Number 6287

by Suz

Disclaimer - Paramount, I start to shout.


The sound of hurried footsteps on a concrete floor.

A strand of hair being tucked behind an ear urgently, as if it's an inconvenience that has to be dealt with and something she should have cut off a long time ago. But she can't part with it. She can't bear the thought.

"Excuse me?"

A tired, harried voice.


"Are you here to see number 6287?"


"Follow me." Concentrating on inputting information into her padd, as her feet quickly lead the way on a route they've travelled so many times that it's almost programmed into their memory.

A dark man in the hallway, regretting his decision to leave the Captains chair to become an Admiral, although he never joined Starfleet.

A woman in a doorway, choosing the name of her unborn child as she pats the cushion under her dress maternally. She smiles. "He's kicking."

A window.

A reflection.

A woman with tired eyes.

The owner of the reflection looks away.

A nurse turning the corner who just wants his shift to end so he can go home and hold his wife in his arms, but knows he has another six hours. Resignation.

Their destination. A sign. 'Isolation'.

A viewscreen.

A man with once-gentle eyes mumbling on the floor.

"Is it him?"


Information typed into the padd.

"How did this happen?"

"He was seriously wounded when his transport vessel exploded. The brain damage...well it looks like it's irreversible."

"Do you know where he was going?"

"You mean when the ship exploded? The transport was due to dock at the new Academy landing pad."

"I see. I want to go in. Alone."



"You know I could pull in favours from every section of Starfleet from command to waste recycling. You know I have the authority."

"You don't know how he's going to react."

"Yes I do."



"Fine. But I'll have security waiting just outside the door. And you're going in with a hypospray whether you like it or not."

"A sensible safety precaution."



"Don't mock me. You haven't been watching him for the last three days."

"And you haven't known him for the last ten years. I want in. Now."

A hypospray is provided.

A door is opened.

A woman steps inside the quiet room, save for the once-gentle mans mumbling.

A door is closed. A name is spoken by someone. A hypospray is shoved into a pocket. A hand is reached out. A shoulder is touched.

A mistake is made.

A man with once-gentle eyes leaps up and in seconds has a woman trapped against a wall, even as she fumbles for the hypospray.

A door bursts open, security officers falling through.




A flicker of something in dark eyes. A relaxation of tense muscles.

A name.

A sound of a hypospray being activated. A man slumping to the floor.

A woman in the corner, shivering.


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