Inequitable Justice, Part I

[Tachyon 0]

“Stormward Bound”

Inequitable Justice, Part I

A Joint Log by Dave Grey, PhD; Jas McCellan, MD; and Dr. Tratos, NPC

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It was a hospital. A very nice hospital, yes, but a hospital nonetheless, and J.S. Bach Neurology Hospital elicited the normal reaction for hospitals. They were places sick people went to get better. Or to die.

 

Dave Grey and Jas McCellan went to the hospital, the former with few hopes and the latter with a resignation that stemmed from several worries. It was overcast, the dark clouds rumbling and threatening rain. A few tentative drops, as if to test the willingness of the entities on the rock below, landed on Grey’s head as he stepped inside the large building.

 

Doctor Tratos met them at the entrance. He smiled disarmingly, offering a hand in greeting and withdrawing it when neither met with interest. “I suppose this isn’t the happiest occasion that we meet again. But it is an occasion nonetheless, Lieutenant Grey!” The false joviality his tone espoused was replaced by a slightly more professional, practiced bedside manner. “I’ll take you to her.”

 

He led them up several floors to their long-term care wing. Other doctors clad in white lab coats passed them on the way, not even acknowledging their existence. Shortly they arrived at the entrance to Harriet’s—or, as the door identified her, patient 0097-XL-8233-GH—room. The door was a spotless white and shined with malice at Grey.

 

“You sure you’re ready?” Tratos asked.

 

Grey looked at the white stainless door that separated him from his sister. He sighed. “No. But let’s do it anyway.” He pushed the door open.

 

Inside, Harriet lay on the bed, her body covered in a thin linen blanket. The room, like the rest of the hospital, was a cheerfully depressing white. It looked clean and rigorously maintained. The same, unfortunately, could not be said for Grey’s sister. Once of athletic build, her body had withered to a shadow of its former self. Bones showed through jaundiced skin and her hair lacked lustre. She lay perfectly still, the picture of a corpse, and could be mistaken for bed were it not for the almost imperceptible rise and fall of the linen blanket.

 

Grey moved to the bedside and took Harriet’s thin hand. “Oh, sis . . . what?” He was at a loss for words. Harriet’s eyes fluttered open at the touch, and she stared at Grey uncomprehendingly. For a second, it was as if she could not recognize him or her whereabouts, the world became a story without past or future, only an unmemorable present.

 

Then the cloudiness cleared and a sad smile graced her lips. “Dave . . .” she managed to croak.

 

Jas just observed, and trembled. She was not used to seeing a human being decline so many levels at this point. Even though she was a doctor, the sight still haunted her, a sign that her humanity was still intact. She remained silent.

 

“Harriet, I—I—” he broke off, unsure how to start a conversation that had lapsed for six months. Just being in the same room as his sister led to overwhelming emotions, a mixture of grief and happiness, with a fair amount of relief. These emotions threatened to overcome his faculties, and Grey had a hard time even thinking.

 

Harriet’s face scrunched up and she closed her eyes in obvious pain. “So . . . tired. So difficult to stay awake. The clouds are so . . . heavy.” Her hand was limp and unresponsive in Grey’s.

 

The scientist looked up at Tratos. Doctor Tratos in turn looked back at Grey. “She’s deteriorating more quickly than I originally predicted,” he remarked. “After six months . . . the Tovanengitis has spread throughout her entire system and is taking her synapses apart. It won’t be long now.” Harriet’s implied fate hung between them, a barrier stronger than the thickest duranium bulkhead or the most advanced Vulcan shield.

 

Jas twitched but remained silent; she knew from past experience that in moments like this, she should let the family of the unfortunate be at peace. A though struck her, and she wondered: Did Grey consider her family? Her mind pressed on despite the events unfolding in front of her.

 

A sour look of anguish—or was it defeat?—crossed Grey’s face. He glanced at the two doctors, biting his lip. Like an erupting volcano, he surged to his feet, easily towering over them, and shouted, “Can’t you do anything?! Anyone?!” The room was queerly silent. “All this technology,” he swept his hand across the room,” all this medicine, and you can’t cure her!

 

“We’ve come so far: warp drive, transporters, hull plating. But we can’t even save the ones we love from an accident. Humans try to explore the universe, but the universe bites back and we aren’t protected from its wrath. How do we dare to do this every day? How is it fair to her, to me?!” At this point, his litany broke off and he sat back down in his chair, obviously spent. He managed one last, “Why. . . .”

 

A troubled Dr. Tratos made a noise with his tongue and teeth, though it was difficult to annoy or anger him, his patience was starting to thin—the patience for his patient that is. At last he managed something polite and, to his surprise, sympathetic. “We’re doing as much as we can, Mr. Grey . . . no, screw that, we’re DOING EVERYTHING WE CAN. But . . . we’re just not advanced enough to cure the problem, but it’s coming. . . .”

 

Tratos reached for a wrapped item and handed it to Grey. “Cheeseburger?” Jas stared at her counterpart.

 

The audacity of the man. Grey gritted his teeth and snatched the cheeseburger from Tratos’ hand and tossed it out the window. (The burger, unbeknownst to Grey, would hit an illiterate pigeon on the way down, which would subsequently squish an insect. This insect’s DNA held a mutation that would have advanced human medicine by hundreds of years.) “No, I don’t want a cheeseburger! I—I—I’m sorry, doctor.” He calmed down once again, taking several deep breaths before continuing. “I’m just frustrated, that’s all, I don’t mean it. To see her there, withering away. . . .”

 

Tratos started. “Well, there is one thing we can do. . . .”

 

“Yes?” Grey perked, grasping at the thin straws of hope.

 

The doctor glanced nervously at Jas. “But it’s risky.”

 

“Life is risky for her at this point, Dr. Tratos!”

 

Jas folded her arms in front of her and nervously looked from face to face. “We’ll find a way . . . I . . . I . . . I promise.” She looked away.

 

Tratos held a thumbs up to Jas and smiled defiantly against Grey’s despairing expression. “There, Mister, you got two promises holding out! How can you lose? However. . . .”

 

“What is it, doctor?”

 

Tratos’ expression went blank. “We think we have a way to at least prolong your sister’s life,”—and her suffering, thought Grey—“but it may seem drastic, to you. We want to artificially induce a coma.”

 

Grey furrowed his brow. “A coma?”

 

“Yes. It would lower her brain activity dramatically, slowing the progress of the disease. It would give us more time to work on the problem.”

 

Jas walked slowly and quietly over. If no one in the room had sensitive ears, they wouldn’t have heard her coming. She thought about what Tratos said. She was against doing that since, in her opinion, it was not right to induce a coma. Looking at this situation, however, she had to differ her opinion for Grey’s sake. “I have to agree. I couldn’t imagine you losing her, Grey. I mean . . . uh. . . .” She looked away again.

 

Grey got up and paced in front of the window. It was a decision no one wanted to make. Pale faced, he looked at both Tratos and Jas with watery eyes and sighed. “I need . . . to think about it. Alone.”

 

Tratos nodded and walked towards the door. “Dr. McCellan, I am scheduled for a neurology lecture. I would be . . . honoured to have a space cadet medic to give a ‘special’ for my class. Up to it?”

 

Jas glanced at the poor being on the bed, then to the poor being brooding his heart out at the window. “He needs to be alone, right? I’ll come along. . . .” with a wave to Grey she left the room with the other doctor.

 

Grey was alone to make a decision that would change the life of his sister and their family. He had spoken with them after arriving back on Earth, and they had said they would support his decisions, understanding that his bond with Harriet was as close as a brother and sister could be.

 

More than anything, though, it was not Harriet’s death and suffering that he feared for her. No, as much as he wished she could not feel this pain, deep down in his heart, Grey had a terrible secret, a selfish desire. Grey wanted Harriet to live because he would not be able to bare being alone.