"Mr. Granger"

[Dox Maturin 0]

"Mr. Granger"

Personal Log 0706.12

 

Dox stood in his quarters, having rushed out of the main science lab just minutes after the captain made his announcement. They were heading into battle; one with little odds of success. He put his hand to the glass of the long view port in his quarters, staring out into space. Somewhere the USS Relica, the Nova Class ship he had served on as a civilian under his mentor, was out there exploring. How he longed to be back with them.

 

"We'll be fine, Jonathan," a woman spoke from behind him. He didn't have to turn around to know that it was Claire. He just closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that if he concentrated hard enough she would disappear. But when his eyes opened she was still there, standing next to him.

 

"We were soldiers after all," she smiled reassuringly, "11 missions in all. Don't you remember?"

 

Dox furrowed his brow and looked incredulous at her. "I was a triage nurse. You were a communications officer. I do not believe either of us held a weapon once during our entire tour with the marines. To consider us soldiers is preposterous. And need I remind you? You died."

 

He closed his eyes again and the memory flashed forward. Kneeling over her body in the dark, a light drizzle falling over the soaked gray rocks, light flashing overhead as disruptors and phasers exchanged fire, looking down at her open vacant eyes and the black hole in her chest.

 

Claire said nothing. She looked out the window with him and sighed. "Not to worry," she nodded matter of factly, "he'll protect us if we need it."

 

"Who?" Dox darted his eyes from star to star.

 

"Mr. Granger, of course," she pointed to the back corner of the room.

 

Dox turned his head, peering into the dark of his quarters. There sat a man in the corner in an armchair. He was elderly, wearing plain but wrinkled clothing and holding a short glass of amber liquor. His left pant leg hung limp over the edge of the chair; his leg missing from the mid-calve. It was the man Dox saw often when he was frightened.

 

Sometimes the old man would sit and stare at him for hours, keeping him awake at night. He used to try to talk to him, to find out why he was there, but the old man never spoke. He just sat there, drank a drink that never became empty, and muttered too softly to be heard. It was Claire that had told him his name. Mr. Granger.

 

Dox held his hand to his forehead and squeezed. "I am going mad."

 

"Nonsense," Claire said, just as the computer terminal beeped. Dox stepped over it and tapped the panel, bringing up a brief message.

 

"What is it?" she asked.

 

"Science," Dox frowned, "has been merged with Operations." He tapped a few buttons and an image of Laarell appeared. "At least now we have a department head. Ms Teykier."

 

Claire plopped herself down into a chair. "How exciting," she said dryly, "speaking of which, shouldn't we be working?"

 

Dox chuckled and tugged down on his tunic. He spun away from the terminal; both Claire and the old man were gone. Smiling inwardly, he headed out of his quarters to return to his shift.