The Executive Officer

This is about the time that the Executive Officer arrived on the scene.  Medically, things had been relatively straightforward up until this time.  However, Lieutenant-Commander Drapeau was the type of leader that loved to add complication to even the simplest situation.

"Is the Russian going to live?"  Drapeau asked.

"Probably, it is a moderate case of hypothermia, however, he is already showing signs that he is recovering," the Chief Medic said.  "We'll warm him up and see how he does."

Drapeau was pleased with this answer.  "Good," he said.  "There is far more paperwork for a dead body than for a live one."

Petty Officer First Class McKay, the Chief Medic, didn't respond.  He pretended that the XO didn't say what he had just said.  He was a much lower rank than the Executive Officer, but his title as Chief Medic gave him greater power.  As well, he was usually referred to as "Doc", despite the fact he wasn't officially a medical doctor.  Anyone that was called "Doc" seemed to have inordinate authority.

"Okay Doc... Just tell me this.  When will he be able to talk?"  Drapeau asked.

"We need to get his core temperature up to normal, and he's going to need rest," McKay replied.  "Likely, he will be able to speak to us in the morning."

"Okay, do your best Doc," Drapeau agreed.  "Make sure you have him handcuffed to the bed so when he wakes up he doesn't try to wander around.  We don't want him to leave this space and sneak around.  He will likely try to conduct espionage operations."

Petty Officer McKay looked at the patients face.  It was a young face... so innocent.  How could this boy conduct espionage, especially in this medical state?

An excerpt from Whiskey 601, a novel by Mark Nelson