An ambulance siren roared in the night, as it landed on the hover-pad and a series of multicolored alien doctors rushed to attention.
"We need 120 CG's of Xevivinol, we're losing him." Said a frantic Doctor, wheeling in a gurney through the ER doors. Lifelessly wheezing on it, was a very dark green humanoid with large red eyes and antennae.
"This is beyond medical bullshits and cure-alls. This man of faith is going to meet his god right now if we don't get the best medical entomologist in the galaxy." said the assistant.
"Is that even a thing?"
"Probably not, He's a Vaath. The Federation didn't know they existed 2 years ago, and the political future of an entire planet rests on his feelers. I hate to do this, but we need a criminal mastermind to keep him alive. If Revellian dies before the ceremony...the Vaath will own the system."
"But his son is on our side. He wants what we want, a free Lagos Prime, a democratic world for the people, not a religious dictatorship."
"He doesn't turn 15 for another week. If Revellian dies before the ceremony is complete, the power falls to his advisor. If this bug dies right now, millions will die and suffer, so we don't need a legal, by-the-books doctor, we need a villain with medical expertise in Vaath anatomy. We need Greg." The doctor growled.
"The war-criminal? They just put him in cryo prison. We can't break him out of Federation prison to play doctor."
"Officially he's behind bars but the legal system everywhere is a joke... I have resources that say we may be able to get him here." The Doctor sighed. "Bring in the woman, pull every favor we have, and get a doctor's room soundproofed and fitted with a flame-resistant minibar. This place is about to become...Greg's House." The doc said, peering dramatically up for no apparent reason.
Dark, yet soothing piano music played as a series of medical images flashed before the viewer, fading from cool CG internal body-shots that have way too much air space to be realistic, to bug X-rays and a team of doctors strutting down the hallway in slow-motion, facing away from camera so you cant see their identity, and dangerously blocking the hallway traffic like a gaggle of assholes who would put cinematic coolness before practicality.
Greg held up the X-ray in a well furnished hospital meeting room, leaning slightly and using the overhead light to see better.
"You know we have light-screens designed to show those better." The doctor said.
"I know that, this is more dramatic and I'm killing time before my team get's here." Greg grumbled.
"This is pretty time sensitive, you know."
"I'm predicting a 2 parter, so I'm not as worried." Greg yawned.
"Why the limp?" Doc asked.
"Don't worry about it. Cryo freezing is sketchy, and my leg fell asleep. I'll be fine in 20 minutes; this was a pretty rushed thing. Wake a guy up from Cryo, tell him he get's to leave prison long enough to save some Vaath, and then you're gonna stuff me back in cryo, and you're gonna get annoyed when I have a limp? I've been injured know." Greg barked.
"Recently?" the assistant asked.
"No, just in general, throughout my whole life. I regenerate, but it still hurts every damn time, shut up and get me some sympathy coffee, heavy on the rum."
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Dipshits in Space: Season 10
Science FictionThe final season?!? nobody knows and that is yet to be determined. one way or another there will be a season 10 whenever i decide that very question, and either roll the big finale, or a normal season finale as usual, and tease you all for season 11...