| My Drug Problem (When There Are None) |
| Summary: | Fingers wakes up in medical (again) and lights a fuse in short order. |
| Date: | PH122 (18 Aug 2009) |
| Related Logs: | Sneak Attack - Air Wing & Sneak Attack - CIC |
| Players: |
 .. .. .. .. .. .. |
CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Sickbay
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #122
OOC Time: Tue Aug 18 21:48:54 2009
The hatchway immediately opens into the larger room, though the muted blues of the room are complimented by the white sheets on the various beds lying at wait for any injured personnel, which are lain out in neat rows. Curtains are available around certain bed bays for examinations and privacy during them. Rows of lockers around the room are labeled in easy-to-read yellows that contain everything from surgical supplies to the basic items such as sterilized bandages. A counter to the Fore end of the room is the ships pharmacist and can dispense items like aspirin and ibuprofen to anyone who might need it. Behind the manned counter stands an electronically locked metal door that leads back to some of the more controlled pharmacological items. To the rear of the room is a specially designated and sealed 'clean area' for surgeries.
It's time to make another deposit. Off duty and due to be so for a few hours, Barghest makes her way into the infirmary to offer up her vital juices for the good of the fleet. One hand clenches and relaxes periodicly while the MP has a brief conversation with one of the medics on hand to that effect, trying not to rouse anyone who's still recovering from the recent actions.
It's curiosity and conscience that lead Praxis Demitros to be here. Walking from the corridor and into the sickbay, eyes dart around, looking around for something in particular. Such as the pilot that was recovered inert in her craft. Eyes are sure linger on the familiar Barghest for short time but priority is locating Jupiter.
Jupiter is in one of those frakking gowns again, in a frakking medical bed, hooked up to some frakkin' monitors. She has a pretty impressive bruise on her head, her arm is wrapped in a brace and in a sling (left), and there's going to be some nasty bruises coming up over the next week from her viper harness. She's currently unconscious, probably sedated. Or maybe she's faking it and wishing fiery, awesome death upon the cylon race. With annoying freakin' narration, even.
The Marine is advised to take a seat, which she does without objection or trepidation as she's gotten fairly accustomed to the proceedure. As she settles to rest, the sound of a new entrant draws her eyes and she bows her head with a respectfully quiet, "Evenin', Lietenant."
"Good evening." Praxis replies without looking, stepping up to the medical bed wherein Jupiter resides, rubbing his chin slightly at the sight. Well, this is good. She's mangled, but it's all good. Hopefully Fingers won't be pointing didgets at folks higher up. But he does murmur something along the lines of a vague apology before turning on his heel, heading back towards the MP he met in the lounge. "How fare you, Corporal?" he asks softly, finally his jades locked entirely onto the woman.
The big blonde rolls the shoulder oposite her clenchinf fist and smiles back a casual, "Fine, thanks, just making a donation to the cause." from where she sits as a medic begins setting her up with an IV for a withdrawl. She glances at the recovery ward the Lt just dipped into, then, "Who's in there, sir?" still keeping her voice relatively low.
Praxis quietly interlaces his fingers behind his back, looking over in the direction of the recovery word just about as soon as Barghest does. "That would be Lieutenant Junior Grade Jupiter Black." he answers not-so-succinctly, his eyes soon wandering dwon to the IV that is going to be stuck into her vein. He remembers the experience. He didn't find it -too- overly unpleasant. "Unfortunate encounter while she was on patrol."
Barghest endures the preliminaries with a, "Thanks, doc!" then returns her attention to the Lt, "Hope it's not too serious?" They swapped knuckles, considering the pilot/marine thing, Bar has a fair amount of respect for the particular stick.
"Well, I'm no doctor." Praxis mentions with a rub to his chin. "But she is not conscious. Though by the look on the monitors as well as the lack of flatline noises, I would say for certain that she is alive." A slight dip of his head. "I cannot, unfortunately say the same for her wingman."
Barghest frowns and nods, "We feel'm all, sir." Moodcrusher! Completely dismissive of the red stuff filling the bag plugged into her arm, the marine continues to converse with the Lt from where she sits while business as usual occurs around them.
"Yes, indeed." Praxis says in reply to everyone feeling the impact. He doesn't outline the fact that it was Demitros in command when this all went down. He desperately tries to think of some other subject to speak about in the wake of all of that. "I am sorry for forming the proverbial raincloud over your head, Corporal." OK, not quite a subject change.
"S'ok, sir. Would have heard, anyway." There's a solemn little smile offered back his way, "One of those things that happen, no matter what want."
"I have a slight problem with thinking that Merlin's death was an inevitability." Like redshirts from Star Trek. Praxis shakes his head slowly. "Though I am extremely accepting of the fact that 'what happened has happened.'"
Pike makes her way into the sickbay, after having sent an corpsman down to storage for something and silently hoping there's something there to justify the trip. "Does anyone need anything?" she asks, eschewing her usual cheerful bedside manner in reverence of the fallen.
"Ooooh… frak me." Jupiter's piteous moan is loud and dramatic. She must not be feeling too bad. "Who kicked my ass?" She lifts her arm, or tries, only to find it restrained in a sling. "Ow, frak you, frakker. Shit!" That's a little louder than necessary. "Godsfrakkin'DAMMET. I'm in sick bay AGAIN. I better get real drugs this time." Ow.
"I didn't mean it quite like that, sir." Bar replies awkwardly, "It's just…" While the MP is fishing for a better choice of words with nary a candy bar to provide cover, the outburst derails her, hopefully everyone's train of thought. Huh. "She's awake." Then, "I'm fine, thank you, sir." to the CMO.
Praxis' train of thought does derail, thankfully for the Corporal as eyes are drawn to the source of the voice. Demitros is unresponsive to the Major's inquiry, although he does ask, "Sir, would you mind if I visited the loudmouthed patient?" the TACCO looks slightly hopeful with a raised brow.
Pike grins and shakes her head, stuffing her hands in her lab coat pockets. "Not at all, Lieutenant, just be sure she takes it easy and stays in bed."
From behind her curtain, in her bed, Jupes continues with, "Hello? Painkillers now please." SHe's still a little bent out of shape from the whole shrapnel in the leg incident in which Camille gave her a leaf to suck on. "This is inhumane, and why is my arm in a sling?"
Taking the sudden derailment as a positive, bar does look to the polymer parasite latched to her and does finally have a request, "Sir? If it's no bother, I think this is done, now." Then, toward the recovery ward, "Sounds like you had it rough out there, Black. Try and take it easy a bit, we need ya mending right."
Pike half-smiles sympathetically to Jupiter. "I'm afraid the low-dose over-the-counter variety's all we have. Morpha's being restricted for high-risk cases, but I'll see what I can fix you up with." At Bar's request, the CMO approaches her and eyes the bag, "Yes, does look like it. All right, let me glove up and I'll get you unhooked." And off she goes to grab a pair of surgical gloves.
Jupiter grouses under her breath, and makes a mental note to ambush Camille in a dark alley. If ever they make dark alleys again. She could have scored morpha last time! But really, Jupes just closes her eyes, and nods. "Can I get out of here? If there's no drugs, I can lay there in my own bed." Pilots are almost as sad as marines when they're cooped up in Sickbay.
Pike gloves up and sees to removing Bar's IV, saying over her shoulder to Jupiter, "Sure, let me sign you out first though. And you're on three weeks light duty until that arm heals, so do be careful with it, shall we?"
Barghest smiles a bit up at the CMo with a, "Thanks, sir." as she's carefully unhooked from her donation. She turns her head a few times to see if she's woozy at all, then, slowly gets to her feet. While remaining as relatively out of the way as she can, she drifts over to the recovery ward and peeks past the curtain with a, "Hey."
"Roger, sir," Jupiter replies, a lot less prafane when it looks like she just might be getting something she wants. Glee. Light duty. Suck. But flee. Though she's a bit battered, the pilot is definitely in better spirits. Course no one's told her her wingman went splat on an asteroid yet. No other pilots in beds around her, she assumes all are well. Silly, rabbit. "That would be excellent, sit."
Pike smiles and nods to the two of them, before heading to the reception desk and grabbing a clipboard, upon which she scribbles a few notes. "All right, Lt. Black, you are hereby discharged. Come back in if you run into any snags in your recovery, yeah?"
"Hey, jayjee." Bar offers, sticking her head in the ward for a moment, "Want a change of clothes or anything?" Marines trying to be nice.
Jupiter must have cracked her head, cos a marine just offered to get her some clothes. Wait, what? Jupes' eyes go to Pike first. "You got it, sir." And then she looks to Bar. "Uh. Thanks, Corporal." No smartass remarks? Definitely cracked her head. "Maybe an escort to the berths to make sure I don't fall of the stairs and break anything would be good." A pattern to her sickbay visits is growing. Injury, marine escort.
Pike nods once and goes over to the area she's co-opted as her "office space" to take care of some paperwork. Death certificates to check for accuracy. Not a fun part of the job.
She seems pretty casual about things. At least her offer didn't end in a fight. There's hope for inter-departmental cooperation, yet, "Sure thing, sir." she offers helpfully. She glances back to the CMO for a moment, questioningly, then back to the Jig, "I'll wait out here for when you're all unhooked." it may be interesting to head into pilot country without being expected to drag someone out for once.
Juptier, blissfully unaware of any death certs in need of checking, slides off of the gurney, and wanders her ass over toward the hatch. She unhooks any leads that need hooking first, of course, though a professional is surely on hand to aid with that. Huzzah. Free at last! "Say, Corporal," Jupiter can be heard saying as she steps out, "Didn't you pop the old S2 for popping the old CAG?"
CEC Kharon, Deck 2, Midships, Hallway
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #122
OOC Time: Tue Aug 18 23:54:40 2009
The hallways of the CEC Kharon are a nondescript battleship grey, functional and plain. Dull white lighting is inset into each archway and runs along the ceiling in recessed holds, illuminating the steel painted interior, and the occasional oxygen scrubber along the walls. Storage crates, in a matching dark grey scheme, are located here and there along these corridors, containing items of use for various nearby departments.
Bar's liesurely escort of the pilot hastens rapidly with the question and she snaps back, "What the frak is wrong with you?" as she reaches to yank Jupes back around by a shoulder. Happy gone. This is Bar on touchy.
Herk. Jupes is yanked back from the sickbay hatch just as she steps out and started to turn back to the MP. She's only got one good arm working for her, seeing as the left is in a sling. She's a little off her game, but no so far off that she doesn't react when someone grabs her jailhouse beatdown imminent style. At least that's how it translates in her head. And her response leads with a fist, a right fist, solidly. It would have hit the jaw on a normal sized person, but on Bar it's more like shoulder level. Pow.
Barghest's shoulder is afflicted by the hand of personal space, which makes her already mad expression a little moreso. Her hand snags the offending limb and she pushes the smaller woman against the wall, "The frak kinda question is that?" she snaps, "Yeah, I was the one, what of it?"
Kai is just coming up the hall to sickbay, wearing a flight suit and an industrial strength frown. He sure does take his time, doesn't he? Maybe he had stuff to take care of, first. Like mollifying a Deck Chief and reporting to the Commander on losing one of his men. He rounds the corner just as Jupiter's getting slammed up against the wall. Hoboy. "Corporal." It's snapped, though not precisely barked.
Jupiter is slammed against the bulkhead hard enough to rattle her back into talking mode. She eyetwitches a little, and does her best to ignore the sudden urge to purge. "… It's just a question, shit. I was gonna say thanks. I hate it when crazy asshol—" Oh shit. CAG alert.
Barghest closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she hears her rank being so crisply intoned. Her grip, after a moment or two releases like the pilot suddenly burned her hands and she straightens. Storm grey eyes open, though they have a hard time finding the smaller, injured woman's face before she squares up for the CAG, shamefaced, "…sir…"
Trying to get a feel for what the CAG's thinking, is often like trying to get blood out of stone. There's no real heat in his eyes; if anything, they look pretty defeated at the moment. After watching Barghest for a few seconds, he turns to Jupiter. And steps in closer with a soft thud of boots. "Has Lieutenant been cleared by medical staff to leave sickbay?" he asks the marine curtly.
"Yes, sir," Jupiter replies, as she's released and her status is queried. "The Major released me about… five minutes ago." She doesn't look like she's making a jail break. Unless that's what Barghest is doing here. Ahem.
Barghest stands tall before the man, as she's already stepped in it and it's threatening to engulf more than her toes, "Sir, Lieutenant Black was cleared on three weeks light duty. I was escorting her to the berth when I stepped out of line, sir." So much for getting better about the shooting.
Tall is right. Barghest.. has a few inches on the CAG, to put it mildly. But Kai, the bastard, manages to look for all the world like they're on equal footing. "Understood," he answers tonelessly. "You're relieved of the duty, Corporal. I'll accompany her, myself. I'd like a word with you later." He turns, heads away two strides, then waits for Jupiter to catch up.
Jupiter peels herself off the wall, and straightens her gown a little with one hand. Yes, her ass is hanging out the back. No, she didn't bother asking where they put her wrecked clothes. If she was wearing anything under her flight suit. It's questionable either way. She appears to have gotten rattled around really well, but since it's nothing serious enough to require morpha, it's nothing serious enough to keep her in sick bay. She can lay around in the Berth. Jupes glances over at Barghest, but further talkies on the subject seem… unwise. So she'll do it later when brass isn't around. "Sir." She moves to catch up with the CAG.
Barghest hangs her head and nods, "I understand, sir." she replies weakly then, her eyes swing reluctantly toward the pilot and quietly, words most marines may well choke to death on before uttering to some pilots pass her lips. "I'm sorry, sir…" and almost curishly, starts back toward Marine country in the Vipers' wake.
Acquiescence and apology seem to be sufficient where Kai's concerned, and he dismisses the issue — for now — with a brisk nod to Barghest. Of course, there's still the matter of poor Jupiter flashing her ass to anyone lucky enough to be following behind her. Because, really. It's a pretty nice ass. But viper pilots have this little thing called pride. "Here." He reaches around to close her gown up at the back, and keeps his hand there while they walk. "How do you feel?" is murmured quietly, after a few steps.
Jupiter Black has a singular way of making friends with the members of the CMC. No matter who they are, or how things began, she almost always manages to torque their shit the wrong way. It's a gift. It really is. Wait, Kai's offering to hold her gown closed? That's like genuine VIP treatment right there. Captain Gown Matron. "Like somebody dropped me in a blender and smacked it on high. I think the second grade is gone. I killed my viper, huh?" She really would have just walked through the ship with her ass hanging out. Trust Kai to kill the grabassy fun.
"Yeah," Kai answers with a low, wry-sounding chuckle. "You trashed your ride. Might be salvageable, with those parts we picked up down on Scorpia." A few steps are taken in relative silence, and no, he doesn't remove his hand from the back of her robe. All they'd need is Sheridan himself to pass them by, spot Jupiter's ass, and walk into a wall. And then blame the CAG for letting his pilots wander around half-naked. "I'm sorry we couldn't get out there sooner for you." It's confessed just before they turn down the hall leading to berthings.
But you have to admit, seeing Sheridan do a faceplant into an upright surface would be pretty damn worth a laugh. And then a brigging. Possibly a firing squad. Jupes doesn't gripe about the CAG protecting her modesty (ha), but she does glances over when he says that last bit. "Vipers only cruise so fast. I should have called up for backup earlier. I had that tingly feeling." She grunts. "Not the one you get when you have to pee, but that other one. That 'hey, cousin Jimmy has a bucket of spiders, and he's hiding in a tree nearby' feeling."
Kai, of all people, should know how fast a viper cruises. He can probably even quote it. But he doesn't. "It's all right," is all he says, rather softly. "We could have lost two pilots out there, tonight." He hesitates with his hand on the hatch wheel, as if he's about to add to that. Maybe something about how he's glad it was Merlin, and not her. Because, face it: people are subjective creatures. Even the CAG. But, he doesn't say this either. Instead, "After you."
It's funny, but in all the hoopla, no one told Jupes any pilots went down, and she was out of it during the fight. "What do you mean two?" She moves past Kai as she asks that question, her right hand reaching out to skim along the hatch as she steps into the berthing.
CEC Kharon, Deck 1, Red Squadron Berthings
IC Time: Post Holocaust Day #122
OOC Time: Wed Aug 19 01:03:59 2009
The hatchway to this room has a top-down stencil of a Viper Mark Two painted across the entire expanse, the rear end of the Viper at the bottom of the hatch. Once inside, the berthings are typical of Viper squadrons throughout the fleet: Two lines of bunks are mounted against each wall with another one built into the wall at the other end. The room's gray walls and the empty space surrounding the bunks hold framed pictures of Vipers in action and depictions of the Cylon War of forty years prior. There is also a hatch in the back the leads to a private Head for these officers. Even here, the dark blue curtains hide away each individual bunk from the goings-on within the common area which is centered on a large oak table, though the surrounding chairs are standard navy.
Kai steps inside just after Jupiter, his hand falling away from the back of her gown once they've cleared the hatch. Gown, as in paper-thin flimsy sickbay fare, to which half the ship would've been privy to Fingers' ass if he hadn't been holding the garment closed on the way up. Apparently, viper berthings are fair game; she does stroll around in a thong pretty regularly, after all. "Merlin bought the farm," he answers gruffly, stepping away to his locker and spinning the combination wheel.
Jupes resumes her ass out wandering across her to her locker. "Motherfrakker." Jupes intones the one word with vehement emphasis. She probably spits when she says it, too. She kicks a chair as she goes by the table. Thud. Ow. OW. "SHIT." Ow. That hurt. She isn't wearing boots, afterall. A litany of hissedout cuss words spill from her lips, most of them in Standard. Whether it's for Merlin or the foot she just bruised isn't clear. Could be a little of this, a little of that, but really it's probably the foot. Probably.
Resting in his bunk, Martin's closed his book and is in the process of sliding out of his bunk when the tirade from Jupiter hits his ears. Glancing to Kai at the mention of Merlin's death, Martin lowers his brow and slides a cigarette between his lips. "Frak…" He shakes his head from left to right. In a natural reaction, he looks towards his sister, who was his wingman.
Kai's jaw tightens, and he finishes swinging his locker open before peeling out of his flight suit in a mechanical fashion. Ziiiiip, tug, tug. He keeps his head down while he works, apparently intending to let Jupiter hiss, spit, kick and whatever else she needs to do over there. "Hey there, Dash," he murmurs once Martin shows his face, hitching his chin briefly toward the younger pilot.
Jupiter calms down after about a minute and a half of the hissing and spitting over on her side of the berthing. She'd probably be punching stuff, but she tried that a couple minutes ago and her knuckles are still a little sore. Closed fist and all. Plus she's down to one good arm and she needs that for things. Instead, she collapses to a seat on Yuuri's still empty bunk below hers, and scowls.
"Hey Spider." Martin replies, nodding to Marek with a quiet sense of mourning. The pin-drop effect of trying to skirt around an emotion is a necessity when a new death is announced. Moving from his bunk to go sit down next to his sister, he takes a drag off of the cigarette and then offers it to her. Speaking in body language, he raises his eyebrows to Spider and flattens his lip with a 'this sucks' gesture before looking to his sister's face.
Kai just watches Dash for a little while, and then lowers his head to continue undressing. The flight suit's bundled into his locker, and a pair of fatigue trousers pulled on. Shower? What shower? It's not like his fellow pilots aren't accustomed to being around each others' sweaty selves. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his locker, and sets to lighting one after giving his tanks an absent tug. They're sweaty too, and still showing a good few inches of skin. Does he care? Seems not. "Wasn't your fault," he speaks softly to his locker.
Jupes' scowl lessens somewhat with the appearance of nicotine. She reaches for the smoke, and leans against her brother. There's a quiet moment between the siblings Black, without either of them trying to light the other on fire. It can't last. Her pale blue eyes flick to the CAG. She isn't above watching him expose skin, even if it's only a little. She speaks around her cig, after blowing out smoke through her nose. "Near enough." Mutter. "That little shit. I can't believe he bought it. Now I gotta kill like fifty raiders in his name." She groans.
Turning his gaze from Spider, Martin stares at the central table to get lost in his thoughts. Raising an arm to wrap around the back of Jupiter's shoulders carefully, he gives her a soft squeeze and leans over to kiss the side of her head. Its the most a brother can do. "I'm gonna go get us some food or some coffee…" He says quietly to Jupiter, letting her know that he's going to be available. Standing and leaving her with his cigarette, he nods to Spider and makes his way towards the door. "I'll be back in five…" He proclaims, stepping out the door.
"Better get cracking, then," the CAG notes, dimpling a rare, and weary-looking grin as he reconsiders and pulls on a fresh set of tanks. Someone's stolen his usual t-shirt, you see. Martin gets a nod, and Jupiter's shoulder's squeezed as he passes by them on the way to his bunk. Long day all around.
Jupiter flops back in Yuuri's bunk, and grunts something under her breath. She doesn't say anything else. And, of course, she's out before Martin even gets back. Lazy duty, go!
