Patients come and go; a visiting scientist tries to make history. Bones ruminates, busy Christine learns some slang and fails the Bechdel Test in her head. And in the corner, Pavel sulks. Most of the crew appear, a minor character's death is described. No actual sex, but people think about it lots. An average week in sick bay, sometime before Khan.

This story is told from the point of view of the staff of the sick bay, usually McCoy or Chapel, but occasionally another nurse or a tech. You can tell from who's perspective by noticing how they refer to each other. Chapel thinks of herself as Christine, and the doctor as Leonard. He thinks of himself and everyone but Kirk by their last name except when his guard is down and then sometimes he uses a first name.

Monday

06:50
Leonard McCoy tried to lean back in his seat. But all the chairs on the ship were weighted to prevent just that action. It creaked loudly but refused to budge. The noise made Geoffrey M'Benga, who was seated next to him, smile like he'd heard a good joke. Christine Chapel, seated in the next chair down frowned and stared more intently at the speaker. 'You are a faker Christine,' thought McCoy.

He was in the largest conference room on the Enterprise. So were most of his coworkers. They left a skeleton crew to cover the unit, and once a month they tried to have a division meeting. Normally they spent thirty minutes together and talked about organizational issues, policy changes, or staffing. Today they had spent most of the meeting listening to John Treos, the visiting scientist, discuss his project.

Treos had begun clamoring to be allowed to address the group for some time. McCoy had ignored him, figuring that Treos had talked so much since coming on board there could not possibly be that many crew members who hadn't heard his plans. But Chapel was the unit manager. And she set the agendas for their meetings. Treos had appealed to her, and she had allotted him eight minutes to familiarize the staff with his project.

McCoy cleared his throat and stared pointedly at the chrom. Treos didn't notice. He had been talking for nearly twenty minutes, and showed no signs of stopping. McCoy sighed. He considered getting up and walking out when the meeting was scheduled to end. He was the chief medical officer. No one would say anything. He suspected most the staff would be pleased. However, the nurses couldn't leave, and neither could the techs. Never in his life had Leonard McCoy wanted to be the kind of man that would leave his coworkers to endure what he could not. So, he settled back into his seat and thought, as he did at least once a day, that he did not belong here.

He had assumed he would join a practice in Atlanta, work hard, and eventually get a place out in the country by his folks. He'd thought he would spend weekends there with his wife and have a lot of kids. But things hadn't worked out the way he'd planned. When his daddy got sick he'd spent time on the farm that should have been spent at work, so the practice didn't pan out. Then there had been the divorce. There'd only been the one kid. The day he accepted he was at rock bottom he had walked into a Starfleet recruiting office and asked if they needed doctors. He had been right to think the service could give him the structure he had forgotten how to supply himself. He had hoped to end up practicing at one of the larger facilities on Earth, have a quiet life, start over. He had never considered being assigned to a starship, and he had certainly never anticipated becoming CMO.

But Nero had changed lots of people's plans when he unleashed his crazy on the universe, and CMO he was. There were some benefits, he worked with dedicated, talented people. He got to do some amazing surgeries repairing injuries he would never have seen in a private practice. On a star ship all the physicians, of all specialties, also provided primary care, so he got to use all his training. On Earth a surgeon wouldn't get that sort of freedom. And he was the boss, he had to admit he liked being the boss.

Still, there were many, many drawbacks. He had to live in space. He was surrounded by dedicated, talented people that annoyed him daily by failing to consider how easily things could go wrong. He saw horrific injuries he would never have been forced to deal with in private practice. And he was the boss, which meant he had to attend far too many meetings, and fill out far too much paperwork. But this month by far the worst part of his job was Starfleet foisting John Treos, efficiency and efficacy expert on him.

Treos was both a physician and a biomedical engineer. He had been waiting at the last starbase they had visited, orders in hand. Dr. McCoy was to welcome him to the Enterprise, give him access to the facilities there, and with courtesy and diligence, assist him in testing his research. He had developed a self-contained, portable hospital manned entirely by robots. The work had been largely paid for by Starfleet, and the brass was eager to have their investment evaluated.

Although not enthusiastic, McCoy had done what he could to be helpful. He had listened to Treos talk about his plans and then had tried to be polite when he explained that every patient on the Enterprise would be evaluated and cared for by a sentient being. He had offered to allow Treos's creations to take over some of the tasks on the unit that were already performed by robots. Treos had not been satisfied. He had expected to be provided with a large number of very sick beings and seemed surprised McCoy could not produce them on demand. He had also insisted his care provider units weren't robots. He had talked a great deal about why they weren't robots. McCoy had looked at the big metal things and stopped listening.

McCoy glanced at the chrom again. Twenty-seven minutes, and Treos was still talking. At this rate, he would easily outlast the half hour he had talked at the second meeting, the one with the senior staff he had forced McCoy to arrange. There Treos had explained that all his previous patients had been graduate students who were paid to complain of symptoms. Apparently he had thought he could go over McCoy's head. He had cheerfully asked the captain to locate a planet with some sort of military conflict, drop him and his robots off, and stay in orbit until he had gathered some data. Jim had laughed in his face. McCoy had thought the expression on Treos's face while the first officer explained the impossibility of dropping a gigantic inflatable hospital and some robots onto some warring pre-contact civilization had been almost worth sitting through the meeting.

McCoy chuckled at the memory. Chapel gave him a disapproving look. He sighed and reached for his PADD, thinking he might catch up on some reports. Chapel looked even angrier and shook her head, so he let the machine lie and focused back on Treos, who had moved from explaining his work to talking a little more about himself. "My greatest goal, my fondest hope, is to be able to test the efficacy of my portable self-contained medical unit," he said. "Imagine a universe where health care workers were never again exposed to disease."

"We do not generally find cross contamination to be much of a problem John, we have isolation procedures and areas," M'Benga said kindly. "They work very well. All our evaluations support their effectiveness."

'You encourage him when you talk to him,' thought McCoy.

"My program is radically different. My unit is entirely self-contained. My patient care units provide complete care, no supervision is necessary at all. It completely frees health care workers from the mundane and allows them the freedom to use their skills in more meaningful ways."

That was too much, McCoy decided it required a comment. "More meaningful than patient care? The members of this staff are health care providers, not clerks. They have invested years into mastering their skills. Why would they prefer to keep records?" asked McCoy

Chapel raised an eyebrow and looked at him sideways.

Treos glanced his direction but continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Consider please a universe where health care workers were not exposed to suffering, were free to use their intellects to combat disease without risking their own health, either mental or physical. That my fellow beings, is the future of medicine."

The engineer looked around the room and continued cheerfully, "In another scenario, and it is the one that primarily interests Starfleet, my units could be set up behind lines in a war zone and injured warriors could be cared for by the units while the front moved forward."

M'Benga smiled patronizingly at Treos. "I am thinking," he whispered to McCoy, "that he has never been in a war zone." McCoy snorted derisively.

Trina Shernan, one of the nurses, raised her hand. Treos nodded at her. She said uncertainly, "Doctor Treos, why do you keep asking us if we have any infectious patents?"

"Because he is weird," whispered one of the other nurses. 'That's Piers Langdon,' McCoy thought, 'good man.'

"My unit is of course designed to provide total care for any patient, but I think it could really shine while managing an outbreak of something contagious," said Treos. "Ideally, I would like to have several patients right out of the gate, but if the situation presented, I feel comfortable enough with my work that I would not be opposed to participating in an epidemic. A plague might be aiming a little high for my trial run, but some day, even a plague will be containable within my unit."

"I never heard another physician hoping to find some people suffering from anything. I mean, you're a doctor. Wouldn't you just rather no one got sick?" Shernan asked.

"Research doesn't happen in a vacuum." Dr. Treos replied, with a wide smile. "This is science. My goal is to maximize the positivity of the health care experience for both the workers and the users."

"Did he just say 'users'?" whispered M'Benga.

"I am assuming he means patients." Chapel replied.

"I hate this guy." said McCoy.

10:43
"This is the pharmacy." Christine explained to the latest crew members. They had picked up three new graduates during a recent stop at a planet called Ertruck. She looked at them and thought that the recruits seemed to be getting younger and younger. All these fresh faced young people ready to go out into the universe and help people. Truthfully, she found them all a little depressing, Christine preferred her coworkers seasoned, with a little firmer grasp of reality. However, so many experienced people had died. The Enterprise was still short staffed in every department, and nursing desperately needed more hands, so she steeled herself to the eager expressions and continued.

"It is organized a little differently than most pharmacies. Because of the variety of beings working on the ship we carry some unusual drugs. We organize everything alphabetically by chemical name. It's a little cumbersome, but it works. You enter the patient's name or ID number, cross check, enter the order, and the proper meds will be mixed and then dispensed here." She gestured to a small chamber. "Then it will light up." She paused, because she had forgotten to ask something important. "Are you all sighted?" The grads all nodded their heads.

That was convenient, it was not always the case. Many varieties of beings served in Starfleet, non-sighted beings often made excellent nurses, but the pharmacy set up did not accommodate their skill set very well. She continued, "and can you see color?" The youngsters nodded harder. "Good, the basin with the hypo normally glows green. If it glows red the computer thinks there is a potential problem, it could be an allergy or a species-specific intolerance. Take a quick look, but I am going to tell you, sometimes it isn't really obvious what the problem is, and lots of times the records are incomplete and the computer misses it. What I am saying is, don't assume there is no problem because the light is green, and don't refuse to take the drug because it is red. But make sure you mention it to the ordering physician. Usually they know what they are doing, just let them know the machine is concerned, they'll need to justify their decision in their notes."

She looked skeptically at the trainees. One young woman was making a note in her PADD. Christine wanted to tell her to stop wasting her time. She would never be able to consult it when the unit was overrun with injured crew members, the floor slick with multiple colors of blood, noisy with howls of pain and fear and Leonard shouting orders. 'Oh well,' she thought, 'some things just needed to be experienced.'

"Follow me and I'll show you how to get supplies when the automatic resupply is overwhelmed." Christine said, and led the tour down the hall.

"Chapel," called Leonard.

"Yes doctor," replied the head nurse.

The CMO stood in the door of his office and said, "I have a comm here from the public health department on Ertruck. We were there two weeks ago."

"Yes, I know, we picked up three new nurses."

"Did we? Well check their immunizations. They have a flu outbreak in the capital city. It sounds pretty severe. The local population is being hit hard, and humans are susceptible, and so are a few other species. Apparently, the captain took a group of officers to the consulate for dinner while we were planetside. We are going to need to round them all up for vaccinations. I am going to do a little research. I'll let you know if we will need to make the vaccination group bigger."

"Alright, I'll start pulling records." Christine said. It was not an unheard-of scenario. The crew was vaccinated for common illnesses, but periodically they were exposed to uncommon ones. The lab facilities were excellent, but synthesizing vaccines was much easier than creating cures.

"No, no, no!" called Treos.

Leonard frowned. Christine shrugged. Treos had been sitting at the desk looking through patient files for recent admits with potentially communicable diseases. She knew Leonard despised the scientist and would never have spoken if he had seen him. Leonard hadn't noticed, but she was refusing to be drawn into the fight. She felt she had enough work without arbitrating spats between the physicians. Treos fortunately, seemed unaware of Leonard's antagonism.

Treos continued, "This is a great opportunity to test the admission section of my unit! This is fantastic. I'll go initiate right now." He jumped up and ran towards the admission area, where he had his work space.

Christine looked at Leonard apologetically. He shook his head and said, "Do me a favor, could you look too, cross check so that we know for sure he doesn't miss anyone?"

Christine nodded. "Sure," she said. "I may even have it done before he finished initiating."

16:40
McCoy leaned in the doorway of the largest conference room in the medical unit. It was beta shift. John Treos was addressing the crew members considered susceptible to the flu that had accompanied the captain to the dinner at the Ertruck embassy. Captain Kirk, Lieutenant Sulu, Lieutenant Uhura, Lieutenant Reuben, Ensign Chekov, and Mr. Jamen all sat quietly and listened as Dr. Treos explained the relative risks of their recent flu exposure.

"I can see here that you have all responded quickly to my communique asking you to describe your activities while on Ertruck, and I want to thank you for that. Really good work, way to be accepting responsibility for yourselves. The data was collated and run through my risk assessment and management protocol, and I thought I would share the results with you right now. This is really exciting, I haven't seen it myself yet." Treos sent the information to the screen above his head. He looked at it like he was preparing to announce lottery winners.

McCoy snorted, "You haven't seen it yourself?"

"No," said Treos. "I am not running this case, my program is, remember?"

"Don't you know what it's going to say Treos? A first-year medical student would know how to handle a situation like this."

"I know what I would recommend, and I know what you would recommend, I am interested in seeing what my program recommends." Treos said. He returned his attention to the board above his head. "Okay," he said excitedly, "this says your risk of infection is low, but just to be on the safe side it recommends vaccinating the whole group."

"Which is exactly what I said two hours ago, well before we started this ridiculous rigmarole." McCoy said with a frown. He turned to address the crew. "The local authorities say this virus requires close physical proximity to spread. The chances of any of you having it aren't great, but we want to be on the safe side."

"The point is, the program reached the correct decision without input from either of us. It would be possible for the program to plan the health care of the entire team without input from a biologic at all. Excuse me, I am going to go set up the program." Treos left the room, almost skipping in his eagerness.

The captain smirked at the CMO and asked, "Did he just call you a biologic Bones?"

"We're all just biologics to him. Even Spock. His goal is to create a completely automated medical unit. He has been scurrying around here for weeks trying to seize control of my team. He is running this one, well he's letting his machines run it. But don't worry. I am watching, and as soon as he really screws up I will take over."

The captain raised and eyebrow, "As soon as he screws up? You mean after he screws up you'll get involved? Not reassuring Bones."

"Worst case scenario for you, you get the flu. Worst case scenario for me, there are no major screw ups and I have to listen to him talk for another three weeks. You tell me who is going to suffer worse." McCoy said.

Dr. Treos popped back into the room, followed by a large robot. It was not humanoid in appearance. It was a white cylinder with half a dozen smaller cylinders made of different materials hanging from it like arms. It floated behind Treos, humming quietly.

"I thought you all might enjoy seeing the future of medicine. This is Patient Care Unit 1. I designed the prototype as part of my doctoral work. I have two here, they can do anything a nurse can do and are much easier to sterilize afterwards! Ha ha! Seriously, Patient Care Unit 1 is going to give you your hypos. You all want to line up?"

"That's a robot," said the captain. "So what? We have lots of robots."

"This is not a robot, this is a patient care unit, it is radically different." Treos insisted.

"That's a machine programmed to perform a specific task. It's a robot." Captain Kirk said coolly. Treos frowned but didn't reply.

"Is that thing safe?" Reuben asked doubtfully.

"Completely, I would let it give me a hypo anytime. If you want it to use your arm roll up your sleeve. It is programmed to look for uncovered flesh. That's why it floats, it can reach injuries on any part of the body. It can give it to you on your neck but many people have described the experience of having them work around one's throat as, well, as unsettling."

"Have you in fact ever let it give you a hypo?" asked Uhura.

"Haven't had the need yet, but when I do I am definitely going to have it come from Patient Care Unit 1. Far cleaner than gloved hands."

Jamen was watching the machine with undisguised horror. Chekov crossed his arms defensively and looked over at Dr. McCoy beseechingly. McCoy pretended not to notice. Chekov stepped back, and murmured something softly in Russian.

"You're right," Uhura said. "They do."

"What'd he say?" asked the captain.

"He thinks it looks like a floating squid."

"Hey, good observation Chekov!" Sulu said with a laugh. He began to roll up his sleeve.

Captain Kirk jumped up, always willing to go first. He said, "These sleeves are way too tight to get up over my arms."

Sulu said, "Why? Oh wait, let me guess? Because of those giant guns."

"I wasn't going to mention them, but I guess they are hard to miss," said the captain. He pulled his arm completely out of his shirt and stood in front of the machine. He said, "Come and get me." Without looking back at the crew, he added, "Stop worrying Chekov, it can't possibly hurt more than when Bones does it."

The robot floated up, a mechanical voice that sounded quite a bit like Treos said, "Please state your name and rank clearly and in Standard."

"Kirk, James T., captain."

The lower arms of the robot rotated up and in, around the captain's bicep. One quickly brushed his arm and the slight hiss of a hypo discharging could be heard. The captain moaned loudly, then yelled, "My arm, my arm. Bones, my arm." McCoy shoved through the crew and grabbed the captain's arm. He looked at it and then dropped it angrily.

"Not funny Jim." McCoy said.

The captain laughed, "A little funny Bones."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Uhura of the captain as she offered her arm to the robot. "What are you four? Uhura, Nyota, Lieutenant."

"Please state your name and rank clearly and in Standard," said the robot.

Uhura frowned, "I just did," she said.

The machine intoned again, "Please state your name and rank clearly and in Standard."

"Fine," said Uhura. "Uhura, Nyota, lieutenant." The machine gave her a shot and she pulled her sleeve down.

Jamen stepped out of line and pushed Chekov ahead of him.

Sulu waited for the machine to ask, identified himself, then stood still and let the robot give him his shot. "It doesn't hurt," he said.

"I want the doctor to give me mine." Chekov said.

"Not an option, this is science gentlemen." Treos said happily. "Did you notice how the business end of the arm retracts after each injection? It is exposed to a brief puff of radiation, completely sterilizing it between patients. It could go on for hours, and still be completely clean."

"Radiation?" asked Uhura, who had tolerated her shot easily.

"Brief puff, just enough to see that nothing is living on the arm." said Treos.

"The arm feels creepy." Reuben said, flinching slightly with his injection.

"Well it's difficult to come up with a natural feeling material that can survive repeated exposure to radiation." said Treos cheerfully, "Come on boys you're next."

Jamen and Chekov looked at each other. Jamen gestured toward the robot, "You're the officer." he said.

Chekov sighed and pulled his sleeve up over his elbow. He stood stiffly as the robot rotated into position around his upper arm.

"Please state your name and rank clearly and in Standard." said Patient Care Unit 1.

"Chekov, Pavel A., ensign." Chekov said, looking doubtfully at the machine.

There was a pause and then a loud beep, Chekov jumped back and the machine withdrew its arms. It said, "This medication is not appropriate for you, please see the admissions desk for more information."

Chekov smiled at the ceiling. Jamen said, "No fair, why are you always so lucky?"

"Interesting!" crowed Treos, pulling out his PADD and starting to tap it. "Let's see what this is about shall we?"

The machine beeped again, and then again. Treos looked at it and said, "Now none of that." He tapped at his PADD and then frowned as the machine continued to beep loudly. He looked at the crew, "It's calling for the attention of the on-staff person, in this case me. I am telling it I am here, I'm not sure why it isn't acknowledging me." The machine beeped again. "Let me just get this into the hall," he said and gently pushed the robot out of the room. He shut the door. The room got quieter but it was still possible to hear a periodic beep. McCoy wondered how long it would be until one of the nurses pushed the thing into a storage closet, or a waste chute.

Treos looked at Chekov, "You're allergic to the serum."

Chekov shook his head and said, "I doubt that sir, I am not allergic to anything."

"Your medical records say otherwise, there are notations against entire classes of drugs." said Treos.

"Oh, yes, those," Chekov said quietly. He looked over at McCoy again.

McCoy cleared his throat and said, "Those aren't allergies, they're more, intolerances."

The captain added, "It's comedy gold is what it is." Chekov sighed.

McCoy did not like to discuss his patients in public. He looked at Chekov who nodded and made a 'go ahead' gesture. "He's been known to get a little loopy from drugs, especially pain meds or sedation, definitely anti-anxiety meds. If people don't know and he seems a little off, they sometimes try to give him something extra to calm down. For him, combinations can be volatile. It's not an allergy, he just needs his meds titrated carefully, and maybe a little extra watching. It's all in the notes."

"Last time it was like someone set a pack of Tasmanian devils lose in sick bay." the captain said happily. Chekov sighed again.

"Well something is triggering the contraindication subprogram." Treos said. "I will study this, but it might take a while. In the meantime, Mr. Jamen, why don't you come with me and I will start up Patient Care Unit 2? You need your vaccination."

"Patient Care Unit 2?" Jamen asked unhappily.

"There's two of them. I hate a cutesy name, this is science." Treos said. Opening the door and gesturing towards the admissions desk. As Jamen followed him into the hall they could hear Patient Care Unit 1 beep.

"Well, at least he's going to be busy for a while." McCoy said.

"Doc, listen, give Chekov his shot. He needs it." Sulu said.

"Hikaru, Dr. Treos said I don't. And this is science." Chekov said.

"If any of us need it you do Pav. You had way more exposure than the rest of us."

"How do you figure that?" asked the captain.

"Cause of that girl, the ambassador's daughter?" Sulu said.

"Oh, he barely talked to her," Uhura said.

Sulu and Chekov looked at each other. Chekov looked away first. He asked, "Dr. McCoy, could I just sign something and you give me the hypo?"

McCoy nodded. "Probably, but let me talk to Treos. He's pretty controlling about his research. I doubt it matters much anyway. The info I got says it requires an exchange of a fairly large amount of body fluids to get this virus. A sneeze wouldn't do it. The health department at Ertruck says they consider the primary method of infection to be sex, and so none of you have anything to worry about."

The captain said, "From what I heard, on Ertruck sex is the primary method of getting everything. Which is a nice way of saying Sulu that this disease is not spread by playing the piano while a girl sits next to you. Chekov's perfectly safe."

McCoy had heard the same thing about Ertruck, and apparently so had the crew. Jamen and Reuben grinned like monkeys. Chekov looked mortified. McCoy was not certain which reaction he found more annoying. He said, "Stop acting like teenagers. We are discussing biology, not telling jokes in a locker room. We're trying to protect you from a disease, you know, in case a cook spit on the food or something."

Reuben covered his mouth with his hand and murmured, "or something." Chekov and Sulu looked at each other again.

"Yeah Chekov, stop acting like a teenager," laughed the captain.

"Yes sir, I heard very amusing," Chekov said distractedly. He looked at Sulu and added, "I filled out that questionnaire he sent."

"You know who really acts like a teenager Jim?" asked McCoy.

"Everything?" asked Sulu. Chekov nodded.

"And he didn't even ask about it, that seems weird. Actually, he seems weird. Are you sure he's a doctor? I don't think I trust him." Sulu said.

"Why is it necessary to still talk about this?" Chekov muttered.

"I just told you why," said McCoy. "You need to listen."

"And think," Sulu said with a smile. "Think next time."

"Next time," Chekov said dismissively, shaking his head.

"What are you talking about?" asked the captain.

Sulu and Chekov exchanged one more look. Chekov shook his head, hard.

Sulu shrugged. He looked at the captain and said, "nothing sir."

Chekov asked again, "Can't you just give me the shot Dr. McCoy?"

"Let me look into the allergy thing. I doubt there's anything to it, but now he's managed to get me a little concerned. I'll get back to you. In the meantime, if any of you start sneezing or run a fever get back down here immediately. And Chekov eat in your room, and make sure you avoid all intimate contact." Chekov blushed.

"Not that big a problem Bones," laughed the captain.

"Oh, there's no accounting for taste," said Reuben. Chekov sighed and putting his head up like he was standing at attention, stared miserably at the wall behind McCoy.

Watching him, McCoy wished he could inoculate someone from teasing like he could for the flu. He cleared his throat and said, "I guess we have covered about everything. Why don't you all go do something useful?"

The crew left. Chekov bolted, the rest followed more leisurely. McCoy could hear Jim in the passageway, trying again, "Tell me what you guys are talking about Sulu."

"You are going to have to ask Mr. Chekov sir." Sulu responded firmly. He paused a few seconds and then added, "And I would encourage you to ask him until he answers you. It's pretty good."

McCoy went out to the main desk and called up the medical records for Chekov, Pavel A. He was just opening the file when two nurses rushed past him towards the supply rooms. He stood up to watch them. After a few seconds, they ran back the way they had come, arms heavily laden. He stepped out from behind the desk and started after them. As he did so Chapel came the other direction. She gestured at him to sit down and took the seat next to him.

What's up?" he asked.

Chapel said, "Jamen fainted. Treos refused to have any of the staff standing by and the robot didn't catch him. He hit his forehead on a table on his way down and his nose on the floor when he landed. He's out cold and there's blood pretty much everywhere. Treos insists the robot is going to fix it. Do yourself a favor and just don't go in there."

McCoy asked, "Is Jamen stable?"

"He's fine, he's still out cold but Coh is there. He'll need his nose set and the gash repaired. Treos is insisting we let the patient care unit handle it. You know it will kill you to watch, I am telling you, spare yourself this one."

McCoy sat down. He closed Chekov's file and opened one for Jamen, Bobo P.