when did your relationship begin?”
“Well, we’ve known each other since - oh, you mean - yes, ah, two days ago.”
“And have you engaged in intercourse?”
Derek sputtered. “I’m sorry, what? No, we’re not - that is to say, I’m not opposed - what I mean is, we’re not at that point yet.” I want to die, I want to die, please, let me die.
“I understand...and do you believe that this will be a long-term relationship?”
“Well, I hope so, yes.”
Toren closed down the tricorder. “Very well - I can treat your symptoms now, and I can prescribe some medications that will counteract any further negative effects in the near term. However, there are some more complex treatments that are recommended for a committed relationship.”
Derek furrowed his brow. “Such as?”
Toren turned to the display behind his desk and brought up a representation of Derek’s genome. “Some minor gene therapy for you and Miss - your partner, rather - is recommended to adapt both of your physiologies to one another.”
“She would have to go through this as well?” Derek asked worriedly. “I understand that my physiology isn’t compatible, but as far as I can tell, Bolians don’t have a problem with Humans.”
“That is true, sir - however, these treatments are most effective if they are treated from both sides of the equation. That is why they are only recommended for long-term relationships, and also why they are required in a long-term relationship.”
Derek stood and walked up to the display, examining its readout. “Isn’t gene therapy a little extreme, though?”
“The risks are minimal. The procedure is very well documented and understood much better today than it was even twenty years ago. There can be some mild discomfort in the first few weeks, but eventually the body adapts and is able to thrive once more.”
“How is the procedure done?”
“A simple injection of a custom-encoded retrovirus. The process is painless and takes only a few seconds. However, it is something that needs to be done regularly. Once a month is usually sufficient.”
Derek nodded. “And what are the risks? Will it affect lifespan, or other aspects of our health?”
“The risks are not of that nature - as I said, the encoding is very precise. There is a negligible risk that the gene alteration will not be accepted by the body.”
“I see.” Derek returned to his seat. “Well, thanks for showing me that - I don’t think I’m ready to talk to her about splicing genes yet - but it’s good to know that it’s an option.”
“Of course. Would you like the other medications now?”
“Yes, please,” replied Derek. Toren rose and walked to the medical dispensary in a wall alcove behind his desk.
“So, Toren,” Derek asked as the Doctor prepared his prescriptions, “This is probably a question that’s too far ahead, but…what about children? Is it possible between a Bolian and a Human?”
Toren paused for a moment in thought, and then continued to work on the medications. “It is possible, but it is very difficult. In your case, it is good that the female is Bolian. It is currently impossible with a human female. However, even though it is feasible, the fetus would constantly be at great risk throughout the pregnancy.” Toren turned around, holding several hyposprays and a bottle. He placed them on the desk and continued.
“There are now several documented cases of successful Bolian-Human hybrids, and I know of at least one Andorian-Human hybrid case study. The long-term prognoses for the children in question that survive gestation are very normal. Unfortunately, the survival rate is still very low - less than sixty percent if my memory serves me. The best solution is an artificial incubation, but some prospective parents have philosophical concerns about this method. Even then, it is still very risky until the fetus reaches the third trimester.”
Derek nodded soberly. “Well, even so, that is reassuring to know that it is an option. So, what is all this?”
“First, I will administer five cc’s of chelatimer and ten cc’s of vertazine once to alleviate the cupric toxicity and your nausea symptoms.” Toren removed one of the hyposprays from the desk and pressed it against Derek’s neck. Immediately, Derek’s stomach stopped gurgling and settled.
“Hmm, much better Doctor, thank you.”
“Of course. Now, since you have a medic rating, I will leave the rest to you to administer - these two must be taken once a week.” He handed Derek two hyposprays. “One is set for eight cc’s of cuprilin, which will inhibit your body’s uptake of excess copper salts and acids. The other is a two cc mixture of dylovene, vertazine, and leukocept to prevent toxin buildup, nausea, and inflammation, respectively.”
Derek picked up the small bottle. An oddity in the 24th century. “What’s in the bottle?”
“The bottle is a topical formulation of the latter prescription, for use as needed before and after intimate relations.”
“Ah.” Derek gathered the medications and set them in one of his jacket’s inside pockets. “Well, thank you Doctor for, er, walking me through everything and, erm, the prescriptions.”
“Naturally, sir. Please follow up with me in two weeks, or if you experience any further symptoms.”
Derek rose to leave. “Will do, Toren.”
Toren pressed the control on his desk again. The doors dissolved, and the windows turned clear again. The noise of the room returned, with the nurses still conducting their briefing. Derek nodded one last time towards Toren, and left sickbay.
As he walked down the corridor, he exhaled deeply in relief. “Oh, that was painful. Why is it so awkward? Why am I mentally fifteen?” Derek asked aloud. He sighed. “Thank God Toren was very professional about the whole thing.” He opened a door along the hallway and stepped into a turbolift.
“Well, I don’t know if I’m ready to go there just yet,” Derek continued to himself, “but at least I’ll be prepared.”
“Destination ‘there’ not recognized - please restate command.”
“Oh for - Main Engineering, please, thank you!”
OFF
Lieutenant J.G. Toren
Acting Chief Medical Officer
a PNPC of
Lieutenant Commander Derek Tournneau
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A