by Suz suzvoy@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: Some of the characters named or implied in this story belong to Paramount. I'm just borrowing their bodies.
Warning: Not for the faint hearted.
Feedback would be much appreciated.
*
The truth of the matter was, Stan loved his job. A lot of people thought it was grisly, but he didn't see it that way at all. He was giving people a new chance of life. True, he was never giving the same people a chance of life, but one person is the same as another.
Bob turned towards Stan as his acknowledger beeped. "Incoming!"
It was something of a private joke to them, as it was usually that word or one similar that preceeded them getting a new 'customer' in.
A slot in the wall opened as the conveyer belt began to move. A still body slowly moved along the belt. He was a young man this one, and as he began to pass them Stan hit the stop button to examine the mans toe-tag, and he wrote down his details on form 47alpha.
"Hmm. Name: Gary Mitchell. Cause of death: Cranial trauma and damage to nearly all internal organs." He glanced down at the body and screwed his nose up slightly in disgust. "Doesn't look like a particularly pleasant way to go."
Bob nodded his head in agreement. "Is there anything we can salvage?"
Tipping the end of his pencil into his mouth slightly and sucking, Stan considered the options. His glasses hung on the end of his nose, as if with the slightest movement they would tumble off. And yet in all the time Stan had been working here, they never had.
"Well the only internal organs that were undamaged were one kidney, which we can easily give to someone else, and his eyes."
"What colour are they?"
Placing his pencil between his teeth, Stan bent over and pulled back the corpses eyelids with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. His eyelids shot up. "Interesting...they're glowing," he mumbled, words almost indecipherable so he placed the clipboard he held down on the body for a moment to remove the pencil.
"Glowing? That's a first." Bob frowned. "Well...we could always use them in that telepath they're creating..."
"Oh, you mean the redhead."
"Yes, that's the one. Lyta something..."
"Good idea." Releasing the eyelids and picking up the clipboard, he scribbled down the idea. Ripping the paper off from the board he passed it to Bob who attached it to the toe-tag.
"Done," Bob confirmed, so Stan moved his clipboard and pencil to the table besides him and hit the button to get the conveyer moving again.
"Next please!"
As Gary Mitchell vanished through a slot on the opposite side of the room, a new cadaver appeared through the first slot. This one was a very attractive young woman with short blonde hair and a dark blob on her cheek.
Stan sighed, shook his head, and tutted. "No toe-tag. Typical. The boys really haven't been keeping up their quota lately." Turning, he walked to the medical table behind them and picked up the scanning device, speaking as he walked back to stand next Bob. "It's just the inconvenience of it. Okay, let's see..." Activating the device he held it over the woman and studied the readings. "The brain's a total loss...all neural activity seems to have been drained. But everything else is in perfect working order." An idea started to grow inside his mind, spreading itself throughout all his thoughts... "Wait!" With his free hand he massaged his forehead. "I'm getting an inspiration. Do we still have that Romulan brain?"
"Yes. Yes I think we do."
Stan spoke rapidly, as he always did when he was struck by a revelation. "Okay, we'll clean that blob off her face, give her the Romulan brain, alter her biochemistry slightly and a whole new character will be born!"
"Oh that's an excellent idea! But, one question if I may?"
"Of course," Stan replied, placing the scanner on the table beside him and picking up his clipboard and pencil.
"As wonderful an idea as it is, even with the changes we make, someone will still recognise her. Perhaps we should create some sort of unusual back story for her to explain."
"You mean alternate reality or time travel?"
"Something like that."
"Fair enough." And with that he finished writing, tore off the sheet and passed it to Bob who simply placed it on top of the body.
Whacking the button, Stan called out for the next one.
A Bajoran came through next, a male with dark hair. Stopping duly in place, Stan read the information from the toe-tag. "Vedek Bareil...yet another one whose body is in fine shape, but whose brain is kaput. Now that we've found a use for that Romulan brain, do we have any others left?"
"Let me check." Reaching up to the shelf on the wall and pulling down a folder, he opened it and flicked through the various coloured sheets of paper contained within its cardboard covers. Finding the right page, his finger touched the paper and scanned down. "We have one left." Pausing, he looked over his shoulder at his friend. "And it's Mudd's."
"We don't have any other choice. I know he was self-serving, but this is our job."
Reluctantly, Bob agreed and put the folder away.
Writing on the clipboard Stan continued speaking. "And before you say anything, yes I know he will look exactly like Bareil did...so we'll have to create some kind of alternate reality background for him too." Smiling slightly, his aged eyes crinkling, he passed the form to Bob.
The last one they received before lunch was a slightly older, slightly stockier man. "Commander Cavit," Stan read "no first name."
"Cause of death?"
"Unfortunate encounter with a bulk head. Not to mention the burns..."
"Salvagable?"
"A few internal organs perhaps, but nothing special."
Nodding, Bob took the form from him and attached it to the toe tag.
"Well then, shall we go to lunch?" Stan asked, throwing his clipboard and pencil down on the table.
"Sure," Bob smiled, anticipating the meatloaf he decided he was going to have.
As they turned to go, the first slot opened again and Bob thought he saw the hazy outline of a dark skinned man with a bald head and a beard. "I think I see something."
Turning around slightly, Stan glanced at the slot. "Oh, *that*. It's just a vision of the future. They happen occasionally." Grabbing the younger man by the shoulder and guiding him towards the exit, he said "Come on son. I'm buying."
~FINIS