Ship Surgeon 2183 pg 1-2

LCDR Steve “Crikey” Irwing is the ship surgeon for the USS South Dakota. An aging battleship that was commissioned in 2124. This will be a growing story as I finish more of it.

"GENERAL QUARTERS, GENERAL QUARTERS.. ALL HANDS MAN YOUR BATTLESTATIONS"  

The shipwide intercom repeated the message three times. Doc Steve "Crikey" Irwing was on his feet and getting dressed before the first "QUARTERS" was finished.  
 
"What the fuck." he said as he tossed on his uniform.   

He stopped, took a deep breath, and slowly blew it out of his pursed lips.  This typically helped him calm either his fear or anger and it worked this time as well.  

He pulled back the curtain on the bunk opposite his.  His roommate in the small stateroom, Lieutenant Junior Grade Grower, was rubbing his eyes and blinking away the sleep. 

“Let’s go Jim, battlestations.” Crikey said. 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

Jim Grower pulled his long frame into a sitting position on his bunk. 

“I’ll meet you in sickbay.” Crikey said.  He paused in the door, “Hustle up, we have five minutes to be in position.” 

“Yeah, I know, i’ll be there shortly.” 

Crikey moved down the short passageway distance between their stateroom and the ship’s sickbay. 

He was running his mental checklist when another shipwide announcement interrupted his thought.  
 
“HULL BREACH, SECTION 5D, ALL PERSONNEL DON VACUUM PROTECTION APPARATUS.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Crikey said as the message repeated.  

Crikey pulled the kevlar weave hood from its pouch on his left hip. He took a second to don the hood and adjust the grommet at his neck.  

The small oxygen recycler scrubbed the CO2 out of the air and recycled 02 back into the hood. With the newest model, you could expect at least six hours of oxygen before the recycler failed and you slowly asphyxiated on your own CO2.  

This was a bit of overkill, Crikey thought as he opened the sick bay hatch. Without a full space suit, you would be frozen and or fried in empty space long before the O2 ran out.  

“Does make sense for a hull breach, though,” he thought as he plugged the ship’s air hose into his hood, taking the load off of his recycler.  

He paused for a brief moment as the fresh airflow cleared the fog from inside his mask.  

He began to run the sickbay battlestations checklist as Grower joined him.  

“Hull breach? Seriously?” LtJG Grower said as he secured the hatch and opened the external comm terminal to review the atmospheric readouts for the sickbay and the hallway, he had just come in from. 

“What are the chances it’s real?” 

“Less than 1% of 1%,” Crikey said, “We would have felt something when the hull breached.” 

“Once you get plugged in, can you check the airway stuff?” 

“Sure thing, Crike!” Grower said as he pulled the flexible video laryngoscope out of the drawer and powered it on. 

“Hah!. Crike and airway? That’s punny.” Grower said as he cycled the scope through its movement function check. 

He slid the auto-sterilize safety and pressed the button. The scope flashed briefly and he waved it in the air to cool down before replacing it in the drawer.  

“You don’t need to wave it around before replacing it,” Crikey said. “It won’t burn the drawer. Hell, it won’t burn you. The safety slide is a CYA from the manufacturer.”  

“Roger,” Grower said as he grabbed the next scope.  

“Hemorrhage Control and Circulation Support systems functional,” Crikey said. 

“Tracking, H&C systems up,” Grower said. 

“Ventilatory tubes functional,” Grower said. “Wait, one of them is down.” 

Crikey looked over and saw the dull red blinking from the middle tube.  “We’ll check it out later. Tag it for now.” 

“Roger, tagging,” Grower said. 

The comm window blinked on the large wall screen in the lower right corner.  Blank patient monitor windows surrounded the comm window. 

“Station check?” the officer of the watch asked.  

LT Rod “Blankey” Blankenship’s face filled the small window as he peered through his vacuum hood.  Slowly changing lights could be seen in the dark background of the battleship’s bridge.  

“Sickbay established.  Ready to receive.” Crikey said.  

“Acknowledged. Stand by for further word.” Blankey said before the comm window flashed black.  

“Do you think we will done in time for a nap before sick call?” Grower asked. 

“Maybe,” said Crikey, “but don’t count on it.