Concerning Brown Sector

Posted on Sun 2nd Aug, 2020 @ 6:32am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Elizabeth Anderson M.D.

1,292 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Second Officer's Office
Timeline: MD-16, 1330 hours

Paul arrived at the Second Officer's office with about five minutes to spare before he was scheduled to meet with Dr. Elizabeth Anderson. He'd spent the first hour of his shift checking 109's distress beacons to ensure that they complied with Starfleet standards. He still had a few more to go before he'd be finished with the task, but they could wait until this meeting was over.

The Second Officer's office looked far more technological than his counseling office did. Here, he had three desktop monitors and a heads-up display to keep track of. The HUD showed 109's movement through Nanakaa's solar system, as well as the plotted courses of incoming and departing vessels and anything that might unexpectedly cross the starbase's path. The base's Flight Control Officer had a similar but more complex display that Paul had trained on.

The office door chimed, and Paul blinked. Was Dr. Anderson here already? Usually, he noticed people coming to see him. Paul glanced toward the door. "Come in!"

As the door retracted in front of her, Elizabeth looked around before stepping inside. She hadn't been in the higher official offices of the starbase, and felt a niggle of curiosity, though nothing like most humans would. "So this is where you hide when your clients become obstreperous," she teased. "Not a bad spot, Dr. Graves!"

Paul stood and came around his desk to greet her. "Ah, you figured me out! Welcome, and have a seat, Dr. Anderson. It's good to see you again. I don't think I've seen you since that evening at the casino. Thank you so much for your help that night."

After shaking his hand, Elizabeth sat in front of his desk. "That has been a while, hasn't it? I haven't had time to attend any of the concerts there since then, and it's only a deck away from my home." Changing topics, she said, "I was actually surprised to receive your invitation to meet."

"Would you like something to drink?" Paul asked. "This replicator doesn't have quite the variety of the one in my counseling office, but it can provide a decent tea or raktajino."

"No thanks. I had lunch not long ago, at the market in Brown Sector, actually," she shook her head, still wondering why she was meeting with him, in a formal office setting. "You know I'm doing some mornings and afternoons there each week? There's a lot of need, and people are beginning to come, to take the first steps toward building trust."

"All right. I hope you won't mind if I indulge." Paul ordered a black tea from the replicator and sat down at his desk across from Elizabeth. "Brown Sector is actually what I wanted to talk with you about. I want to thank you for your efforts there. I'm glad they're bearing fruit and that you're able to get some help to the people there who very much need it."

"How did you even know about it?" Anderson asked, surprised at anyone in the area talking about it.

"I'm Chief Counselor for this starbase," Paul said. "I'm responsible for looking after the mental health of all Starfleet personnel and those people Starfleet has extended aid to. Unfortunately, when Starfleet relinquished ownership of 109 after the Dominion War, we left for twenty years. I've been told that large parts of it were shut down after we left. Thus food became scarce, aid became scarce, and a criminal element moved in.

"With Starfleet gone the Civil Defense people didn't, apparently, continue with repatriation efforts for the people of Brown Sector, so at least one generation of children considers this starbase the only home they've ever known. The families no longer want to be repatriated because Starbase 109 has become their home. So, when we retook control of the base four years ago, they were not best pleased with what they consider their abandonment by Starfleet. They've learned to make do without us, and our efforts to rectify matters have been met with distrust. I've had few chances to work with them. Of the entire population down in Brown Sector, I've had only one patient see me for extended treatment in the four years I've been here. All of my other contacts have been clandestine."

"Yes, I understand the history. It's unfortunate, but since I'm not Starfleet, I'm hoping that people will come to trust me, in time. But who told you I was down there? That's what I'd like to hear. I doubt any of my clients did, and the Sheriff is pretty close-mouthed, too," Elizabeth said, smiling to take any possible sting from her words. Even with surveillance cameras, who would bring that to the doctor's attention?

"Li Kainon? Yes, he is!" Paul said with a light laugh. "He and I haven't even been formally introduced, yet, but I always know when he's nearby." Paul went on. "The one patient I've been seeing mentioned you to me during the Peldor Joi festival."

"Ah, mystery solved, then," Anderson said, leaning back comfortably in her chair. "So, what is it you think I can tell you about Brown Sector after my short stay there?"

"It's more that I would like to know in what ways I could be of help to you and your work down there," Paul said. "To be candid, you're doing my job for me--and, because I am Second Officer, I'm grateful that you've been willing to donate your time to Brown Sector thus far. I would be remiss, though, if I didn't offer you some kind of recompense for the work you're putting in. Otherwise, it would be exploitation on my part, and I don't want to treat you like that. I would rather work with you for the betterment of all involved."

Anderson shrugged, "My clients pay me what they can, and it's enough. I won't take money from Starfleet." She felt fiercely protective of her independent status, which wasn't easy to gain, and she wasn't going to give the Federation a chance to say she couldn't make it on her own if she were taking money from them. "There may be one or two people who could use palliative drugs which are expensive - too expensive for them or me. If there's a way to account for that without listing me or the client, I would accept that help, however."

Paull mulled that over. Her refusing Starfleet pay was unusual; most people donating their time would have been delighted to accept the offer. He tried to get a sense of her emotions, but she seemed utterly calm; the most Paul could feel from Dr. Anderson was certitude that she did not want to accept payment from Starfleet.

"That could be tricky," Paul said. "I do understand that you may have patients with shady pasts who would rather their real identities not be known. If they need the more expensive medications, I want to make certain they get them." He drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment and then abruptly began typing on his keyboard at a rapid rate. "All right ... No, can't do that. How about...?" He typed a bit more, read through his computer screen, and frowned.

"If I were working down there, I could provide samples free of charge and sign off on them. But you being a civilian makes it difficult. I can't just sign these kinds of drugs over to you, even though you're board-certified and fully licensed. The legal manual says that's too much like giving you pharmaceuticals under the table. Too much of an appearance of wrongdoing or conspiracy to commit wrongdoing. There's got to be a way."

"I can think of one way," Anderson said. "You could practice with me in Brown Sector."

 

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