Infirmary

Like a shower of sparks, the Transporter beam initialised and began to reconstitute the critically ill Ensign Munroe onto the bio-bed. Like a painstakingly choreographed ballet, nurses and medical staff assembled around the biobed with a selection of tools and drugs, ready to make every effort to stabilise the young Ensign and save his life.

“Let’s get two units of O-neg on standby, please! Activate the massive transfusion protocol! And everyone listen-in for a handover!” Conrad assumed control as he took an initial glance at the bio-monitor and deduced a sinus heart rhythm, although it was rapid.

Reading from a PADD, a Bajoran officer stepped forward and attracted the attention of the room. Everyone was multitasking, linking up sensors and preparing the patient, but they were all clearly giving a portion of their attention to the handover.

“This is Ensign Jack Munroe, 23 years old, human male. Found collapsed and unresponsive in science lab two approximately five minutes ago with no obvious mechanism of injury. GCS on scene was three, E,V,M, all scored one. Presented with visible nasal haemorrhage and suspected internal. Observations were heart rate elevated at 120, B-P 70 over 40. Breathing is agonal.”

Conrad took down the key information from the handover and immediately got to work planning the next steps. “Okay, everyone, let’s get some fluids on board, try and get that blood pressure up, he’s approaching tachycardia, so we want a defib on standby!”

The team went about performing their tasks without question; it was a kind of organised chaos; a lot of things were going on at once, but each action was methodical and purposeful.

Suddenly, an alarm triggered on the bio-monitor, but it wasn’t unexpected. “V-TAC!” a nurse called out.

“Everyone clear? shocking now!” Conrad barked as he punched the flashing button on the Bio-monitor. Munroe jolted as the shock was delivered. A fraction of a second later, the monitor flatlined, indicating asystole.

“Cardiac stimulator!” He ordered, having solved one problem, moving onto the next, restarting the ensign’s heart.

The team continued working on their patient, more frantically than ever. It was a delicate balancing act, managing blood pressure and locating a source of bleeding. No one wanted to make the situation worse, but the priority was to get the heart beating again as soon as possible. Everyone knew they had to deal with things in order of what would kill the patient first.

As seconds turned into minutes, their efforts continued. Repeated attempts to restore life were yet to be successful, but no one relented for a second. This wasn’t just a patient; it was a colleague, a member of the family.

“Still asystolic!… time please?” Conrad asked, his concerns now turning towards hypoxia and the risk of brain damage.

“Ten minutes, doctor!” A nurse called out, notifying him of the time elapsed since the ensign arrested”

Damn, this isn’t good! Conrad thought to himself. “Push another round of Epi’, continue compressions!”

Meanwhile – Science Lab 2

“Computer, seal these doors, security lockout level-five, authorisation K’vagh-four-nine-theta-one!”

The computer chirped and commanded the science lab doors to slam shut. There was a mechanical clunk as deadbolts engaged to physically secure the doors and the unmistakable sound of a forcefield being erected.

K’vagh nodded to two of his staff, posted as guards outside the room. This was now a crime scene until further notice.

“Is there any chance this might just be a medical episode?” Wallace proposed, still processing the facts.

“We won’t know that until Conrad has a chance to report in; suffice it to say, we should keep an open mind at this stage,” Alex responded, his back leaning against the bulkhead and his arms crossed. This wasn’t the first time he’d had to face the reality of losing a member of his crew, but it never got any easier. His face telegraphed his frustration and worry for all to see, to the extent that wearing a sign above his head explaining it would have been more subtle.

“Captain, may I request that we beam the Heg’jot to Science lab three so that I may continue the analysis?” Sovek asked; his focus was not diminished by the events that had just unfolded, and, existing in a mindset of pure logic, his determination to seek new data was resolute.

“Request denied!” Alex shut him down immediately, without even needing to consider the Vulcan’s petition.

“Sir, I must protest—”

“Protest noted, Lieutenant Commander, but the decision is final,” Alex interrupted, standing away from the wall and now clearly showing a little frustration at the Vulcan’s challenge. “Right now, everything in that room is potentially evidence, while I don’t want to believe that a member of this crew could be responsible for harming another…. I intend to let Mr K’Vagh do his job and be the one to determine that…You’ve suspected yourself that the Heg’jot has some unusual properties, so that means we have to consider all possibilities here… however improbable or Illogical!”
Sovek silently considered the Captain’s stance on the situation, though he could find no flaw in his logic. “Understood, Captain.”

“If you want to continue your analysis, then you can do it remotely. But the Heg’jot stays where it is,” Alex added, appreciating the need for continued study.

“An acceptable compromise, thank you, Captain. I will begin transferring the sensor telemetry to science lab three.”

As Sovek took his leave, Alex added another instruction, “But passive scans only, Commander!”

Sovek nodded in acknowledgement as he continued down the corridor, his stride unbroken.

Alex turned to K’vagh to discuss the next course of action “What’s your initial assessment, Lieutenant?”

“Sensor logs show that between 21:00 hours and the moment Lieutenant Commander Sovek entered the room, no other crew members entered or left Science Lab Two. Mr Munroe was the last recorded entry to the room.” K’vagh reported efficiently. The bass in his voice reverberated off the walls and surrounded the body, wrapping oneself in a feeling of security and safety, as if the bridled power in his voice could shield against the most aggressive of assaults.

“So Sovek’s statement is accurate, no surprise there! Can we rule out foul play at this point?” Wallace asked.

“Unclear at this stage, I’d like to wait for the Doctor’s assessment before proceeding further; however, I find it unlikely that Sovek would have any motive to harm the Ensign!” K’vagh responded candidly.

“Leave no stone unturned, Lieutenant, make no assumptions,” Alex instructed.
“If there’s one thing the past few years have taught us, it’s to be professionally curious at every opportunity, and that absolute trust in your shipmates is a commodity that needs to be earned, not given freely!”

“Aye, sir!” K’vagh responded in agreement. He didn’t particularly like the idea of surreptitiously investigating one of his colleagues, but he knew his captain was absolutely correct about misplaced trust. He had experienced firsthand how blind trust had allowed changelings to infiltrate the Federation and bring Starfleet to its knees.

Meanwhile – Infirmary

Sweat began dripping from Conrad’s forehead as he continued compressions desperately, the Bio-monitor still read asystole with no appreciable change in electrical activity.

He repeatedly felt the crunch of the ensign’s sternum and ribs as his hands depressed the chest cavity; the force of his effort rippled through the soft tissues of the ensign’s trunk in a very undignified display of his team’s determination to save this man’s life.

Conrad glanced at the monitor and then at the clock. He had been arresting for over twenty minutes, and suddenly Conrad’s thoughts turned to the Hippocratic oath: ‘Do no Harm’.

At this point, Life support would do nothing to reverse the hypoxia in the ensign’s brain. Even if he could get the heart started again, the risk of severe brain damage was accelerating away from them.

Conrad terminated his compressions and ran through a final sequence of checks. He observed the ensign’s chest for a few seconds; it was still and made no spontaneous respiratory effort. He took a small pen torch out of his coat pocket, reached forward and peeled back the ensign’s eyelids, shining the light into his eyes. “Pupils fixed and dilated, no response”, he said out loud.

Finally, Conrad took his pen and pressed it firmly against the ensign’s fingernail. There was absolutely no reaction to what should have been incredibly painful.

Conrad dipped his head; he had just confirmed the criteria for diagnosing his patient’s death, and he knew now that responsibility fell to him to officially record the diagnosis, something he always despised having to do.

“Time of death, 07:58,” he said solemnly.

Instinctively, at the conclusion of his announcement, the nurses and staff on his team began shutting down their equipment and tidying the area. Some took responsibility for restoring some dignity to the body, others for securing vital life-saving equipment for future use.

Conrad braced himself against the bed and took a moment to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement in his office. Taking a moment to look, he caught sight of a young Bajoran woman with flowing chestnut hair. It was Munroe’s partner.

Mustering every bit of inner strength he had left, he made his way over to his office to deliver the most devastating of news.

His staff paused for a moment and watched from a distance. The glass walls of the office provide a window into the exact moment that grief was born, as Conrad’s words seemed to disappear into the background for the young woman, and all the hope expressed on her face drained away, replaced with heartbreak and pain. She screamed with anguish and fell to her knees, only having her fall partially broken by Conrad as he tried to seize a supportive embrace.