The Bonds We Share

[Tachyon 0]

“The Bonds We Share”

Robin Rawel

May 24, 2156

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The hospital was bright, and far more lively at night than she would have wanted. The receptionist on duty took one look at Robin and pointed dourly in the direction of the lift. Robin muttered a hasty thank-you and slipped inside the lift, directing it to the right floor. She wanted to get this over with.

 

The floor to which she went was eerier than the main lobby, although still quite bright. There were less people, but more of them wore the blue smocks that one associates with medical personnel. In fact, statistics show that most of the people are not medical personnel, but infiltrators attempting to disguise themselves as medical personnel. A recent study done by Useless Polling Corp. reveals up to 72% of the blue-smock-wearing people on a floor may not actually be medical personnel.

 

Robin was not aware of this statistic as she crossed the smooth, newly waxed floor, looking up and down the corridor for the office which she sought. It was a corner office, more of a janitor's closet than anything, but eventually she found it tucked between what appeared to be a surgical bay and a tennis court.

 

It was a very good hospital.

 

She did not bother to knock; he was expecting her. He said, “Close the door behind you,” and Robin closed the door before she sat down across from him.

 

“Stand up,” he said, his back still turned to her.

 

“Er . . .”

 

“I said, stand up.”

 

Shrugging, Robin clambered to her feet and stood there, her unease increasing as the particles in the room slowly decayed into entropy, releasing smaller particles that collided to produce minuscule amounts of energy that entered her body in the form of radiation in a never-ending process some people have mistakenly labelled the Universe.

 

The man—doctor, Robin corrected herself—now swivelled his chair around so that he faced her. “I'm Dr. Tratos,” he said. “Please, sit down.”

 

“But you just said—”

 

“I know what I said,” Tratos replied. “I taped it, in case I forgot.” He pressed a button on his desk console, and their brief conversation played back. “I asked you to stand up so that I could ask you to sit down again. It's the polite thing to do, but rather hard to do with you already sitting.”

 

More confused than before, Robin nevertheless sat down and waited for him to begin. Instead, Tratos began to avidly munch on a cheeseburger, apparently oblivious to her presence. Only when she coughed again did he say, “Oh, you're still here? Well then. Have you made the preparations that your cousin requested?”

 

“Yes,” said Robin, wondering how this doctor had managed to obtain his medical credentials. “His letter took me by surprise. I've tried contacting him, but Starfleet communications says that Challenger is currently 'unavailable'.”

 

Tratos shrugged. “Yes, well, perhaps they're on some sort of deep undercover mission to infiltrate the Klingon High Command using awkward disguises and thinly-veiled technobabble. But how would I know?”

 

“Ri-ght. Anyway, I have obtained some of what we need. Other things will be harder—Starfleet has cracked down on the smuggling since the Terra Prime incident. I will need more time to get in touch with my contacts.”

 

“Time is not on our said, Ms Rawel. Harriet is stable for now, yes, but do not mistake her coma for stasis—her condition continues to deteriorate, albeit more slowly than before. She has less than a year. And if we try this procedure and it fails, it may be less than that.”

 

“I'm working as fast as I can! But bringing in this sort of equipment is highly conspicuous if I do it at once. I have to work through different channels, making sure that no one can connect one thing to another.”

 

“I understand your difficulties—I was just making you aware of Harriet's grave condition. Cheeseburger?” Tratos offered her one.

 

Shaking her head, Robin said, “No thanks. Do you . . . do you think this will work?”

 

“Of course it will work, Ms Rawel,” said Tratos, reclining back in his chair. “Just trust me. I'm a doctor!”