SD960912.03 Log - Dr Alexander D. Graves Part 2

[Toby Latcham]

Alexander stopped in his tracks. His mouth was open but no sound was
coming out. His smug expression quickly turned to concern. “Lesson
one...” he repeated, frowning with confusion, before taking a breath
and leaning forward. He closed his mouth and paused for almost a
minute as he thought. “Well... you should... uh... What is it you’re
actually going to do here?”

“Uh, hello?” Jyrant asked sarcastically, “I’m meant to be a medical
technician! I’ve never been one before, so you’re meant to tell me
what I’m meant to do. That’s the whole point!”

“Yes... that’s right...” Alexander nodded, his mouth again remaining
open in the hopes he would say something intelligent, but to no avail.
Alexander had been a surgeon for over 17 years, and only now, for the
first time, did he realise he had no idea what medical technicians
actually did.

His face contorted again in frustration, unable to accept that the
years of dealing with people like Avarine hadn’t provided him any
insight into the medical technician’s role in a clinic.

“Maybe you could just poison the minds of my medical staff, and make
complaints about my conduct?” Alexander referred to what had thus far
been the most memorable experiences of working with medical
technicians.

Jyrant frowned, "What?"


"Never mind," Alexander muttered dismissively before continuing,
"Look, as I've said, I've never needed a medical technician, so I have
no idea what to teach you."

"Well, okay, what kind of things are medical technicians skilled
enough to do in a sickbay?" Jyrant did his best to encourage
Alexander's memory.

“I don’t know... pouring cups of tea for patients, I guess?” Alexander
shrugged, before sternly adding, “But don’t do that. I don’t like tea.
Or patients. Once they start feeling comfortable here, they could get
the idea that I actually want to see them, which I most certainly do
not.”

“Right...” Jyrant frowned and spoke slowly, as if addressing a madman,
“So, basically, my entire job is to not give patients cups of tea.”

“Not your entire job, probably only about half of it.” Alexander
explained with an obvious lack of concern in his voice, “The other
half prefer coffee, so you’ll not be pouring them any cups either. Any
questions?”

“Yes. Heaps. Obviously.” Jyrant scoffed.

“Oh, good, well that can be another one of your responsibilities –
answering any questions the medical technicians may have.” Alexander
flashed a faux smile and began to tap away on his PADD.

“... and by medical technicians, you mean just me, right? My job is to
answer my own questions?”

“That sounds an awful lot like a question, Mr Talsyn. I’d hate to
think that you weren’t doing your job, especially so soon after you’ve
started.” Alexander swiveled in his chair to face a nearby drawer, and
began making a note of the equipment contained within, “Something like
that could mean we get off to a bad start!”

“Okay, fine. Whatever. My job is to not pour tea and coffee for
patients, and to answer my own questions.” Jyrant once-again regretted
racking up a large gambling debt with the company. If it wasn’t for
his lack of judgment and luck, he wouldn’t have to deal with the
obnoxious likes of Alexander Graves. “In that case, shall I give
myself permission to raid the drug supply?”

“What?! No!” Alexander shouted as his concentration was dissolved by
Jyrant’s suggestion, “Certainly not!”

“Hah, you just answered my question. You’re a surgeon doing the work
of a medical technician!” Jyrant laughed and pointed in scorn at
Alexander’s failure to avoid his own ploy.

“I am not, now shut up!” Alexander snapped, rising from his desk and
sternly glaring at the tattooed teenager, “You listen here, I don’t
want to see you go anywhere near that replicator!" He pointed directly
towards the array of crates draped in the brown, linen sheet.

"That's not a replicator," Jyrant grimaced, "They're just some crates.
They're nothing." There was something nervous, almost suspicious,
about his tone.

"Not this again..." Alexander groaned, before looking aside with a
curious glance. There was something very odd about those crates.
Perhaps this time, Alexander's inability to identify replicators
wasn't entirely his fault. "What's in those?"

“What?” Jyrant remained in position, not even bothering to look behind
him, “Nothing.”

“What's that sheet doing there?” Alexander continued his approach,
still glaring with suspicion. The crates definitely weren’t
replicators but there was still something about them that wasn’t quite
right. As he moved closer, he noticed the crates were connected by
pipes. Copper pipes. “That’s not... Hold on! Is that a still!?”

“No! Of course not!” Jyrant responded defensively and repositioned
himself to better hide the crates with his coat.

“It is a still!” Alexander shouted with a sense of achievement in his
voice, having just solved his first mystery. His suspicions were
rarely founded, but unlike those individuals he regularly accused, he
was glad he had kept to his guns. “I can see the pipes! What have you
done? Cut out some crates to put over it?!”

“Alright, fine, it’s a still. So what! It’s to make degreaser, okay?”
Jyrant offered a half-hearted excuse, in a mix of desperation and
frustration.

“Right. Degreaser. Very original.” Alexander muttered nonchalantly,
“And what, pray tell, are you degreasing?”

“The... computers.” Jyrant had to think on his feet.

“The computers. Really.” Alexander stated with bored skepticism, his
arms folded.

“Yes! They need to be degreased, alright?” The boy pointed to a nearby
computer panel, hoping to add legitimacy to his argument.

Alexander sighed. “Okay, let’s presume I actually believe this still
is to make degreaser. Let’s presume I’ve ignored the fact that, if the
still has a legitimate purpose, then it shouldn’t need to be hidden so
pathetically.” He spoke slowly as he analysed the situation, “What
remains is that, in all my decades of using computers, I’ve never seen
one that actually contains grease.”

“That’s right!” Jyrant enthusiastically made his point, “That’s
because they’ve been de-greased!”

Alexander frowned. The logic seemed infallible, and Alexander’s
technological deficiencies were notorious. His mind ignored his
present skepticism for the moment, and began to wonder whether or not
computers actually did contain grease. In the end, he resolved that it
was impossible – not due to any technical knowledge or experience, but
rather because Alexander wasn’t able to accept that the various
engineers he had served with over the years would take months to
repair the replicator in his office, and yet were somehow able to
degrease every computer in the ship with such regularity that
Alexander never noticed that the work was actually performed.

“Yeah... I’m not buying that.” Alexander stated bluntly, “Besides, you
don’t really seem to be the hard-working type. I’m going to presume
you’re intending to get hammered, yes?”

“Look, fine. Yes. Whatever. Most of us here need permission to use the
replicators, we can’t just zap ourselves some alcohol, and they don’t
have any in the kitchen! All I’m doing is making a few extra coins on
the side, and it doesn’t hurt anyone!” Jyrant’s voice became more
aggressive as he insisted upon the innocence of his actions.

Alexander set his gaze upon Jyrant for a brief moment, before turning
it back towards his discovery. He carelessly pulled the sheet off and
tossed it aside before he began removing one of the crates masking the
device. Alexander’s attention was then seized by a number of jars
resting next to the tap secured upon the end of one of the pipes. He
nudged one of them with his foot, and shook his head in disapproval.
“No. Absolutely not. This is not acceptable.”

Jyrant kicked the nearby bench in frustration. He folded his arms and
stamped the floor, glaring at Alexander viciously for ruining his
work. "Let me guess, you're some sort of Starfleet PADD-pusher who got
bullied too much in school, and now all you care about is making
everybody just as miserable as you are! Because, after all, you don't
drink, so why should anyone else!?"

Alexander looked up from the jars with a surprised grin upon his
face, almost having a fit as he attempted to restrain his chuckling,
“Oh yeah, and then I march up and down the corridors, prattling on
about regulation and duty, saying things like “No, we can’t do that,
it’s against the Prime Directive” or “But Doctor, the patient has the
right to refuse surgery!” Blah blah blah! Urgh, I hate those guys!”
Alexander gave a mock salute as he ridiculed his former colleagues,
but his wide grin quickly faded when he saw the annoyed expression on
Jyrant’s face. He had forgotten that his new assistant wasn’t aware of
his colourful past, but Alexander didn’t much care for explaining.
“No, look, you don’t understand. What I’m trying to tell you is...
urgh, hold on...”

Alexander bent down with a grunt, and retrieved one of the translucent
jars sitting next to the still’s tap. They were filled with a cloudy,
amber liquid, which Alexander briefly sniffed after having removed the
lid. His face twisted in revulsion, and he pressed the jar against
Jyrant’s chest firmly. “Drink this.”

“What?” Jyrant shifted his posture and took the jar in his hand,
looking at the contents with an uneasy frown, “Is this meant to teach
me a lesson or something?”

“Just drink it, alright?” Alexander insisted tiredly, this time
leaning up against the bench.

Jyrant cautiously held the jar to his lips and, with some reluctance,
took a small sip. His face, just like Alexander’s only moments prior,
was a picture of distaste. He failed to contain a spluttered cough,
and set the jar aside as cleared his throat.

“Bitter?” Alexander raised an eyebrow, now wearing a smug look of
satisfaction.

“We mix it with other stuff,” Jyrant’s response was interspersed by
another cough, “It’s not meant to be drunk straight.”

“But, that’s the point!” Alexander jumped down from his bench with a
little more enthusiasm than usual, “You should be able to drink it
straight, provided you have a mature palate, of course.” He lifted
another of the hollowed boxes away from the still to expose more of
the apparatus. “Your condenser is far too hot. It’s what’s causing the
bitterness, and dissolving any sediment before it can be filtered.
That’s why you keep getting this cloudy mess!”

Alexander shook his head with an astonished grin before returning to
his desk and his PADD. “Honestly, even with your crude disguise, it’s
an amateur job at best. It’s like Baby’s First Distillery in here!”

Jyrant’s concerned frown turned into confusion. He looked at the
condenser, then back to Alexander, and took a few steps towards the
surgeon as he spoke. “Wait, so you, like, know about stills and
stuff?”

“Yes, I, like, know about stills and stuff...” Alexander groaned, his
eyes remaining fixed to his PADD, “You would too if you bothered to
attend medical school.”

“You learnt about stills in medical school?” Jyrant continued his
curious interrogation, his voice now more surprised.

“Hmmm?” Alexander mumbled distantly, looking up from the desk and
shrugging, “Oh, well, not in class obviously, but when you’ve got dry
campus policies, you know, ‘needs must’ and all that.”

Jyrant simply gave a wry grin, and the tiniest glimmer of respect
appeared in his eyes, “So... you don’t mind if I keep the still?”

“What? Oh, by all means, continue. If you and I are to work together,
I dare say I shall need my fair share of ‘degreaser’.” Alexander waved
his palm in approval before returning to the work upon his desk,
“Although, I will ask you move it from my theatre. The patients may
get the wrong idea, as they so frequently do.”

“Fair ‘nough.” Jyrant agreed, returning to the still and looking over
his shoulder to Alexander, “Are you okay if I fix the condenser and
move the still now?”

Alexander broke his eye contact from his PADD for the final time,
moving his hand to rub his brow. “Well, unless you see any patients
here who need to not be given tea and coffee, I couldn’t imagine
there’d be anything more useful you to do. So, go right ahead. At your
earliest convenience.”

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

Dr Alexander D. Graves
Surgeon
The Company