[USS Vanguard] Those Who Can't

  • From: "Jonathon Bremmer" <JonathonBremmer@xxxxxxx>
  • To: "USS Vanguard" <ncv80221@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
  • Date: Tue, 21 Nov 2006 22:56:34 -0000

Jaav E'thexx - USS Vanguard. 

It was the age old saying that "Those Who Can't, Teach".  In the case of John 
Vincent Ecks it was quite the opposite. Having failed to suitably impress 
academics in any of the reputable medical schools and universities John Vincent 
had never quite made his dream to teach tangible.  Most thought his research 
was sloppy, untraditional, poorly planned and had on occasion branded it 
laughable.  John felt that these labels would be substituted for "impressive" 
or "revolutionary" had he been in better standing with the rest of what still 
was very much an 'old boys club'  and as a means of biding his time and 
securing money to fund his own research John had taken up his post as resident 
psychiatrist at the Vanguard institute as a way of eventually earn the right to 
teach.  The plan looked good on paper, but all he had really achieved was an 
incredible loathing for his own position, a lack of compassion towards his 
patients and a deep seated bitterness at not being able to achieve his 

Sitting in his usual spot in the staff room, pouring over set of notes after 
set of notes and thoughtlessly filling out forms, John Vincent heard the 


Suddenly, nearby and outside the hospital, came the sounds of something 
dropping, followed very quickly by another dropped object--the first sounded 
soft, the second harder, metal striking concrete.

John stood up and quickly moved to the doorway to see what was causing the 
disturbance and more importantly what it was causing a distraction from his 
already difficult work.  John began to walk slowly but sternly down the 
corridor.  He made out Lisa, the police officer and relative of a Vanguard 
patient, he found her frequent presence and questioning within the institute 
tiresome but the lesser of two evils.  Whilst ever she was there to entertain 
her brother he was less of a hassle to John and his staff.  John also saw 
Santos, hanging back but still himself observing all the activity.  Finally 
John could see two figures that he did not recognise, or at least couldn't 
quite make out just inside the outer doorway who seemed to be moving inside.  

"What the hell is all this about?!"  J.V. barked, "Last time I checked this 
place wasn't a community drop in centre!"

John's pace momentarily began to pick up before he stopped dead in his tracks 
and looked down at his pocket.  He felt the pager in his pocket buzzing 
frantically, at the periphery of his hearing he'd heard the pager bleeping but 
hadn't wanted to consciously acknowledge.  He slipped the pager out of his 
pocket and brought the tiny LCD screen close to his eyes.  

The pager read "2222"

John Vincent Ecks felt the lump in his throat and the dryness in his mouth.  A 
surge of heat flushed through his body, he felt clammy, tense.  The activity at 
the end of the hall was virtually forgotten as he turned in his tracks and 
headed for the stairwell and began climbing up the flight of concrete steps, 
past the flickering flourescant tubes and dripping pipework to the landing of 
the second floor. 


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