Doc’s on
                                             my case again. I realize that I should be glad Harry hired a Doctor to help out our Corpsman after our encounter with the
                                             Magnus Beam a few years ago. That  was when I’d gone undercover to discover
                                             what had been shooting down our U-2’s. But I’d gotten captured, and a  little
                                             roughed up. 
                                              
                                             Suffice it to
                                             say, we managed to destroy the thing, but not without a few problems. 
                                             Frank, the Corpsman
                                              had the two of us, Ski and yours truly,  but
                                             at least I had the ministrations of Luana while I waited to be seen. 
                                              
                                             Harry was a bit
                                             anxious since resistance fighter Azziz happened to mention that I’d been tortured and dragged out to be shot. And maybe
                                             Frank just had his hands full.  After all, he had over 125 souls to tend to as
                                             well as Ski’s gunshot and my, well, let’s just say the effects of my incarceration. 
                                              
                                             I also found out that Harry
                                             kind of 'lost it' when he'd first learned I'd been captured. Friendship's like that. 
                                              
                                             There were over
                                             300 applicants for the job of Chief Medical Officer. And Harry interviewed them all. Oh, they all had the qualifications,
                                             and outstanding records. Did he have to get a man who soon found it his sacred duty to pester me to death? I’m too thin,
                                             I take unnecessary risks, blah blah blah… Oh, he’s a good sawbones, but where is it in his job description to
                                             be a mother hen? Cluck cluck cluck.