Sarcasm, Dermal Regeneration, and the Ship's Heart

Posted on Tue Feb 25th, 2025 @ 7:18pm by Captain M'Raz & Lieutenant Richard Pierce MD

1,754 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Resistance is Necessary
Location: Sickbay | Deck 7 | USS Jane Addams
Timeline: MD002 - 0600

Somewhere among the exploding consoles and the metal flying around the Bridge, probably while he'd been hovering over the helm officer offering support and protection, he'd taken one too many hits on the shoulder blade. Even if he'd been actually able to sleep, the persistent ache would have kept him awake. Taking care of it had had to wait though until the ship was safe and they were clear of the danger. Now that they had, Raz took the time for a visit to Sickbay. He entered through the wide double doors traditional to every medical facility ever created and looked around until he spotted his Chief Medical Officer.

"Morning, Doc," Raz said as he approached. "Got a minute?"

Pierce looked up from his workstation, where he’d been reviewing post-battle casualty reports, and immediately noted the stiffness in his captain’s posture. The wear and tear of command had a way of manifesting physically, and it seemed Raz had taken his fair share.

“Morning, Captain,” Pierce replied, setting his PADD aside. He gestured toward the nearest biobed with an easy smile that didn’t quite hide the sharp-eyed assessment he was already making. “You look like you’ve been wrestling a warp core. What’d you do this time?”

His tone was light, but as he stepped closer, his hands were already reaching for a medical scanner. Years of experience told him that captains tended to understate their injuries—and he wasn’t about to let that slide.

"Right shoulder," Raz said as he complied by hopping up on the indicated biobed, his tail streaming out behind him. "Must have banged into something during the attack." At 5'10" he was considered average in height and at 174 pounds, he was lean, more runner than bruiser in terms of physique, but that's where average ended. His unique coloration, white with light brown stripes, a mane of white hair that he often forgot to trim, and pale gray eyes had made him nearly an outcast on his home world and in the Federation, one of a kind. "Came as soon as I had a spare moment."

Pierce arched a skeptical brow as he ran the scanner over Raz’s shoulder. “Uh-huh. And how long ago was that ‘bang’ exactly?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing, the readout on his tricorder already giving him the real story. “Because from the looks of this, you’ve been walking around with a deep tissue contusion and some minor fracturing for hours—maybe longer.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he set the scanner down. “You captains, I swear. If it’s not a plasma burn, it’s a blunt force injury, and if it’s not that, it’s some noble attempt at self-sacrifice. Did it ever occur to you that we have a whole department of people trained to keep you from falling apart?”

Despite his words, his touch was gentle as he pressed lightly around the affected area, gauging the extent of the pain. He didn’t miss the telltale tensing of muscles beneath his fingers. “Alright, nothing catastrophic, but you’re definitely due for some regen therapy. And I’m prescribing rest.”

He shot Raz a knowing look before the captain could protest. “Real rest, not ‘I’ll sit at my desk and pretend to take it easy.’” He turned to gather the necessary tools, tossing a smirk over his shoulder. “Try not to argue. I’ve got a hypo with your name on it, and I’m not above using the sedative setting.”

Raz flashed a warning look at the doctor, the predator in him immediately rising to the challenge, before nodding. "I've a meeting to attend in a few hours, once we reach our destination, but I'll rest till then," he finally said. "It's not been a typical twenty-four hours, you understand, even for this ship."

Pierce met Raz’s warning look with an unbothered smirk, the kind that came from years of dealing with stubborn officers who thought they could outmaneuver their own biology. He’d seen that instinct flare up before—the predatory challenge—but he wasn’t about to back down from keeping his captain in one piece.

“Oh, I understand just fine,” he said, adjusting the regen unit to begin working on Raz’s shoulder. The device emitted a soft hum as it started repairing the damaged tissue. “What I don’t understand is why Starfleet insists on giving command to people who think ‘typical’ is a word that applies to their lives.”

He stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched the regen unit do its work. “You’ll be functional for your meeting, but if you so much as twitch the wrong way, you’re coming back here for a full workup. And before you get any bright ideas, I will have the duty nurse track you if I have to.”

The smirk softened into something more genuine. “And after that meeting, you actually get some real sleep. No excuses, no ‘just one more report.’” He tapped a finger against the biobed. “Doctor’s orders, Captain. And don’t make me pull rank.”

Raz's agile mind sifted through the bravado, the warnings, the threats, and settled on the part of the conversation that was worth answering. "Typical by my definition," he said. "A typical day for you would be vastly different than one as defined by the chief engineer. It's a relative term. So when I say typical, I mean typical for me." He sighed quietly though he held still while the machine did whatever it did. "These Borg. They walked all over us. And its likely, more than likely, that there will be a lot more days like this going forward. My job ... my duty ... is to keep this ship in one piece and find a good way to fight back. I'll do what I can to take care of myself but you might end up making house calls." He paused a second, meeting the doctor's eyes with own, to show the seriousness behind what he was saying. "... but no threats. I'm not disobeying you. I'm prioritizing as best I can."

Pierce’s smirk faded into something softer, something understanding. He nodded, listening—not just to the words, but to the weight behind them.

“I know you are,” he said simply. “And I know what you’re up against.” His voice was calm, steady, the kind of assurance that came from someone who had seen too many officers run themselves into the ground for the sake of their duty.

He let out a quiet breath, glancing at the regen unit’s readings before meeting Raz’s eyes again. “Prioritizing doesn’t mean putting yourself at the bottom of the list every time. I’m not here to fight you on that—I’m here to make sure you don’t have to fight alone. That includes keeping you in one piece, however many house calls it takes.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “And as long as you’re not disobeying me, I won’t have to threaten you. Seems like a fair deal, don’t you think?”

"Well, I do like the idea of not having to fight alone," Raz said after a minute. "Just keep the requests reasonable and we're good. I don't generally get into a lot of trouble sitting on bridge anyway."

Pierce let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he adjusted the regen unit’s settings. “Oh sure, because nothing ever happens on the bridge. Just the safest seat in the house, right?” His tone was light, but his eyes held something more—an understanding that stretched beyond just this moment.

He studied Raz for a beat, then sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, I know you don’t go looking for trouble, but it finds you just the same. And I know you’re carrying more than just bruises from today.” His voice softened, losing some of its usual sarcasm. “You don’t have to shoulder all of this alone, Raz. We’ll fight the fight together, however many house calls it takes.”

Satisfied with the progress on the captain’s shoulder, he powered down the regen unit and met Raz’s eyes with something steadier, more genuine. “Alright, you’re patched up. But that doesn’t mean you get to run yourself into the ground. You’re not just this ship’s captain—you’re its heart. And the heart has to keep beating.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “So do me a favor—try to take it easy. Just for a little while.”

"I'll do my best," Raz said. He didn't smile because a smile was somehow beyond him in this moment. He'd been on the bridge, watched good captains, some his friends, sacrifice themselves and their ships to buy time for others to escape. He'd seen his own crew fall dead. Heard the screams over the communications channels. No, smiling was a bit beyond him at this point but he did nod, raising one somehow elegantly shaped paw to pat the good doctor on the shoulder. "We'll get through this. All of us ... together."

Pierce stood still for a moment as Raz’s paw gently rested on his shoulder, feeling the weight of the unspoken words in the gesture. He knew the captain wasn’t one for grand displays of emotion, but he could feel the depth of his resolve. The battle had left scars that would never fully fade, but there was still strength in that unyielding will to carry on.

“You’re right,” Pierce said, his voice softer now. “Together. And we’ll keep you in one piece so you can keep leading us. That’s a promise.” He gave a small nod, then added, his voice returning to its usual warmth, “And when you’re ready to talk about those other scars, I’m here for that too.”

He turned back to his workstation, content in the silence for a moment before looking back with a smile. “Now, no more running yourself ragged. Go rest. For real this time. You’ve got a whole team to keep you upright. Don’t make me be the only one.”

Raz nodded and headed back to work. Maybe it was time to start inviting people to dinner in the Captain's Mess. And maybe the doctor should be among that number. But first, there were things to do.

 

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