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Course of Treatment
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
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KittyDee
Admiral k’Daridh sat in her office and studied the five faces on the room’s main display screen. This was too important to have on her padd, and she massaged the stump of her left shoulder as the last of the five surgeons finished what he was doing and gestured his readiness to the other four.
“Aka,” the Admiral asked, “you have news for me?”
A vir, one of two surgeon-mistresses on the display and the last one she’d seen in the course of her consultations, gestured affirmatively. “Acting on the data collected during your visit with me,” and the office’s holographic projector flared to life, creating a facsimile of Vesan’s brain, “we propose to narrow our treatment of your epilepsy to these five specific areas, so that we may limit any possible damage to the parts of your brain that contain memories.”
Vesan swallowed against a dry throat as she studied the display while one of the other surgeons, a kam, said, “This will be a time-consuming process, Frelen, because of the precision required.”
“After this is done,” another said, “we can apply standard regeneration therapy to give you back your left arm.”
K’Daridh took a breath. “Probability of success?” she asked.
The five glanced at each other before one of the kami replied, “Ninety percent, Admiral.”
She closed her eyes, thinking. Kashlani were known to wait until odds were overwhelmingly favorable before taking a gamble, and these were the best odds she’d heard for a successful outcome.
The risk, however, was still high in her opinion, but the alternative was resigning her commission and being largely an invalid for the rest of her life.
Her eyes opened. “When should I have this procedure done?”
“Not sooner than ten days from now,” the vir replied.
“I shall inform my command chain,” Vesan said with a confidence she didn’t feel, “that I will be taking medical leave.”
The five surgeons gestured affirmatively. “We will get things prepared,” one said, and one by one the segments of the display went blank, leaving k’Daridh alone in the room.
Vesan sat back and whistled a sigh through her nose. It was like going into battle over Xinhua all over again, albeit with a higher chance of success.
But, she felt, she wouldn’t get better odds.
Her tailspur tapped the intercom. “Yes, Admiral?” her aide asked.
“If she’s available, please contact the Bōank and ask Captain g’Raf to meet me here,” k’Daridh said.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
KittyDeeAdmiral k’Daridh sat in her office and studied the five faces on the room’s main display screen. This was too important to have on her padd, and she massaged the stump of her left shoulder as the last of the five surgeons finished what he was doing and gestured his readiness to the other four.
“Aka,” the Admiral asked, “you have news for me?”
A vir, one of two surgeon-mistresses on the display and the last one she’d seen in the course of her consultations, gestured affirmatively. “Acting on the data collected during your visit with me,” and the office’s holographic projector flared to life, creating a facsimile of Vesan’s brain, “we propose to narrow our treatment of your epilepsy to these five specific areas, so that we may limit any possible damage to the parts of your brain that contain memories.”
Vesan swallowed against a dry throat as she studied the display while one of the other surgeons, a kam, said, “This will be a time-consuming process, Frelen, because of the precision required.”
“After this is done,” another said, “we can apply standard regeneration therapy to give you back your left arm.”
K’Daridh took a breath. “Probability of success?” she asked.
The five glanced at each other before one of the kami replied, “Ninety percent, Admiral.”
She closed her eyes, thinking. Kashlani were known to wait until odds were overwhelmingly favorable before taking a gamble, and these were the best odds she’d heard for a successful outcome.
The risk, however, was still high in her opinion, but the alternative was resigning her commission and being largely an invalid for the rest of her life.
Her eyes opened. “When should I have this procedure done?”
“Not sooner than ten days from now,” the vir replied.
“I shall inform my command chain,” Vesan said with a confidence she didn’t feel, “that I will be taking medical leave.”
The five surgeons gestured affirmatively. “We will get things prepared,” one said, and one by one the segments of the display went blank, leaving k’Daridh alone in the room.
Vesan sat back and whistled a sigh through her nose. It was like going into battle over Xinhua all over again, albeit with a higher chance of success.
But, she felt, she wouldn’t get better odds.
Her tailspur tapped the intercom. “Yes, Admiral?” her aide asked.
“If she’s available, please contact the Bōank and ask Captain g’Raf to meet me here,” k’Daridh said.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Alien (Other)
Size 80 x 120px
File Size 45.6 kB
Listed in Folders
Or possibly a 'if I don't know you on the other side I trust you to do what is necessary', be that take care of them - or show her mercy by ending her as her most important thing is already gone.
(I don't know if that bit is an option for them. In my tall tales in the chakat universe the Rakshani are more or less furry Klingons with a bit more heart, I have one badly damaged one asking her fellow Marines to remove her as a burden.)
(I don't know if that bit is an option for them. In my tall tales in the chakat universe the Rakshani are more or less furry Klingons with a bit more heart, I have one badly damaged one asking her fellow Marines to remove her as a burden.)
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