“Well, here
it is, Sickbay,” Flynn said to the doctor.
“This?”
Lita said. “I’ve worked in better field hospitals. Consortium field hospitals,
at that,” she sneered, looking over the meager offerings.
The bay was
mostly cabinets holding supplies. A couple of fold down bunks would hold people
in need, but the only real bed took up the center of the room. It had dedicated
sensors and computers, but was hardly state-of-the-art.
“We’re not
a hospital, and we’re not an Alliance cruiser. We don’t do more than patch each
other up, though I’m glad to have you.”
“We’re not
going to be patching anything without some more and better supplies. I’ll get
you a list, but top of that list is a Type IX tissue builder.”
“Say what,
now? What does a tissue builder do?”
“Just what
it says. It builds body tissues. With it I can grow replacements to common
tissue injuries. We make stem cells out of your tissues, keep them on hand, and
then when there’s a need we can grow replacement organs, limbs, and especially
ears. You would not believe how many times ears get blown off.”
“Our
financial situation may not cover that,” Flynn said.
She drew
her sidearm on him, a standard issue rail pistol. “But you’ve got enough for
this stuff, right. Sure, that works. Instead of giving you a new liver or lung,
I’ll just shoot you in the head, save everyone the trouble. Everyone gets a
promotion, too.”
Flynn eyed
her hard, but he could see the value in such a machine. There had been too many
close calls of late, and likely they would keep coming.
“SuppO,”
Flynn commed.
“Here,
Captain,” Connor Reese answered.
“The Doc is
going to get you a list. Start setting aside a budget for it.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Thank
you,” Lita said, holstering her weapon.
“No rush,”
Flynn commed, ending the transmission.
“Welcome to
the ship,” Flynn said to her.