her new captain. The operating theatre, recovery room and ward were spotlessly clean, and had obviously been so before Dunmoore's arrival.
Luttrell demonstrated that all her gear was serviceable The sickbay staff, while not exactly the image of naval discipline, were nonetheless no different in appearance from any other group of medics. Sure, their hair was a tad too long, their uniforms a tad rumpled and their attitude leaned towards the relaxed end of the spectrum, but their medical smocks were spotless and their answers were professional when Siobhan questioned them.
Only the long list of patients in the medical log disturbed Siobhan. In her experience, the number of sickbay visits rose as morale dropped. Judging by the size of Luttrell's practice prior to Forenza's relief, there was no morale to speak of aboard the ship. And too many 'accidents' which left marks strangely similar to those inflicted by human feet and fists. Luttrell shrugged, clearly unwilling to discuss her cases and Siobhan did not have the energy to fish for information.
After the tour, Luttrell invited Dunmoore into her small office. When the door closed behind them, Siobhan sat on a corner of the doctor's desk and looked at her speculatively. The look was returned with defiance.
"Well, Doctor, I must say I'm impressed. My initial opinion of you was lousy. But I can’t fault your sickbay and medical staff, even if they don't have that perfect Navy look."
Luttrell, momentarily checked by Siobhan's mild tone and words, looked away again. "I've got my faults, Captain, but where doctoring is concerned, I don't screw around." The rueful tone briefly softened Siobhan's face, and she suddenly felt that she could learn to like the hard-faced surgeon. "As for the Navy look," Luttrell continued, this time with a small smile, "most of us medical people are draftees, and we try to keep some shred of our civilian identity."
Siobhan's eyebrows rose and she was about to ask a question when Luttrell spoke again, cutting her off. Whether Dunmoore would react badly or not, the doctor had her duty and her oath to uphold. And it would end the questions before they became too personal and pointed. She raised her strong chin at Siobhan.
"Now that you've inspected me, Captain, it's my turn to inspect you. Migraine?" Luttrell whipped out a medical sensor and pointed it at Dunmoore. When she saw the read-out, she grimaced. "Bad, eh? Since when have you had it."
"Since I reported aboard," Siobhan replied, fascinated by Luttrell's sudden transformation from a closed and sullen officer into a concerned and professional doctor.
"And you didn't come and see me," the surgeon tsked, shaking her head, unsure whether to be angry or amused at the Captain's stubbornness. "Mind you, I can understand why. I wouldn't want to see the ship's surgeon if my first impression was the one you had. I'm surprised you're still functioning." She shut the sensor off and dropped it on her desk. "But I can understand that too, strangely enough."
Luttrell opened a small cabinet behind her desk and took a thumbnail-sized grey patch from a box. Then, she walked up to Siobhan, and without asking, pushed up the hair lying over the nape of her neck and slapped the patch on her skin. Almost immediately, the pounding and migraine receded as the nerve inducer took effect. Siobhan sighed.
"Feels better, doesn't it, Captain?" Luttrell asked, with a pleasant bed-side smile.
"It does." Siobhan smiled back.
"Next time, don't wait as long."
"I won't, doctor."
"When you have a spare half-hour, I'd like to run a full physical on you. You've got more problems than just the migraine. I'd say you’re courting a burn-out, on top of suffering from border-line malnutrition and unhealed wounds."
Siobhan looked at Luttrell in surprise. Her assessment was more accurate than she'd expected a surgeon to learn from a brief sensor scan.
"How can you
Luttrell demonstrated that all her gear was serviceable The sickbay staff, while not exactly the image of naval discipline, were nonetheless no different in appearance from any other group of medics. Sure, their hair was a tad too long, their uniforms a tad rumpled and their attitude leaned towards the relaxed end of the spectrum, but their medical smocks were spotless and their answers were professional when Siobhan questioned them.
Only the long list of patients in the medical log disturbed Siobhan. In her experience, the number of sickbay visits rose as morale dropped. Judging by the size of Luttrell's practice prior to Forenza's relief, there was no morale to speak of aboard the ship. And too many 'accidents' which left marks strangely similar to those inflicted by human feet and fists. Luttrell shrugged, clearly unwilling to discuss her cases and Siobhan did not have the energy to fish for information.
After the tour, Luttrell invited Dunmoore into her small office. When the door closed behind them, Siobhan sat on a corner of the doctor's desk and looked at her speculatively. The look was returned with defiance.
"Well, Doctor, I must say I'm impressed. My initial opinion of you was lousy. But I can’t fault your sickbay and medical staff, even if they don't have that perfect Navy look."
Luttrell, momentarily checked by Siobhan's mild tone and words, looked away again. "I've got my faults, Captain, but where doctoring is concerned, I don't screw around." The rueful tone briefly softened Siobhan's face, and she suddenly felt that she could learn to like the hard-faced surgeon. "As for the Navy look," Luttrell continued, this time with a small smile, "most of us medical people are draftees, and we try to keep some shred of our civilian identity."
Siobhan's eyebrows rose and she was about to ask a question when Luttrell spoke again, cutting her off. Whether Dunmoore would react badly or not, the doctor had her duty and her oath to uphold. And it would end the questions before they became too personal and pointed. She raised her strong chin at Siobhan.
"Now that you've inspected me, Captain, it's my turn to inspect you. Migraine?" Luttrell whipped out a medical sensor and pointed it at Dunmoore. When she saw the read-out, she grimaced. "Bad, eh? Since when have you had it."
"Since I reported aboard," Siobhan replied, fascinated by Luttrell's sudden transformation from a closed and sullen officer into a concerned and professional doctor.
"And you didn't come and see me," the surgeon tsked, shaking her head, unsure whether to be angry or amused at the Captain's stubbornness. "Mind you, I can understand why. I wouldn't want to see the ship's surgeon if my first impression was the one you had. I'm surprised you're still functioning." She shut the sensor off and dropped it on her desk. "But I can understand that too, strangely enough."
Luttrell opened a small cabinet behind her desk and took a thumbnail-sized grey patch from a box. Then, she walked up to Siobhan, and without asking, pushed up the hair lying over the nape of her neck and slapped the patch on her skin. Almost immediately, the pounding and migraine receded as the nerve inducer took effect. Siobhan sighed.
"Feels better, doesn't it, Captain?" Luttrell asked, with a pleasant bed-side smile.
"It does." Siobhan smiled back.
"Next time, don't wait as long."
"I won't, doctor."
"When you have a spare half-hour, I'd like to run a full physical on you. You've got more problems than just the migraine. I'd say you’re courting a burn-out, on top of suffering from border-line malnutrition and unhealed wounds."
Siobhan looked at Luttrell in surprise. Her assessment was more accurate than she'd expected a surgeon to learn from a brief sensor scan.
"How can you
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