“As I have said many times, the Meto Institute is not interested in picking up Captain Theodoras’ case at this time.”

The chief administrator’s office for the prestigious Meto Institute was a display of luxury and extravagance that only came from planet-based facilities. Space and volume weren’t design constraints with the same weight as they were when considering mere office space aboard a starship or even a starbase. High ceilings consumed the same space that could easily have been a second floor. The floor space itself was the equal to the entirety of Atlantis’ bridge. This was no nerve centre directing a mighty starship but the personal office space for a single person.

Skylights above and floor to ceiling windows along one side gave the room an even larger feeling, as if open to the world outside. Idyllic gardens were but a pane of glass away, with a couple of couches and a large table between, allowing for meetings that could have felt like they were outside.

And while it might have impressed upon plenty of patients and their families, it had lost its charm and awe over the present Starfleet officers weeks ago. They’d first come here nearly a month ago now, seeking the assistance of the Meto Institute. And been denied just as quickly every single time as they were once again being so just now.

“I want to speak with Doctor Meto,” Doctor Terax half-growled at the pompous idiot across the desk from him. The desk was large enough to land a shuttle on, host a volleyball game on, and probably march a band of cadets around without going anywhere near the ornaments scattered around it.

“He is, regrettably, busy.” The man smiled at Terax in a way that conveyed his disdain for the doctor that even a non-telepath couldn’t miss. “And will be so for the foreseeable future.”

“I can wait,” Terax spat back, crossing his arms and sinking into the seat he occupied. Children throwing tantrums could take notes from the Edosian doctor when he met someone he couldn’t bully past. “And shall do so.”

“Captain,” the administrator said, turning his attention to Tikva, attempting to sweeten his words.

“Fleet Captain,” Tikva interrupted. While exercising every lesson on mental stillness and restraint her mother had ever thought it, it helped to keep her tone as flat as well when speaking. Everything was calm, everything was still.

Despite the desire to go back to the ship, assemble the entirety of Ch’tkk’va’s hazard team and then storm this place to ‘rescue’ Doctor Meto.

“Fleet Captain,” Enab Von, the administrator, corrected himself, his smile turning up on one side at the forced correction. “As I have said, when the Institute is ready to look over your case, we will inform you. Your repeated attempts to expedite your case ahead of many others on our waiting list is grossly unfair to them, don’t you think?”

“Save that Doctor Meto has met with exactly three patients over the last two weeks and your waiting list is currently non-existent.” The third Starfleet officer present was also the only one standing. Stirling Fightmaster’s statue impression broke as he looked directly at Administrator Von, offering a slight tilt of his head as if to ask for the touché to be acknowledged.

“That isn’t true,” Von countered.

“If Fightmaster has said it, it’s because he can verify it.” Tikva’s defence of her yeoman wasn’t needed. He was more than capable of verbally sparring with anyone and only ever choose to do so when he knew he could win. As she’d been the victim of so many times.

Internal questions about just who ran Atlantis were clamped down hard with a deep breath.

Von looked like he was ready to contest, to challenge Fightmaster’s assertions. And then he simply decided not to. He had other cards to play, after all. “Be that as it may, Fleet Captain, my decision still stands. The Meto Institute will not be taking up your case at this time. Your request to speak with Doctor Meto is also denied,” Von directed to Terax. “And I would ask that you stop harassing this institution and its staff with your visits.”

The silent staring contest between Starfleet officers and a paper pusher with delusions of grandeur lasted nearly a minute before Tikva broke, rising to her feet and leaving. Terax, for his part, had continued the contest for another five minutes before he had emerged from Von’s office, with institute security trailing him out of the building.

“I should have listened to you,” Terax admitted in rare defeat as they proceeded down an exceedingly well manicured avenue in Betazed’s third largest city, the Meto Institute a memory behind them now. “Would have been in and out of Starfleet Medical by now,” he grumbled.

Tikva stopped in her tracks, unable to stop the smile, then the single barking laugh that erupted from her. Terax turned to face her and his mood clearly wasn’t improving at the mocking. His scowl deepened, threatening to evaporate his command officer with pure will, if it could just muster it. But then he too cracked a faint smile.

“Hmpf,” he finally vocalised as his scowl broke. “All it took was admitting you were right to break your bad mood? I owe Gavin a drink.”

“The infallible Doctor Terax admits he’s wrong,” Tikva said, chuckling. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing, but I needed that.”

“Yes, you did,” Terax confirmed. “But tell anyone and I’ll deny it. That goes for you too, boy,” he growled at Fightmaster.

“Sorry Doctor, you were saying something?” Fightmaster’s feigned ignorance was worthy of acclaim and enough to pacify Terax.

“Good,” Terax said, then glared down the way they’d come, towards the Meto Institute. “Next time, I’m just going to strangle that administrator, then march my way to Meto’s office personally.”

“So, not taking you next time then,” Tikva said as resumed walking, her officers falling in either side of her. “This is just absolute bullshit.”

“Ma’am, may I?” Fightmaster asked, waiting for a wave of Tikva’s hand before continuing. “I think this might be political interference.”

“All the more reason to go in swinging,” Terax interjected.

“Don’t tempt me,” Tikva said to her chief medical officer. “Stirling, dig around, see what you can find. I’m tired of playing games and I’m tired of having to reset my damn leg every other day.”

“Ma’am, I only bring up the idea because,” Stirling started, before being interrupted by a chirping communicator.

“Kennedy to Theodoras,” came the commander’s voice.

“What’s up Nathan?” Tivka asked, all three of them stopping in the shade of a tree, likely older than all them combined.

“Got some good news for you, ma’am. Don’t want to ruin the surprise, but you’ll see it when you return to the ship. And ignore any calls from Betazed Defence while you’re at it.”