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Life in the hanger bay

Posted on Wed Dec 28th, 2016 @ 10:23pm by Commander Mercia Kavi & Lieutenant JG Lydia Whitlock M.D., J.D. & Lieutenant JG Julian Winterstorm & Lieutenant Samuel Phelps

Mission: Anarchy in Alcatraz


When Lorek was brought into some office-like room by two uniformed Federation types while nursing a broken arm, he was honestly a little disappointed. According to rumor, the area his small group had unofficially labeled "the holy high ground" had been transformed into some high tech Starfleet headquarters, but none of the inmates were allowed to see it. He supposed seeing the fancy tech would have to wait for another day... perhaps when he attempted the run he had been planning for some time now. With a grunt, he sat in the chair that was available, the security guards stopping on either side.

Aiden stood in the center of the room looking around the room trying to spot anything out of place.

Phelps had a larger than usual satchel, going into an 'unsecured' area was a dangerous thing in the first place; a prison is never what one can call secured in the classic sense when inmates are moving about. He had taken a few precautions; in the name of keeping things secure and needed only place a few things that might be of some use.

These were 'probes' like those of a tricorder only more of a 'network allowing Phelps to get a better 'view' of things while he moved about. Put on the opposite side access panels gave an unimpeded view of things around him. What could be said of security was one thing, but always look up and under if you want to survive.

Checking his phaser he had to smile at the signature factor of his weapon's standard issue. It would not fire unless someone authorized touched the palm or a retina scan was done. It was a nice system that just added a 'more elaborate stock to the weapon but nothing that really stood out compared to others.

He might be 'questioning' prisoners; he could not really use the more crude methods or it would be seen as interrogation, so he wanted to keep an eye on the crew's back.

Had he mentioned to the crew that his little probes come with as very 'bright' little option in the housing with the wavelength more of an optical 'stun' wavelength that is closer to the visual range used with hypnosis to cause a bright signal of detonation as well as a stunning effect of up to three minutes on a normal person and as low as 30 seconds to really aggressive types. Still,a margin of time that could be used to 'deal with the situation.

With his little 'toys' in place, he could concentrate upon the mission at hand having wasted his first few minutes in the process of securing the area.

Lorek watched the man in front of him with a scowl on his face. "The hell do you want, Federation?" he growled.

Phelps noticed the rather agitated man and decided he should start things out on a more proper note.

"You forgot 'what?" Phelps commented as he looked at the scowling man. "Conversation would be easier to answer you with the 'What' included." He gave a sly but assuring grin.

"Somethin' tells me that I didn't come here for a lesson on Language," he grumbled. He wanted to cross his arms, but the shooting pain in his arm prevented him from doing that. "Aren't you Federation types supposed to have doctors?? What are they doin', sittin' and twiddlin' their thumbs?"

"They're waiting to see if you're going to behave before they offer you treatment," Lydia offered matter-of-factly as she approached, tricorder already in hand. "After the riot, it's not exactly easy for us to tell friend from foe. I'm Doctor Lydia Whitlock and I'm here to see to your injuries," she added. "Will you tell me how you hurt your arm?"

"What am I gonna do to ye, princess? Hit ya with a bum arm?" he spat.

"He is a clumsy fool." Phelps cut in. "If he had the full contingency of 'What' he needed he might not have been caught. So having a nice looking Doctor is the only treat that he is likely to get." He said.

Lorek glared at Phelps. "I ain't a clumsy fool, ya twig. I got into a quarrel wit' some o' the inmates because they wanted first grabs."

"On what do you have dibs since you won?" Phelps asked.

"Whaddaya care?" Lorek countered, holding his ground.

"I am just trying to make conversation and it is natural to wonder what another values, as that gives vantage on another side of life. Plus I can hardly help you if I do not know what you need so asking is the easiest way to find some common ground in which we can converse."

Lydia smiled wryly at Phelps. So he thought she was pretty, huh? That was the nicest thing she'd heard today. Turning her attention back to her patient and her tricorder, she ignored the banter between the two men and said, "I'm happy to let the two of you converse, but my questions take priority, yeah?" To the inmate she asked, "So you got into a quarrel with your fellow inmates, but can you tell me exactly how your arm became injured in that quarrel? Did you fall? Someone grab it at an awkward angle?"

Lorek turned his focus onto the female, eyeing the tricorder in her hand. "Explosion sent me flyin', and I hit some corner o' somethin' that snapped the bone." He knew that generally, doctors could be trusted, but he still had his guard up, especially with Security and Intelligence in the same room.

Phelps took in the reasoning; the evidence and knew a little more than he did at the get go. "Where were you when the explosions started, we might need to send people to search for other survivors?" Phelps asked with a hint of concern; he needed to know where the explosions were and that might hint at who started this?

"Section 10, but there's nuthin' left in that area. Anyone in that area is long dead," he responded, deciding that he may as well cooperate with the Federation types. "Unless you're tryin' to save the rubble..." he grumbled.

"How did you manage to get clear; I mean the Bulkheads should have restricted travel so anyone you know good with keeping doors open?"

There had to be some sort of a chain reaction that left the doors open before the explosions, someone wanted chaos but why is the one question that eluded Phelps.

"I got out before the place collapsed on itself," he replied snarkily. "If anyone still in there survived it would be a goddam miracle."

Another prisoner, an Andorian was led before Phelps. There was a bruise on his right cheek that that had turned almost one-quarter of his face greenish black and the tip of his right antennae had been cut off and was missing. He looked dazed and disoriented.

"Another lucky individual that survived an encounter." Phelps looked at the man. "Who gave you that bruise, we have a doctor who can help with that." He tilted his head to inspect the wounded man. "How did the other guy fair up is you are the winner?"

"He's dead. It was self-defense, he did this to my antennae and tried to stab me. Look, I'm not really a prisoner, can you take off my restraints?"

Lydia shook her head even as she assessed her new patient and reached for supplies. This injury looked bad, and she didn't want to braced any time giving him medical attention. "I'm sorry, but under the circumstances, we can't take that risk. What I can offer is thorough medical care. My name is Doctor Lydia Whitlock, and I'm here to help. You have nothing to fear from me," she offered gently. The bruising to the man's face was nothing to sneeze at, but obviously, Whitlock's main concern was the missing antenna. If they could find it soon, they could potentially surgically reattach it with limited to no loss of functioning.

However, her first priority had to be to get the bleeding under control, stave off infection, and keep the man from going into shock. She reached behind her and pulled out a trauma blanket. "Here, wrap this around you to keep warm. It's important we keep your temperature up to prevent you from going into shock," Whitlock explained. Just as quickly, she turned and reached for a pressure dressing to place on the open wound. "This is going to hurt, and I'm sorry for that, but we need to apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding." With no additional warning, Lydia quickly applied the pressure dressing and offered, "if we can find your antenna soon and preserve it, there's the potential of one of our surgeons to be able to reattach it. Above all, however, our main priority is going to be to prevent infection and tend to your wound."

Keval was having trouble staying on his feet, not so much because of the pain and shock, though that was part of it. His real problem was keeping his balance especially with the cuffs on his wrists

Then, the doctor applied pressure, his knees buckled and he fell to his knees.

Lydia was able to steady Keval someone and ease him to the ground as his knees gave way. In that moment, her first priority was to ensure he didn't suffer any additional injuries. Turning to Phelps, she said, "Will you help me ease him into a chair over here?"

Phelps came over to help put the man in the chair, it was an easy enough thing to do and still keep one eye on the other man so not to allow him an opportunity to pull anything funny. If Paula were here he would not give it a thought, but she was not. Caution was the better part of valor after all.

Even if the Andorian had been motivated to attempt an escape, or to try to overcome his captors he was too physically spent and emotionally exhausted to try.

"There you go," Lydia soothed, as she pulled out her tricorder to get the proper identification of her patient. Now that his immediate injuries were addressed, she owed it to the others in her team to identify her patient and give them any information they needed for a proper interview. Scanning her patient revealed unique DNA that was easily matched to the prisons database. It was only years of professional experience that kept her expression inscrutable as she learned the Andorian was indeed a serial killer could have been dangerously violent while serving time. She took a moment to show the results to Phelps before she went on to access his medical file. Her priority was to treat him, not freak out and make a big announcement concerning his history. "I'm not reading any specific allergies here, but before I give you an antibiotic, I just want to make sure you have no allergies that aren't mentioned in your chart."

"That's not my chart," the Andorian replied, but I'm not allergic to anything that I know of."

Lydia knew better than to take his word for it, especially under the circumstances. "I took your DNA myself and matched it to the prisoner database, which indicates you are Kae'el th'Narian, a man capable of significant deception and violence. Now I don't care what you did to get yourself here, that's not my concern. My responsibility is to provide you with thorough medical care, but that doesn't mean I was born yesterday. I'm glad to see your report and medical record concerning allergies match."

Lydia turned Phelps. "Is there any way we can have the other teams scan for his missing antenna? If we can find it within a few hours, it potentially can be surgically reattached with little to no loss of function."

The Andorian laid back and closed his eyes. It was useless trying to convince people who had already made up their mind and he didn't have the strength to try.

=^= Phelps to Team Three.=^= Phelps began as he seemed to adjust his glasses. "=^= I am sending you DNA for a patient; he is an Andorian minus his antennae; make all effort to find it and get it back to this position as he needs it and time is of the essence. =^=

=^= Team two Lead, I will have our field Medic get right on it sir.=^= The voice of Meyers replied, the leader of that team.

=^= Thanks for your support, =^= Phelps ended. "I hope they find it quick, I sent a scan of you as you sit there so it is an accurate scan and should make it easier for them to locate it with a baseline," Phelps assured.

Lorek gave a little snort as he watched the Andorian sans antenna. "Trust me, Smalls, ya ain't gonna lose the hot girls all because ye lost an antenna. As long as ye got workin' plumbing down below it ain't a big deal."

A nearby security guard bit her lip to prevent from chuckling at the comment.

Seeing movement, Lorek turned and saw a pretty little security girl trying her hardest not to laugh. "Oh, don't hold it back, lovely. Ye don't want to hold anythin' back with me." He added a wiggle of his eyebrows and a cheeky grin to match the comment.

"Alright," another guard stated, grabbing the inmate's shoulder. "Back to your cell."

"What about my arm??" Lorek questioned. "Can't the pretty doctor patch me up with somethin' first?"

"You had your chance, but you were not cooperating. You will have to wait until the new medical staff arrives." As he guided Lorek out the door, he turned to Phelps and added, "the next one will arrive for questioning in three minutes."


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