“Well, here it is, Sickbay,” Flynn said to the doctor.
“This?” Lita said. “I’ve worked in better field hospitals. Consortium field hospitals, at that,” she sneered, looking over the meager offerings.
The bay was mostly cabinets holding supplies. A couple of fold down bunks would hold people in need, but the only real bed took up the center of the room. It had dedicated sensors and computers, but was hardly state-of-the-art.
“We’re not a hospital, and we’re not an Alliance cruiser. We don’t do more than patch each other up, though I’m glad to have you.”
“We’re not going to be patching anything without some more and better supplies. I’ll get you a list, but top of that list is a Type IX tissue builder.”
“Say what, now? What does a tissue builder do?”
“Just what it says. It builds body tissues. With it I can grow replacements to common tissue injuries. We make stem cells out of your tissues, keep them on hand, and then when there’s a need we can grow replacement organs, limbs, and especially ears. You would not believe how many times ears get blown off.”
“Our financial situation may not cover that,” Flynn said.
She drew her sidearm on him, a standard issue rail pistol. “But you’ve got enough for this stuff, right. Sure, that works. Instead of giving you a new liver or lung, I’ll just shoot you in the head, save everyone the trouble. Everyone gets a promotion, too.”
Flynn eyed her hard, but he could see the value in such a machine. There had been too many close calls of late, and likely they would keep coming.
“SuppO,” Flynn commed.
“Here, Captain,” Connor Reese answered.
“The Doc is going to get you a list. Start setting aside a budget for it.”
“Thank you,” Lita said, holstering her weapon.
“No rush,” Flynn commed, ending the transmission.
“Welcome to the ship,” Flynn said to her.