Category: They are Smol

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Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 11: Correlation does not imply Causation

They say time flies when you’re having fun. This “They”, whomever the them that “they” are, have apparently never worked a job that’s required 100% of your attention, willpower, or emotional reserve. Time does fly when you’re having fun, but time also flies when you’re defusing a bomb, wrangling 15 toddlers, de-poofing a MOTHER, piloting a spaceship through atmo, or – in the case of Tipo – working as a Nurses’ assistant at the Caring Touch Hospital and Clinic. The tiny-chompers who started the class were honest about the dropout rate from the beginning; a class of a couple hundred dwindled down to a couple dozen, and now that the demands included classes and licensing tests, more and more people were dropping out. The work was hard, the pay was low, and the ability to screw everything up was a very real danger that could cost lives. Those that still wanted to stay, but didn’t want the challenge, moved themselves to intake, or to back-office paperwork. For them, the work they were doing was good enough; close to the tiny-chompers and close to the action, but not responsible for anything serious. That wasn’t the work that Ngruzren was doing, no.

The work he was doing was the most rewarding thing Ngruzren-of-Arzgr had ever done in his life, outside of getting married and having children.

It had been three weeks since their first Code Grey, when the Jornissian JOHN DOE was… subdued by tiny-chomper medical technology. In that time there had been other tiny-chomper patients, but neither he nor any of Ngruzren’s classmates were allowed to help. Fetch things, sure, watch – oh absolutely – but not actually DO anything. The inverse seemed to be true whenever there was another species in the infirmary, and not just trauma patients: In the past few weeks Ngruzren had changed blood filters, found veins, cleaned fecal receptacles, performed no less than 4 assisted bathings, and had to deal with almost constant sexual harassment from his female Dorarizin patients when they were on certain medication… and sometimes when they were off of it.

On one paw, nice to know he’s still got it, even after his first batch of pups. On the other paw, he was now the record-holder for the most complaints about pre-surgical prep among his shift. His vict- eer, very outspoken patients somehow kept getting the largest needles, the coldest prep-gel and the loudest machines strapped to their beds which just-so-happened to have the comfort topper missing from the base mattress each time.

It was a mystery.

What wasn’t a mystery was the increasing camaraderie between his dwindling training group and the tiny-chomper medical staff. More and more often he was getting close-up training on how to set a broken tiny-chomper bone, or re-locate a jaw/joint/somehow ribs?/limb, or where the main veins were, or how to support the body when transferring beds – still nothing incredible, but, it was a start. Nothing he was allowed to do, but seeing the process so close was fascinating, and rewarding in a way as well. As he and his colleagues became closer to the tiny-chompers, more and more things started to spill out. Personal histories, philosophies, suggestions on what to order from the cafeteria, superstitions on what MEDIBOT did when he traveled to the basement morgue and the lights flickered – silly things like that. But the most interesting thing was something that slipped out from Laverne during a coffee break, as a complete aside to the conversation at-hand:

“[You’re practicing on people who can take it, because we tiny-chompers can’t.]” Nurse Laverne said, taking a bite out of her honey bun before continuing, “[If I miss a vein, there’s internal bruising – you’re strong enough that if you miss a vein, you pierce the muscle and hit bone.]”

 That gave him, at first, food for thought, and eventually strength. He pulled from that strength when he was asked to do a menial task, it made him focus when he was doing something as simple as sanding down scales for an outpatient procedure. ‘[You can take it. We can’t.]’. They were adults, yet needed to be handled like pups. Compound that with the fear and confusion of coming into a hospital, potentially against your will or knowledge… in Ngruzren’s mind, a thrashing Jornissian JOHN DOE was replaced with a thrashing tiny-chomper –

He paused, for a moment, at the foot of the bed he was calibrating, and sighed. That image was going to stay with him, no doubt, and he truly knew why no one was yet allowed to ‘really help’ when working on a tiny-chomper patient.

“[Something eating you up?]”

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr turned and gave a little smile – tiny-chomper style, not that of his kin – and shrugged. “{Not too much, no. Just having a thought about how… all this is weighing on me.}”

“[Weighing on you how so?]” Dr. Nick Silver said, fully stepping into the empty room from the hallway outside. “[It’s fine to let it get to you, but it’s not good to let it eat you up from the inside.]”

Ngruzren gave a bit of a dismissive wave. “{No, not that; I mean, it might be that eventually but I’m not feeling like the arbiter of souls here or that I’m out of my depth. More, just. You see people at their most fragile, and then you compound that with tiny-chomper biology and it’s…}”

Dr. Silver gave a wry smile. “[Unfortunate?]”

“{Intimidating.}” Ngruzren corrected.

“[Really?]”

“{Yes. Not in … well. Part of it is in awe, but not at what you can do but what you’ve done with the biology you’ve been given. I know I’ve messed up on some of my jobs – other nurses correct me and help – but then, if I were to be the only person in the room when a tiny-chomper needs help…}” Ngruzren let his sentence drift out, and silence settled over the room, between the two.

“[Good.]”

“{Really?}” Ngruzren said, tilting his head to the side.

“[Yes, very much so. Even when things become routine, you need to pay attention – doubly so for someone with your physique. It’s good that you’re aware of that, because often times too many people aren’t. Honestly, that’s the number one reason why the remaining people fai-]”

Bzzzzt

Dr. Silver looked at his smartwatch, mouthing out a little command of some sort. “[Well, we’re going to have to cut this short – I’ve got a Code Grey on a tiny-chomper-]”

“{Can I come?}”

Dr. Silver let out a small laugh. “[Ngruzren, I think so – after all, this is your job.]”

The trauma room that Tipo found himself in was close enough to what he had been training with to be familiar, but alien enough to be outright exotic. If push came to shove he was certain he could find his way around, but… for the most part there seemed to be a lot less automatic tools and machines and a lot more hands-on devices that were being pulled from sterilized pouches and laid out on the surrounding tables.

Dr. Silver began to put on his PPE, starting with his shoe booties. “What do we have coming in? Than mo?”

“Nothing I can tell – probably anaphylactic shock, given the symptoms. Uh… what’s coming in from HELO, ETA 5 minutes by the way – we got Male, Hispanic, Mid to late 20’s, BMI healthy, noooo previous major surgeries, aaaannnd not on any medication. Infrequent smoker, drinker – normal stuff. Presenting with what… no. Hold up.”

“[What?]” Tipo asked, putting on his much larger PPE, as he had been trained to do. He wasn’t expecting to actually get in there and help, but he was the only non-human in the room, so…

Better safe than sorry.

Than mo hummed to himself, furrowing his brow. “It’s. Our patient was found unresponsive in his office, skin covered in possible hives. Diagnostic AI in the HELO is spitting out Anaphylactic shock symptoms – lethargy, inflamed mucous membranes, weak rapid pulse, and when he’s awake, confusion.”

“So we should get some antihistamines as well as adrenaline-”

“Yeah, Doc, but that’s not explaining the pneumonia in his lungs.”

Dr. Silver stopped his prep for a moment – just a moment – before continuing, snapping on his gloves. “That could be an underlying condition that’s being exacerbated by the shock-”

“In-flight DIAGDOC keeps giving me weird shit. It’s apparently finding tumors? Walnut sized, but it’s classifying them as foreign objects-”

AS if on cue the doors to the human medical wing’s trauma center opened up, the Jornissian EMT having to duck down just a fraction of a foot to clear the lowered ceiling. “[We got more personal data-]” There was an exchange of lanyards, and everyone’s PDAs were updated with the newest information. Tipo pulled up the updated file, and froze.

“[Juan?]”

The medical professionals could only spare a side glance as Juan Esteban was wheeled into the theater proper, breathing tube already intubated down his throat. When Tipo’s exclamation turned out to be one of surprise and not the traditional rattle-off-of-information, the EMT began the debriefing. “[-Yes. Juan Esteban, had been complaining of breathing difficulties for the past few days. Found unresponsive in his office by a coworker, we were called. He went from breathing heavily to not breathing at all-]”

“What’s been administered?” Dr. Silver said, turning on a few machines while Than mo slid an IV needle into Juan’s wrist, capping it in place with a multipurpose monitoring wristband.

“[Everything the diagnostic AI recommended.]” The Jornissian EMT responded, looking at the patient bed hard. “[But we stopped when it started to give us multiple, conflicting suggestions. Adrenaline and antihistamines were all that we gave him – and he should be breathing unassisted right now.]”

“Thank you – we’ve got it from here.”

“[I.. Yeah.]” The EMT said, before excusing himself. The two humans on call began to work on the patient, the mixed-species administrative staff doing their best to lean-in-and-eavesdrop-without-looking-like-they-were from outside the theater.

“[That’s… Juan, though.]”

“Do you know the patient, Tipo?” Dr. Silver said, looking back at his tag-along trainee. “And, I would like your help up here – I need you to start removing clothing from the patient-”

“[Oh! Right, just… yes. I know the patient.]” Tipo said, stepping up to the much smaller bed and beginning to undress the patient… his friend. “[We were the involved parties in Mothenacht-]”

“You’re fucking with me-” Than mo laughed, and when no one corrected him he leaned forward towards the much physically larger, yet now seeming somehow smaller Dorarizin nurse. “You’re not fucking with me. Oh man, what the hell was-”

“FOCUS, Than mo.” Interjected Dr. Silver, cutting away the last of Juan’s shirt. “Listen, Tipo, if you need to excuse yourself that’s fine.”

“[No, I’m here.]” Tipo said, successfully removing Juan’s pants, immediately providing him modesty with a sterile blanket. “[This is exactly what I want to do. He runs a farm with his family, and we’ve lost touch with each other over the years.]”

“Farm? Hm. At least it’s not a farm accident – that kind of stuff can be nasty to see. Is MEDIBOT en route?”

“Yep.” Than mo responded, pressing leads onto Juan’s chest and arms. “Woke James right the fuck up too for this, so he’ll bring him in and be on-call.”

With a grunt Tipo reached up, pulling down the task lighting/scanning arm that was in rest on the ceiling. Juan’s body was bathed with harsh white LED light, the leads on his torso syncing with the rest of the medical technology in the room. Rotating the nondescript plastic cylinders between the lights, Tipo found the proper selection and locked it in place, turning it on with an unspoken command. With a series of repetitive humming clicks (which Tipo secretly thought that only he could hear) Juan’s body opened up.

Digitally, of course.

“Good, good.” Dr. Silver murmured, the plastiglass HUD of his medical headset pouring through reams of information. “This… doesn’t look right at all. This can’t be cancerous – I’m not seeing anything that would look like traditional tumor metastasis.” On reflex, Dr. Silver leaned forward, the medical headset HUD kindly enlarging what he was looking at from the body positioning cue. “I… have never seen this. Those are foreign bodies, but are they growing in him?”

Tipo saw nothing but the confused look on the Doctor’s face, and attempted to read what he could from it. “[Is it bad? Is he going to be ok?]”

“Tipo.” Than mo said, flatly. “He just got here. Worst case we popsicle him until he’s back at central-”

“Than mo-” Warned Dr. Silver, and the nurse just shrugged. He reached up and patted Tipo’s much larger arm reassuringly. “We’ll do our best, but I don’t think he’s in mortal danger. We’ll have to get in there, of course, and he’ll be in the ICU for a while, but this looks like foreign bodies. Might have inhaled something and it started to grow from the inside-”

“[Yeah, but that doesn’t happen- the stories of swallowing a grit-pip and having the stone grow in your belly is… right?]” Tipo said, his smile and optimism slowly draining as he wasn’t corrected by the humans at hand.

“I mean… sort of? Plant seeds have been known to grow in lungs before.” Dr. Silver murmured, standing back up as he looked over the patient’s other vitals. “His heartbeat is still fucked, but we’ve got him wired so he won’t code blue unless we just ignore him for a few days. My guess is- I’m sorry can I help you?”

Tipo leaned back, letting out a disgruntled huff. During Dr. Silver’s musing, Tipo had continued to scrutinize the humans’ face for any sort of lie or misleading statement – his own father had been playing tricks on him since well before his pups arrived, and Tipo knew the joy of the fatherly prank. But, come on. Plants growing inside you if you eat too fast. That’s the trick. Slow down, chew your food. Tell the story to get the pups to listen.

“[Really.]”

“Yes. There have been documented instances of pine trees, peas, watermelon vines-”

Tipo held up his hand, his face screwed into something that may have been pain. “[Just… that’s enough. What do we need to do now?]”

“Well.” Dr. Silver mused, tilting his head from side to side in thought. “Make sure he’s stabilized, oxidize his blood directly if necessary, get him prepped for OR. We’ll try to keep it as non-invasive as possible – tracheal route – but if necessary we just cut him open and bacta him back. Then physio, but that’s not our problem at the moment. Excuse me!”

Dr. Silver leaned around Tipo, and all the other xenos administrative staff suddenly looked very busy. “Yes, inform processing we’re going to be using whatever OR is open – closest one. Can you also wake Laverne up for me?”

“[Oh! Sure thing, Doctor.]” The Karnakian administrative assistant said, working on her terminal with practiced ease. “[We have Human OR Theater ready for you right now.]”

“Excellent! Alright, let’s just-”

“[Sir?]” The AA said, leaning forward slightly. “[What should we do about the second patient?]”

The three men around Juan’s bedside shared a glance with each other, before turning as one to face the back office. “I’m sorry – other patient?” Than mo said, shaking his head. “Someone came in with trauma from a MEDEVAC and you didn’t bring them in?”

“[Oh! No, no, unrelated case. Antony Markus, works at Lil Caesar’s Government Garb and Blade emporium. Decided to come in here… in his words, ‘cause central’s too far away and I got dice to play’. Complains of being very tired, developed a slight rash, noticed wheezing in the past few days.]”

The assistant looked up from her terminals into three very worried faces.

“[What?]”

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Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 10: Suppose you supplement a suppository…

The Jornissian patient’s name, since he had not been properly named by any human yet, simply defaulted to JOHN DOE. This was both for medical privacy reasons, and because having people name other people in the midst of trauma would inevitably backfire in horrible ways. Weeks, or even months after your hospital stay, who would want to be known as “Druggy McScreamy” the Karnakian, or “Adventurous Butt-stuff Steve” the Dorarizin? Better to default it to something nondescript and figure it out later, once the patient had been properly identified.

However, one thing that no human at the trauma theater could figure out was how their current JOHN DOE was making that sound. If you could somehow force someone to play a didgeridoo by screaming through a steam whistle and blow all that out of a kazoo at the other end, you might get a close approximation to what JOHN DOE was currently screeching incoherently as he was wheeled into the hospital. Translators at the best of times worked instantaneously, and at the worst of times gave the user a close approximation. When it came to incoherent babble, it would kick out an “[?ERROR. UNDEFINED.?]” a couple of times before just giving up. Usually.

In this case, the translator beads for the humans working at Caring Touch Hospital and Clinic gave the Jornissian in question about three solid seconds before giving up and refusing to translate that particular portion of speech – which meant it reverberated throughout the room, unfiltered, echoing in the eardrums of everyone present.

“[Jornissian Male, JOHN DOE, Between 300-350 years old.]” A Karnakian EMT started to rattle off, taking a lanyard and handing it to one of the waiting doctor’s open hands. Instantly everyone’s tablets, charts and screens were updated with the latest information, real-time biometrics, and what personal information the EMT could gather.

Dr. Solid, who had somehow appeared out of nowhere, began to immediately run triage. “[Nurse, Get me a 470 broad-spectrum cleanser intravenous pump into-]”

“[-Call came from his roommate about 30 minutes ago of irritability and irrational, obsessive-compulsive behavior. By the time we arrived-]” rattled the Karnakian EMT, a Dorarizin nurse joining the huddle to transfer the patient from the temporary bed to a more permanent one… while keeping the restraints on. Intermingled with the larger triage group were the human medical professionals, doing their best to assist with producing equipment, tightening straps, or just getting out of the way when necessary.

For his part, JOHN DOE made sure to make his displeasure known via a very impressive jet engine impersonation.

The trainees, of course, watched.

“[-presenting with altered mental state, possible encephalopathy – physical neural jack has shown early signs of necrosis-]”

Dr. Silver finished attaching a single headset to his ear, a plastiglass overlay covering one eye as it began to overlay AR vitals of the patient. “James, go corral MEDIBOT, we need his sensor suite-”

Wordlessly, RN. Wilson excused himself between the xenos doctors and lightly jogged out of the swarming waiting room, the mass of people slowly making their way to a theater to the side of the atrium. “Dr. Solid, are you good with the 470? His heart rate isn’t declining-”

“[We’re decreasing cleaner temperature by two degrees.]” Dorarizin nurse Stringbean said, messing with a boxy device she attached to JOHN DOE’s bedside. Dr. Solid responded with an affirmative grunt, wrestling one of JOHN DOE’s writhing arms to the side to cuff it with another biomedical tracking device.

“[-necrosis of a neural jack; what does our patient do for a profession?]” Dr. Solid asked no one in particular, assuming the answer would come forth from someone while he tried to wrestle the patient into position.

Than mo scrolled furiously through his tablet at the foot of the bed, the Jornissian’s small tail tip thrashing impotently in his direction. “Says here an ‘E BOY’, whatever that mea-”

“[Wait, like one of those AI engineers?]” Tipo piped up, before remembering himself and snapping his jaw shut in embarrassment.

“[Close enough.]” Dr. Solid murmured, giving a light nod to the input from the peanut gallery. “[Which would explain the analog connection to his implants; your theory, Dr. Silver?]”

“If he’s anything like our nerds, probably tried doing some after-market modifications to his implants, probably screwed something up, probably thought he knew better and could fix it on his own. Analog plug-ins are rarer – an elective surgery – but civilian heavy duty, right?”

“[Correct.]”

“So then we’d need to get him scanned and see what fried and died and where; full spectrum antibiotics to stop the worst of it and then remove his suite, with additional reconstructive therapies where necessary-”

“MED-I-BOT.”

“Ah! Speak of the devil-” Dr. Silver said, waving over RN. Wilson and his trusty sidekick, MEDIBOT. The Human Medical Robot had not changed too much since Tipo last saw it, save for the fact that one of it’s manipulator hands had been replaced with something that looked very inappropriate.

“I went ahead and attached the sensor probe. It’s lubricated and ready to go.” Rn. Wilson said, placing a hand on MEDIBOT’s back to usher him over to a very vulnerable part of JOHN DOE’s Jornissian biology. “Is he restrained?”

“[Restrained, yes, but is this really necessary?]” The Dorarizin nurse said, looking at the human… probe with a slightly green face. “[That seems a little too intrusive, even for my tastes-]”

“MEDIBOT.” Said MEDIBOT, his probe arm beginning to vibrate. The robot and the nurse stared at each other, and to Tipo’s unpracticed ears, it sounded like the probes’ vibration sped up.

“[Nurse Stringbean, we agreed to observe and advise. We’ll let the human medical technology take the first pass at it, and if necessary, we’ll follow it up with a OBS Scan.]”

The Dorarizin nurse in question gave the side-eye to the human robot. JOHN DOE let out another scream and continued to thrash under the restraints, the human nurses continuing to add more and more straps to the table to immobilize the Jornissian … probably a bit too much. MEDIBOT just took in the whole situation, vibrating exponentially more aggressively as time passed.

“[Well, Doctor, none of that matters if the patient continues to struggle – with something like that-]” Dorarizin Nurse Stringbean clicked, tilting her head towards the now glowing-eyed MEDIBOT. “[-you’ll cause more internal damage if the patient doesn’t calm down!]”

“[I’m well aware, but we need to know what we’re dealing with before we start applying depressant or muscle relaxers-]”

As if on cue, the Jornissian stopped thrashing.

The team paused, for a moment, and looked at the head of the bed, where a forgotten Nurse Laverne Roberts was…

JOHN DOE, the E-BOY, was not having the best of days. Quite honestly, this would go down as the worst day of his life so far, only to be topped another 3 times. But those are sadder stories for a later time, and quite honestly he should know better than to fully fund a rogue human engineer when he says that accelerating two meteors into each other at an appreciable fraction of c will turn them into gold because of fusion. I mean, it does, but it also makes a gigantic explosion, and the fusion is only a few atoms at best and the paperwork is really not worth it-

Anyway. Point being, to JOHN DOE, today was a bad day. It also kind of ran together to the past and to the ever-present future; his mind could not grasp such things as time, or the progression thereof. Everything, every single sensation melded into an overly hot wave of burning, of skin melting like wax yet being so cold, so very cold, like ice in his veins, gripping his heart. His breath was short – impossible to catch, due to all that screaming that was happening, and everything just got so tight before he shivered himself free. His skin, frozen solid, shedding all at once; an exposed blister covering his entire body!

‘<Turning brightness under under can’t breathe water breaks the surface joke it’s playing on me darkness and the eyes shifts my skin it writhes it stings my spine I can’t when when my back my pad I can’t feel->’ JOHN DOE thought, if we wanted to generously call what he was doing that, his addled and damaged brain getting more confused as symbols played across his eyes – things his ancient brain could never understand, but his higher functions knew, and knew that he knew but he couldn’t grasp, couldn’t think right now, frustratingly just out of his reach. Somewhere deep inside him something hurt, suddenly, and he screamed again.

He knew, in his core, that if he fell down he would die, so he needed to go up. The problem was that he was drowning – a pool? Lake? No. Ocean, of course – but he couldn’t float cause he just couldn’t catch his breath and there was nothing there, nothing to focus on, nothing to grab in the ever expanding darkness that was surrounding him, pressing him down, forcing him to fight-

Warm.

There was a little droplet of heat on his head, and then it disappeared. The ocean was mocking him-

Warm.

There was that little droplet of heat on his head, and then it disappeared. JOHN DOE arched his neck, his back, trying to force open his screwed shut jaw to bite the heat, to take it into himself, to become–

Warm.

There was that little droplet of heat on his head again, and then it disappeared. JOHN DOE stopped, just for a moment.

Warm. There it was again. And there it went again. It was a pattern – of what, JOHN had no idea. For why? He did not know. But it was something, and as esoteric symbols flashed across his vision and the thing inside of him hurt again, and he screamed again, he waited. And the droplet of heat came again. And left. And came. And left.

It gave him something to focus on, and his mind – what was left of it, what disparate parts of it could muster together to form a sense of will, decided to make that pattern his whole world.

RN. Laverne Roberts really did not have anything additional to add to the conversation, or to what was going on. She was more pediatrics, but was trained when it came to general trauma, knew how to find a vein, how to intubate a patient, and how to choke someone out if the medication just wasn’t working fast enough.

…that last procedure wasn’t codified as standard practice by the United Terran Medical Association by any degree, but sometimes what works ain’t on the books. Yet.

But the point being, RN. Roberts was stuck at the head of the bed, between a Dorarizin nurse and a Jornissian Doctor who were busy restraining the patient with the rest of the team and working triage. Laverne had no access to anything, was not needed to support the neck of the thrashing Jornissian – according to her training, until the patient was properly restrained she’d be putting herself in harms’ way if she attempted to help – and so was doing nothing of any real importance.

So in times like this, when you’re an extra hand, bedside manner kicks in. If you’re not stabilizing the patient physically, it’s a good idea to stabilize the patient emotionally. Although you can’t do that with your words when the patient in question is currently in the active throes of psychosis, you can do so physically with just a gentle touch.

“There there, child. It’ll be alright…” So RN. Laverne Roberts reached out and gently rested her hand on the top of JOHN DOEs’ head, giving him a gentle pat. He thrashed, so she removed the offending limb, and then replaced it once he forgot. “Sssh, calm down now, calm down.” Another pat, another writhe – but this time, less so.

And so Laverne Roberts continued to pat the head of the Jornissian JOHN DOE, not realizing that the patient had stopped thrashing for the most part, eyes fixed straight up into the middle distance.

“[That’s… incredible.]” Dr. Solid murmured, and RN. Roberts looked up.

“What? Oh, sorry, do I need to-”

“[No, please, continue-]” Nurse Stringbean said, checking JOHN’s vitals. “It seems like it’s relaxing him enough to-”

“MEDIBOT” MEDIBOT so helpfully said, and with a very loud squelching noise (and a murmured “this is for great-uncle Bowden” from Than mo) the human medical probe disappeared into the previously-relaxed Jornissian.

As one, the entire peanut gallery flinched, with a few of the more … adventurous volunteers forming pointed questions in their mind.

There was a few second pause, and then the thrashing – and headpatting – began again with vigor.

“[So, Dr. Silver, what is ah… Your mechanical assistant telling us?]” Dr. Solid said, a few minutes after the probe was inserted properly and with concerningly little resistance. The human doctor, with that same professional mask he would always wear while on the job, continued to scroll through his tablet as more data came in.

“Looks like he’s got BIG CHUNGUS in his system, if I’m being honest.” Dr. Silver murmured, reading the continuously-scrolling chart.

“[I’m… sorry. What.]”

“Bilateral Intercranial Gyroscopic Chiral Undulating Necrotic Gastrointestinal Staphylococcus, also known as BIG CHUNGUS. Had a rash of that go through the IO moon colony a couple decades back once NVID-IBMD released a quantum-threaded processor and all the script kiddies thought they knew better than the manufacturer. I think it’s been cleared for all species, but for humans we’d probably prescribe some Onomatopolamipam-”

“[Doctor, is my translator working?]” Nurse Stringbean said, shaking her head from side to side.

“Yeah, it should be – it’s the medicine that sounds the same coming out as it does going in.” RN. Wilson said, touching a few buttons on MEDIBOT’s front panel. “We can apply it either as oral medication or a rectal suppository-”

“[Oral. For the love of Sotek, Oral.]” Dr. Solid said, sighing. “[Is the diagnostic AI kicking back any sort of toxicity warnings for administering, what was it?]”

“Onomatopolamipam-”

“[Negative, Doctor.]” A Karnakian nurse said, messing with a few controls at the foot of the bed, JOHN’s tail tip still thrashing impotently at anyone within range. “[The 470 has also apparently reduced inflammation, as his core temperature is now dropping steadily.]”

Dr. Silver smiled, slapping the rail on the bedside. “Great! So all we need to do is-”

“[I’m sorry to interrupt, but…]” The trauma team turned to the peanut gallery, noting that the group of volunteers had varying expressions of interest, confusion, concern, fear, disgust – and a slight sprinkling of animalistic lust. The volunteer in question, a young Karnakian male, raised his hand questioningly. “[I’m sorry, but are we going to have to do that?]”

Dr. Solid flattened his hood slightly, the equivalent of pursing his lips. “[Maybe. Depends on how many licenses you qualify for.]”

“[And… to be in the desk over there?]” The same Karnakian male said, pointing to the now slightly smiling Jornissian behind the welcome desk.

“[Well, no, but paperwork is-]”

“[Absolutely fine by me.]” The male said, and he was quickly joined by a chorus of a few other eager voices.

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The are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 9: Field Trips are better with Mrs. Frizzle.

‘This is bad.’ Juan thought, warm air coming in humid and salty through his sweat-soaked bandanna mask.

The sun crested to it’s zenith in the sky, beating down warm, life-giving light and energy to the farmland below. It hit harder for those who worked out in the fields, and it hit particularly hard for the few humans who still worked the land, most of which were blood relatives to Juan Esteban – which meant, come hell or high water, they would stay on the property for as long as possible, personal safety be damned. The alien – well, that term didn’t work on a planet where none of the residents had evolved – the non-human farmhand labor had doubled in headcount over the past week alone as more and more of Juan’s human employees and friends had to bow out due to the air quality.

To Persimmon’s credit, Juan did get some grants to float him through the hard times, and he did notice a few more “safety calls” from the local fire brigade and PDF, but outside of the sheriff stopping by more frequently nothing was being done. His farm was safe, and the illegal brushfires had dropped down the price of the surrounding land which he and his family snapped up – if anything, at least as a buffer – but the fires continued.

And that was the problem.

When the fires were closer, the smoke tinted the sky and you could just look up and know that you needed to put on a mask. The days of constantly cleaning the barns and the HVAC vents were over, as the heaviest soot now fell in either untamed wilderness or already-burnt land. The problem now was, as far as Juan could tell, that the finer particulate was still making it’s way overhead. The super-fine stuff, the stuff that was smaller than dust, that nothing stopped, that got everywhere, and that bothered everyone–

Juan shifted the tractor into park as he felt another coughing fit start. He inhaled deeply, trying to trigger it just to get it over with.

No luck.

Leaning back against the seat, he looked out on his field, his freshly-dug fencepost holes marking his progress for the day: Barely an acre. This whole thing wouldn’t be so bad if it just didn’t train the life out of you – any other type of sickness would be ok—

There was a rough spasm, and Juan lurched forward, gripping the wheel tightly as he started to violently and wetly cough, his body shaking with the effort of expelling something foreign from his chest. It never happened – mucus came out, sure, but it was never black, or red, or anything concerning. Just the pain, the wet cough, the shortness of breath… then it went away. After a few moments his breathing normalized, and he stayed hunched over to catch his breath.

It was bad. He’d sent Michelle and baby Isabella – the second, not the first – off of the farm as soon as the cough spread, but from what he’d been seeing with their video sessions in Silver City, it wasn’t getting better. Everyone was chalking it up to “seasonal allergies”, but Gentle Expanse doesn’t have seasons like Earth did; even so, what would be the odds that every human being on-planet reacted the same way? Most people brushed it off, and a cough here or there is no big deal, they say…

Juan lightly hit the wheel with his palm, leaning back slightly. It was the fires, it had to be – this coughing was stirred up the soot, or something, and the government knew it!

Smog. They’re treating it like smog or coal fires, as if this was old India or old China! But, hell, if wood fire smoke is bad for you, then what would this, burning this… fungal brush do to a body? Planetary government so far hasn’t figured it a big deal as no other species are complaining, and the human district provisional government hasn’t had any “severe” cases for this to be a big issue. Air quality index is green on most days, they say. No need to worry, they say.

Juan opened his door and spat out a mouthful, reaching for his bottle of water. Giving his mouth a swish, he spat that out too.

‘This is bad.’ Juan thought, as he popped the clutch and sent his tractor into 1st gear. ‘And it’s going to get worse.’

‘This is bad.’ Ngruzren-of-Arzgr murmured as he looked at the final few questions of the test, the tiny-chomper proctors wandering the auditorium aisles as they looked for cheating. It had been a week or so since class started; the days were blurring together with the excitement of having something to do again, each class new and interesting. However, Ngruzren was facing his most difficult challenge and what he was assured would be his first real inflection point: The multiple choice test.

“{If…, ok. If a tiny-chomper infant has been bad and the tiny-chomper infant still has a soft and pliable skull, is it an acceptable punishment to put them on the pottery wheel? That’s B, No.}”

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr idly picked at a loosening tooth with his tongue as he thought over the obvious question. Was it too obvious? It made sense, but, sometimes that’s a false moon, so… hmm. It didn’t help that Doctor Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands expressly stated that about 35% of people will fail this test and be ejected from the course – of course, that too could be a false moon.

“{A tiny-chomper patient has been admitted after a round of antibiotics to combat a dirt disease, and are presenting symptoms of orange sweat, urine, and eye coloration. What is this a symptom of? That’s… that has to be C, The Blood Rage.}”

Quickly looking at the timer indicator, Ngruzren relaxed slightly. He’d finished a few minutes ahead of schedule, and took the time to review his answers.

He needed to be in that 65%. It’s not that he didn’t love his pups, or his extended family for stopping in, or the playdates or his house or his wonderful wife… it’s just that now Ngruzren had a purpose again, and… and…

Ngruzren sighed as he felt the focus leave him, gave a mental shrug, and tapped “submit” on his terminal. With a cheery little ding his test was turned in, and he let his mind wander as he looked over the remainder of the class. What were … he’d have to say about 200 people to start had dwindled down to roughly 50 or so, and it had been just a few short days. The tests, the homework, the stress was getting more and more intense, and it was starting to show. Why was it that he wanted this so badly? Was he unfulfilled? Was it selfish of him to think so? Did he settle down too soon? If so, maybe he could do like uncle Arrzgren did and take a couple-century break between litters? It would depend on what Zngrer would like, sure… she’s young and in the PDF, and young girls in uniform only want one thing and it’s absolutely fucking-

Ding

“[And time’s up! Screens are locked, no more inputs allowed.]” Doctor Tiny-chomper-wiggle-hands said, his voice echoing oddly loud in the silent auditorium. With a few grunts and groans there were a chorus of pings from the other terminals around Ngruzren as tests were force-submitted, the other people in the room reacting to the test’s end with varying degrees of concern.

Almost too much concern. The test was easy…

Wait was Question a Mambo? Or a Mamba?! THE TEST WASN’T EASY HE WAS JUST DUMB-

“[Ngruzren?]” Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump said, the Dorarizin turning to face the human nurse. “[You doing alright?]”

“{Yeah, I just… sorry. That test was rough.}” Ngruzren admitted, smiling without showing teeth in the tiny-chomper way. “{I wasn’t expecting you to go easy on us, but at the same time-!}”

Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump laughed, reaching up to pat Ngruzren on the forearm. “[I know, I know, but remember what I told you? It’s to get under your skin, to get in your head.]”

“{Fair enough.}”

“[Oh wow, the test must have been really hard, then – you don’t seem so playful any more. What’s wrong?]”

“{Nothing – I mean, nothing that I should share with you, in class. I’m just trying to figure out why I want to be here, what’s really driving me.}” Ngruzren admitted, leaning back in his chair as the tiny-chomper nurse hopped up to sit on the table. “{I’ve got everything I could want, so why push myself? And these are my first pups, so why spend the time away from them?}”

“[I’m going to be honest with you, Ngruzren, it’s a very good sign you’re asking those questions.]” Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump said, tapping Ngruzren’s desk with his knuckles. “[And no, that’s not part of the test too, we’re not that diabolical – I know you were going to ask!]”

“{I mean, you are devious with these things!}” Ngruzren grinned, ears perked forward. The two spent some time looking at each other… until it got a bit awkward.

“{So, uh, not that I don’t enjoy the small-talk, or your company, but-}”

“[Why am I here and what are we doing? Well, you’re coming with me on a round.]”

“{A round – wait, like an actual-}”

“[Yep!]” Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump said, hopping down from Ngruzren’s desk. “[We’re going to be doing some rounds with a few classmates each to give you a feel of what it’s like actually working under pressure. You won’t have to – actually, let’s just, hold on.]” Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump pulled out a small tablet from his pocket and pinching both corners pulled it apart to give him a larger surface area. The screen lit up, and after a little bit of playing on it Ngruzren’s desk pinged, along with about a dozen other people.

“[If you have a Red Circle, you’re with me!]” Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump said, holding up his tablet high over his head that now had… a single red circle covering the screen. “[Come on over and I’ll tell you what’s going on!]”

“{Want to give me a bit of a hint?}”

“[Two words:]” Tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump said, grinning in a manner that Ngruzren decided he did not like, “[Field Trip.]”

The idea was pretty simple, as Than mo explained it: Everyone was going to be doing a round as an observer, following a team of nurses as they made their rounds. This was to accomplish a few things: First, to show people what to expect in the day of the life, and Second, to show the hopefuls what their jobs would entail when they’re not helping humans.

What, you thought it was going to be no items, humans only, final destination? Please. Only scrubs played that way.

And so, the group of volunteers followed Than mo and the other licensed nurses as they made the rounds. One thing became abundantly clear very early on, which really any nurse or doctor would have told you if you just listened to them but you don’t, do you, you still have to lose that weight and stop referring to eating a tub of cheetos as “the accident”, but anyway. Point was?

There was a lot of paperwork.

Sure, modern medicine had done away with a lot of the problems of yesteryear; there were therapies that regrew limbs or provided the attachments of prosthetics, you could destroy internal pathogens by literally injecting people with nanomachines (though there were problems with this as well), mental disabilities were either genetically destroyed or, through repeated therapy, cured, and some surgeries that would’ve been invasive a hundred years ago were outpatient procedures practiced today. But the one constant remained the same:

Paperwork. Who did what? Who administered what? Under whose authority? When? What’s the dosage, what’s the time, what symptoms were present, was the full dose taken? Did the patient comply with physical therapy? What is the patient history? What other medication were they on? What branch of wetware is installed? Has it been rebooted? Is the medication prescribed compatible with internal cybernetics? And on and on and on…

Than mo was only half-watching the Jornissian attendant on duty work his bedside manner as he adjusted the ambient heat on one of the patient beds. He’d been through all of this and more when he was first assigned xenos duty; not only did he need to get used to working with these other species but he might also have to work on them. Granted, when it was just him there were a lot more attending nurses and doctors around, but an ounce of caution is worth a pound of cure. No, Than mo was watching everyone else; who was bored, or interested? More importantly, who wished this would end? The easy pickings were long gone, and now came the hard part of every class – finding the ones who would otherwise be great from book knowledge, but had no knack for the human side of things.

Than mo hung out at the back of the group while the newbies got an impromptu lecture on how the beds worked. Some took notes, some politely listened, some “politely listened”. It seemed like it was going to-

“[CODE GRAY. ETA 3 MINUTES.]”

“AYYY HERE WE GO!” Than mo clapped his hands, getting the attention of everyone in the room – including some of the patients, who did their best to eavesdrop without looking like it. “EVERYONE TO TRAUMA!”

“[Wait, what?!]” One of the Dorarizin females said, looking around at the group. “[We’re just observing-]”

“YEP.” Than mo said, already turning a heel to jog down the hall. “OBSERVE EVERYTHING, INCLUDING TRAUMA!” Than mo called out behind him, and soon was joined by the hesitant half-power walking footfalls of his charges.

“[A-are you sure this is safe? We’re not scrubbed up or anything!]” One of the Karnakian students said, pacing the smaller human as they rounded a corner.

“Of course! We’re just observing, not doing surgery! Besides-”

The triple-doors slid open on silent hinges, the trauma ward already a bustle of activity as a few other groups of volunteers had been shepherded in, Than mo’s colleagues already donning PPE in the ‘welcome’ center of the ward. Doctors and nurses were setting up a side room, and some of the office staff were doing… paperwork. As if on cue a bright white light went off above an exit door, and from what was apparently a ground-level transport drop-off came wheeled in a thrashing Jornissian. The trauma table the patient was lashed to creaked under the strain, and as the patient slammed his head back against the table with an audible thwak he screamed a wordless, rumbling howl of rage.

“-what’s the worst that could happen?!”

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Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 8: Do not use body heat to start cults.

Roughly 10 seconds.

It took roughly 10 seconds for a karnakian chick to eventually float back down to earth after a round of “upsies”. Using his lightning-fast mind, Than mo did the math as to how much each chick must weigh, how large they are, their relative superposition to the galactic center and the air-speed velocity of an unladen chick and came up with a profound conclusion: He had no idea how any of this worked.

“I’m… forgive my ignorance, but, how.” Than mo said, gently tapping at the thick glass as another duo of chicks did upsies, then attack-glided into another already-airborne pair. This apparently started a trend, and like cheerleader pompoms duos of chicks yeeted themselves into the air to get the high ground, daring the chicks below them to give up. They did not, of course, and eventually everything devolved into a ground “fight” until new truces were made and the process repeated itself.

“[What? I already explained it – it’s just a baby game-]”

“No, I mean. I think… if my minor in mathematical fightanomics is worth anything, I would think that your babies are a little too… large? Or dense – physically – to fall with style like that. Unless their bones are totally hollow, which, ok, that raises a bunch of other questions.”

“[What? No. Normal bones, they just do this.]” T’ciki’briiki said, expanding a little bit.

Than mo watched her with considerable confusion. “I’m sorry… do what?”

“[This.]” T’ciki’briiki said again, expanding a little slower than before. “[You just – sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know, but, you just poof out a little bit. Get that surface area up.]” T’ciki’briiki squatted slightly in the hallway, her uniform now stretching lightly against her expanding feathers. “[See? Chicks only have down, which is basically full-expanded feathers all the time; it helps with keeping them warm and general thermo-regulation. Larger surface area takes advantage of the Coriolis Effect, and vestigial gravitational lensing anemometers direct electrostatical ionized air under each individual feather, e.g. a wing, much like the native borb, except we don’t use helium as a- oh!]” T’ciki’briiki skinnied up and reached forward as Than mo suddenly clutched his head, leaning against the one-way transparent wall.

“Oooooh why does that suddenly really hurt?” Than mo groaned, screwing his eyes shut. “It feels like millions of scientists suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced.”

T’ciki’briiki nodded sagely, helping her smaller coworker back to his feet. “[I know, it’s difficult living in a universe with hard scientific facts at first, but it gets easier.]”

“That’s not.. That’s not how-”

“[Aaaanyway. Did you want to go in?]” T’ciki’briiki smiled as only a saurian could, tilting her head towards the nursery. A few chicks gently hit the window with a pamf, the electrostatic charge of their feathers causing them to stick, slightly, to the wall… and slowly roll down it. “[It seems like they’re calming down, so it’s safer to go in. Mostly-]” pamf “[-probably. Actually, shall we just continue our tour?]”

“I think… yeah. Yeah.” Than mo said, taking one last look at the group of chicks playing frantic games unknown to him. “Probably for the best.”  

The Jornissian section, for lack of a better term, was warm. Comfortably so; the prevailing misconception was that Jornissians were 100% cold-blooded and therefore needed to be at a Sahara desert level of heat or else they’d freeze to death. They did bleed heat, certainly, but it took days and days for that to happen in extreme cases. Nevertheless, more than one new human recruit had found him or herself spending hours looking for “emergency heating stones” for a “freezing” Jornissian, convinced they were right next to the headlight fluid and the elbow grease.

N-not that Than mo would know, of course. He was smarter than that, which is why he kept his head on a swivel as T’ciki’briiki escorted him through the third section of the nursery. The gray, rocky walls gave way to a brigher, more vibrant hue of green and reddish-brown, and the temperature started to slowly climb the further they ventured. A ten degree difference wasn’t anything to complain about; moving from 70F to 80F was, again, warm but not an issue. The problem really was the evenness of the heat – there was no escaping it. It was 80 in the halls, in the vending machine nook, in the bathroom – everywhere. This wasn’t so bad, but when you have to half-jog to keep up with your partner and the humidity also started to slowly crank up…

By the time the duo had checked in with the front desk, Than mo had a light sheen of sweat all over his body, much to the chagrin of the Jornissian working the nursery for that shift.

“[You going to be alright?]” The Jornissian – a male by the voice – said, lowering himself to get on eye-level with the human. “[I don’t know about… how your species expel water, but if you’re going to dehydrate-]”

“Nah, nah. This is just like back home, to be honest; the moisture on my body is a mixture of water and salt – evaporative cooling.” Than mo said, smiling. “It’s fine. Didn’t think I’d be back in Neo-Vientiane, but, here we are.”

The Jornissian looked up at T’ciki’briiki, who just shrugged. “[Well, alright. You’re just leaving a lot of imprint… everywhere.]”

“I’m doing what now?”

The Jornissian daycare worker motioned to the one-way glass. “[Get a little more heated – maybe run around a bit, I don’t know – and then press your hands against that. I think you’ll get what I mean then.]”

“Ooo, cryptic.” Than mo chuckled, doing a few jumping jacks as his coworkers looked on. A few moments later – once he felt his heart rate rise again, he walked up to the one-way mirror. Much like the other enclosures, it showed the specialized nursery of the particular species; Whereas the Dorarizin’s enclosure looked like soft loam and underbrush, and the Karnakians had marshy reeds and rocks, the Jornissian enclosure was… bumpy. Small convex little domes dotted the landscape, the space between them filled with what looked like some sort of faux-sand analogue, if each sand particle was the size of a baseball. The nursery was unique to the Jornissian biology, but what was interesting was the lack of said biology; there was no movement Than mo could see – it looked abandoned. He pressed his hands against the glass, the relatively cool window warming under his touch, bleeding some of the heat from his palms. Almost instantly, right below the glass, the mound moved.

A single snout poked up out from the dome, splitting the tear-able fabric. This snout was joined by another, and another, and soon about 10 little heads poked out of the single gap, bodies flailing about as infant muscles tired and gave out. A few of the snakelets fell on their back, baby-hoods flared out in confusion, arms flailing weakly at the sky. As Than mo kept himself pressed against the glass, a few other mounds started to move, more inquisitive heads poking out of fabric holes.

“No way.”

“[I don’t understand why this is so surprising to you – your species bleeds heat.]” The Jornissian caretaker said, minding his terminal but keeping his attention on his guests. “[So, like I said – you’re leaving imprints everywhere. Our hatchlings tend to migrate to warmer heat sources, as they’re not big enough to really keep their own heat to themselves: It’s also why our nurseries are warmer than the rest of the building.]”

The hatchlings in question were starting to quest for this new source of warms, some of them crawling incorrectly towards other, larger snakelets. The larger Jornissians, of course, attempted to fight off these new intruders by falling towards them aggressively, which was (1) completely ineffective and (2) only led to them getting tangled up in what Than mo was now going to call a Fighter Hydra’nt and no one would tell him otherwise. Slowly, though, more of the room “woke up” and started to migrate towards Than mo’s general direction.

“They’re… heeding my call.”

“[No, they’re trying to leech off of your heat.]” T’ciki’briiki said, flatly, as one of the more adventurous snakelets threw itself at the invisible heat source. With a gentle plap it landed against the wall, starting to do a happy little shimmy as it found the source of the warms, mouth open in a soundless cry of joy.

“I mean… that counts. That should count.” Than mo said, the plap of a few more devoted fans punctuating his statement.

“[I have taken the general training, you know.]” T’ciki’briiki said, rearing back up to gain height – and therefore, authority. “[Humans are not allowed to start cults among coworkers since the [Caterpillar] incident.]”

“That is propaganda.” Plap “And I ask you, seriously, do you think I would be so cruel to do that to a bunch of dolphins?” plap

“[Alright I think that’s enough.]” The Jornissian behind the counter said, tapping the welcome desk. “[As much as I enjoy the company, I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the window now.]”

“What, wh-ohfuck.” Than mo cried, stepping away from the now dozen-strong Hydra’nt shimmying against the glass. As Than mo stepped away the hydra’nt slowed down it’s excited wiggles, and a few moments later seemed to altogether lose interest, slowly falling back in on itself. “It learns and adapts-”

“[Aaaaaand I think that’s the cue we need to move him out. Thank you for your time, Brighteyes.]” T’ciki’briiki said to the Jornissian, who looked at the human with growing concern.

“[Seriously, if you’re dehydrating to the point of hallucination then-]”

“They improvise. Adapt. Overcome-”

“[No, no. They’re just… like this, I think.]” T’ciki’briiki reassuringly said, leaning forward to gently usher the human away from the glass. “[But some fresh air might do some wonders.]”

The sun was setting over Silver City as Than mo and T’ciki’briiki sat on the balcony, a light haze tinting the sky slightly orange.

“Thanks for that – I guess I’m just not used to the heat like I was.” Than mo said, finishing his third bottle of water.

“[I share some blame as well; I didn’t exactly slow down my gait for the last couple miles, so I may have un-necessarily exhausted you at the end.]” T’ciki’briiki confessed, idly reaching up to preen her head crest. “[You just seemed so excited to see everything, and I didn’t want to be gone too long from my station-]”

“If you have to go-”

“[Oh, no.]” T’ciki’briiki shook her head in the human gesture. “[Once we had to take a break I phoned central. As long as I’m monitoring you, I’m free from my shift.]”

“So that’s why we’re taking the long way back, eh? Slacker!” Than mo teased, tossing his empty bottle at his larger companion. It bounced off of T’ciki’briiki as she gave an exaggerated shrug. “[As you say, a little of column A, a little of column B.]”

“Ah. So, how much longer am I ‘under monitoring’, hmm?”

“[I’m thinking… maybe another 40 minutes? Coincidentally, then your shift should end too, correct?]”

Than mo laughed. “Why, how fortunate! To think that happened totally by chance – what are the odds?” He grinned, reaching into his bag of vending machine goodies. “So what, we just kill time as the sun sets?”

“[Unless you want to walk around some more?]” T’ciki’briiki suggested, leaning back on the bench to stretch her legs. “[Or, do you have some questions I can answer for you? I’ve been working here for about 200 years, so I kind of know the ins and outs of the place.]”

Than mo sighed, shaking his head. “A career that spans longer than most lifetimes-”

“[Oh! Eer, I’m sorry, I didn’t-]”

He raised his hand, waving away the awkwardness. “No, it’s alright, it’s just something that still blows me away, yanno? The person who processed my paperwork, a Karnakian as well I think, was celebrating his 700th work anniversary. 700 years ago… we were discovering the rest of our planet. He was an intern filing TPS reports on a station orbiting a binary star system.”

The conversation died down as Than mo stared into the sunset, watching the city below him breathe and move; automated delivery drones weaving in and out of personal transport traffic, both on the surface and weaving between buildings in the sky. Far above, trans-continental ships zipped silently and effortlessly through the cloudless sky, seeming to race the sun over the horizon.

“So I did have a question, if you don’t mind?”

“[Oh? Yes, ask away.]” T’ciki’briiki said, turning to look at her smaller charge. “[I am an open testament.]”

“Well. I’m impressed with the architecture of the complex; it’s nice that everyone kind of has ‘their own place’, so to speak – but my main question, really… I noticed as we were making our way between sections that we passed some pretty heavy doors. Like. Blast doors. What’s up with that?”

“[Really – of all the things you noticed, it’s the emergency-]” T’ciki’briiki sputtered for a moment, before composing herself. “[I honestly did not expect that to be the first thing we talked about, but, sure. Yes, those were station-regulated blast doors, atmospherically sealed. Once engaged, they close within about 30 seconds and need a coordinated effort on both sides of the door to reopen.]”

“Yeah. See, I’ve seen that in the ships that took me here and in some of the Zephyr stations I was on for processing, but, this is a hospital. What’s the deal?”

T’ciki’briiki frowned, slightly. “[Not all people are mentally … balanced, Than mo. A nasty divorce, a maddened-with-grief parent…]”

“Ah.” Than mo said, nodding. “I see. So one or two of those incidents-”

“[Yes. It’s easier to just install it in every new hospital and move on. If something were to happen; an insane patient, a terrorist attack, whatever – the lockdown sequence is automatically engaged, the nurseries are hermetically sealed and you just sort of sit and wait it out.]”

“You sound like you know this from personal experience.”

T’ciki’briiki did her species’ equivalent of quirking an eyebrow. “[You’ll get used to it too – we do an overnight drill once a year or so.]”

“So you do a lockdown with kids for a full night? Well that’s got to be a pain.”

“[For us?]”

“For the parents! Basically locking their kids away-” Than mo started to protest, but was soon drowned out by T’ciki’briiki’s laughter. “What? What’s so funny?”

“[Are you kidding? Lockdown night is our most in-demand night!]” T’ciki’briiki grinned, looking at Than mo. “[It’s scheduled months in advance! There’s even a waiting list!]”

“What? Why?!”

T’ciki’briiki raised a claw, counting off. “[Free babysitting, Overnight, Planned months in advance, Doesn’t cut into your normal shift hours or care quota – so in effect you can offload your kids for two full days -]”

“Oh. Oh damn.”

“[Yep.]” T’ciki’briiki said, puffing herself out slightly. “[Like I said, you’ll experience a drill and know what I mean. But between you, me and the wall…]”

T’ciki’briiki exaggeratedly looked to her right, left, above and below her, before leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. “[Make sure not to hide too much, ah, enjoyable substances for the drill, and especially make sure not to hide them underneath the orange pots in the staff break rooms, which are all hollow because they are usually moved around for large visiting groups.]”

Than mo thought for a moment, then gave T’ciki’briiki the side eye. “I’ll… keep that in mind, and definitely not share that with the rest of my group.”

“[Excellent! And if something were to happen, saline bags are always in the white cabinets.]”

Than mo straightened up in surprise, looking away before doing a double-take. “I’m sorry, exactly how hard do you people party off-hours?”

“[Welllllll…]” T’ciki’briiki said, before beginning the real story time, which lasted far longer than the 40 minute window the duo had planned for.

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They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 7

All the potat knew was safety, warmth, and the steady breathing of her sisters, not-sisters and not-brothers. Potat thought she was on her back, but there were so many new denmates that she was kind of pressed up against Dad and a few dozen other bodies; inner-ear orientation tended to not make sense when you couldn’t tell which way was up and you were drifting in and out of sleep.

And yes, Dad was here, which meant things were ok again. They were ok before cause big was big and there were a lot of bigs, but, now things were more ok. Dad was breathing softly and rumbling and potat could feel that through her body and it was comfort and it was safe and it was warm, and a little misfire of her nerves caused her leg to kick. And that was ok too. Cause Dad.

Potat felt the need to express herself and her comfort, and let out a little mouthsound. A few moments later Dad pressed his lips to potat’s chest, there was more rumbling and potat knew darkness again, because she was safe and because she was warm and because she was tired.

Then there was a shift. Potat did not know how long it was; she barely understood the concept of time as-is, but there was a shift, a ripple in the den, and at once everyone was awake.

“[So we want to come in quietly, as you can see-]” T’ciki’briiki murmured, trilling softly as the door to the Dorarizin nursery slid open on silent tracks. The Karnakian nurse leaned forward to check around the entryway for any ambushes before stepping in, surprisingly making little noise given her larger form. Than mo followed shortly behind, minding his own footwork as he walked in. “[-ah, good. Hopefully we won’t make too much of a fuss.]”

“Huh.”

“[Hmm?]”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Than mo inhaled deeply through his nose, letting his breath out in a slow exhale. “Like… a nursery. Delivery wards are always so hectic, but nurseries are the payoff. They all have a smell, like, the smell of infancy – you know what I mean? Baby-smell? Or is that just a Human thing?”

T’ciki’briiki smiled softly. “[I do. Hatchlings and disinfectant – I guess I’ve gone a little noseblind to it after so many centuries, but… yes.]” She gave a non-committal wiggle of her head, a variation of a shrug for her kind. “[It’s nice, and you can always tell the new parents from the ones on their second or third round of child rearing based on how they react to entering the nursery. That ‘baby smell’ as you put it might be part of it.]”

“So… what would that make this?” Than mo whispered, pointing to the trembling, twitching mound of fur just to their left. As if on cue the mound began to move, a single low rumbling growl being rapidly joined with higher-pitched yips, squeaks, tired screams and other mouthsounds. A large head – Dorarizin, male by the mane – tilted up, his muzzle joined by a half-dozen smaller muzzles pointing up to the sky. Eyes opened up along the mound, dozens and dozens of pairs, some focusing on the male, some focusing on the caretaker, and some focusing on the new intruder.

“?Grr’s’t’t’t’?” one of the little wiggling mounds said, the act of speaking using up too much attention for the infant, it’s body rolling down the pile as it let go of the male caretaker’s arm.

It squeaked the whole way down.

As the pup landed on the soft padded loam with a pomf, the entire mound turned as one to stare at the human.

“Uh… Hello?”

“?owo?”

  “?owo?”

“?owo?”

The pile echoed and rippled the butchered human word as they all noticed the newcomer from across the floor – a few of the smaller pups trying to burrow into the neck and mane of the adult male for safety, because new was potentially spooky and adults meant safety. Than mo looked down at the ground, the one Dorarizin pup flopped on it’s back, limbs weakly treading against the air – their eyes met for the briefest of moments.

“?uwu?”

“No. That’s illegal.”

“[Mmmm? Oh! No sweetmeat no-]” The Dorarizin male started to chide one of the younglings, slowly and gently moving to try and disengage from the puppy-mound he was enveloped in. This, of course, was met with protests of various decibel volumes, causing the human to full-body flinch at the sudden sharp increase in noise. Something Big twitching usually means bad things to the infant brain, so there was now even more confused screaming and it would’ve gotten worse had it not been for the loud laughter of T’ciki’briiki.

“[Ah! I was wondering when it would all fall apart! Come along little ones, come on – no, no no.]” The Karnakian nurse cooed gently, reaching down to pick a clawful of pups, scattering them gently into the soft loam. The Dorarizin male was slowly unearthed as the daycare worker continued to strategically place pups around the room.

“Hello…?”

“[Oh, hey – oh! You’re one of the humans who was on stage for orientation! I’m Tipo!]” The Male said, holding a few orange-vested pups close to his chest as he regained freedom of movement.

“Oh! Yes I was. I take it you’re one of our new students?” Than mo said, slowly beginning to walk around the nursery as a few determined pups started to crawl towards him for investigation and maybe-he’s-edible purposes. “It’s good to meet you properly. We’ve got a meet-and-greet scheduled for next week, but there’s no reason why we can’t get ahead of the game.”

Than mo began to walk in very purposeful circles as a growing handful of Dorarizin pups attempted to crawl, wiggle and sometimes hop their way onto the human’s legs. “So, how did you enjoy your first day?”

“[It was awful.]” Tipo deadpanned, gently running his thumb over one of his pups’ heads, much to the little one’s delight. “[I mean, we’ve all done some first aid training, but. That was a lot worse than the training stand-ins.]”

“Yeah. I mean, that’s the point! Some days are fine and you coast along, and then right after lunch it all goes to shit.” Than mo said sagely, lifting a leg to let a Dorarizin pup sail past underneath. “Although we do want to be good neighbors, you’re not applying to deliver our food or help us with landscaping; shit’s going to hit the fan, and it’s going to keep hitting the fan until you retire.”

“[Why…]” Tipo worryingly looked at Than mo, tilting his head. “[That idiom – I hope it’s an idiom – didn’t translate.]”

“Ole!” Than mo said, dodging the telegraphed tackle of another pup. “Really helps when they full-body wiggle before the pounce like that. And sorry, I mean, there’s always going to be emergencies, all the time, and if you can’t handle one day of it you can’t handle a career of it.”

“[Makes sense.]” Tipo murmured, slowly standing up to the remaining protest of a few pups. “[Still.]”

“It was a mean trick to play, I know.” Than mo said, stepping up and over a raised foam barrier to lose his ever-growing crowd of adoring followers. “So, are you coming back?”

Tipo looked at his pups, who were busy wiggling around with the infinite burst of energy that youth provides. He smiled – until his eldest decided to bite his forearm. “[… Yeah. I love ‘em, but, I want to do something with my life.]”

“That’s the spirit!” with a little hup and a little hop, Than mo made his way around a few more waist-high barricades, deftly dodging the determined Dorarizin denmates. “We’d love to have you, but it’s not going to be easy.”

Tipo shrugged, a bouquet of puppies in his arms as he made his way to the exit. “[The good things in life are rarely easy, but they’re always worth it.]”

“[Well said!]” T’ciki’briiki laughed as she started to run interference, scooping up the more determined puppies and letting them be claimed by the loam-pit by their younger siblings. The two men exited the nursery to the defiant cries of random children, and as the door slid shut the couple were bathed in sudden silence.

“So are those yours? Or can anyone just-”

“[Oh!]” Tipo laughed, turning towards the smaller human. “[Yes, these are mine – first time father, but, I’ve got family local so it’s not that hard. Come on babies, say hi!]”

Than mo smiled and leaned a little bit forward, raising his hand to wave playfully at the puppies as they stared at him in confusion and curiosity. In doing so, however, he forgot a very simple fact:

Potat. Together. Strong.

And with a defiant wiggle one of those very potats launched themselves from Daddy’s arms, successfully latching onto Than mo’s face.

That’s when the screaming really began.

“[Hold still.]” T’ciki’briiki said, holding the applicator with clinical precision.

“[I’m really sorry.]” Tipo whined, purposefully keeping a hand on the shut tram that his pups were all jumping around in.

“It’s alright.” Than mo grinned, then grimaced as the spray-on bandaid was applied, the sudden change in pressure causing the mix to come out really cold. The potat, for all it’s supposed fury was really more or less just curious, and so when it successfully latched onto the thing it expected to sniff, snuggle, burrow and bite to figure out what it was. What the potat did not expect was the thing it landed on to start screaming.

That was potat’s job.

So she started screaming. This caused her sisters to start screaming, and then Dad started to scream and absolutely no burrowing got done. Instead, potat was lifted from the human’s head, but not before her dewclaws left a few cuts on his face and neck. The risk of death was nonexistent, but the risk of infection was a real thing, and so… well. A well-used first aid kid was currently open on the welcome desk, Than mo’s sandwich pushed to the side and all but forgotten. Than mo was no stranger to the order of operations for cleaning and dressing a wound, and was just thankful that the damage wasn’t worse.

“[Listen, really, I didn’t mean for-]”

“It’s all right, Tipo.” Than mo said, rolling his jaw to work the blood into his cold cheek, the applicator gel starting to harden and warm up. “It’s fine. I’ll see you at next session, yeah?”

“[Yes, again, sorry-]”

T’ciki’briiki chuckled, capping the applicator tip and twisting it off from the body of the can, tossing it into the trash. “[Oh brightsong, if I haven’t had to stop someone bleeding once a shift then I’m not doing my job. He’s fine, you’re fine, your children are fine, it’s fine.]”

“What she said.”

Tipo sighed and gave a little bow and wave, taking his stroller-full of pups and pulling it behind him to beat a hasty (and awkward) retreat. The two nurses watched him go and then shared a silent look with each other, before Than mo hopped out of his seat. “Well, that happened.”

“[Mmm. Honestly, never seen a human roll around so quickly.]”

“It’s not my fault, ok?” Than mo grinned, pointing at the retreating form of the Dorarizin family. “That little bastard latched onto my face and that’s just spooky, alright? It was warm and soft and screaming.”

“[Ah. Welcome to fatherhood.]”

“If you’re about to tell me how chicks are made, then you can skip it.”

“[Fair enough, but I do have diagrams.]” T’ciki’briiki laughed, wiggling her forearm feathers coyly. “[But, I believe we had some other places for you to visit?]”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, let’s see your chicks!”

“[My chicks are a couple hundred years old, Than mo.]” T’ciki’briiki continued as the human inhaled to correct himself, “[But I know what you mean. I’d be more than happy to show you around, but let’s… keep you in the visitor’s section, shall we? I’d rather we not have any more incidents until we get you a proper suit.]”

“Fair enough.”

The Karnakian checked her terminal and keyed in a few commands. A few minutes later a Dorarizin female showed up, and after the cursory small talk, introduction, stealth headpat attempts and stealth headpat dodges T’ciki’briiki and Than mo were freed for a 30 minute break. As they walked down the hallway, the corridor began to change; from earthy hues and rounded furniture to more gray, rocky tone with flat and even concave furniture. It was all basically still the “eggshell beige” that all hospital corridors were, but each species apparently had their own take on the nondescript color and the universally semi-comfortable waiting room decor. The small talk turned from the changing of the seasons, so to speak, to the overall layout of the hospital, parking situations, where the good cafeteria was, and even which doctors were a bit pissy before their coffee-analogue hit. All that talk ground to a halt when they rounded the corner, the wall a transparent one-way mirror into the nursery within.

The Karnakian nursery.

“No way. No way.” Than mo laughed, pressing his face up against the glass.

“[What? What seems to be the problem?]”

“I just… this. This.”

This was, of course, the nursery and the children within; as T’ciki’briiki began to explain what each mound, toy and instrument inside were, Than mo just let himself take in the spectacle. The Karnakian chicks were, for all intents and purposes, just little versions of their eventual adult forms – barring the fact that they universally had a very light-grey down covering their entire bodies. These little beachballs-with-mouths ran around the nursery at a breakneck pace, mouths wide in joyful cries as they dove headlong into what looked like a standing analogue for tall reeds. Much like the Dorarizin these reeds were very fake, but, it tickled something in their hindbrain and made them happy. There was a mound in the center-left, against the wall, as apparently being the tallest in the room was a universal need, and dozens of chicks took turns climbing to the top, knocking others off, and generally getting into mayhem. However, that’s not what captured Than mo’s rapt attention; it was a couple of chicks who were standing on top of one another. The top one would wiggle and crouch, and then just…

…just yeet the other one into the air by what looked like a deadlift maneuver. The two of them would then float down to the floor, slowly, before running around in childlike joy and scrambling to do it again.

“No problem, just. That’s incredible.” Than mo murmured, watching the karnkian chick do the equivalent of deadlifting itself into the air.

“[Hm? Nah, that’s just upsies.]” T’ciki’briiki said, shrugging. “[Eventually their down will fall out and gliding becomes harder. They’ll also gain a lot of weight, and at that point it’s nothing more than a nice memory.]”

“You can fly. Your kind can fly.”

T’ciki’briiki grinned. “[That wasn’t flying. More like… falling with style.]”

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