SD 960818.14 Log - Dr Alexander D. Graves Part 3

[Toby Latcham]

“I... uh,” Alexander stammered, “I’ve seen quite a bit for the short
time I’ve been here. It’s... a dire situation.”

“That it is.” Penn nodded, “New arrival, huh? Can’t say I expected it.
I mean, we get plenty of folks landing every day, some here to find
their fortune, others trying to find a home, but it’s rare to see a
doctor...”

“Surgeon.”

“... surgeon among them. Did you get lost on your way to Risa?” He
asked with his tongue firmly in his cheek.

“Well, I’ll be honest and say that this wasn’t meant to be my final
destination. There was an opening at a starbase further in the
Ohmacht,” Alexander explained, “I ticked all the boxes and was offered
the job, but while I was heading out there, they reconsidered and
pulled the plug. It’s not the first time, either. I’ve become
something of an untouchable.”

“Don’t tell me it’s because you’ve been keeping the morgue busy...”
Penn already knew the real reason, of course. He had spent the evening
researching Alexander’s history extensively, making sure he was worth
their trouble. His only disappointment was to see how far this once
decorated surgeon had fallen, having had several promising starts in
both Starfleet command and Federation politics. To Penn, Alexander had
spent his entire career undermining his own ability, and as he studied
the dirt-encrusted shell of a former jewel in the Journal of the
Federation Medical Association’s research crown, he did spare a
thought for the man – but not for very long. It was difficult to feel
sympathy towards anyone who had such staggering opportunities at their
feet, only to piss them away. And besides, Alexander’s loss was soon
to be the company’s gain.

“Hmmm?” Alexander’s thoughts had drifted for a moment, but he quickly
returned to reality. “I’ll have you know my statistics are impeccable.
I’m very good,” he stated, rather matter-of-factly, “Top of my class,
actually.” He had a momentary hesitation in his final response – after
all, he was only second in his class, but Judith was still a bitch and
he had decided long ago that he’d be damned if he travelled the galaxy
to sing her praises. “Pfft, paediatrics, it’s not even a thing...” he
scoffed.

“Sorry?” Penn brow furrowed.

“Oh, it’s just... this... nevermind,” Alexander waved his hand
dismissively, returning to the original conversation, “Anyway, as I
mentioned, Starfleet would rather not take the risk in returning me to
duty. Even if they did, after my time here, I’m not so sure I’d
accept.”

Penn nodded in support, “You understand the struggles we face here,
then?”

“Indeed.” Alexander replied with grim simplicity.

“Good.” Penn leant forward once more. “Li’ena’s already explained our
desperation. We often have wounded, but with no other medical
facilities on the planet besides Starfleet, we can’t get them the help
they need. I can’t tell you how many of our people have died
unnecessarily, simply because the only doctors around here wear
uniforms and carry handcuffs. We need help.” He placed a firm emphasis
on his last point, “I won’t lie – this isn’t going to be easy. We’ll
keep you out of harm’s way as much as we can, but if Starfleet catches
you, you could be in more strife than you are now.” Penn was hitting
the hard sell.

Alexander shook his head, “If they’re going to put me away for
treating the wounded, let them. I’ll drag them through the press. I
know people.” He threatened defiantly. “Besides, it’s not like things
could get too much worse. What’s Starfleet going to do? Send me to New
Zealand and then not hire me even more?”

“It’s not all bad, though,” Penn smiled, “We’ll move you to your own
lodgings, closer to base. They’ll be more comfortable than our safe
houses, don’t worry. From there, you’ll have access to any wounded
that come in. And we’ll be able to pay you too, now and then.
Starfleet’s been ramping up their security, but we’ll keep finding
ways to get the supplies to the people.”

“Pay?” Alexander’s interest piqued, “That’s rather lucky, I’ve already
run up a tab at the bar. The scaly fellow doesn’t accept credits, and
he doesn’t seem the type I’d like to annoy.”

“Don’t worry about it, he’s a friend of ours,” Penn waved his hand,
“Consider it gone. So, what do you say?”

Maybe this was it. Maybe this is what he had been looking for all
along, Alexander thought. It wasn't a directorship, or a laid-back
command posting, but Alexander's pickings were slim. He was already
stuck on this rock, for well into the near future as far as he could
see, and laid out before him was not only a group that needed his
skills, but a chance to make a rewarding contribution to those who
needed it the most. At least, that's what he thought. Regardless,
Alexander had always wondered what it felt like to be proud of a hard
day's work, and now it was time he found out.

“Okay.” Alexander eagerly rose to his feet, and offered his open palm
with a nod. Penn pulled himself up slowly, and took Alexander’s hand
once more.

“Welcome aboard,” He smiled warmly.

“Good to be aboard,” Alexander replied, “Tell you what, you should let
me take a look at the leg.”

“You already have,” Penn shot back, “At least, one of your peers did.
Nothing that could be done, I’m afraid. But believe me, you’ll have
plenty of patients that need your attention more than I do.”

“Fair enough,” Alexander conceded, and turned to Li’ena.

She was grinning from ear to ear, and quickly grabbed Alexander by
both arms, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek. She stopped
halfway and gave a playfully inquisitive look. “What’s that smell?”
She asked.

“Oh... just some ointment... for my face...” Alexander stammered and
motioned towards his wound, unaware of Li’ena’s telepathy.

Her expression turned to a look of awkward disgust, “Oh.”

[Meanwhile, in a nearby courtyard]

“One of the residents says it was sometime during the early hours this
morning,” A red-collared sentry flipped through a PADD,
disinterestedly sweeping his boot through the dirt at his feet, “Some
shouting, humanoid female and an unknown male, possible Gorn or
Nausicaan. Humanoid female was in obvious distress. Reports of a
physical altercation, but no weapons fire. No visual descriptions, too
dark and no vantage points.”

His counterpart yawned. “Seriously, this is what we get first up?” The
soldier put his hands by his side and surveyed the area with apparent
annoyance, “We have collapsed buildings and triage centres to the
north, industrial disputes and mob violence to the south, and they
have us chasing nocturnal whispers hours after the fact?”

“You know the rules,” the sentry replied, deactivating the PADD and
wiping his brow with his hand, “Command wants us following up every
complaint, even if we’re only here as a visible presence.” He briefly
wondered what might have happened to the humanoid female before
pushing the thought aside in favour of the various other reports of
violence and crime.
“I tell you, things are going from bad to worse in this shithole.
Another shipment went missing in storage last week. It won’t be long
until Starfleet’s forced to go door-to-door.”

The soldier scoffed with a grin, “I hear that,” he affirmed before
motioning to the sentry, “Either way, I’ve got twenty more reports to
check out, and one hell of a hangover, so can we just do a sweep and
get moving?”

“If you’re so keen on playing detective, why don’t you sniff out some
clues. There’s your start.” The sentry pointed towards a discarded,
black satchel lying against the wall of a dark corner, parallel to the
courtyard.

The soldier frowned as he approached the bag, picking it up and
opening its side, “Hmmm.” He frowned, pulling out a slightly-worn
Starfleet uniform, “Sciences division, looks to be Lieutenant
Commander. No name or ID, though.”

“That’s odd, it’s one of the older uniform issues. See? No stitching
on the sleeve joins,” The sentry noted with a raised eyebrow, “Usually
you’re meant to turn them in when you receive your new gear. There’s
not much point holding onto an outdated uniform. Is there anything
else?”

The soldier peered inside and gave a chuckle, “Only an 18 year old
single malt,” He grinned and held up the bottle, “Gold label too. I
don’t see this ending up in lost property.”

A smile was the response from the sentry. “I think we’ve made quite a
good haul this morning, wouldn’t you say?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
End Log.

Dr Alexander D. Graves
Surgeon
The Company