Taking Care of the Bajorans

Posted on Sat Jan 3rd, 2026 @ 4:06am by Captain Erik Norsgaard & Lieutenant Daegan Baas & Lieutenant Tatiana Dragos & Lieutenant Patrick Ryan M.D. & Lieutenant Stormy Knight & Lieutenant Commander Harrison Knox
Edited on on Wed Jan 21st, 2026 @ 11:45pm

2,170 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Wolf in the Fold: Hide and Seek
Location: Sickbay | Deck 4 | USS Thunderbird

Sickbay they called it but he knew it for what it was. The smell assaulted him though not the memories; they had no power over him. Nothing had power over him not even the Cardassians. His smile was inward, hidden behind an impassive wall, as he watched the medical personnel scurrying about. The one who had traded knowledge for minor comfort, Gehan, had already pushed his way to the front of the line, standing now before the doctor ... Ry - yan. He waited. Weakness. Pain. Hunger. They were words that did not define him. Did not define his course as it had for Gehan. The hunter is always patient.

The journey to Sickbay from the transporter room had been uneventful. Trailing behind the group, Lieutenant Trynn allowed Doctor Ryan and his team to take the lead, their Chief Medical Officer setting a calm and reassuring tone. For Ayryn, it allowed her to observe. To note those more obviously distressed by the sudden change in circumstances while others seemed curious if cautious. For most though, there was silence underpinned by a tell tale tension in their weak muscles a clear sign they had some ways to go to put their guests at ease.

Not wishing to disturb the work of Dr Ryan or his team, Ayryn found a quiet corner to continue her observations. The Commander and Lieutenant Bass seemed to take her lead, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. There were clear signs of not just physical by psychological trauma, which for the most part they could only document unless there was an immediate danger.

Patrick didn’t look up right away. The hum of the biobeds and the low murmur of his staff formed a rhythm he could almost fall into — methodical, clinical, safe. Sickbay was busy, but not chaotic; a pattern he could manage. The new arrivals carried the weight of captivity in their eyes. Some masked it behind defiance, others behind exhaustion. He’d seen both before. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and old metal — the scent of recovery and memory entwined. He moved between stations, hands steady, voice low.

“Vitals stable. Begin metabolic rehydration,” Ryan told one of the nurses, nodding toward the patient nearest the monitor. “Keep an eye on his neural readings. If they dip again, I want a cortical scan.” A pause. He could feel eyes on him — one of the rescued crew, watching him work. The kind of look that carried both distrust and a need for something to trust in. Patrick didn’t meet it. “You’re safe here,” he said evenly, still focused on the readings. “Let my staff handle the rest.”

As Ryan turned to update the chart, his stylus trembled slightly against the PADD — a minute flicker that no one else noticed. He adjusted his grip, jaw tightening, and kept writing. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ayryn standing in the shadows near the bulkhead — observing, analyzing as always. Good. Someone needed to keep the bigger picture in focus. He, however, had work to do.

The patient on the biobed groaned softly, words forming that Patrick didn’t entirely catch — something about hunters and power, maybe a name. Patrick adjusted the medscanner and spoke quietly, voice calm but firm. “You’re aboard a Federation vessel now,” he reminded the man. “No one’s hunting you anymore.” But as the words left his mouth, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. He stepped back, handed the PADD to a nurse, and rubbed his thumb against his palm — testing the steadiness of his hand. The tremor was still there. He ignored it. “Prep the next one,” he ordered, his voice steady again. “Let’s keep moving.”

Nurses fluttered about the doctor like so many flesh flies hovering about half-dead Bajorans. They moved purposely, pristine features stamped by appropriate demonstrations of concern and care. And yet, he saw the subtle interplay when these flies thought no one was looking ... or listening. To be expected. First impressions were masks, some glittered with artificial glamor, others with sober sincerity, but always, there was something else beneath. Another Bajoran treated and he moved up in line. Not the first. Not the last. Just another face in the crowd.

Baas had helped where he could when the Bajorans had come aboard while keeping an eye out for any trouble. Once in sickbay he handed over the survivor he had been helping over to the medical staff. They were in bad shape, but now with proper medical care, decent food, and an end to the harsh labor, or whatever abuses the Cardassians had inflicted on them, they could begin the road to recovery. Standing out of the way, with a pang of anger flashed within him at their condition.

Lieutenant Commander Harrison Knox had stepped aside and permitted medical to do what only medical could, tend to these people. He gave a look at Baas. Though words were not needed, he approached Baas and stated it anyways. "I don't want them treated like prisoners, Lieutenant, but I do want them allotted the usual security detail of any guests aboard with the usual restrictions."

Baas nodded, "Not to worry sir, I will see that my people treat them right and keep them out of key areas." Looking over to the Bajorans being tended to. "Given what they've been through perhaps a trip to the arboretum...maybe the holodeck for a change of scenery? That is if and when the Doc releases them from sickbay."

"Don't forget the mess hall too, replied Knox. "They look like they could use some actual nourishment as we" stated the First Officer. Who knows what the Cardassians were actually giving them or how often he thought.

Knox then proceeded toward Doctor Patrick Ryan. "Assessment of our guests, Doctor?" asked the First Officer wanting his professional opinion on how they had been treated or mistreated. He was cautiously optimistic as they had despite their frail condition arrived aboard alive, and Knox wanted to keep it that way."

Patrick turned from the biobed, setting the medscanner aside before facing Knox.

“Alive, but severely weakened,” he said evenly. “Malnutrition, dehydration, muscle atrophy. Several untreated fractures and internal bruising consistent with forced labor. Nothing accidental.”

He glanced toward the Bajorans. “Psychological trauma is significant—hypervigilance, suppressed fear responses. They learned survival meant staying quiet.”

A brief pause. “No signs of experimentation or neurological interference. Cruel, but not surgical.”

“With nutrition, rest, and time, they’ll recover physically. Mentally will take longer. I recommend gradual reintroduction to open spaces once cleared—arboretum, low-stimulus holodeck programs.”

He met Knox’s gaze. “Security should remain discreet. They don’t need to feel imprisoned again.”

“I’ll release them from Sickbay in stages,” Patrick finished. “No rush.”

She came under the guise of getting a check up from the doctor, though her true intent was to also have a look at the Bajorans who had arrived. Tatiana was perfectly willing to wait while the doctor took care of the refugees. She was where she could quietly observe. This also was giving her ample time to study those who she will be working with as well.

Doctor Ryan's guidance was entirely appropriate and so Ayryn felt no need to add anything further. Instead she made some final notes before moving to the woman nearest to her. "How are you feeling?" she asked, allowing the nurse beside her to initiate preliminary scans.

"I'm fine," the Bajoran woman in front of her grunted, an irritated glance at Gehan sliding across her gaunt features to be replaced almost at once by the impassive calm they had all learned to adopt as a survival mechanism. "Something hot to eat and a bed that doesn't have a guard patrolling all night would be bliss about now."

“All of that we can definitely help with,” Ayryn assured her. “Dr Ryan and his team just want to ensure any medical care anyone needs is seen to, and then we can get everyone settled. Anything else you need on the journey, please let me or anyone on the crew know.”

"Food, bed, privacy," the woman repeated. "Prophets know, we're grateful for the ride but really, I'm tired of being scrutinized every minute of every day. If I need a doctor, I'll tell you." The woman grunted, low in her chest, as she looked around her. The Sickbay had the feel of a production line, like the ones she'd read about in Federation history, back in the days when she had dreams. Long ago those were. "If you wanted to help, you could have given us quarters and peace, then had your doctors come visit us. That would have been decent. This? Still feels like I'm a prisoner."

"I assure you, that was never our intention and I apologise," Ayryn replied, her tone sympathetic. There were of course logistical reasons for not doing as the woman asked, and protocols. This was not the time, however, to quote regulations and procedures. Nor to point out how, on the last mission, an outbreak had caused so much trouble and claimed the life of their first officer. "You are in the best of hands with Dr Ryan and his team and we will do everything we can to make sure you get to your quarters - and some peace and quiet - as soon as possible."

"We'll see," the woman answered as she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. "Doubt you'd tell me anything else. Never met a Fleetie yet that did otherwise."

Ayryn offered the nurse beside them an encouraging smile, “do what you need to do, Ensign, and then we can get her to some quarters.”

Tatiana had caught the glance from the counselor, having read over the manifest, she knew who they were. Just not personally meeting them, yet. She had glanced over towards the Bajoran who was grumping about needing privacy.

“Commander, do we have quarters already available to start moving those who have been checked over out of sickbay?” Trynn asked as crossed over to where Rose, Knox and Bass were speaking. “Some of them are a little uneasy and would prefer somewhere quieter.”

Knox nodded. "Lieutenant Baas has been determining quarters that would be preferable for our guests," stated Knox. He did not want to outright say what factors he was considering, but the Thunderbird was not a ship of diplomacy and leisure. Certain areas were crucial. He looked at Baas. "I take you have reviewed everything and we may start showing guest to quarters?"

"Yes sir. Everything is ready, I assumed they would still prefer to be roomed with each other as much as possible so I set them up with 4 per room. I has people standing by to escort them as soon as they are released and know who they wanna room with."

Patrick stepped forward, having listened quietly as the arrangements were finalized. His gaze moved over the Bajorans—measured, respectful, and without judgment.

“Alright,” he said evenly. “Those who’ve completed their scans are medically cleared. No restrictions beyond rest, hydration, and light meals for the next twenty-four hours.”

He gave a small nod toward Baas. “Escort them when ready. Keep it calm, keep it quiet.”

Then, turning slightly toward the Bajorans themselves, his voice softened just a touch.

“You’re free to go to your quarters. No guards inside. No monitoring unless you request it. If anything feels wrong—physically or otherwise—Sickbay remains open.”

A pause.

“You’re safe here.”

He stepped back, giving them space, already reaching for the next chart as the first of the Bajorans were gently guided toward the doors—no alarms, no restraints, just the soft hum of a ship moving forward again.

[Science]

Stormy wasn't directly involved with the onboarding of the Bajorans, but she was curious, and she knew how to search for information. She hoped to find something to help the survivors reconnect with their history. Or to find something the crew of the Thunderbird could do to help them regain some of the humanity the Cardassians tried to strip from them. Some people recovered when they worked with plants. Others worked better with food or crafts. She wanted to find a number of options that could be made available to any of the Bajorans who wanted or needed something more than the basic necessities. And she wanted to have some items like books available to read. So, while she searched, she began to make lists to pass on to the doctor and counselor.

---

Captain Erik Norsgaard
Commanding Officer
USS Thunderbird

Lt. Commander Harrison Knox
Second Officer
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Daegan Baas
Chief of Security
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Stormy Knight
Chief Science Officer
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Arynn Trynn, M.D.
Chief Counselor
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Patrick Ryan, M.D.
Chief Medical Officer
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Tatiana Dragos
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Thunderbird

 

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