Chapter 2
Manaan Carrier Caal Shto
Outskirts of the Aiowa System
"Sajuuk's b--!" Lieutenant Soja Tye Manaan, Caal Shto's sensors officer, bit back the curse and grimaced. The white-coated medical attendant instantly eased his grip on Soja's left knee and looked up. "The ankle looks like a mild sprain, sir. The knee may be a little more serious judging by the pain. We'll scan both to be sure," the attendant said as he sat on the small stool nearby. The attendant's eyes shifted to the console mounted alongside the examination table. His palm passed over the control panel briefly and the room's lights partially dimmed. The monitor indicated that the scanner was running a brief diagnostic check upon itself.
"Tiirian handball, eh? Must have been a good match," the attendant said without sympathy. The game periodically landed members of the crew in Caal Shto's sick bay. This was Soja's third visit in as many months.
"Right up to the point where I lost my balance. Damn. I was up by a point," Soja reflected with obvious annoyance.
"Close match this time. Who was your opponent ?" inquired the attendant. Soja Tye Manaan was, after all, widely regarded as an expert Tiirian handball player - at least aboard the Caal Shto. Perhaps he had finally met his match, thought the attendant.
"The Old Man." Soja replied simply.
"The CO?" Surprise and amusement registered on the attendant's face and he kept his laughter in check with difficulty. "The CO plays Tiirian handball?"
Soja chuckled then winced. "Relentless. It's like cornering a Skaal-Fa!"
The attendant continued to smile as the diagnostic routine finished and a digitally enhanced image of Soja's leg appeared on his monitor. "Try to keep your leg still," he instructed and squinted slightly as he concentrated on the display and the data being generated on Soja's injuries. Perhaps a minute later the attendant spoke:
"Yep," he began, "sprained ankle. No tertiary damage. Shouldn't need anything more than a cold pack to bring down the swelling."
"But," he shifted in his seat before continuing, "your knee is another story. Some micro-tears in the patellar tendon...and there's a small tear in your meniscus," the attendant paused again and looked up briefly, "that's the cushion between your upper and lower leg bones."
A look of genuine concern crossed Soja's face. "We're only nine hours from our patrol station in the Aiowa system..." he said.
The attendant immediately understood the nature of Soja's concern. "You're still fit for active duty. You'll need nano-sutures to repair the tears but I can reduce the swelling and pain now...and postpone any rematch with the CO for at least two weeks," the attendant added as an afterthought.
An hour later, the nano-sutures in place and in considerably less pain, Soja sat heavily on his bunk and relaxed. He had several hours before he was to report to the Caal Shto's main briefing room for the CO's brief on the upcoming patrol. Time enough to shower, grab a quick bite to eat and verify the status of the ship's sensors systems. Then the fun begins, he thought. Then another thought occurred to him about the CO's brief. The Captain wouldn't draw too much attention to his clumsiness on the handball court today, would she?