The Medical Sector, Revisited

With no small amount of trepidation, the Prime Beacon entered medical's section of rooms and halls. The two weren't the first ones there, as dozens of Ancients sat in conjoined waiting spaces.

More were coming in behind them, but since he hid his band again, most didn't give him a second look and walked past to find their own seats. A couple of the medical staff were moving between the hastily erected tables, checking names off lists, and a voice broadcasted names from an overhead vocoder at a slow pace.

"You don't have to accompany me any further."

"I do, sir. I don't want to presume anything if it's avoidable, but we both know what will happen if neither I nor medical are watching you." Ni-6 gave him a look smelling of suspicion and mistrust.

"I understand the severity of the situation. You don't have to trouble yourself over me. I'm aware that it's in everyone's self-interest to present themselves with willingness." Those past aversions of his "duty" were excusable, since the number of times he'd left the Last Light was countable on both hands, with fingers to spare.

One of the surveying medical staff walked by them, paused, and then walked back. He bent down to bring his face close to the Prime Beacon's; his eyes squinted, then widened, and half his forehead disappeared behind a bushy unibrow. "Well, I'll be."

"Hello. Do I know you?" That earned him a slap on his bald head. The sound ricocheted from one side of the waiting room to the other, drawing eyes his way.

At his side, Ni-6 wore a masterful, crafted expression of shock and indignation on behalf of his superior, but hiding the waves of satisfaction oozing off him was beyond the younger man's capabilities. To think that he had enemies even at his shoulder.

"I dare you to pretend that way a second time. Your fancy Vigor won't save you from me." The medical officer leaned in closer until their noses almost touched. The Prime Beacon felt calloused hands grab at his face. "Ha! Well, I'll be! I suppose I should've known I was still too young for hallucinations. I can't believe you're finally here."

"Believe it." He exerted some of his strength to remove the medical officer's hands from his face, then massaged the top of his head while sneaking Ni-6 a not-so-subtle glare threatening retribution.

He couldn't tell if the younger man registered it, and that troubled him to no small end. He sighed. "Pr-9. How well have you been holding the for--maintaining Ardiseg Halls' medical sector?"

"Well enough that it would've survived whatever length of time we'd need to see you visit again. How many years, I wonder? I'm certain the last time you were here, I didn't have silver hairs or grandchildren!"

At his side, Ni-6 choked down a disbelieving snort. A second covert glare did even less than the first to silence his sudden bout of insubordinate behavior. It might be time to threaten him with demotion and replacement; not that he'd carry through with it. Ni-6 might've not been the highest-performing aide he could've asked for, but the man had one thing all the other high-performing candidates vying for the position didn't: his trust.

"You can leave now, right?" Ni-6 finally took a cue from his cool, steely voice, and saluted the two of them before making a swift exit out of the waiting room.

Watching him leave, Pr-9 made a dry comment: "That boy has less definition on him than I did when I was his age."

"You don't know how old he is." Despite his resentment, it was a habit of automatic nature to defend his aide from the criticism. "And you know how you looked in your twenties; hardly the ideal specimen, if I didn't displace the correct memories."

"So now I know how old he is," wasn't the response he wanted to hear. He groaned, hoping for a miracle in the form of hearing his name from the overhead vocoder, and felt elation realizing reality had bent to his whims this once.

"****." Or rather, a blast of static. It served the same purpose, and while he rose, other Ancients looked up in confusion. He couldn't rid himself of Pr-9 at the moment, but he could walk fast enough that most of the other man's words faced difficulties in reaching his ears over the din of the others.

Ancients were people too, and boredom was easy to combat with conversation. He maneuvered around a pair of the medical staff and another carting along a load of injectors already pre-filled with different fluids.

The room spoken in tandem with the static was down the far end of one of the connecting halls to the waiting space, and the halls in medical's sections of Ardiseg Hall were long. He had to pump his legs further.

A member of the medical staff preoccupied himself with prepping different scanners and testing equipment when they walked inside. He looked over the Prime Beacon's shoulder at Pr-9.

"Did you want this one?" he inquired, gesturing with a vague hand at what he thought was another Ancient with extra baggage. He was sure to keep his tone respectful, even if referring to him as "this one" negated its effectiveness.

"Why not?" Grinning, Pr-9 passed the screen in his hands to his colleague, and they traded spots, with the other man leaving quicker than they entered and leaving no time for the Prime Beacon to voice his staunch objections to it.

The door closed behind him, and Pr-9's smile split his face even wider. "That poor fool missed the opportunity of a lifetime, and he doesn't know it!"

"This is why I don't like visiting medical." The Prime Beacon leaned against the wall as he watched Pr-9 bustle about to finish whatever preparations his colleague hadn't gotten to before trading responsibilities. "All you barely contain your disregard of decorum and proper procedure, and portray a disturbing lack of respect for individuals of importance with little hesitance."

"Wait, that's what kept you away?" Pr-9's head jerked up in amazement. His hands continued to act without his supervision as if controlled by a separate consciousness to continue attaching modules and swiping and tapping at different screens. "If you informed us it acted on you to such a degree, we wouldn't have found any trouble in emulating the Fifth Headman more."

His lips parted and sealed faster than a blinking eye. He found there wasn't much he wanted to say in response. He shivered.

Though the Third hid the political disputes between the militarists and home interest from most of the lower-positioned employees of the Directory, few servicemen missed the complex--and that was mentioning it in a flattering light--nature of his relationship with In-3. His colleague from the Fifth had no qualms about sharing his displeasure in public displays; to say he lacked tack wasn't inaccurate.