Mortal Coil Part II

[Tachyon 0]

Mortal Coil, Part II

Soliloquy

(Joint Log by Dave Grey and Jas McCellan)

-----------------------------------------------------

Grey was struck with simmering indecision. Finally, he reacted somewhat rashly and called one of the only people he knew . . . Dr. McCellan, a colleague on Challenger. She agreed to come to Vancouver upon hearing what had transpired with Harriet.

 

Jas McCellan stepped up to the receptionist’s desk in the J. S. Bach Neurology Hospital. “Where is patient 0097-XL-8233-GH?” she inquired.

 

The receptionist looked up. “You need authorization to visit any patients in that wing.” She was of the current trend of receptionists, that type who thought of their job as a placeholder, only a step until their true career began. Her tone was disagreeable, and her face dull and unenthusiastic.

 

Jas looked at the receptionist. “Authorization ...” She looked around and wonder if she forgotten something.

 

Suddenly, a familiar voice came from one of the hallways. “Dr. McCellan!” Although it sounded somewhat happy, it is laced with a deeper saturation of sadness. Dave Grey approached and nodded at the receptionist. “This is Dr. McCellan, I called her in for patient 0097-XL-8233-GH.”

 

The receptionist just gave the small half-sneer she was prone to give uppity family members. “Very well.”

 

Jas' upper eye lid twitched at the half sneer and looked at Grey and began walking with him. “You don't look well. How have you been?”

 

As they headed for the wing in which his sister was housed. Grey sighed, and replied, “Not well . . . I came home expecting rest and relaxation . . . but,” he glanced at her. “Sorry to involve you in this, but I didn't know of many others to call, I just feel like I need . . .” he wondered if Jas knew the infuriating attitude of Dr. Tratos.

 

“Ah, it’s no problem, I …” She searched for better words. “I wanted to see living patients again ... what happened to Marks ... hurt.” Jas sighed and looked down as they walked.

 

Grey had forgotten that Jas recently encountered her own string of bad experiences as well. “Ah, yes . . .” he looked up to see the room number appear on the next door. “And we're here.” He pushed the door open.

 

Dr. Tratos stood in the room, munching on a cheeseburger as he glanced at Harriet's vital signs. “Don't mind me,” he said.

 

“This is Dr. Tratos,” Grey said. “Tratos, McCellan. McCellan, Tratos. Doctor, doctor. Doctor, doctor. Specialist, Starfleet officer. Starfleet officer, specialist.” After exchanging these greetings multiple times, Grey stood back.

 

Jas frowned at Tratos and his cheese burger then signed and walked forward to shake his hand. “You haven't changed a bit.” She said then looked at Harriet.

 

Grey’s sister was asleep in the bed, blissfully ignorant to the conversation beyond her realm of dreams. She needed to rest, and recover from the physical discomforts of her accident, before even beginning to confront its long-term implications. Her face was creased with worry, even unconscious, but there was a certain peace about her expression.

 

Jas looked back at Dr. Tratos. “She looks terrible, just from Tovanengitis?”

 

Tratos shrugged. “Well, she just fell from a cliff, broke her legs, and fractured a skull.” He handed her a PADD, and left the room. Grey hovered about, glancing from Jas to his sister and back again. The former looked . . . engaged, while the latter was sleeping peacefully. He sighed, unsure what to do.

 

Jas read over the notes and noticed the witty inconsiderate remarks in them but nevertheless he was one of the best neurologists in the field. Though people always say he needs some manners.

 

Jas remembered when the first case was documented, around 4 years ago and this was about the fifth case. “This might require surgery.” She said softly and stroked Harriet's hair.

 

Harriet's chest fluttered gently as she stirred in her sleep, but otherwise did not respond. Grey did. “I . . . I just can't believe what's going on. To wake up every day, wondering if this will be her last . . . to be faced with the knowledge that she is terminal, and I can't do anything . . . what do I do?”

 

Jas walked over to Grey and looked at him in the eye. “She'll be fine, I’ll make sure Tratos treats her with his knowledge. Even if he makes the best cheese burgers here.” Jas didn't believe it but she smiled at Grey after a few seconds. "Would you like to study up on neurology?”

 

Jas' smile was somewhat disarming, and did much to lighten Grey's heart, if not his mind. The latter was drowning in the torment of knowledge and resentment. He mulled over her offer for some brief moments, but his mind did need something to do, and it seemed so . . . necessary to his sister's condition. “I guess.”

 

Jas patted him on the shoulder. “We could talk here ... after we get some food.”

 

“Sure,” said Grey. As they left the hospital, his eyes saw an advertisement for “Tratos' Premium Cheeseburgers” on the bulletin board in the lobby. “In the mood for a cheeseburger?”

 

“Sure,” She smiled again. “He hasn't changed a bit.”

 

Perhaps Tratos had not changed, but things in Grey’s life were changing, and dramatically so. In just a few days, his modicum of control had been shattered, and everything had started to move dangerously quickly. He was confronted with this enormous responsibility, problem, or tribulation, and completely unprepared for the consequences.