What's causing this?

Posted on Mon Sep 16th, 2019 @ 1:30am by Lieutenant Sandra Adamson

Mission: For Whom The Bell Tolls
Location: Mess Hall
Timeline: MD6, 1700 hours
1604 words - 3.2 OF Standard Post Measure

Eyeing the kitchen from time to time, Patrick sat as far away from his galley as possible, still cradling his injured hand. He felt miserable and despite Nichelle's officer to 'practice' on the holodeck and see where it was going wrong, he was feeling more down by the minute. Not even Murph's brave attempt at dinner was helping even though he was grateful for it.

He knew sickbay was probably the place to go, but he just couldn't move himself to go there. Instead, he tapped his commbadge. "Doctor Anderson, this is Patrick O'Malley. Can you meet me in my quarters in ten minutes?"

Sandy was just taking a sip from a glass of gold water and ice when she got the call. She somehow managed to spill it over her uniform. "Your quarters?" She replied back. "Is there a medical emergency I could be aware off?" She put the glass down and looked at the wet uniform. "I will be there in 15 minutes, I just need to make a quick stop at my quarters first. Anderson out!"

She ten ran past Nurse Patterson out of sickbay. "Cancel my appointments for the rest of the day, nurse."

Nurse Patterson looked at her but before she could say Sandy had no appointments she had disappeared in the corridor.

After she got a clean uniform, she got her medical kit and went to Paddy's quarters. She looked at the door a moment and wondered what had happened. With everything going on on the ship she had no clue what was in store for her next. And what if she was next. She shuddered a little. There was no telling what could happen to her. She then pressed the chime.

"Come..." Patrick looked up as the chief medical entered what he considered to be his home. "Thank you for coming doctor...I'm at wit's end... I lost my ability to cook...I manage to burn or destroy the simplest of dishes and I can't even handle a knife anymore. I'm scared to even go near the place now because I think something might go wrong. What is happening to me?"

"Interesting," Sandy said. "This is a new one. I heard, seeing dead wife, woke up next to each other and don't know what happened last night, hearing voices and nightmares, but losing the ability to cook is probably the one thing I have never heard in my entire career." She took out her tricorder and started to scan him. She did a full body check up before she reached up to his head. "So, how long can't you cook?"

"A few days now...I'm not entirely sure. At first I thought perhaps something was wrong with the equipment but gradually I came to the realization that it's me. Lieutenant Tadez thought I was pranking him with bad food, said I had swapped spices. And now I'm down to not being able to pull off a single dish. I can't even bake an egg..." He held up his bandaged hand. "Or use a knife...and I don't want to risk worse injury."

"That maybe wise for the moment," Sandy said. "Would you like me to treat your hand as well?" she asked, as she put her tricorder away and took out the dermal regenerator.

"Sekat already did most of the work...I need you to scan me and see if there's anything else wrong with me." Patrick sat down on his couch, looking fidgety and uneasy. "Cooking is all I know doctor, it's all I ever wanted to do. Without my skill, I have nothing. Please...I need whatever this is to go away, whatever it takes, so I can be me again."

Sandy put the generator away. "Very well, I did pick up some readings on my tricorder that would help me indicate what this could be. But to be certain we have to go sickbay so I can make better scans of your brain. Would you mind joining me to sickbay?"

Patrick bit his lip to the point of almost bloody, then slowly nodded. "But it's necessary isn't it, to find out what this is? Whether I'm sick?"

Sandy put her hand on his shoulder. "Look, Mister O'Malley...Patrick...you're not sick. I think you have something in your brain that is causing this. People have been coming to me for a couple of days now with strange things happening to them. When scanning them with a tricorder, it picked up a strange energy reading coming from their brain and when I used a better scanner I found these implants inside their brains. I can't really tell you what they do, how they got there or how to remove them. All I know is the effect these devices have on their victims is different with each victim. I just scanned your brain and picked up the same energy reading."

The young man's eyes widened. "What? So it's not me? It's possibly this strange thing that's causing it?" He actually seemed a little relieved at this news. "Wait... does Murph have one too? Have you scanned him yet?"

"I don't know," Sandy replied, "And as far as I can tell, he hasn't reported anything strange happening to him. Right now our main concern is how to remove these devices or disable them. But so far we haven't found a safe solution yet. The devices luckily haven't cause any harmful situation, even though the situations aren't ideal."

Patrick held up his right hand. "This isn't harmful?" he asked plainly, "I could've sliced my whole fingers off... I'm not touching any kitchen equipment until I know for sure this thing can be removed." He shuddered. "it's replicator food....or stomach Murph's valiant attempts at dinner."

"Yes, your right, no harmful situations, until now," Sandy said, "My apoligies." She thought about the words he said. "Have you thought about asking other members of the crew take care of dinner. And maybe Tarria. I could make an awesome chicken soup with freshly baked bread." She offered.

Patrick gritted his teeth, swallowing hard a few times. Everyone knew how protective he was of the galley. But this was home dinner, not the crew and he trusted Tarria enough to take care of crew dinner. "My home kitchen is mine," he finally said, drawing a slow breath, "I'm not letting anyone else other than Murph abuse it." He swallowed again, biting his lower lip until it bled. "I just want to get better. What am I, if not a chef? I have no other skills."

Hearing Patrick started to get defensive over his kitchen she quickly said, "Oh, I didn't mean for anyone to come in to your kitchen in your quarters and cook for you, I mean, I could cook something for you in my own kitchen or even the lounge kitchen." She laughed nervous. "I would never come invade your own kitchen. And of course I am going to do everything in my power to get you better again. I just need to make scans of your brains. That way I can confirm that what ever is bothering is you is what I suspect it is. Also I would like to document every incident reported to medical, for my research."

"Shall we then?" Patrick prompted, not wanting to delay the inevitable much longer. The sooner this was done with the sooner he could get back to the safety of his own quarters. As they walked to sickbay he told her in detail what had occurred to him so far. "Take whatever scans you need," he said unhappily. "I just want this over with, I want to be me again."

Sandy got up. "Yes, let's go. It won't take long. I promise." She smiled comforting to him.

"Don't make promises you can't keep," Patrick answered softly as they finally walked into sickbay. He made straight for one of the beds and hopped onto it.

Sandy grinned and said, "I only make promises I can keep." He turned on the monitor and started up the scanner. She pressed a few buttons. "Here we go. Do you want to see it?" She asked as she put her hand on the monitor waiting for his response.

Patrick shook his head. "It won't make any sense to me anyway, so no I don't think that'll be a good idea. Just tell me the good or bad news as it is."

"Very well," She said. "You have a device in your brain of unknown origin. It is most likely what is causing your inability to cook. But I have to look fully in to this as to what is causing this and how I can safely remove the device. So for now, stay away from any knifes or the kitchen in general. I am sure the crew would be happy to bring you some food now and then. You have been cooking for us since the start, it's no problem for us to bring the ship's chef a meal in return now."

Patrick just nodded. "I suppose," he answered unhappily, "I hope it gets fixed soon...I don't want to be useless." He sat up again. "Can I go?"

Sandra nodded. "Yes you can. But before you go. Go talk to Tarria, she maybe able to help you not feel so useless, ok." She winked to him.

"yeah okay..." Patrick hurried out of the medical bay, heading straight back to his quarters. Tarria, in his opinion, could wait. He needed time, that was all.

---

Patrick O'Malley
broken Chef
pnpc Lhaes

&

Lieutenant Sandra Adamson
Chief Medical officer