Up to Date

Posted on 16 Jun 2017 @ 1:13am by Chief Warrant Officer 3 Greg Mitchell
Edited on on 26 Jun 2017 @ 3:56pm

1,639 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - San Francisco, Angel of Hope Hospital
Timeline: MD 02, 1720 hours

[ON]

Greg looked outside the room at the San Francisco Bay area. It was a beautiful day, even with the usual fog rolling over the Golden Gate Bridge. From his window, he could see the city, the cars flying by, the shuttles moving to and from Starfleet Headquarters, and military aircraft flying overhead. He stood at parade rest, taking in the sun and attempting to bring his mind up to date after the ordeal.

"It's the pitcher." Said a voice behind him.

Greg turned around to face the other occupant in the room: his father, Thomas Mitchell. Tom had been reading the news on a pad, and was catching Greg up to the recent Cardinals game vs the Brewers.

"I'm sorry?" Greg asked.

"It's that damn closing pitcher. Akson. He has no arm and no co-ordination on him. All he does is throw it and pray that it hits down center."

"I've been out four months and Akson is still closing?" Greg asked.

Tom looked at his son, "Something about 'not enough training' or 'needs more confidence'. Evidently the manager thinks this is the best course of action."

"Well...we didn't lose that bad there, did we? Nine to four?" Greg asked.

"Yah, and they wouldn't have had those nine if he wouldn't have kept throwing walks at them. We were tied all the way up till the last few innings." Tom read to the next story in the news while he continued to talk. "We did worse last time though."

"What was it?"

"Last week, we lost fourteen to seven." Tom responded.

"Ouch...who were we against. The Mets?" Greg asked.

"No, the Indians." Tom answered.

Greg stared in disbelief, "...yah, they need to dump this guy."

A knock came at the door, and Doctor Saunders peaked his head in. "How are you doing, Chief Mitchell?"

Greg turned to answer the man. "So far so good. Heads still a little woozy. Legs feel like jello."

"Yah, and that's why you shouldn't be out of bed." The doctor responded, moving over to the machines. "We gave you a muscle stimulant so that you could get monitored physical therapy and so your muscles wouldn't completely disintegrate. Not so you could move around monitored."

"I've already tried telling him that, doc. He hates sitting around doing nothing." said Tom.

"I just hate sitting around, period." Greg smiled at the doctor, "Police instincts."

"Well you aren't a police officer in here, so sit down." Saunders said, pointing at a chair.

"Yes I am?" Greg said in response.

"Greg, don't be a smartass." Tom ordered.

"I mean, your health is more important at this moment, Chief." The doctor smiled.

"Right." Greg reluctantly sat down.

The doctor waved a tricorder over him.

"Vitals are normal, if just slightly elevated. Brain appears to be returning back to normal activity. Muscles are malnutrition, but the IV is fixing that." The doctor put it down and put his hands around Greg's head so he could look into his eyes for signs of damage. "Good whiteness, no blood build up." Saunder then picked up a small light and shined it into Greg's eyes. "Pupils react normally. Watch my finger." He waved his index finger in front of Greg's eyes. Left, right, up, down. "No sign of concussion."

After checking the ears, nose, and throat, he typed into the tricorder one more time to check the information. "The biggest problem we have right now, aside from bruising and some bones that were mended on the trip back, is your brain activity. It is very sporadic for your condition."

"I'm having trouble remembering things. Certain things. Mostly regarding any time I may have been conscious after our ship was destroyed. Nothing really long term though."

Tom chipped in, "He had a little trouble remembering things such as my name, his mothers name, or the fact that I was supposed to come here today instead of tomorrow. Of course, he always refers to us as Mom and Dad obviously, so that makes some sense."

"Selective memory. That is actually the least of the concerns right now after forceful brain tampering."

"They said it was some probe that was put into me?" Greg asked.

Dr. Saunders nodded. "We don't know the specifics, but we were able to extract everything we could. It was an act of God there appeared to be no permanent damage. Whatever was in there was meant to keep you alive and use you for information more so than kill you."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but why was I brought here instead of Starfleet Medical?" Greg asked.

"Medical was fuller today. Some minor training accident outside Thule, Greenland. On top of that, the brain surgeons were mostly taken up. They wanted you somewhere that we could focus more people in case something went wrong. Mostly because of what was in your head."

"Is everyone ok?" Greg asked.

"What, the accident? As far as we can tell, yes. The transport carrying them to the Air Base there crashed. We managed to get them back here ASAP. They were brought to San Francisco because they needed to be debriefed immediately. Just a few bumps and scrapes as far as I can tell."

"Good to hear. Do you know what's happening to my shipmates?" Greg asked.

"Unfortunately, I do not. I'm sorry sir." The doctor walked over and marked information on Greg's chart on the wall. "I'll have a nurse check in with you every half hour. We'll probably hold you for a few more days, just to keep watch." He turned to address Greg. "If you need anything, let one of them know immediately. It looks like you will make a good recovery, but we don't want to jump the gun."

"Yes sir." Greg answered.

"You gentlemen have a good day. I'll try to check on you when I can. If for some reason any complications arise, I'll be notified immediately." The doctor turned to leave.

"Hey doc?" Greg asked. "Can you keep me updated on Petty Officer Jacobs, when you can? Just let me know how he's doing."

"I'll make sure to let the nurses know to tell you. But he should be fine." The doctor smiled and left.

Tom walked over and sat at the edge of the bed in the room. "Told you that you needed to stay in bed."

"Shut up, dad." Greg laughed.

"You do understand your mother is going to kill you, right?" He asked.

"Tell her to get in line." Greg stated. "I feel Will and Sam may get to me first. Why do you never seem to have a problem with them?"

"Will's on a research ship and Sam runs a freighter. A freighter that travels only in Federation space to well established Federation colonies. He isn't a police officer."

"You saying my job is dangerous?" Greg smirked. "You were the Marine."

Tom laughed, "Yah, and your mother darn near killed me for that." He folded his arms. "I told you, as soon as you wanted to join. It's surprisingly tough, even on a Starship. It may not be on the street law enforcement. You may not be arresting gang members, domestic abusers, or drunk drivers, but you are still put in danger."

"I can't just stand by while people need help dad. That's why I joined. I told you that is why when I joined. Heck, you think the same as I do. I'm surprised you didn't want to be a police officer." Greg responded.

"I almost did. As soon as I honorably discharged, I thought about it, but you guys were growing up. I didn't want to risk missing a moment with you all. So I picked R&D for weapons development instead. Not a job I was big on, having absolutely no Masters degree in any field, but my knowledge along with many other former Starfleet on the team was valuable to helping them make decisions. Those decisions are passed to the brains of R&D, and after long and deliberate discussions, they make their decisions.

Tom looked at Greg, "It may be small, but it is important. I can still help people. And most importantly, I get to come home every night."

"Yah, dad. But you have a family. I don't."

"You will. Someday. And trust me, you will know how I feel. We almost lost you on the Ohio. We almost lost you on this ship. We're just worried about you. That's all."

Greg smiled, "I know dad. I know you guys do."

The comm beeped. "Excuse me, Mr. Mitchell? I have a visitor here at the front desk for you. A Doctor Morgenstern? Says she knows you."

Greg answered immediately. "Oh, yes. Send her up."

Tom laughed. "Well, here's another person that'll probably kill you. Maybe you'll know how I feel sooner than I thought."

"What?" Greg asked.

"I mean...oh nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Wait, I heard you. Why does everyone think she and I are in a relationship?"

"And you aren't?" Tom asked.

"No! Of course not. She's my psychiatrist."

"Ah, I see." Tom smiled and stood up.

"I'm serious."

"No, no. I believe you." Tom said.

"Dad."

"I totally believe you. Hey, I'm going to step out for a bit, to call everyone and update them on you. Will should be here tomorrow, hopefully." He smiled. "If you need anything, give me a call alright?"

Greg nodded. "Sure, I'll let you know."

Tom reached over and hugged his son. "I love you Greg. We all do. I just wanted you to know that."

Greg returned the hug. "I love you to, dad. And thank you."

Tom stood up, smiled again, then turned and left the room.

[OFF]

--

CWO3 Greg Mitchell,
Security Officer,
USS Galileo

RSS Feed