Dr. Orlin Dax (shipsurgeon) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-02-08 09:34:00 |
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That was something they really needed to change.
Orlin took a deep breath, held it in to a count of six, and exhaled. “I appreciate you giving me the tour, Baymax. Honestly, I am astounded by your ability to maintain optimism in this state of . . . Well, nothing against you or whomever my predecessor was, but this is chaos. We have a lot of work to do if we are going to bring this clinic to an appropriate level of functionality.”
Which was a little brazen coming from someone who’d barely been in Derleth for an hour.
It occurred to him a few seconds after the fact that his wording might have come off as insulting. Bedside manner, Orlin! Bedside manner! It was just so difficult with all of these other thoughts in his head. All of these other memories and emotions and personalities. All of these other Daxs!
“I hope you don’t think me rude. I apologize. That wasn’t polite. You are an amazing and incredible organism, Baymax. I have never met anyone like you. Not a synthetic lifeform, that is. You are synthetic, correct? I fear I might sound terribly naive. I promise you I am much better with patients. I’m just a tad overwhelmed by my arrival here. Definitely not planned. Transporter malfunction, no doubt.” Orlin cleared his throat and tugged down the front of his uniform. “But these working conditions do your abilities no justice. We must remedy this as quickly as possible. That is, of course, if you will accept my assistance. I do not wish to remand you of your duties.”
Orlin shook his head. “It’s a miracle any of you have survived as long as you have…”
Baymax tilted his head slightly, curious about the new doctor, and the duality of life he was scanning within him. "I am a robot," he said. "Not an organism. I cannot be offended."
He took a step closer to Orlin. "People experiencing a loss require compassion and physical reassurance." One of his puffy vinyl hands lifted to pat Orlin on the shoulder. "There there. It is okay to be sad."
There was little inflection in his robotic voice, but the sentiment was still filled with warmth and compassion. The touch was gentle and reassuring.
"The clinic has been used by all medical personnel operating in Derleth. Many have means other than physical. There are some who can heal with magic. I have medicine and instruments for medical procedures installed in my body. Still, I wish I could do more to assist my patients."
“Robots can absolutely be offended. Granted, I haven’t had too much experience with them since the Federation put a ban on synthetic lifeforms, but I’ve heard the stories about one android in particular from a very reliable source. Well, not me exactly, but … Anyway. I am very certain that robots are capable of being offended. Perhaps you just haven’t implemented that aspect to your programming yet.”
Orlin blinked when Baymax patted his shoulder. That was unexpected. Unexpected but also oddly reassuring. It was strange having an interaction with someone whose emotions he couldn’t read or sense. Because he doesn’t have any, he thought to himself. Although that seemed a little unjust. Starfleet Medical trained him not to judge too harshly. Baymax may not have interacted like most of his previous colleagues, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have emotions.
It had happened before. Dax knew. Dax had witnessed it first hand.
“Thank you, Baymax. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not sad.” But he was. Well, Orlin wasn’t. Not exactly. But Ezri was. As was Dax. So, in that sense, Orlin was also sad. It was a confusing place to be mentally and emotionally.
But he could think about that later.
“Magic?” Cue that instantaneous look of disbelief. He shook his head. There was a lot he’d have to learn about this place. “What can I do to help you better assist your patients?”
Baymax straightened. "Do you have experience in field medicine and triage? There are often dangerous elements, and I am not fast. A fellow healthcare professional would be essential for expedited care."
There was the sound of heavy footsteps and the door was pushed open. In stepped a dark haired man, strongly built, with a left arm of dark metal with gold accents. He was rubbing the area just under his shoulder. "Hey, Baymax? Still got that ointment for the chafing--" He stopped at the sight of a new person, instinctively shifting into a suspicious and guarded look, shooting a concerned glance to the robot before settling his eyes on Orlin.
Baymax didn't seem to notice the change in demeanor. "Hello, Bucky," he said. "This is Doctor Orlin. He is a new resident and healthcare professional. Would you mind if he oversaw my attending to your shoulder?"
Bucky looked from Orlin, back to Baymax, then nodded slightly. "Yeah. I mean, no. I… it's fine, he can stay."
Baymax started to waddle over to Barnes, who hesitated a moment longer before stripping off his shirt. The contact point, where his prosthetic met flesh, was red and inflamed. Baymax lifted a finger and delivered a spray to the affected area.
“Why, yes! In fact I did part of my externship on Qo’nos where—” But Orlin was cut off by the sudden arrival of someone new. Someone with a metal, or apparently metal, arm. Orlin raised a brow, causing some of the Trill spots along his temples to crinkle. He met Bucky’s suspicious gaze with an expression of resolute friendliness. Except, not the fake-hearted sort of customer service ‘friendliness’ often received in shops, particularly those in Ferengi space. No, no. Orlin was entirely genuine. A little odd at times, but he exuded an aura of openness and grace. And a little bit of smugness.
That was all Jadzia. Or was it Curzon? It didn’t matter. They were all interested in this new person.
“Doctor Dax, actually. But Doctor Orlin is fine. Or just Orlin. Or Dax. Or doctor. I’m not very particular.” Except Spots. Never did care for that nickname. Orlin smiled and laughed. Tentative. A little uncertain as to whether he was laughing at his own awkward response or at something going on in his head. Probably both.
Orlin followed along after Baymax, closing the distance between himself and the patient. Not too close, though. Bucky looked human but that didn’t mean he was human. So Orlin maintained an appropriate gap of space that fell somewhere between human and Vulcan preferences. Like Goldilocks. Not too close, but not too far away. Just righ—
But then Bucky took off his shirt and Orlin couldn’t hide his instant enthusiasm. And he leaned in from around Baymax’s side, completely forgetting his professional propriety. “Is that a completely integrated cybernetic matrix?!”
Bucky flinched back hard, but Baymax had already extended his arm to catch the wary ex-assassin, and was patting him gently. "There there, Sergeant Barnes. Orlin Dax is a friend, and a trusted member of the clinic. You are safe."
Bucky looked at Baymax, leaning slightly into the touch of the vinyl covered hand, and seemed to get control of himself. His flesh hand was gripping the hilt of a knife which seemed to have materialized from nowhere, but as he steadied, the grip loosened to a more relaxed hold.
"Sorry," Barnes said after a moment. "I don't have a good track record with doctors."
Looking to Baymax for reassurance, he gingerly shifted the vibranium arm for study. "I don't know about all that," he admitted, "but it's my arm. Fully functional, tactile, whatever. I'm not an engineer."
Baymax produced a lollipop and offered it to Barnes. Bucky looked at the treat, rolled his eyes, then put the knife away and took it, sticking it in his mouth with a look that dared anyone to comment.
Orlin’s reaction was almost as immediate as Bucky’s. His Betazoid empathy caught sense of—threat! fear!—and Orlin jumped backwards, bumping up against the side of Baymax before catching his balance and stumbling upright. His expression was all instantaneous apology. Obvious nervousness accompanied by a stilted laugh.
“Neither do I, actually. Once on Deep Space 27, I had to share clinic duties with a Ferengi physician. I know what you’re going to say. A Ferengi physician? Odd, yes, but not unheard of. Anyway he kept going on and on about how he got this physioscanner for only twelve bars of latinum—” Orlin was already crying tears of laughter before he finished telling the story. When he realized that neither Baymax nor Bucky were laughing, he cleared his throat with a cough and wiped his eyes. “I guess you had to be there.”
Then Bucky sort of explained his arm while Baymax offered him a lollipop.
Orlin blinked. What kind of place was this?
He straightened his posture and put on his best professional face. Then he took a better look at the chafing on Bucky’s arm. “How many hours a day do you wear this?”
Bucky furrowed his brow at the question, looking momentarily confused. "It's my arm," he said, as though that explained everything. For him, it did. There was, of course, heavily calloused skin along the ribs where the metal elbow would brush against him during normal movement. The scarring around the installation points was jagged and thick, showing it had not been an easy or even clean surgery.
Baymax continued to pat and run Bucky's flesh shoulder, providing his brand of physical reassurance. The robot had become a source of safety and comfort, a medic Bucky could trust in the ways he never really could trust humans.
But, for Baymax's sake, he could give this new guy a chance. He wasn't human, not exactly, not from those spots and the way he moved. Humanoid, but other.
“Yes, I recognize that. But your arm looks as though it has caused considerable strain on your skin. Not to mention some of this scarring appears to reach into the shoulder muscle. Potentially some of your back muscle as well.” It wasn’t the best viewing angle with the arm still attached. But from what Orlin could see, his best guess was that there was a mass of mangled flesh underneath the arm’s connection point.
He watched as Baymax carefully administered a spray to the irritated skin, lessening some of the reddish coloring. Orlin stepped around Bucky to compare the opposite shoulder to the one with the mechanical component.
“Do you only provide topical treatments for the inflammation, Baymax?” Orlin crossed his arms in contemplation. “Tobin Dax was an engineer. He had no imagination and zero sex life, but he knew phase coil inverters like the back of his hand. Not too bad at cybernetics either. Granted this hardware looks very sophisticated. But he had some experience in bioengineering…”
Orlin reached into his pocket and removed the small handheld component of his medical tricorder. “Would you mind if I scanned the area around the arm, Sergeant?”
"Sergeant Barnes has only ever requested topical treatment," Baymax said. "It is against my programming to give care without consent."
Bucky shrugged slightly. "It just gets uncomfortable sometimes. The rest healed up a long time ago." He was speaking around the candy in his mouth. "Who's Tobin Dax?" Sounded like someone who might be useful, at least someone to watch out for.
“I admire your programming, Baymax. As well as your commitment to your protocols. You have a very pleasant bedside manner, too, if I might say so.” And Orlin wasn’t just flattering the robot. Could robots be flattered? He may not have known Baymax for very long, but the way he spoke about his patients clearly demonstrated his dedication to their care. Orlin liked him almost immediately. He wished they’d had Baymax on the Aventine. Then maybe they wouldn’t have lost—
He shook that thought away.
Orlin pressed a button on the side of the tricorder and scanned it around the tissue near Bucky’s arm as well as alongside part of his back. Then he moved closer to the arm itself but only scanned the area where the metal connected into the shoulder. When the tricorder ceased buzzing, he took a step back and looked at the diagnostics.
“You have considerable damage to the rotator cuff. What’s left of it, that is.” Orlin raised another inquisitive brow. “Do you have internal and tactile sensation in your arm? It looks like there’s some sort of neural implant integration with your organic systems. It’s really quite rema—hm?”
Blink, blink. Orlin pocketed the tricorder. “Oh! Tobin was a previous host. The second, to be precise.”
“Thank you,” came Baymax’s response. “I am programmed to be non-threatening and huggable.”
“And doing a damn good job of it,” Bucky muttered under his breath. Baymax patted his shoulder again. Bucky shot him a scowl with no heat behind it, and glanced at Orlin. “External sensation only. Well, mostly. I’ve got some artificial nerves in there, and those conduct pain like they should. My old arm only had pressure and extreme temperature sensitivity. This one is a lot more sensitive, but the pain responses are limited - otherwise it wouldn’t be much use in combat for the way I need it to be.”
He thrust his chin at Orlin, silently indicating it was his turn to answer a question. “What do you mean, host? Somethin’ inside you?”
Baymax tilted his head. “That would explain the organic presence merged with your internal systems,” he reported. “It does not appear parasitic. Is it an organic symbiosis?”
“Huggable?” Orlin shouldn’t have been surprised, what with the lollipop treats, but he’d definitely never had a course in hugging at the academy. He was fairly certain that went against the Prime Directive. At least as far as Starfleet Medical was concerned. But if he thought a hug might heal someone then Orlin wouldn’t hesitate to open his arms for an embrace. “Sounds like an excellent quality in a healthcare provider. Can’t go wrong with consent, hugs, and candy.”
He returned his attention back to Bucky. “With your permission I’d like to study the diagnostics from your arm. Perhaps Baymax and I can develop a more long lasting treatment for the inflammation and chafing. Or at least something you might be able to administer yourself so you don’t have to come to the clinic so often.”
Pause. “Not that you’re unwelcome, of course! I’m sure Baymax enjoys your company. As would I. If Baymax were off duty. That is to say, if I were the only one around when you needed something.”
Was that awkward? That was a little awkward. Don’t try so hard. I’m not. Or I am. Or—stop interrupting my thoughts.
“What?” This time it was Orlin’s turn to look at Baymax with surprise. Not offensive surprise. He wasn’t upset. He just didn’t expect Baymax to have noticed that. “Did you scan me?”
Orlin shook his head. “It’s not a parasite. It’s a symbiont. And, yes, it’s fully integrated into all of my organic systems. I cannot survive without it. Not anymore. But to more accurately answer your question, yes, it’s an organic physiological symbiosis. But it’s also an emotional and mental symbiosis as well. A synthesis of memories, skills, and personality. We are one.”
Bucky nodded at Orlin’s observations, and patted Baymax’s hand on his shoulder. “He’s the best doctor I’ve ever had.”
Baymax bowed his head slightly to Barnes at that. “Thank you, Bucky. You are my friend, too.”
Bucky shifted the lollipop in his mouth. “Damn straight, I am.” He glanced back at Orlin with a slight sigh. “Yeah, sure. Just…” His mouth tightened a bit, his metal hand clenching into a fist. “I’m not an experiment, alright? It’s my arm. The chafing is just… like anyone else would get a muscle ache if they were exercising too much. Not a big deal.”
Baymax resumed rubbing Bucky’s shoulder until the soldier seemed to calm down again. At Orlin’s explanation, he blinked his unusual black eyes. “My apologies. I am programmed to scan everyone to better understand their healthcare needs. May I continue my scan, so that I may better assist you both in case of a medical emergency?”
“Are you exercising too much?” Cue one of those pointed looks only a doctor was capable of giving. But before Bucky could answer, Orlin continued. “My interest is far from experimental. It sounds as though you see Baymax quite regularly. I’m merely offering another possible method for alleviating your discomfort. It’s not my intention to dissect you or your arm. I’m a doctor, not an engineer.”
Unless he counted Tobin. But as far as the hosts were concerned, Tobin was probably the last one he’d count. Unless a warp core explosion was imminent.
He really hoped there wasn’t an imminent warp core explosion.
Orlin smiled at Baymax. “As long as you’re not scanning with tachyon radiation.” Orlin laughed like it was a joke. Clearly one that wouldn’t hit its mark. He was worse at humor than Ezri. He really needed Jadzia to offer him some help.
But she was too amused by how quickly he was falling on his face.
“Just kidding. Yes, you may continue your scans. But I must warn you that should I require any medical treatment that directly affects the symbiont it’s going to be … complicated.” Orlin ran his fingers back through his hair. “But I can tell you all about that later. When you’re not treating any patients.”
Attention returned to Bucky. “So, exercise? Do you overexert yourself often?”
Bucky looked blank for a moment, eyes going flat and expression neutral. It was as though he had turned inside himself somehow, sealing off the rest of the world. Baymax immediately took notice, and reached out, wrapping his arms around Bucky, starting to glow red as his heater kicked in. "There there," he said, soothingly. "You are safe, Bucky. You are safe. Should I call for Sam?"
The name roused something in Barnes, and his eyes focused. He took a slow breath, shaking his head to Baymax. "I don't know how to answer the question," he said finally. His nerves hadn't completely settled, and his voice was without inflection.
Baymax patted his back. "Would you like me to explain, Bucky?"
Barnes nodded, jaw tight.
Baymax tilted his head to Orlin. "Sergeant Barnes's physicality was altered against his will. He was subjected to a serum which gave him increased physical capabilities and an accelerated regenerative ability. He was then subjected to intensive physical and endurance torture for an extended period."
Bucky's eyes had started to go blank again, until Baymax resumed the hug, at which time Barnes leaned into the embrace and shut his eyes.
Still soothing the former assassin, Baymax continued, voice gentle. "It is difficult for Sergeant Barnes to know when he has damaged his body. He has been conditioned not to acknowledge pain unless it is critical."
“Oh.”
It was difficult to explain how Orlin felt in response to Bucky’s sudden dispositional change. His empathic abilities sensed Bucky’s unease and his uncertainty, as well as any tension he was experiencing. Because Orlin was only part Betazoid he didn’t have the strong telepathic connection that his mother had or that other full-blooded Betazeds had. He couldn’t form a link that would give him an immediate understanding of exactly why Bucky was hurting or why. He could only sense those emotions close to the surface. But oftentimes that was enough.
Processing those feelings himself, however, was always another difficulty. But that could wait until later.
His entire posture relaxed, arms hung limply at his side. Everything about his physical body instinctively made himself as non threatening as possible. No quick movements. No hands behind his back. Open, welcoming stance. His expression did something similar. He didn’t show pity or sentiment. Orlin had been around enough trauma patients to know that pity could be the worst kind of reaction from another person. Instead he displayed a kind of unspoken understanding. As though he too knew what it felt like to not be in control.
Sadly, he did. As did Dax.
But that was a story for a different setting.
“I apologize for instigating any difficult feelings for you, Sergeant. I sincerely hope that I have not caused you too much pain or dismay. As I hope that I have not ruined any possible trust between us.” Orlin gave Baymax an apologetic glance as well. “I’m sorry for intruding on your treatment, Baymax. That was unacceptable of me. Rude, even. I promise not to do it again.”
Bucky tentatively peeked at Orlin, piercing blue eyes analyzing posture, body language, breathing rate, eye contact, tones and inflections of voice.
He let out a breath, then shut his eyes again, going through the centering steps he'd learned in therapy. After a few minutes, he opened his eyes again. "You can call me Bucky."
Baymax produced a second lollipop and offered it to Barnes. Bucky was surprised into a breath of laughter, but accepted the treat at Baymax's insistence.
He looked at Orlin again. "If you need another scan, go ahead."
Baymax patted Bucky on the shoulder, proudly. "If you do not mind, Bucky, I would like to work with Orlin Dax to find a more comfortable, long-term solution to your abrasions. Perhaps one we can apply once a reset, instead of several times."
Bucky nodded to them both. "Yeah. And, uh… Dax? I… need a mechanic. Someone who gets mechanical and organic shit. Cyborg type stuff. If Baymax is around, I'd… you can take a look? See how it… in case it needs repairs."
Christ, it was hard to even try asking that much. Trusting that much. Asking to let him trust Orlin that much.
Orlin gave a sigh of relief. Then his mouth turned into an encouraging smile. “And you can call me Orlin. Or Dax. Or … well, you know. Since I already said that. And now I’m just repeating myself like a broken record. Which I saw once in a museum. Not broken, of course. But an actual record. Truly one of the most amazing things I’d ever—I’m rambling again. I do that sometimes. Or Ezri did that. No, I think I do that as well.”
Orlin furrowed his brows in thought. “Fairly certain that’s all me. Ha! Personality combinations, am I right? Takes some getting used to.”
Ah, more lollipops. Orlin wondered if they were pure sugar or made from something healthier but imbued with the taste of candy. It didn’t seem appropriate to pass out candy to sick people, but if it could relax someone like Bucky then maybe it was worth the adverse health effects.
Two suckers isn’t gonna kill him, Doc.
Yeah, yeah.
But when Bucky offered to allow him to do a more detailed scan, Orlin didn’t hesitate to remove his tricorder again and run another diagnostic. Halfway through he looked up, momentarily confused. “A mechanic?”
And then it clicked. “Ah, yes! Of course. Anything I can do to help. Once my tricorder completes its scan I should have all of the technical data necessary to understand how the hardware functions. If I can assemble a physiometric relay device then I should be able to decipher the neural software as well. But fingers crossed it won’t be necessary.”
The tricorder beeped, scan complete.
“And though it probably goes without saying, I fully respect patient privacy. So, if you ever find yourself in need of something and Baymax isn’t available, I want you to know that my door is always open.” He paused. “That’s a Terran expression. Are you familiar with it? Technically I don’t actually have a door, but you know. Door to the clinic. Door to conversation. I suppose it could be both literal or metaphorical. Depends on where one is standing though, doesn’t it? Language is a funny thing.”
Bucky chuckled through his nose. “Terran. Yeah. I’m one of ‘em. 20th century. No, 21st. Both. Long story.” He slid off the table and grabbed his shirt, pulling it back on a bit more swiftly than necessary. “Thanks,” he murmured, looking around the area of Orlin’s shoulders. Turning to Baymax, he raised a balled fist. The robot did the same, and they bumped fists, Bucky making a small explosion sound and opening his fist wide. A half second later, Baymax wiggled his fingers in an upward arc and said, “Balalalala.”
That put the first easy smile on Barnes’ lips. “See you later, Baymax. Later, Dax.” He was jogging out the door and out of sight almost before he finished speaking.
Baymax shifted, turning towards Orlin. “Did you have any questions?”
“Twentieth century Earth?” Now, Orlin had read up on Terran history. That was one of the core courses at Starfleet Academy. And he was well aware of time travel. Some of the most impressive missions in all of Starfleet had involved traveling back to twentieth century Earth. But Orlin himself had never been in such a position. And he’d certainly never met anyone from that time period. He did his best not to look too much in awe. But it was difficult not to.
Just as it was difficult not to wonder how Bucky came to be in possession of such a technologically advanced arm. Clearly he would have to make it a point to understand the various universes the people of Derleth were from.
It might make a good memoir. And what an opportunity to learn from so many different societies, cultures, and temporalities!
It was a pity none of his professional colleagues or friends were here. This might have been the scientific find of the century! (Whichever century it was.)
“I’d love to hear that story one day. If you’re up to telling it. Twenty-fourth century, myself. I studied on Earth though! For a bit. San Francisco. Beautiful city.” Orlin and his perpetual small talk. Except this time he managed to reel in his urge to ramble about his favorite sushi restaurant near the harbor. He smiled, about to ask another question, when Bucky was gone.
Then he returned his attention to Baymax, grinning from ear to ear. “Dax and Baymax. It’s like we were meant for each other. Perhaps we could finish discussing how to improve the clinic? We can do that while we set up some preparations in case anyone shows up with frostbite or hypothermia. Then perhaps you can tell me more about all of these medical procedures you’re programmed with. Ten-thousand, you said? Maybe you can teach me a thing or two!”
Pause.
“Is that a jacuzzi?”