Ship Surgeon 2183- pg 3-4

The comm window flashed on again, with Blankey’s face a bit to the right and looking down to read. 

“Bridge to sickbay.” 

“Sickbay here.” Crikey reported in. 

“There are five patients inbound from Section 5D, all with decompression injuries.  Litter teams are enroute.” Blankey said, while looking down. 

“Roger, standing by to receive.”  The comm window flashed black again.  

The hatch buzzed. Crikey and Grower could see Chief Andrews at the vid portal.  

“Request permission to enter, hallway at 1 atmosphere, reading no contaminants on this end.”  

Crikey checked the atmospheric readout on the hatch and pressed the lock release 

Chief Andrews moved his large frame through the hatch, followed by two hospital Corpsmen that completed the Ship Medical Detachment.  

“Swizdore, Kim.” Crikey nodded at the two.  

“The bridge just reported five casualties in bound with decompression injuries.” Crikey explained.  

“We’ll do a quick triage at the door if they all come at once. If they stagger in the four of us will take the first, and then do rolling triage as the others get here. LTJG Grower will handle triage and comms with the Bridge and COC.”  

“This is very likely notional, so we wont have to dive anybody, but we should setup the pressure chamber as if they had real injuries.” 

“That being said, notional or not, I want us to go through the resuscitation process as if it were real. Hands on for your assessment exam, get IV access on every one. Crikey said. 

“Aye commander.” Chief responded. 

 The sickbay door signal alerted. A sailors face appeared in the screen. He was barely visible behind the fog of his vacuum hood.  

“Litter team with a patient, request permission to enter.” he said. 

There was a pause. 

“What are your atmospherics?” Chief asked. 

The sailor responded with a blank stare and some incoherent mumbling.  

“Speak up sailor, just read the manual gauges on the wall.”  

There was another longer pause, a pause that could have been a literal life time for the patient on the litter. 

They could see the sailor squinting at the dials, trying to make them out. 

“Umm, its 14.7 P.S.I.”  

He looked up and waited for the door to unlock.  

“Good god.” Chief said under his breath.  

“And the next one, underneath?” 

“Oh! It says negative.”  

“Concur, one atmosphere and negative contaminants.” Chief said as he unlocked and opened the hatch.  

“Bring your patient to Doc at the last bed, there.” Chief said as he pointed to the bed with Crikey beside it.  

Chief stuck his head out into the hallway and checked for more litter teams. 

“Just this one for now commander.” Chief said. 

Crikey nodded and turned to the litter as it approached.  

“Can you tell us your name?” Crikey asked.  

“Seaman Recruit Stevenson!” the tallest litter bearer said. 

“Not you, the patient.” Crikey said. 

“Oh, He’s Fireman Anders.” Stevenson said. 

“OK, I’ll get report in a second.” Crikey said. 

He leaned over the litter. 

“Anders, can you tell me your full name?”  

“Jared William Anders.” Anders said from the litter. 

“Great, airway in intact and protected.” Crikey said.  

 Crikey moved his tricorder over Anders’s chest.  

“No pneumothorax or pericardial effusion.” Crikey said.  

“Alright, lets get him moved over to our bed.”  

The litter team employed the stands on the litter and assisted with a four person slide to place Anders on the hospital bed.  

Crikey leaned slightly over Anders again. “Can you tell me where we are right now?” 

“Umm, sickbay?” Anders said.  

“Yes, good.” Crikey said. “Airway is intact and protected. He repeated the tricorder movement over Anders’s chest.  “Negative for pneumothorax or pericardial effusion.  

A slender tube snaked up from the bed and wrapped around Anders’s left arm. It squeezed quickly and relaxed over the course of several heartbeats.  

“Blood pressure is 132 over 95.” A voice stated seeming to come from the middle of the space above Anders’s abdomen.