Classified Examinations

Posted on Thu May 7th, 2026 @ 6:38pm by Lieutenant Axod Qo & Lieutenant JG Theodor Wishmore

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Sickbay (Deck 2)
Timeline: Mission Day 22 at 1930

An ominous weight had settled over Axod as he made his way from the main ward into isolation, each step feeling more deliberate than the last. He knew what he had to say, and more than that, what the doctor would inevitably confirm.

It was early, too early, perhaps, but the certainty had already taken root. The signs were impossible to ignore: the metallic taste that lingered no matter how often he tried to wash it away, the persistent fatigue that clung to his limbs, and now the dizzy spells that came without warning. Together, they formed a truth he couldn’t quite bring himself to speak aloud, even now.

He was carrying a child.

The realization sat heavily within him, both grounding and disorienting all at once. There was a quiet joy buried somewhere beneath the unease, but it was overshadowed by the distance; from family, from the familiar rhythms of Doosodarian community and care. The crew of the Sojourner had become something like home, yes, but this… this was something else entirely. Deeper.

He hoisted himself onto the biobed with a soft grunt, the motion slower than usual, as though the weight he carried had already begun to manifest. For a moment, he simply sat there, gathering himself, before lifting his gaze.

“Can we raise the privacy screen?” he asked, his voice steady, though quieter now, measured, as if bracing for what would come next.

Theo didn’t hesitate.

“Of course,” he said, reaching to activate the privacy screen. The soft shimmer rose around the biobed, muting the wider Sickbay into a distant, indistinct hum. It left the space smaller. Quieter. Contained.

He stepped closer, unhurried, his posture open rather than imposing.

"The dizziness earlier,” he said, voice even. “Has that happened before, or was that the first time?”

He let the question settle, watching rather than pressing, giving Axod the space to answer in his own time.

“And when it does happen,” he continued after a moment, “does anything seem to bring it on? Standing, turning, exertion… or does it come without warning?”

A slight pause, his gaze steady but not intrusive.

“Any other changes? Fatigue, nausea, appetite, sleep?”

The cadence of it was familiar — practiced, almost gentle in its predictability. Something to anchor to.

Only then did he lift the tricorder, holding it loosely in one hand. He didn’t activate it. Not yet.

“May I?”

Axod eyed the device as though it might turn on him, his wariness plain. “Before you do, ” he began, shifting himself further onto the biobed, the movement slow and deliberate, buying himself a moment.

He lifted his gaze to meet Theo’s, holding it there with quiet intensity. There was no room for deflection now, no easy way around what needed to be said. “I need to disclose something to you,” he continued, his voice measured, careful, “but I need your assurance that it will remain confidential, and that you won’t make Doctor Xex aware of it.” The words seemed to settle heavily between them. Axod let out a breath, the kind that came after crossing an invisible threshold, as though the hardest part had already been spoken aloud. Still, he didn’t look away.

“Can you promise me that?”

Theo didn’t answer straight away.

Instead, he drew a slow breath and, after a brief pause, lowered himself onto the edge of the adjacent biobed. The movement was unhurried, deliberate — a subtle shift that brought him level rather than looming, giving the moment the weight it deserved.

He held Axod’s gaze, the request settling between them with a gravity that had little to do with medicine alone. It wasn’t just information being offered — it was trust, placed carefully, and not without cost.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet, steady.

“I can offer you confidentiality within medical ethics,” he said. “What you tell me stays between us unless there’s a clear risk to you, the crew, or the ship.”

He let the words rest there, unembellished.

“I won’t involve Doctor Wang without your consent,” he continued, “unless it becomes medically necessary.”

A small pause followed, his expression calm, but intent.

“And I won’t make that decision lightly.”

He didn’t move to reach for the tricorder, didn’t press the moment forward.

“You have my discretion.”

And then he let the silence return, leaving the next step entirely in Axod’s hands.

The Doosodarian man drew in a slow, steadying breath, holding it for just a moment before letting it out again, as though bracing himself for the weight of what he was about to say.“As I’m sure your examination will discern, I am in the early stages of pregnancy.” The words were measured, clinical, but they lingered in the space between them all the same. He allowed a brief pause, just long enough for the reality of it to settle.

“If I had to guess, I’m likely four to six weeks along.” His hands folded neatly in his lap, a quiet attempt at composure, though the tension in his fingers betrayed him. “Feel free to scan away, Doctor.”

Theo inclined his head once, a small, quiet acknowledgment.

“Understood.”

The tricorder came to life in his hand, its low hum filling the enclosed space as he began the scan. Data flowed across the display — hormone levels, metabolic changes, subtle internal shifts—

Then something caught.

A faint inconsistency.

His brow drew in just slightly as he adjusted the parameters and ran it again, slower this time, more deliberate.

The result didn’t change.

For a moment, he said nothing, eyes lingering on the readout as the pattern resolved into something unmistakable.

When he finally lowered the tricorder, his voice remained calm, measured.

“That aligns with what I’m seeing,” he said. “Hormonal elevation consistent with early gestation. There’s already minor displacement in the lower abdomen.”

A brief pause, just enough to let the words settle.

“Your estimate is accurate.”

“I’m not sure how in-depth Doosodarian pregnancy is covered in your medical training,” Axod began, his tone settling into something more clinical, more controlled, familiar ground. “But if my guess is correct, and I’m somewhere in the four to six week range, you should be seeing a spike in my hormone levels, along with early organ displacement in the abdomen .”

He lifted a hand, indicating just above the waistband of his pants, the gesture precise despite the lingering fatigue. “That would account for the unsteadiness,” he added, matter-of-fact, as though naming it might lessen its impact.

Theo let the words settle between them, resisting the instinct to fill the silence. It wasn’t uncertainty that held him there, but respect — for the weight of what had just been said, and for the man sitting across from him.

When he spoke again, his voice remained low, measured.

“Are you experiencing anything else?” he asked. “Pain, pressure… anything that feels out of place for you.”

A brief pause followed, his gaze steady but unobtrusive.

“I’d like to run a more detailed scan,” he continued, “establish a baseline — make sure everything is progressing as it should.”

The tricorder remained lowered in his hand, inactive for now.

“My familiarity with Doosodarian gestation is… limited,” he admitted after a moment, without discomfort or defensiveness. “But I’ll make it a priority to correct that.”

A faint shift — not quite a smile, but something warmer than before.

“Quickly.”

His attention returned fully to Axod.

“In the meantime, if there’s anything specific — anything you know to be important — I’d rather hear it from you than make assumptions.”

Theo’s openness, his genuine effort to ensure he understood, settled over Axod in a way he hadn’t quite expected. It wasn’t just professional diligence; it felt personal, considerate in a way that left a quiet impression. Axod took a moment, turning over what might actually be useful to share.

“Additional rest is typical,” he said at last, his tone measured, thoughtful. “But given the nature of my duties isn’t particularly strenuous, I don’t think it’s necessary to scale back.”

He shifted slightly on the biobed, adjusting for comfort before continuing. “I will have some increased nutritional needs eventually ,” he added, almost offhand. “But they’re well within the capabilities of the replicator, or Debbie.” A faint hint of a smile touched his expression at that, softening the clinical edge of the conversation.

Theo inclined his head slightly at that, the faintest echo of that earlier almost-smile returning.

“Then we’ll plan around that,” he said simply.

He let the moment breathe, then lifted the tricorder again — this time activating it with a softer touch, less diagnostic urgency and more quiet intent. The scan that followed was slower, more deliberate, as though he were mapping rather than searching.

“I’d still like to establish a proper baseline,” he continued. “Circulatory, hormonal, and structural — so we have something to compare against as things progress.”

His gaze flicked briefly to the display, then back to Axod.

“And we’ll keep ahead of anything that does change,” he added. “Fatigue, balance, nutritional demand — none of that needs to catch you off guard.”

A small pause.

“If your duties remain manageable, there’s no immediate need to adjust them,” he said, tone even. “But I’d rather make that decision with you as we go, not after something becomes a problem.”

The tricorder lowered again, resting loosely in his hand.

“Sleep when you can,” he added, almost as an aside. “Your body’s already doing more than it’s letting on.”

Then, after a beat — quieter, but no less steady:

“And if anything feels different… even slightly… I’d rather hear about it early.”

Axod nodded, the gesture small but sincere. Theo’s concern; gentle, attentive, didn’t go unnoticed. It was disarming in the best way, a quiet reassurance that settled some of the tension he’d been carrying.

“Thank you,” he said, a warm smile pulling at his lips, softer now, less guarded. “I’d appreciate if we could keep our appointments, going forward, off the record. At least for now.”

Theo held his gaze, the request settling more easily this time—not lighter, but understood. He gave a small nod.

“We can do that, as long as nothing changes that puts you—or anyone else—at risk,” he said quietly, the boundary present but not heavy-handed. “In the meantime, this stays between us.”

The tricorder lowered fully to his side, no longer the focus. His posture remained relaxed, but attentive, as if the conversation mattered just as much as the scan itself.

“I’d like to keep the next check-in soon,” he added, more gently now. “Early stages matter, and I’d rather stay ahead of anything than react to it later.”

A brief pause followed, his expression softening just enough to shift the tone from clinical to something more personal.

“And Axod… you don’t have to carry all of this on duty alone.”

A warmth bloomed in Axod’s chest, steady and undeniable. This, this was a community. Not the one he’d grown up with, not shaped by the same traditions, but real all the same. It was more than he’d expected to find out here, at the edge of everything.

The realization caught him off guard. Emotion welled before he could contain it, slipping past the careful composure he so often maintained. A tear traced a quiet path down his cheek, unhurried and unhidden.

“I appreciate that more than you know,” he said, his voice softer now, touched with something deeper, gratitude that didn’t quite fit into words.

Theo didn’t move straight away, letting the moment remain as it was—quiet, honest, unhurried beneath the soft hum of the privacy screen.

When he spoke, his voice was low and steady.

“You don’t need to measure gratitude here, Axod. You’re not asking for more than you’re owed.”

He reached to the nearby tray, took a clean cloth, and set it within easy reach.

“This crew leans on each other,” he continued, a faint warmth touching his expression. “Sometimes awkwardly, but we do it all the same.”

A brief pause followed.

“You’re allowed to be carried for a while too.”

He rose then, giving the moment space.

“I’ll arrange the follow-up quietly,” he said. “And I’ll study Doosodarian obstetrics before then, so I can ask fewer foolish questions next time.”

The hint of dry humor was gentle, deliberate.

“Until then—rest when you can, and come find me early if anything changes.”

Axod nodded, a warm, grateful smile touching his features as he carefully eased himself off the biobed. “Thanks again,” he said sincerely. “I appreciate everything.” He lingered only a moment longer before turning toward the exit and finally departing Sickbay.

The corridor beyond felt strangely quieter. His thoughts churned beneath the surface, reeling not from the confirmation itself, he’d already known, somewhere deep down, but from the reality of hearing it spoken aloud, made real. And alongside that came the unexpected weight of the support he’d been shown, genuine and immediate in a way he still wasn’t entirely sure how to process.

It was a lot.

By the time he reached the turbolift, the exhaustion pressing at him felt impossible to ignore. More than anything, he needed rest.


A Mission Post by:

Lieutenant JG Theodor Wishmore
Assistant Chief Medical Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor