Houston We Have a Problem...

Non Rpg:
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Where: Various.
Who: Coffey, Mulcahy, Shakespeare.
When: Sometime After Cerebrum stole the stuff.
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Doctor Shakespeare wiped his brow and stumbled along the corridor
clutching at various non-existent objects that his vision was
displaying. He bounced into one of the walls and fell onto the
floor, dropping his medi-kit whilst the contents spilled down the
carpeted hallway.
"Poop," he muttered as his eyes began to sting and his head
pounded. He rubbed his eyeballs and blinked a couple of times. The
view in front of him shifted and became discoloured.
"I mays't be hath severe pain, coulds't death be on thy cards?" he
said. He shook his head and groped around for the medical
apparatus. Shakespeare's anxiety grew when his sight slowly began
to fade away.
"Mega poop," he whispered, nervous. His vision grew to total
black as the view of the grey dulled wall disappeared.
"I am'st blindeth," he said, after a few seconds of
worry. "Help. Some fair person, helpeth me!" he called out,
panicking greatly. He tried to get to his feet using the wall as
suppost, but several attempts failed with him on the ground. He
opened his mouth to call Holly and was even more worried to find his
vocal chords unresponsive.
`I need'st helpeth immediately,' he thought. `But howeth shall I
signal?'
He lifted his hand up and rubbed his eyes, hoping to create a
response of pain, or at the very least, a response. His fingers felt
his eyelids and he even touched his eyeballs. When nothing happened
Shakespeare doubled his efforts to stand. He just about knew the
layout of the ship. If he was lucky, he could make it to the
medibay. Someone would be in there. Someone had to be.
He tried to move his legs into position. He stopped when he
realised that he couldn't feel them.
`I'm dying,' he thought, as an almost imperceptible wave of
numbness travelled up each leg and began moving at a faster speed
along his torso, before reaching his neck and enveloping his head.
Powerless to do move or do anything, Shakespeare heard his body
fall over, devoid of any pain, touch or feeling.
`Alleth I am'st ableth to do is listen, listenth to myne life
wilter and fade,' he thought. The humming sound of the ship began
fading as well.
Shakespeare wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to do
something. The numbness seemed to rise up once more and his thoughts
began to vanish. Memories disappeared from his life, and he felt his
past disintegrate in front of him. There was one last sensation of
unhappiness at not being able to say goodbye, and the figure that had
been Doctor William Shakespeare lay perfectly still.
The trolley powered down the corridor, Shakespeare's body lying
upon it whilst a concerned Walter Mulcahy pushed it as hard as he
could throughout the decks, screeching to a halt outside the medibay
doors. They parted and Mulcahy wheeled the trolley in, a nearly
asleep Coffey jumping from her seat and rushing over to the trolley.
"What the hell happened?" she asked, picking up a nearby device.
Mulcahy shrugged. "I was on my way to main engineering and found
him lying in a heap in the floor, his medi-kit strewn everywhere. I
assume he collapsed."
Coffey injected Shakespeare and monitored his heart beat, it was
erratic.
"Don't die on me, William. We've not picked out a new carpet
colour yet," she picked up one of Shakespeare's hands and held it in
hers. Then she injected a neural stimulator into him. The heartbeat
steadied itself briefly, then flat-lined.
"No!" shouted Coffey diving for the medical tools. "I'm not
letting you go!"
Mulcahy watched, as Coffey began to rush around the bay, setting up
instruments and syringes.
"You're not dying on my watch," she said to Shakespeare's
motionless body.
Shakespeare's figure quickly sat up and blinked a few times. He
looked about the medibay a confused and angry expression forming on
his face.
"Okay, three things wrong with picture," he said, taking in all the
elements around him.
"1) Where am I? 2) Why am I here? 3) Why is there a beautiful
woman resting her head in my lap?" he looked down at Coffey who had
fallen asleep next to his bed. Her head was currently resting on him
and she had taken hold of both his hands.
He looked at her for a few seconds more.
"Well, the third one isn't a problem," he admitted. He lifted up
Coffey's head and hopped off the bed, stretching his arms wide.
"Now to find out where I am, and why I'm here," he said, walking
over to the door. The lively figure of Jennifer Wildflower bounded
through the doors and into the medibay.
"Heya Shakespeare, what's on today's cards?" she asked.
Shakespeare stood still, bemused. Wildflower looked at him,
expecting a reply.
"Well?" she asked. Shakespeare turned around to see if the other
girl had woken up and then realised that this rather excited girl was
speaking to him.
"You're talking to me?" he asked.
"Why no middle English?" asked Wildflower.
Shakespeare looked confused.
"We have to speak middle English here?" he asked.
"No, but you always do," stated Wildflower.
"I what?"
"Are you okay, Doctor Shakespeare?" asked Wildflower, concern in
her voice.
"Why do you keep calling me that?" he asked.
"That's…err…your name," said Wildflower, wondering whether or not
Shakespeare was testing her.
"Young lady, whoever you are, I think you need to get your facts
straight. My name is Larry Trisees. I'm a scientist," explained
Shakespeare/Trisees.
"No, you're Doctor William Shakespeare. You're a surgeon."
Shakespeare/Trisees sighed and pushed past her.
"Get out of my way woman, I think you're on some kind of illegal
substance," he said, annoyed.
"Hazel!" called Wildflower, waking the sleeping woman, as the
medibay door closed. "I think we've got a problem."
Shakespeare stalked down the corridor muttering.
"Shakespeare? Shakespeare? Doctor? What the hell is she talking
about? My name is Lawrence Trisees, I'm a scientist. Why on earth
would she think I'm a doctor? And why am I not on Callisto Research
Base? They're going to have my grant for this one; I must have had a
lot to drink last night."
He walked down the corridor and arrived on the promenade. The size
of the place astonishing him. Then he walked into Parrott's, and
noticed Holly's face.
"You the ship's AI?" he asked.
"Yes, Doctor," said Holly.
Shakespeare/Trisees growled in annoyance at being referred to as
Doctor.
"Where am I?"
"You're on the promenade of the Blue Dwarf," he said.
"The Blue Dwarf? Why am I here?"
"You're the ship's chief surgeon. You transferred here after an
altercation with your previous captain. You tried to cut his head
open with a drill?"
"What?" asked Shakespeare/Trisees. "I never attacked Professor
Jarantine. And doctor? Why would I be made doctor when I don't even
have a medical degree?"
"Doctor William Shakespeare!" called someone behind him.
Shakespeare/Trisees turned around to see the sleeping woman
standing a few metres away.
"STOP CALLING ME THAT!" he shouted viciously. "I'm not your damned
doctor! I want to see the captain of this vessel! There's been a
mistake somewhere, I should be on Callisto!" He pushed away a nearby
waiter who had walked over to try and calm him down.
Shakespeare/Trisees stood still, waiting for some kind of action, his
eyes darkened with anger.
Coffey continued unfazed.
"William, I want you to return to the medibay, I think there's
something wrong with you," she said.
"I'M NOT A DOCTOR! TAKE ME TO THE CAPTAIN!" he screamed. "I'm in
no mood for games!"
Coffey gulped, worried. `We have a severe problem,' she thought.
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OOC - I think I've regained my creativity.
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