March 24, 2013

The call chime rang while Lewsa was deep into the innards of a filter valve, these Mavic Z-47A's were fussy enough to need four hands for this bit, and almost inevitably, this bit was the part that went screw-wise. She let the call got to message, getting the last bit of rough out of the way. Proper maintenance would keep the problem from coming back, but this came from the eta-section of the station, downstation from where her pod was stationed Proper maintenance there was a joke, and the Mavic air filter were a lifetime or two from warranty, passed down from station section to station section, each down station move accompanied by less care.

But if she fixed this one, got the system back up, eta-section would have better air, for a time at least, and she'd have an in with Station Maintenance, and more work. Paying work, this bit of repair was on spec, and the accounts were getting a little thin, with the Pelage not due back for more time than she had money.

She reached a break point in the work, secured her tools and parts under a keeper net and stretched. The communications terminal was by the entrance, and she felt her knees and back complain as she walked over to it. She checked the time, she'd been bent over the workbench since firstmeal, and it was halfway to thirdmeal already. No wonder she was stiff and her stomach was grumbling. Only upside was the valve was about ready to re-assemble. Another day of work and the system would be online again. That was to the good. Eta-section's atmo was getting foul enough that there was a run on portable breather masks.

The green light of “message waiting” blinked at her while she pulled it up. Her system blocked video by default, using the Pelage's crest for identification. The face at the other end of the message must have expected a video response, or at least an identifying face to address, not a patchwork beast. The speaker blinked, nose wrinkling. “Oh. This is the med clinic at Gamma-Frame2-Level4. We have an unknown here, only id is a card for repairs listing this pod as contact, for a – “ the speaker looked away, down, to her right. “'Lewsa Kindan'. Is it possible that this person be contacted and return the call to the clinic? It is possible he can identify this person. He appears to be Midgrathan, fair hair, suffering from a concussion. He was apparently wandering in the wrong section and some scavs jumped him.” The message ended with a contact string for the clinic, and a repeat of the address.

Lewsa rolled up on her toes, then down again, not Da Dan, he was dark haired, and if the Pelage was docked they'd have called her soon as they cleared the 'crats. She left her cards with anyone who paid for her work, and listed herself and services on the station 'net. Any transient could've picked up a card. She went back to her room and put on her transit robes, calling back the number. She didn't block video, but she did dim the pod and tugged the hood up, shadowing her appearance.

She waited through the “please wait, your call is important, we may record it” until someone took the call live. “Gamma med clinic, staffed by Pershans medical, best care anywhere.” It wasn't the same person, and Lewsa shifted the display to show when the message had been left. Not long ago, not enough for a shift change, she figured. She shifted the display back to the live feed.

“I am Lewsa Kindan, was called and asked to return the call.”

“Let me check the records.” The speaker, a man this time, must have changed the display from a live feed, he looked down as he typed, then looked at the screen, “Oh, the scav attack. We were hoping you could come and identify one of our patients. We have a victim of a mugging, and whoever did it took all identifying papers and chits.”

“May see him?” Lewsa asked. Gamma was two levels above her pod was, the visit would mean crossing two section gates, and the tolls.

“We'd prefer a face to face.” the med tech man said, looking off screen again. “You're Iota level, I'll send a pass-free if you'll come up with in the hour.”

Lewsa looked over her shoulder at her workbench. It was important, but so was this stranger, and the sooner she went, the sooner she'd be back. “Send please.”

“Done. Looking forward to seeing you soon.” The clinic ended the call.