Work Text:
Sometimes being in Starfleet meant not only exploring space, but getting to walk around on strange new worlds. This one was no exception.
Dense vegetation covered nearly everything beneath the forest canopy, unfamiliar flowers and thick moss were broken only by twisting thorned vines. Four days into the Enterprise's survey mission, Erica had finally gotten her chance away from the helm, piloting the shuttle down with Una, Spock, and a botanist named Briggs to take scans deeper into the forest.
“Future shore leave planet, right?” Erica suggested as they walked back to the shuttle.
Above them, a large segmented insect drifted lazily between branches.
“There is a beauty to it,” Una admitted.
Briggs scanned a flowering plant nearby. “Possibly edible.”
Spock trailed behind in his own quiet efficiency, tricorder in hand. “The protein structures do seem compatible with most humanoid digestion.”
“See?” Erica gestured around them. “Basically paradise. Just avoid the murder vines.” She stepped around one of the thick thorn-covered plants stretching across the forest floor.
“Atmospheric conditions remain stable,” Spock reported.
They were well on their way back to the shuttle, the light a bit dimmer beneath the heavier canopy overhead.
“If we return here for shore leave,” Erica said, glancing at the growing shadows around them, “maybe we stick to an area a bit brighter.”
“Erica Ortegas, afraid of the dark?” Una asked, jokingly.
“I’m saying this planet absolutely looks like the kind where something waits until nightfall to eat you.”
“Statistically, given the repeated scans it is unlikely—” Spock didn’t finish the sentence.
Erica stepped down on something that snapped sharply beneath her boot. Pain hit instantly, not a scrape, not a twisted ankle, but a deep, brutal puncture that drove straight through the sole of her boot into her foot. “-Ah!” She jerked back instinctively, stumbling sideways into Una as something barbed tore free with a sickening wet pull.
She came down hard on the punctured foot and immediately regretted it. She grabbed onto Una’s arm for balance. “Okay,” she hissed through clenched teeth, “what was that?”
Briggs came over to scan, quickly locating the attacking object, shiny with blood when she picked it up.
In her hand was a section of what looked to be dried vine, maybe two feet long, twisted and hardened. Along its length were sharp thorns coated with small barbs. The offending one was cracked, the tip likely lodged in Erica’s foot along with some of the barbs.
“A stick. Seriously? I get stabbed by a stick. I take back anything nice I said about this planet.”
Spock moved closer scanning the vine. “We should take it with us, a reference just in case it is needed.”
Erica tried to step forward, wincing as she placed weight on her foot.
“You seem to be injured,” Spock observed.
“I noticed.”
He scanned her foot. “The object penetrated the dermal tissue, entering muscle. Residual foreign material is embedded.”
“Yeah, not super happy about that whole residual thing.”
Briggs looked worried, “Should we call an emergency medical transport?”
“We’re a five-minute walk from the shuttle,” Una said.
Erica straightened with a wince, finally removing her grip from Una’s arm. “I can walk five minutes.”
“You are not walking alone,” Una directed. “I don’t want any debris to be embedded deeper in your foot. Lean on me, I can help.”
Una stepped closer and extended an arm. Erica took it begrudgingly. The first step was painful, even though most of the weight was taken by Una. The next step was excruciating. Una paused. “I can carry you.”
Erica looked up at her. “That’s embarrassing.”
“Is it really worse than having me drag you to the shuttle,” Una asked.
“No.” Erica resigned to being carried. She felt like a child. “On the bright side,” she explained as her foot throbbed even without pressure on it, “it didn’t hit anything important.”
“Actually,” Briggs pointed out, “there are several important structures in the foot for locomotion such as the plantar fascia.”
“I was trying to be optimistic. It is a splinter, a large one. It will be fine,” Erica huffed.
“I am sure it will,” Una said as they entered the shuttle. Una moved to set Erica down on one of the benches.
“I can still fly this. Seriously, it’s a splinter, it hurts a little. But I only need my hands to fly this thing,” Erica explained.
Una relented, setting Erica down next to the seat.
“We should dress the wound first, we cannot use the dermal regenerator as there is likely debris still in the wound,” Spock explained.
Erica gave in, gently pulling off her shoe and sock. The puncture wound was red and angry. Spock flushed the wound with antiseptic, then lightly bandaged it.
“Is everyone good to go?” Erica asked with a quick check. Her hands settled over the controls, returning to a sense of familiarity as the shuttle powered up. As they lifted off for Enterprise she allowed herself to stop thinking about her foot. That lasted for a moment before it throbbed again. Well, at least she could stop thinking about it until stickbay, she told herself.
---
The shuttle settled into the bay of the Enterprise and within moments Erica was standing up to leave.
“You should not be walking on your foot,” Spock noted.
“It’s fine,” Erica insisted. “Actually, it feels a little bit better. I think the piece was washed out.” The sharp stabbing pain from before had dulled into a heavy throb. The numbness spreading through part of her foot almost felt like relief, though even she had to admit that the numbness was concerning. She knew a sickbay visit was in order, she wasn’t going to reject that. But she was going to walk there on her own two feet.
“See, already improving,” Erica stated as she stepped confidently.
Una followed her without comment. The corridors were somewhat darkened. It was the nighttime shift for most of the crew. Erica hobbled steadily. She had slipped back on the boot before leaving the shuttle, which saved her from being tempted to look at the bandage as she tried very hard not to think about the uncomfortable warmth spreading through her boot.
Or the fact that with every few steps her foot felt less connected to the rest of her leg.
“Just a splinter,” Erica muttered, though the sigh of annoyance was not missed by Una.
“A thorn puncture with embedded debris,” Una said. “Play up the wound.”
“Sure medically, but emotionally, I know it is a splinter and I am not sure I will ever get past that.”
Christine Chapel looked up from where she was working when Erica entered, her eyes narrowed instantly. “Why are you limping?”
“Have I told you how much I dislike that planet?” Erica replied unhelpfully.
Christine’s gaze shifted to Una. “A puncture wound,” Una clarified. “Lieutenant Ortegas stepped on a barbed thorn which penetrated through her boot and into her foot. We believe some particulate matter may still remain.”
“A splinter,” Erica corrected, giving Una a look.
“You got stabbed by a plant,” Christine translated, helping Erica over to a biobed. “Any puncture wound can become a major issue. Please tell me you came here first.”
“Look, I left the shuttle and hobbled right over, Una can attest. She definitely wasn’t making sure I didn’t sneak away to my quarters. Seriously though, it hurts, it's a bit numb, and I would rather it felt normal.” Erica looked around. “M’Benga off duty?”
“A few hours ago.”
“Excellent, let's keep it that way.”
Christine helped Erica pull off the boot, exposing the temporary bandage, which was already tinged with blood and pus. Christine started to pull and unwrap it. The moment the fabric pulled free from the wound, Erica hissed sharply.
“Oh, wow. Okay. Worse now,” Erica explained through gritted teeth.
Christine frowned, the wound looked angry. Redness spread outward from the wound in uneven patches and the skin around it had swollen tight enough to shine beneath the lights. “Something is definitely still in the wound.” She moved the tricorder over it. “At least it didn’t tear anything, once we debride the wound you should be on the path to recovery.”
Christine brought over an antiseptic solution to begin flushing. Erica settled back in annoyance before suddenly freezing. A strange sensation swept through her foot. Not pain, something warm and uncomfortable she couldn’t place at first.
Her brow furrowed, then the sensation registered. “Uh…”
“What?” Christine asked, looking up as Erica flexed her foot.
“That’s weird.”
“What’s weird?” Christine asked, pausing at her task.
Erica flexed her foot experimentally. “...It itches?”
“Itches?”
“Like, a lot.” The sensation intensified almost immediately. Prickling heat raced up Erica’s ankle fast enough to make her jerk slightly. She dug her fingers into the edge of the biobed instead of scratching. “Like it just started really itching.”
“Where?” Christine asked, pulling up the end of Erica’s pant leg.
Una stepped closer and all three of them stopped. Red raised welts were spreading rapidly up Erica’s skin. Hives. Erica stared in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Could it be a reaction to the antiseptic?” Una asked.
“Unlikely, probably a delayed allergic response.”
“How can I be allergic to a stick?” Erica asked.
“Plant proteins, pollen, possibly the sap…”
Erica clenched her hands, desperate to scratch and relieve the itch. Christine was already on the move, gathering supplies. “We’ll treat the reaction before it gets worse.”
“It’s a splinter,” Erica protested as if objecting enough would make the itch go away.
Christine handed her a folded medical gown. “Change.”
Erica stared at it. “Absolutely not.”
“Your leg is swelling.”
“I can suffer.”
“I would rather not cut your pants off later.”
“…Fine.”
Una helped Erica hobble over to the changing alcove. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Erica said with a dramatic sigh.
“That is demonstrably untrue,” Una replied immediately.
Erica emerged a couple of minutes wearing the medical gown and looking profoundly annoyed with existence itself. “This is humiliating.”
“Would it help if I carried you over to the biobed?” Una offered.
“You're enjoying this,” Erica said pointedly.
“Only slightly,” Una replied, though the humor didn’t quite reach her eyes.
When Erica climbed up on the bed, the hives had spread nearly to her knee. “Antihistamine,” Christine reported as she pressed the hypospray to Erica’s arm.
Erica waited and waited. The itching didn’t stop. If anything it seemed to intensify. Not just that, she was starting to feel unwell. A wave of nausea rolled through as she started to feel a bit warm. “Chris…” her voice was slightly pleading.
Christine looked over immediately, “What?”
“I don’t feel any better.”
The biobed chirped sharply. Christine turned to the monitor then frowned. ‘Heart rate elevated - blood pressure dropping - oxygen saturation trending downward’. Una looked up at the information, able to tell immediately something was wrong.
Erica shifted unsteadily where she sat. As quickly as the heat had come, she began to feel cold. “Ok, I actually feel really not great.”
Christine looked at her sharply. “Define ‘not great’.”
“Lightheaded, a bit nauseous, cold?” The words came out soft, with a hint of real concern in them. No jokes about splinters. The last word made Christine’s expression change immediately, because Erica suddenly looked feverish.
Una stepped forward as Erica swayed where she sat.
Christine scanned again. The swelling in Erica’s leg was getting worse, not just around the wound. The skin was noticeably warm and slightly inflamed beneath the hives. “This is progressing too quickly,” Christine murmured.
Erica swayed again and Una placed a hand on her shoulder. “You should lean back.” Erica managed a small nod and complied. Christine didn’t notice, her eyes fixed on the monitor. Something had changed and her expression sharpened with real concern.
She looked back at Erica’s leg, something was wrong there. Not the allergic reaction itself, but underneath it. Her eyes narrowed. Then she saw it, not faint exactly, but disguised beneath the allergic reaction. Angry red lines branching upwards from the puncture wound itself.
Christine looked at Una. “Stay with her.” Then she stepped back, slightly away from the bed. “Chapel to Doctor M’Benga.”
There was a pause before he answered her, his voice groggy with sleep. He knew that a call was an emergency. “Prepare me,” he stated, already up and moving.
“Septic progression masked by acute allergic response.”
There was a moment of silence then, “I’m coming.”
Christine turned back to the biobed, adjusting settings to increase monitoring. Another alert chirped. ‘Heart rate increasing - Temperature rising - Drop in blood pressure.’
Erica curled to the side, her arm wrapped around her as a chill rolled through her so suddenly her teeth chattered. “Why am I so cold?” she asked.
“You have a fever,” Christine explained. Erica’s skin was burning hot, not just around the wound. But not just that, Erica didn’t just look uncomfortable anymore, she looked unsteady, her eyes spending more time tracking before locking on.
“Christine,” Una said quietly.
“I know.”
At that moment the doors to sickbay opened. M’Benga entered quickly, still adjusting his jacket. Then he saw who was on the biobed and nearly stopped short. Not enough for Una to notice, but Christine saw the pause.
“Status.” M’Benga crossed quickly to Erica’s side, pulling out a medical tricorder to confirm the readings.
“Penetrating thorn puncture,” Christine reported quickly. “Initial allergic response. Swelling and pus from the puncture site. Systemic vitals instability began six minutes ago. The actual injury occurred around…” She looked to Una for clarification.
“About an hour ago.”
Concern sharpened across M’Benga’s face. “The infection entered the bloodstream quickly.” He turned to Erica, “How are you feeling?”
“Foot’s gonna explode.” But it wasn’t just that, everything hurt. A deep throbbing ache radiated up from the wound, settling into her bones like something trying to split her apart from the inside. Even the fabric of the gown on her skin was deeply uncomfortable. Her thought drifted as she considered saying that all aloud before just managing, “Cold.”
She curled her arms tighter to herself, bringing her legs up to her chest. She shivered despite the sweat dampening the back of her neck. Una moved over, gripping one of Erica’s hands and trying to stay out of the way the best she could. M’Benga administered an antibiotic hypospray.
“Erica, I will need to ensure the wound is completely clean.”
Erica nodded, grabbing Una’s hand tighter. Any complaints about splinters having faded into silence.
“Christine, administer an analgesic,” M’Benga directed. The cool of the hypospray took the edge off the pain, but it remained. Christine applied a numbing agent to Erica’s foot. The pain was still excruciating, but after a couple of minutes a tiny fragment dislodged itself, around the size of a fingernail clipping.
The biobed chirped again. Heartbeat still high, blood pressure dropping. “BP’s falling.” M’Benga was already responding, hooking up an IV to administer fluids.
The room tilted unpleasantly as Erica tried to focus. The lights suddenly seemed too bright. Her heart raced. She looked up at Una, still holding her hand. “Why am I on the floor?”
Silence followed the question. Una’s expression shifted immediately. Christine looked up from the monitor. And Erica realized distinctly that something about what she’d said had been wrong. “...Am I on the floor?”
“You’re lying down on the biobed,” Christine answered gently.
Erica stared at her for a moment, trying to process that. The thought felt slippery. Hard to hold onto. “Oh,” was all she could manage to say.
M’Benga scanned her again. “The infection is systemic. We will need to increase the antibiotic dose.” Christine handed him the hypo.
Una looked up at the two of them and asked quietly. “What is the prognosis?”
“The progression has been unusually quick, but treatment was started quickly as well. Assuming the antibiotics are effective, the prognosis is good. That is what we will determine next.” He took a sample and moved over to a scanning device. It would be able to run scenarios to determine which antibiotics would be most effective.
Una gently set Erica’s hand down before turning to Christine. She didn’t need another anxious person hovering, she had the best medical team on the ship. “I need to inform Chris,” Una said quietly.
Erica looked up, a brief moment of clarity returning to her. “Leave out the splinter part.”
Una frowned slightly before forcing a smile. “I am not lying to the Captain.”
“Then…” Erica stopped abruptly. Her brow furrowed. She could feel her thoughts just vanishing halfway through. “I’m cold,” Erica finished weakly. Una’s face tightened almost imperceptibly before she turned and left sickbay. Christine brought her over a blanket, something to curl into as shivers ran through Erica.
Christine moved around, taking measurements, checking the injury, and the progression of the hives.
Erica tried to focus on the movement. She felt like there was something she wanted to say, but her thoughts kept drifting. Every few minutes it was like she was waking up again before the memories slipped back in. It made time slippery.
One moment, Christine was checking the IV, the next M’Benga was scanning her with no sense of time passing in between.
“I’m cold,” Erica said, the thought being the only thing on her mind at the moment, unsure why it was so cold on the ship.
“You have a fever,” Christine replied gently as if she’d repeated the same thing many times before. She looked up at the monitor, heart rate still fast, blood pressure still low.
M’Benga walked over. “The simulations show our current antibiotic is effective.” He administered another dose.
Christine kept watching the monitor, hand resting next to Erica. Then, as abruptly as it started, one of the repeating alarms shut off.
“Blood pressure’s slowly coming up,” Christine said quietly.
M’Benga checked the readings himself before giving a small nod. “Heart rate is decreasing as well.”
Erica frowned slightly, trying to focus through the haze of the fever, “Is that good?”
“Yes,” Christine answered almost immediately.
“Okay,” Erica said quietly. Another shiver ran through her, weaker this time, and she clutched her blanket a little tighter.
The next couple of hours blurred together with tense monitoring, but gradually Erica’s vitals continued improving and her drifting confusion finally gave way to actual sleep.
Around 0400, Christine noticed Erica watching her, clearly focusing on her for the first time for hours.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” She asked gently.
“Not cold finally.”
M’Benga walked over, “Your vitals are steadily improving.”
“Please tell me I just dreamt the splinter part?”
“No such luck,” M’Benga replied with a light smile.
It had been long since both M’Benga and Christine should have been off duty and resting, but neither of them were yet comfortable leaving, even when other medical staff moved on duty.
‘You look tired,” Erica said at one point to Christine.
“You had sepsis from a splinter, trust me you look worse.”
“No,” she tried for a moment to get her thoughts in order. “It’s just, you don’t need to stay.”
“I can stay for a bit longer,” Christine replied. “You scared me.”
The honesty caught Erica off guard.
“Sorry,” Erica said with a smirk to try to undermine the severity.
“You’re improving, so I guess forgiven.”
By mid-morning the sickbay had shifted into the full daytime routine, Christine and M’Benga had finally left to rest. But the place was moving, scheduled physicals, minor injuries from onboard accidents. It has become a comfortable routine of care.
And Erica was awake, upright, and surprisingly compliant when Pike entered.
“Seriously,” she told the nurse. “I am not leaving until you make me. Something about having a tiny piece of wood nearly kill you puts things in perspective.”
The moment Pike saw Erica upright and talking some of the tension he had been holding onto since Una woke him visibly left.
“Hey captain,” she called out, still sitting in the medical gown and draped in blankets.
“You look considerably better than the report Una gave me.”
“I think we all know she is prone to dramatics,” Erica joked. “Or not. Okay fine, I’ve had better nights.”
“So,” he continued lightly, “almost taken out by a splinter.”
Erica looked at him with what appeared to be complete exhaustion. “I regret calling it that. I am thinking about rebranding it as a hostile alien defensive mechanism.”
“Hostile thorn incident?” Pike suggested.
“Maybe, though probably everyone will forget ‘Ortegas the best pilot in Starfleet.’ No they’ll say ‘Ortegas? Almost died from a splinter once, right?’”
“Hey, at least it is memorable.”
“That is less comforting than I think it sounds.”
“How are you, really?” Pike asked.
“Better. They say the antibiotics are working. And I expect a good note in my file that I have complied completely with treatment.”
“I will make sure to note that in your personal record. Almost taken out by a splinter, but compliant about treatment to avoid death. Got it.”
“Look at this point, I would almost miss not hearing about the splinter anymore. M’Benga saved the little pieces for me, put them in a specimen container. Maybe I will place it on a shelf just for the memories.”