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The halls, offices and labs of Med Force One were busy as usual, even more so now that the Mollies were also more ever present in Omega 49. Between them, Bounty Hunters and the Corsairs, there was never a dull moment. Doc was standing at the end of a bed, studying the file of the Bounty Hunter that was on it. Doc worked his magic on him the day before as he so often did with the worst of the worst cases that came aboard his ship. Although alive, he was kept comatose to allow recovery.
He shook his head as he read the file. "Lucky for you, Hunter, I had a set of lungs on hand." Checking vitals, he gave some instruction to a nurse in the room and stepped out for the next patient. His com badge sounded.
"This is Doc. What's up?"
"Doc, you have a contingent of the Order here to see you," was the voice, "Admiral Golanski is here with some of his staff. It looks like they need some medical attention."
Doc was stunned to say the least. Golanski, a leader whom many a Zoner disliked, a man whom on many occasions he quarreled with but still had a level of respect for.
"Escort them to my office," he instructed, "I'll take care of them."
Doc wasn't far from his office. He would be going over the file of another patient when Golanski and his staff arrived. To all of them, Doc would look a little bit on the side of tired or even unhealthy. They wouldn't see the depression he suffered deep within eating at him. At work, he hid it well. A year plus of isolation on Erie also left him with shoulder length hair, albeit well groomed. Through his reading glasses he saw the members of the Order and put the file back on it's pin.
He recognized Admiral Golanski and offered his hand. "It's been a long time, Admiral. How may I help you?"