Ensign Polis walked the corridor and came to a set of double doors. The reading on the door said sickbay. “Best to get these jobs out of the way early” he thought. He looked down at his left hand and imagined the burnt injuries still there. They were visibly all healed up but the memory was there and sometimes the nerves in the hand did tingle a bit. With his bag still slung over his right shoulder he stepped inside.
Ensign Polis, Security