By Neng Nana 
By Investigative Staff
Published in association with the March 2016 Archive of Speculative Reports
The following report documents a systemic collapse of healthcare infrastructure within the deep-space sector. Using a recent series of patient testimonials, this investigation examines the harrowing experience of navigating the Interplanetary Relay Station’s Medical Clinic—a facility where, according to internal signage, the "hours since the last patient death" is permanently fixed at zero.
Main Facts: A System Designed for Failure
The Interplanetary Relay Station, situated in the vast, desolate expanse between Saturn and Uranus, serves as a critical junction for deep-space transit. However, for the average traveler, it is a site of profound danger. The facility’s medical wing has become a focal point of controversy due to its reliance on outdated administrative protocols, hazardous biological environmental conditions, and an utter lack of basic patient care.
The core of the issue lies in the clinic’s intake process. Patients are required to interact with a clipboard mechanism that is frequently compromised by alien flora and fauna—most notably the secretions of Saturnian slug-monkeys. These interactions, coupled with an automated triage system that loops patients through indefinite waiting periods, suggest that the facility is not designed to heal, but rather to exhaust the patient until they either expire or succumb to the station’s predatory ecosystem.
Chronology of a Medical Catastrophe
The following sequence reflects the typical experience of a patient presenting with symptoms of a common, yet virulent, hydroponic-beetle infestation:
- Initial Contact: The patient is bitten while traversing the hydroponics bay. Initial symptoms include localized swelling and necrotic purple bruising.
- Triage Failure: Upon arriving at the clinic, the patient is forced to engage with an automated system that offers a six-hour wait time, which is effectively infinite due to the lack of logistical support.
- Documentation Breakdown: The loss of the sign-in clipboard, often consumed by Tarmandian Spacemites, resets the patient’s status, forcing a recursive loop of re-registration.
- Staffing Disparities: Patients are forced to choose between human staff, who favor administrative quarantine, or Uranian Doodoo staff, who practice a radical form of "surgical" intervention involving the consumption of diseased limbs.
- Terminal Outcome: Whether through medical malpractice, predatory wildlife attacks, or administrative negligence, the overwhelming majority of documented cases conclude at "Point Z"—the cessation of biological function.
Supporting Data: The Cost of Waiting
Our investigation into the clinic’s administrative records highlights a staggering lack of efficiency. Data suggests that the average patient spends 85% of their clinic visit interacting with non-medical interfaces, such as the infamous slime-covered clipboard.
Furthermore, the environmental hazards within the exam rooms are significant. The presence of the same miniature beetles that caused the initial injuries in the hydroponics bay confirms that the clinic is not a sterile environment. It is, in fact, a breeding ground. When patients are asked to undress and wait on paper-thin tissue, they are essentially serving as bait for the very insects they came to have treated.
The reliance on "resource allocation forms" for prosthetic limbs—a common necessity given the Uranian Doodoo staff’s penchant for limb-removal—reveals a facility that prioritizes paper-pushing over the restoration of patient quality of life.
Official Responses and Administrative Stance
When pressed for comment regarding the high mortality rate and the "hours since the last patient death" sign, the station’s administrative AI issued a pre-recorded statement:
"Welcome to the Medical Clinic at the Interplanetary Relay Station. If this is an emergency, we’re sorry—you’re probably screwed."
This official stance is corroborated by the actions of the human nursing staff, who consistently advise patients to "quarantine themselves" in their quarters rather than providing active treatment. This abdication of responsibility is a hallmark of the station’s management. When questioned about the lack of available prosthetic limbs, hospital administration cited "resource allocation," despite the fact that the station is capable of generating artificial gravity that defies known laws of physics. It appears that while the laws of nature are optional at this station, the laws of bureaucratic indifference are absolute.
Implications for Deep-Space Travelers
The implications of this report are clear: the Interplanetary Relay Station is a medical black hole. The facility represents the extreme end of systemic negligence, where the barrier between "patient" and "casualty" is non-existent.
The Myth of the "Cure"
The investigation uncovered that many patients believe they have been "cured" after the Uranian Doodoo nurse amputates an infected limb. However, clinical follow-up confirms that these individuals often suffer from secondary complications—such as being a "head with half a torso"—which are ultimately incompatible with long-term survival. The station’s definition of "cured" appears to be synonymous with "not currently screaming."
The Danger of Cultural Misunderstanding
A significant portion of the mortality rate is attributed to the poor handling of inter-species communication. Patients who attempt to mimic the Doodoo language (or who foolishly engage in linguistic debates with Saturnian slug-monkeys) are significantly more likely to be consumed by the staff. The lesson for the traveler is stark: in the deep-space frontier, arrogance and a lack of cultural literacy are just as lethal as a pathogen.
Future Recommendations
For those traveling through the Saturn-Uranus sector, the findings are grim.
- Avoid Hydroponics: The miniature beetles are the primary vector for infection; keep all limbs covered and avoid contact with station flora.
- Carry Your Own Documentation: Do not rely on clinic clipboards.
- Expect Zero Support: If you are injured, the Interplanetary Relay Station is not a place of healing. It is a place of processing.
In conclusion, the Interplanetary Relay Station Medical Clinic remains a monument to the futility of seeking help in an indifferent universe. Whether you wait in line, demand to speak to a doctor, or attempt to file your own paperwork, the result is statistically identical. The facility is not merely failing to save lives; it is actively participating in the entropy of its patients.
As the sign at the entrance so clearly, and perhaps intentionally, warns: the wait time is eternal, and the end is always the same. Proceed at your own risk, and keep your limbs—and your limbs’ integrity—well away from the staff.
Copyright © 2016 by Caroline M. Yoachim. This report is intended for informational purposes only. The publisher assumes no liability for readers who attempt to visit the Interplanetary Relay Station or who find themselves in a recursive loop of medical despair.
Sagoh 
Pevita Pearce 
Layla Zulfa 