But Tell It Slant

Posted on Fri 19th Apr, 2013 @ 12:31pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD

1,396 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: http://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/missions/id/3
Location: Gymnasium
Timeline: MD-05: 1630 hours

Paul headed to his favorite of the Protector's gyms lost in thought. At the moment, his highest priority was the senior staff. Making sure that Drake, Treia, Lee, Nyx, and everyone else didn't crack under the pressure of 49-Alpha's nightmare had to be his goal--even though everything else in him burned to track down the bastards responsible and do something vile to them..

He arrived at the gym, stowed his gym bag, and began warm-up stretches and exercises. This gym, unlike the ones typically found on a starship, had a running track in addition to the more usual treadmills. Paul began a relaxed run to warm his body up further before he began to push himself.

He took off on the track and gave himself over to the simple joy of running. It allowed him to clear his head--until he caught sight of Captain Adrian Dobbs also on the track.

Paul determinedly kept his gaze on the runner in front of him. There was absolutely nothing to tie Dobbs to the 49-Alpha lab--except the words of Devyn Kell, Nyx, and Cara Treia. All were people Paul trusted. Even if Dobbs had nothing to do with the lab found on Protector, he couldn't be an entirely savory person.

But if he wasn't connected to their lab, perhaps he might know who was? If there were other people leading prominent, public lives while concealing atrocities, perhaps he might be able to gain leads, find out who else might have been working here during the Dominion War.

Paul made his decision and continued his run. Another half-lap brought him within speaking distance of Dobbs. He nodded at the man in greeting. "Hello, sir. Didn't expect to see you here."

Dobbs turned his head slightly to see the other runner on the track - of course he had known from the minute he walked in who he was... but normality demanded a recognition at this point. "Ah, Lieutenant Graves... isn't it?"

Paul nodded. "Yes. I usually come here to unwind after my shift," he said. "How are you liking your time on the station?"

"Oh very much, it brings back quite a few memories! It's always nice to visit old postings! Where were you before Protector?" Had Graves been sent here or was it just coincidence? Either way, it mattered not.

"Various ships; this is my first starbase posting. I served on the Ken for a year and before that, on the Audacious," Paul said. "What about you? I've paid more attention to your journal articles than to your duty stations. Have you been posted to Earth for a while, or have you been out and about?"

"Mainly on Earth - my job comes with a Hell of a lot of meetings" He chuckled to himself, outwardly towards the 'joke' but inwardly towards the bare faced lie that he had just told. He started to wonder where, exactly, this conversation was going. He could keep up the polite small talk with the best of them.

"Meetings, the bane of a sane man's existence," Paul said dryly, noting the flash of mocking amusement, of inner triumph at deflecting something so easily it was funny. He gave no indication that he had noticed, however. It was not the first time he'd ever been lied to, nor would it be the last.

"I hope you'll forgive my intruding on your workout, but I became interested in your work with nano-prosthetics after I met a concert harpist who played using one of the prosthetic hands you developed. The range and speed of motion, in both abduction and adduction, astounded me. I can only presume that the tactile sensory network had to be equally sensitive and discriminating. It must have taken you and your team years to develop."

Dobbs let out an involuntary laugh... a snide laugh... "We've come on leaps and bounds since then, Lieutenant. A mere hand is the least of our successes". He slowed down to a light jog, "How do you know so much about nano-prosthetics?". He knew, at this point, that this meeting was decidedly going to go in one of two ways.

A 'mere' hand? Paul thought, incredulous. Let's see where this rabbit-hole leads. "This was back over a decade ago. I was fortunate enough to meet the harpist that night--Helig Verr of Andoria--and the recital's program notes mentioned who had developed her prosthesis. After that, I began reading as many of your papers as I could. Half of them were over my head, but the parts of them I could understand without my eyes glazing over were marvelous. After I joined Starfleet, I began having the occasional patient who'd had to undergo amputation. Understanding the process of your work helped me treat them."

"I see" The sickly smile returned to the man's face almost instantaneously, perhaps this wasn't a ploy. "Well, it's always nice to have a fan". He turned and carried on running.

The brush-off was amazingly and disturbingly just as he had told Drake earlier: He will choose his associates, not the reverse. Paul didn't attempt to keep up with Dobbs on the track. Work with what you've got, he thought. Instead, he kept himself aware of where Dobbs was, and when Dobbs ended his run, Paul did too. He didn't follow Dobbs into the locker room. Instead, he went for a drink of water and then entered the locker room, knowing it had only the one exit, which he had not seen Dobbs come out of.

He wanted a hot water shower but settled for a sonic one instead; it was quicker and would get him just as clean. A couple of minutes later, he stepped out of the stall and pulled on clean clothes. Now, where was Dobbs?

The training that Starfleet had put Dobbs through... due to his particular, specialty... had made him ultra aware and ultra suspicious of everyone and everything. The conversation they had, had came to a natural closure. However the good Lieutenant finishing his run at the same time as himself... too suspicious. 'The game is afoot', he thought to himself.

Appearing from behind a row of lockers, directly in front of Graves... having already changed back into his uniform... he spoke in a dark and almost malicious tone, "Enjoy your run, Lieutenant?"

"Oh, there you are--" Paul began and then assumed a confused look at Dobbs' tone, though he'd sensed the man's emotions and had expected the hostility. "I was hoping to catch you before you left, so I could ask if there are any people in your field working in this area of space. But if now's a bad time, I can just send you a message later?".

"Why do you want to know, Lieutenant?" Dobbs moved in closer to the Counsellor.

"It's an issue of abuse to a patient," Paul said. "I honestly don't know if I'll be able to help her at all, except for dealing with the aftermath, but I'll do what I can."

He responded without retreating from his proximity or lowering of his malevolence, "I really couldn't say... the experts in my field are all in my department, back on Earth".

"Possibly you and I are referring to two different things, Captain," Paul replied. He resisted the instinct to back away from Dobbs' physical and emotional onslaught. "I'm looking for people who work in designing and developing advanced prosthetics in the area of space near Protector. The experts in that field can't all be part of your team on Earth. Perhaps the very best are, but there are surely prosthetics designers of competence just about anywhere. I'm merely looking for the best of those nearby."

Without breaking eye contact, the malicious grin returned to his face. "I'm afraid I couldn't help you with that, Lieutenant".

"All right; I'll see what contacts I can make on my own, then," Paul said. "Sorry to take up your time, Captain."

He side-stepped the man, curious as to whether Dobbs would let him leave unimpeded.

Dobbs now turned, his back facing the Counsellor. "Lieutenant" he paused, more for effect than anything else. "Be very careful".

With that he made a beeline for the locker room exit and subsequently that of the gym, leaving the Counsellor to wonder exactly what had just taken place.

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