Backpost: Seven Days at Pathfinder Station; Day Four

Posted on Sat Oct 18th, 2025 @ 5:03pm by Lieutenant JG Theodor Wishmore

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Pathfinder Station Infirmary
Timeline: Mission Day 7 at 1100

Theo had arrived aboard Pathfinder stations a number of days ago. He'd always intended to arrive early in order to gather his bearings but equally he had been expecting his new posting to arrive shortly after he had. When Sojourner had not materialized on time there was little concern, no doubt she was held up doing what ever it was she was off to do, but quickly there was a growing case of boredom. Theodor Wishmore was not very good at sitting still and if the long journey to the station hadn't been challenging enough, now he had more free time on his hands.

And so there had only really been one thing for him to do.

The doors to the Pathfinder Station infirmary parted on a low therum of sterilizers and tired conversations. A Bolian nurse glanced up from a tray of hypos.

"Can I help you?"

"Doctor Theodor Wishmore," He said, offering an ourstretched hand, "Waiting on my new assignment and I heard you're short on hands?"

The nurse's mouth ticked - equal parts relief and suspicison - "Volunteers sign the this-is-not-your-infirmary form," She slid a padd produced from the unit in front of her toward him, "I'm Nar, don't get in the way and don't reorder my carts."

"I promise to suffer silently," Theodor said with a lightly amused smile, thumbprinting the consent. He shrugged into a plan med-jacket from the wall rack and didn't ask where anything was; he watched Nar for twenty seconds - sterilizer, diagnostic cradle, triage queue - and fell easily into her rhythm.

"Bed four," Nar said, already moving. "Freighter crew. Radiation nuisance, not disaster. Bed two's a sprain pretending to be a war story, Bed six... Bed six is the one that worries me."

Theo stopped at four first - Tellarite, mild erythema across the palms, the rash that came with shabby shield harmonics. He listened to the man grumble through symptoms as if the volume changed the pain, matched the cadence, let the patient set the pace. A tricorder pass, a measured dose, clear aftercare and a single quiet joke about 'Freighter charm fields' that earned him a snort. He moved on.

Bed two was as advertised. He rewrapped the wrist and without looking up said, "If you want a story that plays better in the bar, lean on 'saved the crate, lost the match.' You'll gave fewer follow-up visits."

That earned a grin. Good, small wins stitched a ward together.

He stopped at six.

Vulcan. Young. Eyes closed but not sleeping - retreating. The chart listed post incident anxiety, insomnia, decreased intake. Theodor didn't touch a single instrument at first. He pulled a stool to the bedside and sat, hands open.

"I'm Doctor Wishmore," he said, keeping his voice level enough that the room seemed to hush around it, "I'm not assigned her. I'm waiting on a ship but until it arrives, I can listen."

A breath. The Vulcan's eyelids flickered - not a tell, exactly but a doorjamb widening.

"My superior suggested meditation programs," She said at last.

"Did they help?"

"They reminded me of what control feels like. The reminder was... insufficient."

Theodor nodded once. "Then we won't pretend you should already be fine." He reached for a tricorder but set it beside the bed instead of opening it. "Two paths. Short term: I can adjust your sleep cycle without knocking you flat. Long term: we build you a routine that isn't about performance - just predictability. We start with predictable."

Another breath, steadier.

Nar's voice called from across the ward, "Doctor, when you surface, I've got a dermal regenerator that hates me."

"I'll be there," Wishmore called back, then to the Vulcan, "Ten minutes. I'll bring tea that does not offend logic."

One pass with the tricorder now - baseline vitals, nothing invasive. He keyed a mild circadian stabilizer, logged it under Nar's protocol (his way of saing this is your house), and stood.

At the supply cart he didn't reoder anything. He simply took what he needed and left everything else as he found it.

Nar met him at the regenerator, already half smiling, "You didn't move my carts."

"I enjoy continued employment," He said with a cheerful grin as he opened the casing," Also, I like how you stock analgesics next to the gauze. It respects reality."

She huffed - conceding a laugh, "You said you're waiting on a ship?"

"Yes,."

"What kind?"

He tightened the coupling, watching the status light settle from angry amber to green, "She's called Sojourner, do you know her?"

Nar nodded, "She comes and goes. As do they all."

The regenerator purred to life. Somewhere behind him a kettle chime sounded from the replicator.

"Tea for six," Nar said, amused.

"Just one" Theodor answered, ready turning back toward bed six, "But i've found starting with one is... predictable."