House Call

Posted on Tue Feb 21st, 2012 @ 7:21am by Bruce Air (PNPC) & Walter Jones

1,238 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Session 6: Take 5
Location: Munroe Kitchen
Timeline: After the story

Walter was well onto his third helping of bacon when there was a chime at the domicile door. Sheila went to answer it, and the door opened on a little man with a dark suit and an anachronistic black medical bag. Sheila's mouth formed into a hard line. There was something about this man she had never liked, but couldn't quite pin what it was.

"Good evening, Ms Jones. I am here to see Walter," the man spoke quietly and politely, his own face frozen in a humourless smile.

"It's Mrs Munroe," she said coldly, stepping back to let the man in, "He's in the kitchen."

The elder man sniffed the air as he stepped inside, "Yes. Ignoring medical advice about his cholesterol, I see."

As he walked through the house his eyes flicked over everything, as if he were cataloguing the contents of the Munroe house for future investigation. When he arrived a the kitchen he placed his bag gently on the table and addressed Walter who had not bothered to respond to his arrival.

"Good evening, Mr Jones," he began. "It seems, since you are unwilling to keep an appointment, I have been forced to make a house call."

"Mr Jones," Morgan sighed. "I am, unfortunately, forced to make a house call since you were not able to attend your appointment."

Jones shoveled another fork full of bacon."Yeah you know how I am. Cholesterol or a Phaser in the back, one or the other is going to get me one of these days. At least this is a bit tasty." Jones put the fork down and turned to the Doctor. "Besides I'm dead according to most official records."

Morgan blinked, "An arrangement that has worked well for the both of us, despite making it difficult for you to find work. I notice you did not bother to re-register the Warden. Whose name is it in now, after it was pried from your own cold dead fingers?"

"It is impounded in the Quolor II lot. Held in a trust, hopefully all I need to do is go, show a datacron and leave, I've got a few connections I've pulled with the Commander of one of the starbases... tit for tat and all that." Jones smiled and offered the bar stool on the opposite end of the counter. "So Doc.. you're probably not here for my health. What can I do for you?"

"We may have a problem. Little old men, dirty traders, and rough mercenary types are a dime a dozen out here, so most of the crew have had no issue blending in and lying low. However, Jan's eyepiece is rather... distinctive, and there was a delegation in port a month ago from Lagashi space. I don't know if they saw him working the docks, but they have come back today and it is only a matter of time."

"Statute of limitations, in about a week, we'll be free and clear and be able to move on. I've got a job all lined up that is a milk run, and will pay big from what I've been told. With the limitations up, no more bounties, no more bounty hunters, and we are free and clear."

Morgan did not sit. He considered the amiable captain for a while before responding, "I trust you are aware that I come under no statute of limitations, nor even limit of jurisdiction. A little facial alteration has allowed me to remain here undetected, but if we start to go near any decent genetic scanners, I fear we may have a bounty on our back again... assuming of course that I am still to be required as a member of your crew."

"Have you ever seen me try and patch up a wound? It isn't a pretty affair. With this milk run, we might be able to get you off the hook. It is a long shot but we will have some wealthy patrons." Jones watched as the doctor kept his distance.

Morgan unclipped his bag with precise movements, "Someone came looking for you a week ago. I pulled this out of the body of an Andorian bounty hunter that was left on my door step."

Dr Pass pulled a heavy bladed Klingon D'k'tagh and placed it on the table, "Recognize the symbol on the Hilt?"

"Klingon of some kind, but not too sure." Jones picked up the knife and inspected it. "Kind of pretty in a stabby, stabby way."

"I think someone knew this body would be brought to me, and that I would know how to get the message to you. This milk run... it's not Targ milk is it?"

"Actually, friends of the Targs... heard any rumblings about Hobus?" Jones was still looking at the dagger and spun the point on the counter.

Morgan took the knife off him before he could injure anyone, "It is from the House of Matlh. I did some searching and there was an Ambassador Haqtaj Matlh here about the same time this happened, on her way from Qo'nos to her Federation posting. Do you know her? She certainly seemed to know how to find you."

He placed the knife back in his bag, "No, I have not heard of the Hobus. Are they a race, a company, a family or a breed of Targ food?"

Jones looked at the Doc. "Hobus is the star of the Romulan homeworld, rumor has it that is is going to go nova, destroying everything maybe... in the meantime, lots of work and lots of paydays."

"My contact has lined us up a cash and carry, some elites, and their goods, moving them off planet towards the neutral zone."

Morgan sighed, "Well, there is bound to be lots of injuries then. I will try and make sure my case is full of necessities."

Morgan fingered the handle of his bag. This topic always proved difficult. Even with all of Jones' ethical variance there were some issues that were ground to a cultures core.

"Your niece..." he began. "I did the search of the medical records and you are right. There is a congenital heart defect in the Munroe line. It is treatable... but not through normal medicine. With a bit of Genetic alteration, I could add twenty years to her life."

Walt stopped for a moment and looked at the Doc, he was an industrious bastard he had that to him. "I'll bring it up with Sheila, she's usually the hard sale in the family, though I imagine she might have words with you poking around in her daughters medical"

"The hell you are touching my little girl with any genetic manipulation" Sheila who had been in the other room observing the conversation finally walked in to the kitchen. "I'm not quite sure who you are, but since you know Walt I figured you weren't too bad, give me a rea..."

"Sheila will talk about this later." Jones looked at his sister, and looked back at the Doctor. "What she means Doc is that he's a little weary of our kind of medicine."

Sheila looked at the two, "I'm going to bed, Walt make sure you close up the house..." She gave one final glare back to the doctor before heading up the stairs.

Morgan collected his bag again, "That would be my cue. Let me know when we are to ship out. I will be ready."

 

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