Welcome to the nightmare

Posted on Mon Oct 12th, 2020 @ 11:34pm by Lieutenant Commander James Trallos MD

James looked around. The same background as before, the leftovers of a terrorist attack in a nearby Cardassian system. Civillian bodies of all races laying on the ground, walking wounded staggered around in a daze and smoke was still rising from structures that littered the ground. It was just as he remembered it when he beamed down. The only difference was he could smell the smoke, the acidic scent of burnt plastics, hair and lye. He could normally tell if he was in a dream, but this was real, the smell, the ground crunching under his feet, even the taste of the air was there.

He ran over to the first person he saw, trying to triage the worst wounded. By the third individual, he knew this was a bad situation. He looked up and saw Dr. Jones trying to organize the wounded that were taged and getting the most critical beamed out first. It seemed like a never ending sea of bodies, some yelling in pain, some quietly sobbing over silent bodies, and others babbling incoherently in shock.

The woman approached, she was yelling and trying to say something but he could not make it out over her sobs. He didn't need to understand her words when he saw what she was holding. He saw a lifeless little body in her arms, nearly unrecognizable as a young child. The words were clear now as a universal language that all parents would say in this situation. It was just a simple phrase said over and over with the persistence of a loving parent, "Please, save my baby."

The conflict inside raged again. There were hundreds wounded, few doctors and limited supplies. The child was beyond his help, he was sure of it, but the parent believed there must be something he could do to help their child. In mass casualty scenarios, patients were triage and given a colored tag. Among the colored tags,, two stood out. Red are critical and need to be seen first, and with major intervention may survive. Black tags are for the dead or who are so critical they would not make it.

He knew the parent desperately wanted a red tag or for him to make time to try and treat the child and his heart wanted to give the parent that feeling that they did all they could, but he couldn't. Even if the child was already at a Starbase, survival would be a coin toss. A scream for a doctor broke his hesitation and he listened to his Vulcan instructors and pushed emotion aside. Others needed his help, so he put a black tag around the child's foot.

Immediately yelling broke put. Enemies jumped over wreckage and started killing bystanders. He recognized the attackers, Kazon. What were Kazon doing here? This wasn't right. He looked over at the child, it was clear, the Child was a Kazon now and holding a phaser. "The black tag should have been for you!" It yelled and fired into his shoulder.

James shot up out of bed with a yell. Cold sweat soaked his bed and pillow while matting his hair. Between rapid breaths he yelled "Computer, Lights on!" The lights instantly came up. He got out of his bed and made his way to his dresser. It was the same dream he has had before in concept, but different this time. It was real, his shoulder was throbbed in sympathy to the wound he received, even if it was decades ago.

He opened the drawer and moved back a couple shirts. In the back was a half drank bottle of bourbon. His hand reached for it and then moved to the right farther and he picked up a hypo spray. Turning it over and checking the dosage of the sedative, he read the note attached to the bottom that said 'Remember, you promised' in his own hand. He moved the hypo to his neck as he gulped air in and pressed it firmly against it. The words rang through his mind again. If he used this, he would have to fulfill his promise.

"AAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!" The doctor bellowed and threw the hypo into the next room. He sat on the bed as tears slowly formed in his eyes and made their way down his cheek. The promise was, if it got to the point he needed a sedative, he would get help. The damage from the Kazon not only cut fresh wounds in the ship and her crew, it opened up old scars for him. He sighed, he knew it was long over due, but if he waited any longer there would be a point of no return, and he was approaching it now at warp speed. In the morning, he would be the counselor's first patient. He hoped she was ready for a challenge.