Bren took a deep breath. In through his nose and out through his mouth. He felt a tickle in his nose as the dry air moved through his pulmonary system. He had spent the last week travelling on starships and shuttles to reach the Atlantis. Each mode of transportation had the same self-contained, life-supporting, artificial environment as the Atlantis, but they had been temporary. Now he had arrived at his destination, and the moisture-laden ocean breezes he had grown accustom to, first in San Francisco at Starfleet Medical and then on Okinawa at the Daystrom Institute, were officially part of his past.

He ran the back of his index finger against the underside of his nose, preventing a sneeze and locked his dark eyes on the door in front of him. It was the main entrance to Sickbay. He could sense the hum of activity on the other side of the door. Tendrils of anxiety seeped through the door as patients waited for treatments or diagnoses. Calmer notes of competent efficiency emanated from the professionals who tended to their care. He tentatively searched for a familiar mind, but was unable to find it.

Had time changed them so much that she was truly a stranger? Only one way to find out. She may not have requested his assignment to the Atlantis, but he imagined she must have approved it. If she hadn’t, this would be more difficult than he was anticipating.

Dr. Bren Satis willed his face to relax and his mouth to curl up into a friendly smile as he pressed the button that opened the doors to Sickbay. With white teeth visible behind his open mouthed grin and a mop of curly dark hair flopping down over his forehead, the Betazoid physician presented himself with a practiced boyish charm.

He was greeted as he entered by a medical assistant who couldn’t have been a day over twenty-two.

“Good morning. I’m Doctor Brenner Satis. I believe I’m scheduled to report to Dr. Talisse. Is she available?”

Satis, MO