Taking Wing - Michael A. Martin [120]
“I’d like to come along to observe,” Dr. Ree said, his tail switching to one side behind him. He scratched at his chin absently with one of his long, multijointed fingers. “I have been treating Mrs. Bolaji regularly, but found no warning signs of this premature labor.”
As the trio strode toward the OB/GYN room, Onnta let out a sigh which Ogawa took to be one of relief, though it could as easily have been born of frustration. “Busy day. I’m glad every shift isn’t like this,” he said.
Both Ogawa and Ree nodded. In less than an hour, they’d treated not only Bolaji and Denken, but also the various nicks and scrapes that other members of the away team had suffered. And then there was the large, unconscious Reman, whose injuries had apparently been less severe than Ogawa had originally feared. Remans, it seemed, were made out of pretty stern stuff.
“How is our Reman guest?” Ogawa asked.
“Resting comfortably,” Ree said. “He’s a tough one, if a bit of a bleeder. Given the number of scars on his body, it seems he’s endured several lifetimes worth of battles and close calls. At the rate he’s healing, I expect he’ll be mobile again within days.”
The three of them re-gowned themselves, then Onnta switched off the OB/GYN room’s bio-isolation field. They entered the room, and Ogawa was pleased to see that nothing had gotten worse, though Olivia was still clearly in both distress and discomfort. However, it seemed that the combination of morphenolog and asinolyathin was finally easing Olivia Bolaji’s pain.
Onnta set about his job efficiently, and Ogawa took mental notes as they worked together. She suspected that Ree was doing so as well; after all, transporter surgery was one of Onnta’s specialties, and they both could learn a great deal from him. Ogawa rolled the incubator bay closer to the bed as Onnta discussed the procedure with the Bolajis. Here, with a conscious, lucid patient and her husband, Onnta’s bedside manner was impeccable, if ever-so-slightly condescending.
“Do you have any further ques—” Onnta said just before being thrown to one side, along with anything that wasn’t bolted to the deck.
“Something just hit the ship,” Axel said, righting himself even as the deck leveled out.
“Sickbay to bridge,” Ree said into the nearest companel. Of the three medical personnel in the room, he had remained the most stable when the deck had shifted. Ogawa noticed that he was using his tail almost as a tertiary leg, and that Ree’s dewclaws had dug deeply into the carpet.
“Now’s not a good time, Doctor,” Jaza said. “We’re taking fire. Try to lash down the breakables. Bridge out.”
Ogawa prayed that Noah would be safe enough in their quarters.
“You need to get to the bridge,” Olivia said, grimacing from the pain.
Axel clasped his left hand over the top of the one she held his right in. “Aili’s going to do fine up there. If they need me, they’ll call me. But right now, it’s more important for me to be here with you.”
Onnta set about resetting the delicate transporter device. It hung from a radial arm on a wheel-mounted floor stanchion.
Ogawa felt a surge of sickening fear in the pit of her stomach a nanosecond before the room rocked once again, more violently this time. Noah!
After they had all righted themselves the second time, Onnta looked toward Ogawa and Ree. “I can’t work under these conditions. If the ship gets hit again while I’m operating, the transporter might glitch.”
Ree looked up at the display monitor positioned above the biobed, his double eyelids nictitating. “We may not have a choice, Doctor. We don’t know how long the ship will be in combat, and Olivia’s biosigns are already stressed as it is. We may just have to hope that we don’t experience another jolt like that.”
Ogawa watched as Onnta considered Ree’s words, then looked back at the biobed display, which showed dangerously high blood pressure, as well as signs of incipient edema and preeclampsia.
“Okay, we go for it,” he said finally, moving the radial arm back into position, recalibrating it for a second attempt.
Four tense minutes later, a tiny, twenty-five-week