TOS 20 - The Vulcan Academy Murders (a) by Star Trek

Author:Star Trek [Star Trek]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Tags: \Star Trek
Published: 2011-01-02T07:58:51.997000+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Leonard McCoy worked furiously in the emergency room, not allowing himself to think or worry, just concentrate on healing as he did on board the Enterprise in the midst of battle. The only difference, it seemed, was that instead of being thrown about by the blasts of photon torpedoes, here the hospital was inundated by the foul smells of smoke and fire-fighting chemicals. It was also still miserably hot, but whether it was from the fire or from the sun's beating down on the building he did not know.

No one had time to ask where the fire was and whether it was approaching them. All medical personnel were too busy taking the injured as they arrived, and trying to keep them alive.

At least they had lights now—lighting had already been on when he and the other two human doctors had emerged from their cool refuge in the pharmaceutical storage room.

Their first job had been to help all ambulatory patients outside. Volunteers quickly transferred them to other buildings where the cooling systems were working.

Then had come patients who should not have been moved, but had to be, on gurneys, or in their own beds with all sorts of equipment still attached. Vulcan efficiency moved them, equipment and all—Vulcan strength also coming to aid the cause, McCoy noted when a patient in traction was passed through with pieces of torn-out wall still clinging to the frame he was fastened to.

There was not enough portable life-support equipment for every patient; several on respirators had to make do with oxygen masks, a volunteer pumping to be sure air regularly entered their lungs. Those who were conscious and could ask for help, if needed, had to be temporarily disconnected from some forms of life-support, and share the portable equipment.

Then fire victims began arriving, so covered with grime that it was hard to see their wounds. Smoke and chemical inhalation was the most prevalent injury, but there were also burns, often irritated by chemicals from the fire extinguishers.

As time passed, the injured grew in number and in the seriousness of their injuries. Firefighters brought out people who had been trapped, some unconscious, some badly burned, some with broken bones or internal injuries, for parts of the building had collapsed. Even a huge Lemnorian, almost three meters tall and bulky to match, had been felled by collapsing architecture. To make a stretcher large enough to carry him, someone had fastened a gymnasium mat to a pair of vaulting poles.

McCoy worked in steady concentration, ignoring his own growing exhaustion as he labored to save lives, knowing the satisfaction of seeing most patients quickly relieved of their pain and set on the road to recovery.

Sorel and Corrigan were performing triage. M'Benga and T'Par were handling simple fractures, superficial burns, and smoke inhalation, which were all being treated in the emergency room itself. McCoy had been delegated surgeon for humans, it appeared; he moved from one O.R. to another as directed, always, it seemed, with a new patient waiting, scanners showing some new atrocity performed by fire, smoke, chemicals, or collapsed rooms.

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