The Right Thing
The Right Thing
Summary: Craven and D'Artanion take their turns in Zaharis' office about different issues and not-so-different concerns.
Date: 35 ACH
Related Logs: None

Chief Medical Officers Office Genesis - Deck 13
35 ACH 6285 Souls

The office of the Chief Medical Officer is a small room, used mostly for consultations and review of sensitive patient materials than the paperwork of the Medical department, which goes through the Naval Administrative offices. Still somehow it has file cabinets along one wall stuffed full of papers, two chairs in front of a desk behind which a large leather chair is set. On the desk sits a computer terminal.
Sitting on the file cabinet is a Rod of Asclepius carved from two different types of wood. The rod is made from lighter wood, while the snake is darker. The eye of the snake is inlayed with tiny crystals so that it sparkles in the light. It stands on a smallish pedestal with a legend: Do no harm to thyself nor to others.

Zaharis is at his desk, sifting through a pile of medical inventory loss reports. His mouth is in a slightly grim line, brow already raised and eyes up towards the door when Craven walks in.

After the brief conversation through the door, Craven popped it open and made his way into the CMO's Office. From there, he's moving across the floor until he's standing in front of the desk, at attention. It's a far cry from his normal routine when entering and once his gaze is settled on Zaharis, he begins to speak, "I hope I'm not disturbing, Doc. But I want to talk about the day the PAS was destroyed."

Zaharis keeps looking at Craven from under his brows for a second or two before he lefts down the sheaf of paper in his fingers. "At ease, Lieutenant. Have a seat."

There's a slight nod and Craven relaxes for a moment before finally lowering down into the chair, "Thank you." Another pause and he wets his lips before continuing, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Zaharis picks up his water bottle. He settles back in his chair, pulling his ankle up over his knee and unscrewing the bottle cap. "Granted."

Craven leans forward slightly, settling his arms on his knee's, hands clasped together in front of him, "I want to talk about when you arrived in Sickbay after everyone evacuated from the PAS." He pauses slightly, head canting to the side, "You gave us a little speech after the holocaust, about how we weren't indestructible and how we needed to take care of ourselves. If one of us had come into Sickbay looking like you did and tried to work, you would have kicked our ass to the side so fast and made us get fixed up first." A pause, followed by a quick breath, "You took a big risk going into surgery like that, Doc. Number of things could have been wrong and it leads us to think that you either don't trust our abilities or that you can't followed your own advice."

Zaharis lifts the water as Craven speaks, taking a few swallows while he listens. He sets it back on his knee, his jaw slightly tense but with little other reaction to all that. "You're perfectly right, Lieutenant."

There's a quick blink. Followed by another. Apparently, Craven didn't think the CMO would give in quite that easily. Offering a slow nod of his head, he lets a silence rest for a moment, his prepared thoughts and speech having now gone by the wayside, "Well .. that wasn't quite the answer I was expecting. But, I'm glad to hear it." He's arching a brow then, "When's the last time you took a break from things, Doc? I mean, a /real/ break. You're not gonna do us any good if you suddenly start to lose your marbles."

Zaharis was all ears. Until Craven started on that last bit, which earns him a look. "I'm not losing any marbles, Lieutenant. Are you done?"

That look isn't shied away from and Craven merely gives a slight shake of his head, "Didn't say you were, Doc. Said we don't want you to start losing them." He pauses for a moment, leaning back in his seat, "That was a big risk that you took, Doc. Sure, it paid off and I'm sure as frak glad that it did." He pauses slightly before continuing, "But next time? I'm not going to let you gamble on that type of risk, sir. And I don't imagine you'd be happy if I did." He's lifting a hand, motioning towards the man, "Now, I'm done."

Someone is knocking at the door.

"I've already told you you were right about that," Zaharis replies, putting his water back down. His eyes flicker past Craven at the door knock. "Now, we don't need to beat a dead horse. Your concerns are noted and appreciated."

Hearing the knock at the door, Craven ignores it for a moment as he begins to rise to his feet, "Right, Doc. Just making sure we're on the same page." He pauses for a moment and then gives a quick nod, "Take care of yourself, Doc. And consider that break. I promise we won't break anything while your gone." It's then that he looks back to the door before returning to Zaharis, "I'll get out of your hair now. Thanks."

"We're at condition two, El-Tee," Zaharis replies. His fingers keep tapping against the desk, a weird kind of restless motion that he's never been prone to displaying before. "Let's focus on that for now. Thank you, and dismissed."

Craven comes to attention and snaps off a quick salute before turning to make his way towards the door, opening it and then stepping back out into Sickbay.

You hear shouting: Come in.

Craven leaves for Sickbay [o].
Craven has left.

D'Artanion comes in from Sickbay.
D'Artanion has arrived.

Having just finished talking to Craven, Zaharis' door revolves again to let D'Artanion in. A brief flicker of exhaustion goes across his face, which is gone by the time his door admits the next person. He picks up his water, taking a few quick swallows.

Once D'Artanion enters, she turns and shuts the door. Never a good sign. She has a clipboard under one arm, but does not address it directly, "I am sorry to bother you, Major, but a couple of things have come up that require your attention. Do you have the time?" Maybe she notes the exhaustion, for when she turns to face you, there is concern in her eyes. "But, before we get into that, sir, how are you? You've been working your butt off since the PAS tragedy and I am, frankly, concerned for you."

"I'm fine, Gunny, thanks." Zaharis screws the cap back on the bottle and nods her to a seat, before sitting back a bit in his own. "Talk to me."

D'Artanion nods, though it is a slow, measuring sort of nod. Not the sort of nod that one gives when one is in perfect agreement. However… She inhales and moves to claim the chair. "Okay. But, if you need a break, Doc? We'll manage. Promise. Thad and Craven are excellent doctors and can cover for a day or two." Then, she lets it go and turns to other things. "First? I've been doing a running inventory of the drugs on hand so we can predict how soon we will need to find replacements." Leaning over, she places the clipboard on your desk, "As you can see, these are the amounts we had on hand when I arrived." She indicates a column. Then, then next, "This shows what has been prescribed since then." There are two more columns, "This shows what we should have. And the final shows what we do have. As you can see, we are going through stims and seronol faster than the prescriptions can account for. It is not an enormous leak, so I do not think that we have someone selling drugs in the fleet, but… Well, I am concerned. The amounts are not entirely within the realm of what would be safe for an individual who is self medicating, but not enough for two, necessarily. I think we have an adict with access to the drugs, sir. I would like to find out who it is and set up a rehab program. How do you want me to handle this?" That is the first issue.

[Intercom] Sergeant Farkas, report to the marine offices. Sergeant Farkas to the marine offices.

"Gunny, we're on Condition Two in case you hadn't noticed." Zaharis picks up one of his pens, absently clicking it a few times with his thumb. "Taking breaks is not a matter to be addressing right now." He clears his throat and sits up as she presents inventory, his eyes down on the papers. "Stims and seronol? Let me see the numbers." He holds his hand out for the report. "We're not in a position where we can devote staff to a rehab program, nor do we have anyone particularly suited to be treating the issue. I'll have one of the officers look into what we can do."

D'Artanion lifts a brow slightly, "Of course, sir." As if anyone would not notice the Condition Two lights all over the place. Lifting the clipboard, she passes it to Zaharis, "As you wish, sir." Her gaze is steady, however, with something held at bay deep within those eyes. "Yes, sir. A fairly common combination in some circles. Uppers to keep going and downers to sleep. They had a pretty good market value back home, but I am sure that you are aware of the case studies involved." Once the clipboard has been passed over, she folds her hands in her lap. She will not address the second issue until you are ready. When you look at it, the pages are clearly hardcopy that has been printed from some electronic media.

Zaharis keeps his eyes down on the pages, looking over the indicated columns. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, apparently double checking. And then triple. "It does look off," he confirms, after a while. "I'm not aware of many case studies personally, Gunny. It's not my field. But good catch in the records. I'll have a staff officer pursue it."

D'Artanion nods, her tone softening a bit, "Thank you, sir." She licks her lips, then comments quietly, "One of the symptoms is a tremble that grows until it can't be controled." So, maybe she has noted something untoward. Her gaze flashes to yours, holds for a moment, then drops to your hand. Her voice sounds again, the tone thoughtful, "Another is rapid and unexplained weight loss…" This time, her gaze lifts along your upper torso, "Though you are probably aware." Her gaze lifts a final time and seeks to meet your gaze at last. There is a longish pause then, as though she waits for confirmation or denial.

Zaharis sets the papers down. His hands fold on the desk while she talks, fingers securely locked together, and he looks back at her face. "We'll look into it," he replies, in a reserved tone. "Was there anything else, Gunny?"

The reply, while not optimal, is about what the woman expected. The disappointment in her gaze does not make it to her features and is soon hidden away. Her hands fold in her lap and she nods, "Yes, sir. One more thing and I will be out of your hair." The phrazing, while not entirely random, might be intended, "I came very close to throwing Major Desusa out of the sickbay the other day, Major. I thought that you should know."

Zaharis nods at that. "I'd heard a couple rumours but everything's been secondhand so far. I staked some faith that you'd come and tell me yourself, and I see I don't have to be disappointed. I'd like to hear what happened, from you."

D'Artanion nods, "I am sorry that it took so long, sir. You are a difficult man to get time with, what with everything that has been going on." She looks down for a moment, then up again. She is not hiding anything, but taking a moment to organize her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, her tone quiet, "The Major came to visit some of the injured Marines. After speaking with a few, he approached the beds where the two navy pilotes were resting. Saint Germaine was awake and the two started talking. Saint Germaine asked an asked the Major if leaving the wounded to die was worth it, sir. He is understandably bitter about that decision. The Major pressed for clarification. His tone was mild, sir, though his verbage was antagonistic. Saint Germaine ended up asking the Major if he could live with condemning them to death. The phrase he used was 'can you sleep at night'. Saint Germaine kept his tone polite, though it was clear that he was close to an explosion. The Major…?" She inhales, then continues, "…antagonized the patient further by telling him that his performance was lacking and that he was one of the worst pilots in the Navy, sir. I informed the Major that, while I did not care about his opinion of the pilots, their continued health and recovery was definitly my concern. I told him that if he spoke one more word in that tone or vein that I would escourt him out of the ward personally, sir." She sits straight, her gaze holding yours. It is clear that, if she failed somehow, she feels no shame over it.

Zaharis' hands gradually unfold as she talks and he picks up his pen, flipping it over his knuckles. His other hand makes a motion for her to continue. "And what happened after that?"

D'Artanion says, "The Major apologized and left, sir. I thanked him for the apology and had words with Ensign Saint Germaine, reminding him that; while a combat decision may seem fraked to Hades and back, we are not always privy to the reasons behind it. I told him that if he and the Major could not figure out how to work together, I'd recommend a boxing match in the gym once the Ensign was healed, sir. I further told him that I would have order in the ward and if he could not keep his opinions to himself as a personal favor to me, that I would make it an order. He was perfectly behaved after that, sir."

Zaharis jaw tenses at the further about Micah but he makes no comment about it, just clicking the pen twice with his thumb. "What do you think I'm going to tell you about all this?"

D'Artanion draws a breath, her gaze remaining on yours, "Honestly? I have no idea, sir. I do not feel as though I behaved inappropriately, but it is not entirely my call. The sickbay is your domain and we follow your rules. We had not yet had time to discuss that particular situation, so I may have acted against your wishes. However, our primary duty is to those sick and wounded. Anything that is counter to the healing process should, in my opinion, be handled outside of Sickbay. The sort of altercation that was brewing could have affected more than just the two of them, sir. Two other pilots were sleeping nearby and there were other wounded in the ward."

"I agree with you," Zaharis says, nodding once. "You've been doing rounds here long enough to know our regulations about noise level, and that my staff retains the right to ask any visitor to leave who they feel is behaving in a manner counterproductive to recovery. I think you did the right thing. However, you did it in the wrong way." His tone never hits 'angry', just explaining in a brisk way. "No matter if we are in the mess hall, on the field, or in Sickbay, we owe each other respect. I don't have to tell you that. We don't have the right in any way to undermine anyone's authority, and in effect that's what you did. What would have been the right way to have handled it would have been for you to have interrupted and asked if you could speak to the Major in private rather than admonish a superior officer in front of another. Especially a superior officer in your chain of command. If he had refused, call one of the doctors who has departmental right to act. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

D'Artanion pales as you speak and a blush touches her cheeks. She makes no move to defend her actions because it is clear that she recognizes what she did wrong. When she finally speaks, the woman's tone is still quiet, though there is a hint of self-irritation in her words. "Perfectly, sir. I am sorry, sir."

Zaharis nods. "Now I'm not putting this as an official reprimand, as you are, technically, not my personnel. If Desusa wants to deal with it officially, that's his call. But from my end, if you want to keep volunteering in Sickbay I suggest you take the advice to heart, as I have to maintain certain standards of behaviour from anyone acting as a caregiver here. And I think you've learned the lesson, so I'll consider it closed."

D'Artanion inhales, her expression going blank, "Yes, sir." Although it is not really visible as her hands are clasped in her lap, her knuckles show evidence of the stress she is putting on them. The notion that Desusa may seek to have her reprimanded is clearly an unpleasent one, though the discomfort is kept as much off of her face as possible. Finally, and softly, she adds, "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, for caring about the patients. Just try and do the right thing next time." Zaharis smiles at her. His hand's been restlessly turning that pen the whole time. "Was there anything else, Gunny?"

He might be smiling, but the Gunny isn't. She blinks a couple of times, considering, then shakes her head, "No, sir. Nothing that can not wait until we are no longer under Condition Two, sir." Still, she does not rise yet as she has not been dismissed.

"Alright." Zaharis reaches over for his mouse, tapping it with his fingers to wake his screen back up. "You're dismissed, then."

D'Artanion stands. She lifts a hand in a salute, "Thank you, sir." The salute is held a while, then released and she turns to walk across to the door. Gently, almost silently, it is opened and she slips out.

Zaharis returns salute. Once her back is turned his eyes flicker over to watch her go, and after the door closes he picks up the paper she'd brought in, folding it over and tossing it in his desk drawer before returning his attention to his work.

D'Artanion leaves for Sickbay [o].
D'Artanion has left.

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