By Alison Schneider
100204.2026
Time: Current
100204.2026
Time: Current
-=Starfleet Medical, San Francisco=-
“I need you.”
Martin Hartcort looked up from the padd he was reading and glanced at the woman standing in the frame of his office door. He set down the PADD and wryly replied, “And here it was, I never thought I was your type.”
Alison Schneider walked into the office and plopped down in one of the chairs sitting opposite of Hartcort’s desk. “You’re not,” she admitted.
He leaned back in his chair, amused, yet hardly surprised by the conversation. “Too old?”
Alison pursed her lips. “I do like them young,” she continued. “But no, too married. It’s the cardinal rule, after all.”
“Ah, I am safe but for that rule. How nice to know.” Sitting forward, he asked, “So, what can I do for you today?”
“I need access to one of the surgery labs.” She scootched forward and tossed a padd in his direction.
He did not look at it, let alone touch it. “Since when did you decide to use the medical degree part of your education?”
“Hey now, I am qualified,” came the hardly offended, yet rapid fire response. “Not that I would trust me, which is why I have secured the aid of a certain Starfleet doctor.”
“And would that certain doctor be---”
“--your son,” she interrupted.
Martin gave her a once over. “Not who I was going to say.”
“I know, and we’re not going there,” Alison said with a wink.
“So, what mischief is my son up to?”
“I haven’t a clue ---this time--- but there is a little girl who is coming here for a procedure, and it would be wonderful if we had access to the best equipment that Starfleet medical and science has to offer.”
“So, there is truth to Dron’s bragging?”
Alison scowled. “Can that Ferengi not keep his mouth shut? I nearly reshaped the cartilage of his ears last time I was with him.”
“He may have good lobes for a Ferengi, but I too have eyes and ears everywhere.”
It was meant as a light-hearted joke, but Alison scowled again nonetheless. “You’re not the only one. Rumor has it that the little green hobgoblin is amassing power by spying everyone.”
Martin gave her a patient, but neutral smile. It was actually true that Commander Kelvik, the head of Starfleet Science, was seeking to make changes, ones which would influence both Starfleet Science and Medical, but he did not wish to provide Alison with further reason to vent her spleen. “The surgery,” he thus prompted.
“Right. Well, you have the power to authorize my use of a surgery suite.”
“And you just couldn’t go through the proper channels, because?”
“Well, there have to be some benefits to personally knowing you.”
Martin worked hard to keep a straight face. “So, I’m a friend with benefits.”
Alison chuckled. “Yes, except without the typical benefits.”
Martin finally picked up the padd she had tossed in his direction earlier. “There you go, Alison,” he said as he signed and returned the PADD to her. “Set up a time with surgery.”
She took the padd back and with a big smile said, “Thank you, Martin.”
-=Starfleet Science, San Francisco=-
“Computer,” Alison said, as she walked back into her office, “open up a channel to the USS Serendipity, to its sickbay.”
The computer chirped and established the connection. The call connected immediately, although it took a minute for someone on the other end to answer. It was a very tired looking Lance Hartcort.
[Alison,] he said, perking up slightly, [to what do I owe the pleasure?]
“Good news.”
Lance took a moment to look through the sickbay and the patients who were still in his care. [I could use some.]
“As soon as you can give me date, I can get you not only a surgical suite here in San Fran, but I can secure for you one of the new surgery labs, next gen equipment and all.”
[That’s wonderful,] he replied, the news actually relieving some of the tension he had been feeling recently given all of the calamity that had surrounded the Sera crew. [I’ll get you a date as soon as possible.]
“Good.” Alison moved to sever the connection, but then stopped. “Oh, but when we are done with this, you are going to owe me one very nice dinner.”
[I think that can be arranged. I know a place or two.]
“Good,” she repeated, “because it is going to take some considerable work to get this lined up.”
The all too evident stress lines in his face partially relaxed. [Do you mean to tell me that you have found someone immune to your charms?]
“That’ll be the day,” she said with a laugh. “No, that’s just the problem. The new head of surgery is an absolute doll.”
[That should make your life easier.]
Alison sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Yeah, except for some reason, he’s fallen hard for me.”
Lance simply shook his head, amused. [For some reason,] he replied, lightly mocking her choice of words.
“Honestly! I didn’t do anything. This time. At least intentionally. But he is so sweet.” She paused and thought about it for a second. “And he is a surgeon. They are quite skilled with their hands.” She looked at him innocently. “Or so I’ve heard.”
Lance nodded his head; her innocence was as well established as his own. Still, the light-hearted banter was good right now. There had been too much darkness, too many complications, too much injury, not to mention death, recently. A moment of inanity was almost like a breath of fresh air, and looking at Alison and the way she was evaluating him without really overtly showing it, he suspected that it was the real reason for her continuing banter. She didn’t have to know in order to know.
[I’ll get everything together on this end once my sickbay is free of patients.]
Sensing his return to the serious, Alison followed suit. “Good. And Lance.”
[Yes?]
“When this is done, if you need to talk…”
He said nothing, but simply nodded, which was answer enough.
Lieutenant Alison Schneider
Starfleet Research
Starfleet Research