Post number: 270 - Winds of change

Posted on Wed May 21st, 2025 @ 5:48pm by Lieutenant Amanda Hemsley & Lieutenant Thomas Ryan MD

1,888 words; about a 9 minute read

After Amanda’s conversation with doctor Montisorri, she went back to her private office. There were only a couple of routine surgeries scheduled for the day, so she decided to work on some reports in the comfort of her own office. She was deep into reading a report on the surgical supplies she had taken aboard when the doorbell chimed.

Dr. Thomas Ryan stood outside the door for a moment, taking a steadying breath. Though he was well-known across the fleet for his medical research and field experience, he still respected the protocols—and people—on every new assignment. And this was her domain. Chief of Surgery. Starbase Obsidian.

When the door chimed and the door slid open, he stepped inside and offered a professional but warm smile.

“Doctor Hemsley, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

His voice was calm, with that low, even cadence that often reassured patients—but he also knew when to carry a tone of respect for a peer.

“I’m Dr. Thomas Ryan. I came aboard to assist Admiral Bradley’s team on the Synthulans research, but surgery’s always been a constant in my work. I reviewed your protocols and your trauma rotation reports—they’re excellent. I was hoping we might speak about the possibility of me possibly working with you in the surgery area, and do the intelligence work as a minor."

He paused, then added with a slight smile, “You’ll find I work best when there’s a scalpel involved.”

Amanda took a few moments to gage the man up. Coming back on board, she had taken the initiative to read the personnel files of all the new people that have medical training. If anything, it could be useful to know in case of emergency. Reading the man’s file, the parts she had the clearance level to actually read, was impressive. “Not at all. Please, have a seat.” She took a sip from her tea, savoring every bit of taste. Taking her time to enjoy it to its fullest. “The department is severely understaffed and will be for quite some time. Any help would be greatly appreciated.”

Tom gave a faint nod of appreciation as he stepped further into the office and took the offered seat, settling in with an ease that came from years in tense surgical suites and warzone clinics—but also with a subtle deference, recognizing her authority in the room.

“That’s good to hear—well, not the understaffed part,” he added dryly, “but I’m glad I can be of use.”

He glanced briefly at the tea in her hand, then back up to her, a trace of humor in his expression. “I’d say I envy you the quiet moment, but I’ve learned not to jinx it. Around here, peace is usually just the prelude to something chaotic.”

Then, more seriously, his tone steadied.

“I’ve spent a lot of time on the frontlines—trauma, battlefield improvisations, post-op stabilization under pressure. But when I get the chance to be back in a proper surgical ward, I treat it with the respect it deserves. I’m not here to step on toes.”

“I fear that trauma and battlefield improvisation will be badly needed before long. We’re entering a dangerous part of space, with enemies Starfleet hasn’t set eyes on for years.” Amanda paused for a moment. She knew the department can use his skills. Five surgeons for a base this size isn’t hardly sufficient. During Starfleets heydays there would be e team of 20 surgeons operating in 3 shifts, not to mention the rest of the medical staff. Regular doctors performing small surgical procedures like regenerating smaller lacerations, uncomplicated arterial repair, and similar small procedures. Leaving the surgeons to deal with whatever needed a full surgical team and the specialized training they would have. Her own training and experience as a surgeon double certified in trauma and cardio-thoracic surgery, internal medicine and xenobiology would come in handy of course. Katagh being certified in general-, orthopedic- an neurosurgery and doctor Vi’Lar as a plastics surgeon with a specialization in reconstructive surgery. All specialties that are badly needed in wartime. But that’s just 3 people. Add to that having to train doctor Montisorri, who is as green as grass doesn’t make for a strong surgical department.

It was Amanda’s SOP to always have at least one general- and one trauma surgeon on duty during all shifts. That way, any emergency can be dealt with or at least stabilized as far that the patient can wait till a surgeon with the right specialty comes on shift. But in the situation they find themselves in, that’s not an option. There simply aren’t enough surgeons on the station. Getting Ryan on her team would ease that. At least somewhat. Katagh isn’t specifically certified in trauma surgery, but after 40 years as a CMO all over Starfleet, he’s had more than enough experience for Hemsley to count him as one. She doesn’t yet know Vi’Lar well enough to gage her experience, but she comes highly recommended. With Ryan’s service record, she’d be a fool not to accept him as part of her team.

“I appreciate that you’re looking to step on anyone’s toes. And I get the impression that you’re genuinely just looking to be useful and help. And god knows, I can certainly use your help. But let me ask this. Have you had a position of authority and leadership within the medical field before? Obviously I need an accomplished surgeon, but I also need someone who can share the workload of running the department. It would mean that, when I’m not here, the duty personnel will report to you, look for guidance and advice from you. You’ve worked in intelligence lately. Military protocols are much more relaxed in the medical field. In my department we’re all equals, surgeon, doctor, nurse and technician alike. We leave our rank at the door until such time where giving orders is required. Open discussion and constructive criticism needs to be at the forefront of what we. From the top down and the bottom up. A nurse needs to feel free to voice their discomfort with a proposed course of treatment. That’s how medical errors are prevented, not just caught. We literally have the lives of our patients in our hands. From what I understand, having served exactly zero days in intelligence, is a lot different from what you’re probably used to?”

Tom listened without interruption, his expression thoughtful and respectful, though his eyes sharpened slightly at the mention of intelligence. He waited until Amanda had finished, then leaned forward, resting his forearms lightly on his knees—his tone calm, but purposeful.

“You’re right,” he said. “It is different. Intelligence demands control, containment, hierarchy. You don’t ask a crew for opinions when seconds decide whether people live or die—or when a single word too many can compromise an entire operation. But I never let myself forget I was a doctor first.”

He let the weight of that statement settle before continuing.

“I didn’t stop being a surgeon when I worked in Intelligence. I just practiced in shadows, in field tents, in underground hospitals. I’ve had to run trauma teams out of transport bays, rebuild surgical centers in the wake of attacks, and yes—lead departments under fire. I’ve trained young doctors with shaking hands and helped overworked nurses find their confidence in the middle of a crisis. So yes, I’ve been in leadership roles. Not in the polished halls of Starfleet Medical, maybe, but in places where keeping people alive meant adapting fast, trusting your team, and listening—really listening—even when the clock was ticking.”

He leaned back slightly now, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that wasn’t quite a smile—more like a quiet understanding.

“Your philosophy?” He gestured to her. “Open communication, equality in the field, pulling rank only when absolutely necessary? That’s exactly the kind of department I want to work in. I’ve seen the consequences when people are too afraid to speak up. I’ve made it a personal rule—if the room goes silent, something’s wrong.”

A pause, then softer: “Look, I won’t pretend to know this station like you do, or your team—yet. But I learn fast, I step in where needed, and I’ll never ask someone to do something I wouldn’t do myself. You’ve got three strong surgeons already. Let me be your fourth. And if that means taking responsibility when you're off shift, I’m ready.”

Amanda give the man a doctors smile, kind but professional, as she stood up and extended her hand to shake his. “In that case, welcome to the team. I’ll inform the captain that I’ve found my Assistant Chief, whatever that means with a team of 5, and request your transfer to the surgical staff. Lieutenant Stokes and the captain still have to approve the transfer but I don’t foresee a problem there. There will be a certain amount of overlap with the ED anyway, since that’s where most of our patients will be coming from. For now, operate on the assumption that the transfer will be approved. I’d like you to take the beta shift tomorrow, 1200 to 2100. I’m on Alpha, 0800 to 1600 and Katagh is on gamma, 2000 to 0800. I suggest you get yourself familiar with doctor Katagh, as he’s been my right hand man since I set foot on Arcadia, before the crews transfer to Obsidian. He’s one of the civilian doctors with 40 years of experience in Starfleet Medical.”

Tom rose smoothly as Amanda did, his expression warming with a genuine smile that reached his eyes. He took her offered hand in a firm but respectful shake.

“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate the trust—and the opportunity.”

His grip released, and he gave a short nod at the mention of the transfer process. “I’ll touch base with Lieutenant Stokes and the Captain, but I’ll proceed with the assumption we’re all headed in the same direction. And I’ll make sure the ED team knows I’m in their corner as well—no siloed thinking. Especially not out here.”

At the mention of Dr. Katagh, Tom’s brow lifted slightly with interest. “I’ve read the name. Didn’t know he had that kind of tenure—but that’s the sort of quiet asset people overlook until they’re neck-deep in triage. I’ll introduce myself before shift change. Anyone you’ve relied on that long is someone I want to learn from.”

He paused for a breath, letting the tone shift slightly to one of quiet conviction.

“I’ll be ready for beta shift tomorrow. And for what it’s worth, Doctor—five surgeons might not be much on paper, but I’ve seen smaller teams hold the line when no one thought they could. We’ll make it work. We have to.”

Then with a faint grin and a nod of professional respect, he added, “I’ll get out of your hair. See you on the floor, Chief.”

RSS Feed