<USS Atlantis> Field Promotion

From: "Timothy Jones-Yelvington" <tommyspark@xxxxxxxxxxx>
To: ussatlantis@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Date: Wed, 13 Feb 2002 05:51:16 -0500

"Field Promotion"
Personal Log: 0202.13
Dr. Meghan Belcher/Dr. Lane Winn

Meghan Belcher examined herself in her office mirror, combing her last stray hair into place and brushing out the kinks in her uniform.

"Meghan, darling," she lectured to the busty blonde staring back at her through several layers of make-up. "You must learn to control yourself. You know no man is worth expending this amount of energy over.

"Men exist to be controlled -- manipulated. Given time, Allen Zinthys will see the error of his ways. He will realize that you are the most intense fuck of his entire life, and his desire for you will overwhelm him.

"Your power is limitless. He will see. They all will see. No one says no to Meghan Belcher and gets away with it."

"Why thank you, darling," Meghan said, responding to her reflection with a sinister smile. "That was quite a compliment."

A grating chime signalled the arrival of someone outside of her door.

Her orders had been clear -- she wanted no interruptions. "What do you want!?"

A security compliment entered, phasers in hand.

"Doctor," Kiela Merienn said, "I have been instructed to escort you to the brig."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"How dare you!?" Meghan Belcher screamed, slamming her heeled boot into the floor of her holding cell. "Explain yourself. I am the chief medical officer! I do not belong here!"

"Admiral Zuriyev has reason to suspect you of insanity and insubordination," Kiela Merienn replied with a steely resolve. "Until such time as a formal psychologial evaluation can be completed, we must detain you here. We are in a crisis situation, Dr. Belcher. You are a danger to our mission."

"Our mission!?" Belcher cried. "Our mission!? How can you talk about our mission at a time like this? I'm trapped in a holding cell... and you've destroyed my hair!"

"I'm well aware of our location, doctor," Merienn responded. "I am the one who brought you here."

"Who reported me!? Someone must have said something to the Admiral! Is Allen responsible for this!?"

"I hope your stay in the brig is pleasant, doctor," Merienn said nonchalantly as she made her way toward the exit. "There's an increasingly good chance you'll be here until the end of time."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Computer -- one Long Island Iced Tea."

Dr. Lane Winn grabbed the drink from beneath the replicator and immersed herself in a long and satisfying swig. She'd had a long day -- The syntheholic beverage was less than satisfactory, but it would have to do.

The Universe as she knew it was in danger of extinction. The medical crew of the USS Atlantis was competent, well-trained and prepared for whatever situation might be thrown their way. Unfortunately, they had been cursed with a CMO so out-of-touch, so horrendously tyrannical as to leave sickbay mired in perpetual chaos.

The last thing this ship needed right now was an insane Chief Medical Officer.

Winn did have to give Belcher credit for one thing -- her body was a Smorgasbord of eye candy; and Winn suspected she was no slouch in the sack.

Clutching her drink, she settled behind her desk to address the mountain of reports awaiting her.

The door chirped unexpectedly.

"Enter," she said, massaging her temple.

Brooke Dolan entered the office with grace and authority.

"Commander," Winn said. "What can I do for you?"

"A great deal," Dolan answered. "Doctor -- how would you feel about a field promotion?"

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<USS Atlantis> Field Promotion

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