Tate sighed, then searched the room for a computer or whatever else he could find. But as he soon found out, there was nothing in a sickbay that could really help him with his predicament.
A few minutes later, the door to the sickbay opened and Dr. Wendell (the base psychiatrist) walked in. "Now. How are things, Mr. Tate?" he asked.
"I'm not crazy," Tate said.
"Of course you're not," Dr. Wendell said, humoring him.
"I'm serious. Zeus kidnapped Fianna."
"So, let me get this straight. You think a Greek god kidnapped Dr. Lightfoot."
"Yes. No. I mean ... I don't know if he was a god. He might have just been some kind of new lifeform."
"An alien?" Dr. Wendell asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Or whatever. Listen, we're wasting time. Fianna's in danger."
"Mr. Tate, by now she's not in danger. By now she's dead. Her oxygen ran out over an hour ago."
"No. You don't understand. She's not dead. She was kidnapped."
Dr. Wendell sighed, then grabbed a needle from a nearby cabinet. He then filled it with a drug.
"What is that?" Tate asked.
"Just something to help you sleep."
"I don't need to sleep. I need to help Fianna."
"Don't make me restrain you, Mr. Tate," the doctor said, approaching him with the needle, ready to inject him with the drug.
Tate looked for an opportunity to get away, but he saw none.
"This won't hurt a bit," Dr. Wendell said.
