Transfer

Posted on 19 Jul 2017 @ 1:06am by Chief Warrant Officer 3 Greg Mitchell

1,411 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Angel of Hope Hospital, San Francisco, Earth
Timeline: MD-03, 0900 hours

[ON]

"Dad, have you seen my uniform?" Greg asked, going through his belongings.

"Yah, I meant to tell you about that," Tom said, helping him pack, "In order to get to your wounds, they had to cut off your shirt."

"...they had to cut off my shirt to get to the back of my head?" Greg asked.

"No, they had to cut off your shirt to get to your multiple disrupter burns, multiple fractured ribs, and broken arm that you were trying to keep me from knowing...smart ass." Tom mumbled.

"I wasn't keeping you from knowing," Greg responded, "It just didn't seem important at the time."

"What, you getting shot and tortured multiple times? No, that wasn't an important topic to bring up at all."

Greg stifled a small laugh behind his dad as he picked up more belongings.

"Son, what are you doing? You shouldn't even be out of bed. Even though the doctors are transferring you to Starfleet Medical, doesn't mean you are capable of..."

"Dad, I'm fine. I'm just getting my things together." Greg protested.

In truth, he was far from fine. Since waking up, Greg realized he was having more and more trouble remembering things. His mind was filled with holes, and he was becoming more agitated at small things than usual. He even had to admit that he felt somewhat annoyed at Jessica the previous day...a feeling he had never felt before. He knew something was off, like he was mixed up. Whatever happened in his brain didn't leave without scars.

"Greg, please just let me do this." Tom pleaded with his son. "You need to rest."

Greg sighed and put the rest of his clothes in his bag, "See? I'm done. That's all I needed to do."

A voice came from the door, "Just leave him alone, Dad. He's dead set on working himself to death."

Walking into the room was a gentleman who looked like an older, less battle hardened Greg. "Why do you think he hasn't applied to be an officer yet?"

"Because I like working for a living, mister Executive Officer." Greg smiled back, and approached his brother.

William Mitchell entered the room and hugged Greg, "How are you feeling, man?"

Greg returned the hug. "I've had better days, but I seem to be doing better."

"You look better than what I had initially heard." Will turned to their father and hugged him as well, "Hey Dad."

"Good to see ya, son. I'm glad you could make it." Tom said, returning the hug.

"I'm sorry I'm later than I thought I would be. When I told the Captain the reason for my shore leave request, he approved it immediately. But we weren't in a good position to launch shuttlecraft, so we had to meet up with a transport ship for me to come back."

"You came at a good time. I'm being transferred to Starfleet Medical for evaluation." Greg explained.

"How bad is it?" Will asked.

"Worse than he'll tell you." Tom stated.

"Actually Dad it isn't that bad now. Most of my injuries were worked on while I was out on the way here. They want to make sure my brain is doing well. My mind has been...hazy as of late."

"How hazy?" Will asked.

Greg shrugged, "Some short term memory issues from the event. But that could easily be from trauma." It was a lie, and he felt horrible. He hated lying to his family, but he didn't want them to worry. "They just want to make sure."

"I can come along with you, if that's ok. Are you both going?" Will asked.

"Yah, the car's parked out in the parking garage. I can bring it around when we leave." Tom responded.

"They're making me take an ambulance. Something about 'monitoring vitals' or some bullshit." Greg picked up his bag, "I was gonna help dad take this to the car, but since you decided to show up, I'll have you do it." He smiled and handed it to his brother.

"What, do I look like your butler?" Will smiled.

"No, because I'm not paying you a dime." Greg laughed. "But in all seriousness, I can get it."

"No, no, I'll get it. I don't want you passing out on the way there." Will grabbed the bag.

"Which one of us is a Security officer again? And which one spends most of his time in an XO's chair?" Greg responded, pulling at the bag.

"Don't make me pull rank on you, Chief"

"Do I look like I'm in uniform."

"Oh for crying out loud, I'll take it." Tom rolled his eyes and grabbed the bag, "You two will never grow up, will you."

"He started it." Both brothers said, pointing at each other.

"Yah, and I'm ending it. Will, grab MY stuff, will you?" Tom said, pointing at a much smaller bag with his toothbrush, bath soap, etc...

"Dad, let me take the heavier one. We were just joking." Will said.

"Son, just because I'm in my sixties doesn't make me frail. I was a Marine for crying out loud."

"Actually, he's right." A female voice came from the door. It was a nurse who had been taking care of Greg. "We ran a vital scan on your father, and he reads as healthy as a man in his late 40's."

"Told you." Tom said, "Pays to keep busy after retirement.

"You had the staff run a vital check on you?" Greg asked.

"Yep."

"When?"

"Yesterday, when your counselor was here. She was giving you that test for some time and I got completely bored." Tom answered.

"Oh, we're calling it 'tests' now, are we?" Will smirked at Greg.

"Will, shut up. Dad, this isn't your hospital. You can't just make a random staff member run vitals on you."

"Did they look busy yesterday?" Tom asked. "Dear sweet heavens, I saw the Cardiologist playing poker with the janitor and two orderlies. This isn't 2017. People aren't just going to the hospital in droves anymore."

"Again, he's right. Our last survey pointed out that humans are now 75 percent healthier than we were before World War Three, and even less likely to..."

"Why are you here?" Greg finally asked the woman, the only thought on his mind being he wanted to finally rest somewhere and put an end to all this action as of late.

"The ambulance is ready, whenever you want to go."

"Good, I'll just walk these guys out to the car and..."

"Actually, hospital rules are you have to be transported in this wheelchair." The nurse replied.

"Oh, hell no." Greg responded, "I've had to sit in my be for the last day, and I've been passed out for the last few months. If I have to stay down any longer..."

"Greg, just do what she says." Will rolled his eyes.

"Will, I'm not taking a wheelchair. I want to be able to do at least ONE thing by myself while we are here."

Tom looked at the nurse, "You best just let this go. He's pretty set on doing it his way."

Will looked at the nurse, "We'll keep an eye on him on the way the ambulance. Greg, she can follow us." He said through gritted teeth. It was his way of telling Greg to shut up and not argue anymore, "If he starts having issues, we'll put him in the chair."

The nurse started to object, but having had to put up with Greg's objections the last few days, and the doctor's orders to her being "get him out of here as quickly as you can. I don't want to put up with him anymore" she figured it best to just do what he said.

The Mitchell men made their way down the hall. As they passed Jacobs room, Greg peaked his head in to introduce his brother and say goodbye before they continued their journey.

"So, is Sam coming?" Greg asked.

Tom answered, "He called this morning. Says his ship has to drop its load off before he can get in. Probably a couple more days."

"Good. I look forward to seeing him again." Greg smiled.

After a few more seconds passed, Will spoke up. "So," he asked with a grin, "How was your visit with Doctor Morganstern?"

"Will...don't make me shoot you." Greg answered.

[OFF]

A Post By,

CWO3 Greg Mitchell,
Security Officer,
Former USS Galileo

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