Starship: Rogue

Chapter Eight

In that corner of the hospital, everything was quiet, calm, but the doctors and nurses were more urgent. The patients were more important to the Network, so, of course, their caretakers had more purpose than those who tended ordinary people. It was sad, but that was life.

Carter slipped past Rowan's room, across the hall and a door down from Stark's, without stopping. The door was closed, so she assumed Rowan wanted some privacy, so she kept going without a backwards glance.

At Stark's door, though, she hesitated. She really wasn't supposed to be here, valid excuses or not. But, for Rowan's sake, she needed to find out what had happened, especially since Stark was now her C.O., too.

She squared her shoulders, took a breath, and knocked.

It was several, agonizing, long seconds before Carter heard hurried footsteps and the door swung open, revealing a room much like Rowan's. Dr. Piper stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, and Carter's heart sped up.

"What is it, Carter?" the older woman asked dryly.

Carter tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. "Um, it's about the patient transfer, Doctor," she said as politely as she could. "I just wanted to make sure everything was in order."

Doctor Piper's other eyebrow rose to join its companion, and, for a long moment, she simply looked down at Carter, her expression inscrutable.

"Really," she said mildly, but Carter got the feeling that she wasn't buying it. "You do know that you're not authorized to be in here, don't you?"

"For fuck's sake, just let her in," a gruff voice instructed from somewhere behind the door. "She's technically going to be working with us, and it's not that big a deal, anyway."

Dr. Piper rolled her eyes, but pulled the door further open. "Come on in, if you must," she said resignedly, and stepped inside. But Carter stood rooted in place, now that her view of the room was no longer obscured.

The bed that occupied pride of place in the center of the room was unoccupied, but two men watched her from beside the big, glass windows that looked out onto the military base. One she recognized from the night she had brought Rowan in, Captain Falk, she thought. The other she would never have recognized if she hadn't known he was the man she'd found with Rowan.

One man–the one she was pretty sure was Lieutenant Stark–sat in a wheelchair, turned towards the window, looking over his shoulder. Now that he wasn't covered in blood, dirt and sweat, Carter realized he was rather attractive, tall and well-built, with dark blonde hair, chiseled features, and an all-around good-natured air.

Captain Falk stood at Stark's shoulder, his arms crossed. When Carter finally steppes over the threshold, he looked down at Stark. "Well," he said, trying to sound breezy, but failing miserably. "Just give a thought to what we talked about, Lieutenant, and get back to me when you've made a decision." He nodded to Dr. Piper and Carter. "Medic, Doctor." He strode from the room, and Stark's expression changed from amused to weary and resigned.

Doctor Piper stepped between Carter and Lieutenant Stark, folding her arms. "What on earth have you not yet discussed with me about the patient transfer, Carter?" she demanded, practically bristling with impatience.

"Um," Carter said, trying to organize her thoughts. "I just wanted to, um, make sure everything was in order, Doctor."

Doctor Piper crossed her arms. "So you've said already," she snapped. "And yes, Carter, everything is in order, so scat."

Carter ducked her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, and she didn't notice when Stark lifted a hand, but the sound of his voice froze her in her tracks. "No," he said firmly, in the tone of someone who was used to having his orders followed. "Doctor Piper, give us a minute, please."