Back to the story . . .
Chapter Seven
Stardate 54640.90 (29 August 2377)
Aboard a Cosmo-Works Planet Hopper N10778
Glenda Hurst closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe steadily through the contraction. As the tightness in her abdomen subsided, she opened her eyes to see the worried face of her husband gazing down at her.
Scott took her hand and kissed it. “I’m so sorry I got you into this,” he said.
“What, getting me knocked-up?”
That evoked a smile. “Ha! No, I should have insisted we take a transport instead of this piece of junk. Now we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere with a baby on the way.”
“With air, heat and help on the way,” she reminded him. “You did a great job of taking care of the ship, babe. We’ll be okay.”
“Sure we will,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “So – how much longer?”
“Until our little Sara arrives?” Glenda’s face grew pensive as she checked her bio-scanner. “I’m almost completely effaced and 60% dilated. 7 hours, maybe less.”
Her eyes met Scott’s. “You may have to deliver the baby, Scott.”
His eyes widened. “What? Dammit, Glenda – I’m an engineer, not a doctor!”
She smiled and caressed his face. “That’s okay. I can talk you through it.”
He snorted. “You know the saying about Doctors who treat themselves.”
“Yes – those doctors have a fool for a patient. But I’ll just have an advisory role – you’ll be the attending obstetrician.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” He forced a grin and kissed her gently. “Hopefully this conversation will be moot and our rescuers will arrive soon.”
“I’m sure they wi . . . ,” she replied, just as another contraction kicked in, making her catch her breath.
* * *
Stardate 54640.90 (29 August 2377)
USS Pamlico
Polar Orbit, Jinar II
Lt. Bane and Chief Anderson gazed down at Lt. Commander Nor Huren as the corpsmen laid her gently on the gurney. The left side of her face was badly swollen and purple-red blood oozed from a cut near her temple. Her skin had taken on a pale orange cast that looked decidedly unhealthy. Her eyes were open but she appeared to have difficulty focusing. She licked her lips.
“Wha happened?” Nor Huren’s voice was slurred.
Bane glanced at Corpsman Mike Burdeshaw, who was running a bio-scanner over the Rigellian.
“She has a concussion, but no inter-cranial bleeding. She should be okay in a day or so, but she really ought to be checked out by an M.D. just to be safe. I can give her an anti-shock compound to stabilize her until we can get to a starbase or rendezvous with a ship that has a medical officer.”
Nor Huren reached out unsteadily and grasped Bane’s sleeve. “Issa ship okay?”
He smiled. “You managed to put a dent in the bulkhead, but the ship is fine. We’re going to get you to a medical facility and get you checked out further.”
She tried to nod and winced. Closing her eyes, she said sleepily, “Thas good. You’ve got th' ship, Jack.”
Her hand fell limply from Bane’s sleeve. Jack glanced anxiously at Burdeshaw who glanced at his bio-scanner.
“She’s okay,” replied the Corpsman. “Out cold, but her vital signs are good.”
Bane frowned. “I thought it was dangerous to let someone with a concussion go to sleep.”
A tolerant smile formed on Burdeshaw’s lips. “Perhaps for a Human, but not a Rigellian. She’s lapsed into a healing sleep. Her race has remarkable recuperative powers, but I’d still feel better if we let a physician check her out.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” agreed Bane.
“Bridge to Lt. Bane.” Pudge Patterson’s voice came over Bane’s combadge. It was obvious that the young ensign was in distress.
“Bane, go ahead Ensign.”
“Sir – we just received a priority message from Starbase 500 to assist a ship in distress.”
Bane glanced at Chief Anderson, whose eyes widened in surprise.
“Did you apprise them of our situation?” asked Bane.
“Ah, no sir. Not as such. Uh, just a sec. . . they’ve reopened the channel. I’m piping it down to you now.”
Bane stepped over to a wall-mounted com-screen. He found himself face to face with Rear-Admiral (upper half) Edward Jellico.
Jellico was not smiling.
“Who are you?” the Admiral asked, brusquely.
“Lt. Ian Bane, Executive Officer of Pamlico, sir.”
“Where’s your commanding officer?” Bane sensed a rapidly approaching tsunami about to crash down from the sector commander. He stepped aside and gestured toward the cluster of corpsmen surrounding Nor Huren’s gurney.
“She’s injured sir – hurt in a work pod accident just now.”
The tide of wrath flowing from Jellico abruptly abated. “How badly? Do you need assistance?”
“No sir. Our chief corpsman says it’s a concussion but she should be alright. We were planning to cut short our run and head in to Starbase 500 so she can receive further attention.”
“Is she stable enough for you to carry out a rescue mission?”
Bane blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. “What kind of rescue, sir? We're not exactly fitted out for SAR operations.”
Jellico apprised Bane of the situation. “For what it’s worth, Bane, I realize I’m asking a lot, but your ship is ten hours closer than the Grenada. I know you’re concerned for your C.O., but those civilians take priority. Get your ship on-scene ASAP and do what you can to help those folks.”
Bane nodded. “Aye Admiral, we’ll get underway immediately. But you do understand, sir – we’re not equipped to deliver babies.”
“Duly noted, Lieutenant. Do the best you can – at least the lady involved is a sawbones – maybe she can give guidance to your medics. By the way, you might want to discuss communications protocol with your O.D. Remind him that it’s a bad idea to cut off a superior officer who’s in the middle of giving an order.”
Bane smiled wanly. “I’ll be sure to convey the message, Admiral.”
Jellico nodded, a ghost of a smile on his deeply lined face. “Considering the circumstances, I’ll cut the young man some slack. I’ll leave it to you to further his education – make sure he learns. Keep us posted on your progress. Good luck to you, Bane. Starbase 500, out.”
As Jellico’s image was replaced by the Border Service logo, Bane let out a long breath and shook his head. He tapped his com-badge.
“Bane to Bridge.”
“Bridge – Patterson here.”
“Ensign, break orbit and get us on course to the location of that stranded civilian vessel. Did you get the coordinates from Starbase 500?”
“Yes sir, we have them - they're about six hours away at maximum warp.”
“Good. Once we’re clear of the system, take us to maximum warp.” Bane paused, “By the way, the Skipper should be okay. She has a concussion, but Corpsman Burdeshaw believes she’ll recover fully.”
“That’s great to hear, sir!” The relief in Patterson’s voice was evident.
“Is Chief McManus still on the bridge?”
“Yes sir – shall I transfer you to his station?”
“No. Give me fifteen minutes then turn the conn over to the Chief. I want you to come down to the ward-room. We need to talk.”
There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the channel. “Yes sir. I’ll be there.” Bane picked up the slight note of dejection in Patterson’s voice.
"Very well. Bane out."
And who am I to provide guidance for our young Mr. Patterson? He thought morosely. If he follows my example he’ll end up doing life in a supermax penal colony.
Get over it, Bane! The other voice in his head suddenly roared. Quit your mewling and do your job! You’re in command now, like it or not. Do your bloody job!
“Mr. Bane?”
Jack broke out of his private reverie. “Yes Corpsman?”
“We’re moving the Skipper to Sick Bay. Her vitals are steady and she seems to be sleeping comfortably.”
Bane nodded. “Good. Say, Mike – I have a question for you."
"Sir?"
"Ever delivered a baby?"
Burdeshaw blinked. "A baby what, sir?"
* * *
Chapter Seven
Stardate 54640.90 (29 August 2377)
Aboard a Cosmo-Works Planet Hopper N10778
Glenda Hurst closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe steadily through the contraction. As the tightness in her abdomen subsided, she opened her eyes to see the worried face of her husband gazing down at her.
Scott took her hand and kissed it. “I’m so sorry I got you into this,” he said.
“What, getting me knocked-up?”
That evoked a smile. “Ha! No, I should have insisted we take a transport instead of this piece of junk. Now we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere with a baby on the way.”
“With air, heat and help on the way,” she reminded him. “You did a great job of taking care of the ship, babe. We’ll be okay.”
“Sure we will,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “So – how much longer?”
“Until our little Sara arrives?” Glenda’s face grew pensive as she checked her bio-scanner. “I’m almost completely effaced and 60% dilated. 7 hours, maybe less.”
Her eyes met Scott’s. “You may have to deliver the baby, Scott.”
His eyes widened. “What? Dammit, Glenda – I’m an engineer, not a doctor!”
She smiled and caressed his face. “That’s okay. I can talk you through it.”
He snorted. “You know the saying about Doctors who treat themselves.”
“Yes – those doctors have a fool for a patient. But I’ll just have an advisory role – you’ll be the attending obstetrician.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” He forced a grin and kissed her gently. “Hopefully this conversation will be moot and our rescuers will arrive soon.”
“I’m sure they wi . . . ,” she replied, just as another contraction kicked in, making her catch her breath.
* * *
Stardate 54640.90 (29 August 2377)
USS Pamlico
Polar Orbit, Jinar II
Lt. Bane and Chief Anderson gazed down at Lt. Commander Nor Huren as the corpsmen laid her gently on the gurney. The left side of her face was badly swollen and purple-red blood oozed from a cut near her temple. Her skin had taken on a pale orange cast that looked decidedly unhealthy. Her eyes were open but she appeared to have difficulty focusing. She licked her lips.
“Wha happened?” Nor Huren’s voice was slurred.
Bane glanced at Corpsman Mike Burdeshaw, who was running a bio-scanner over the Rigellian.
“She has a concussion, but no inter-cranial bleeding. She should be okay in a day or so, but she really ought to be checked out by an M.D. just to be safe. I can give her an anti-shock compound to stabilize her until we can get to a starbase or rendezvous with a ship that has a medical officer.”
Nor Huren reached out unsteadily and grasped Bane’s sleeve. “Issa ship okay?”
He smiled. “You managed to put a dent in the bulkhead, but the ship is fine. We’re going to get you to a medical facility and get you checked out further.”
She tried to nod and winced. Closing her eyes, she said sleepily, “Thas good. You’ve got th' ship, Jack.”
Her hand fell limply from Bane’s sleeve. Jack glanced anxiously at Burdeshaw who glanced at his bio-scanner.
“She’s okay,” replied the Corpsman. “Out cold, but her vital signs are good.”
Bane frowned. “I thought it was dangerous to let someone with a concussion go to sleep.”
A tolerant smile formed on Burdeshaw’s lips. “Perhaps for a Human, but not a Rigellian. She’s lapsed into a healing sleep. Her race has remarkable recuperative powers, but I’d still feel better if we let a physician check her out.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” agreed Bane.
“Bridge to Lt. Bane.” Pudge Patterson’s voice came over Bane’s combadge. It was obvious that the young ensign was in distress.
“Bane, go ahead Ensign.”
“Sir – we just received a priority message from Starbase 500 to assist a ship in distress.”
Bane glanced at Chief Anderson, whose eyes widened in surprise.
“Did you apprise them of our situation?” asked Bane.
“Ah, no sir. Not as such. Uh, just a sec. . . they’ve reopened the channel. I’m piping it down to you now.”
Bane stepped over to a wall-mounted com-screen. He found himself face to face with Rear-Admiral (upper half) Edward Jellico.
Jellico was not smiling.
“Who are you?” the Admiral asked, brusquely.
“Lt. Ian Bane, Executive Officer of Pamlico, sir.”
“Where’s your commanding officer?” Bane sensed a rapidly approaching tsunami about to crash down from the sector commander. He stepped aside and gestured toward the cluster of corpsmen surrounding Nor Huren’s gurney.
“She’s injured sir – hurt in a work pod accident just now.”
The tide of wrath flowing from Jellico abruptly abated. “How badly? Do you need assistance?”
“No sir. Our chief corpsman says it’s a concussion but she should be alright. We were planning to cut short our run and head in to Starbase 500 so she can receive further attention.”
“Is she stable enough for you to carry out a rescue mission?”
Bane blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. “What kind of rescue, sir? We're not exactly fitted out for SAR operations.”
Jellico apprised Bane of the situation. “For what it’s worth, Bane, I realize I’m asking a lot, but your ship is ten hours closer than the Grenada. I know you’re concerned for your C.O., but those civilians take priority. Get your ship on-scene ASAP and do what you can to help those folks.”
Bane nodded. “Aye Admiral, we’ll get underway immediately. But you do understand, sir – we’re not equipped to deliver babies.”
“Duly noted, Lieutenant. Do the best you can – at least the lady involved is a sawbones – maybe she can give guidance to your medics. By the way, you might want to discuss communications protocol with your O.D. Remind him that it’s a bad idea to cut off a superior officer who’s in the middle of giving an order.”
Bane smiled wanly. “I’ll be sure to convey the message, Admiral.”
Jellico nodded, a ghost of a smile on his deeply lined face. “Considering the circumstances, I’ll cut the young man some slack. I’ll leave it to you to further his education – make sure he learns. Keep us posted on your progress. Good luck to you, Bane. Starbase 500, out.”
As Jellico’s image was replaced by the Border Service logo, Bane let out a long breath and shook his head. He tapped his com-badge.
“Bane to Bridge.”
“Bridge – Patterson here.”
“Ensign, break orbit and get us on course to the location of that stranded civilian vessel. Did you get the coordinates from Starbase 500?”
“Yes sir, we have them - they're about six hours away at maximum warp.”
“Good. Once we’re clear of the system, take us to maximum warp.” Bane paused, “By the way, the Skipper should be okay. She has a concussion, but Corpsman Burdeshaw believes she’ll recover fully.”
“That’s great to hear, sir!” The relief in Patterson’s voice was evident.
“Is Chief McManus still on the bridge?”
“Yes sir – shall I transfer you to his station?”
“No. Give me fifteen minutes then turn the conn over to the Chief. I want you to come down to the ward-room. We need to talk.”
There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the channel. “Yes sir. I’ll be there.” Bane picked up the slight note of dejection in Patterson’s voice.
"Very well. Bane out."
And who am I to provide guidance for our young Mr. Patterson? He thought morosely. If he follows my example he’ll end up doing life in a supermax penal colony.
Get over it, Bane! The other voice in his head suddenly roared. Quit your mewling and do your job! You’re in command now, like it or not. Do your bloody job!
“Mr. Bane?”
Jack broke out of his private reverie. “Yes Corpsman?”
“We’re moving the Skipper to Sick Bay. Her vitals are steady and she seems to be sleeping comfortably.”
Bane nodded. “Good. Say, Mike – I have a question for you."
"Sir?"
"Ever delivered a baby?"
Burdeshaw blinked. "A baby what, sir?"
* * *
And a new born baby will add a much-needed "Awwww" factor to the story. 
