Summary: Wrong place. Wrong time. Wrong woman. Wrong man.
Date: PHD021 (10 May 2009)
Related Logs: Hot and Cold.

The mail room processes all incoming and outbound mail for the Kharon. Censors edit mail on a routine basis and they receive certain non-essential traffic from the Colonies as well. The office isn't a hotbed of activity though because enlisted will generally deliver the mail to departments on their own, however large packages are usually kept here.

A long desk is met just inside the door with the room's expanse playing out far behind it. Metal caging surrounds the desk due to the potentially sensitive nature of all paper traffic moving in and out. To the side is a secured doorway which travels back through the maze of bags, sorting counters and shelving.

[Intercom] "MPs to the mail room. MPs please report to the mail room double time. We have a pilot who's lost it."

The mail room is kind of an obligatory station on the ship, as there's no longer any incoming or outgoing mail given the current situation. The place is a mess, at the moment, with litter scattered every where like the clouds opened up and it rained hexagonal papers. There's one guy sitting in the corner, nursing a broken nose and in the center of the floor there is a man flat on his back, with a black-haired woman atop him. She's straddling his chest, her knees holding his arms down and she's just wailing on his face. Behind the counter, a crewman just watches, wide-eyed and holding the receiver for the wireless after he made the call for the MPs.

The staccato sound of footsteps pound the deckplates, growing louder as they near the mail room. At the peak of their echoing sound, they stop and an imposing figure stands in the doorway. His size almost makes his a door himself and he calls out as he enters the room. "Get the hell off of the man and someone tell me what the frak is going on in here before I drag all three of you to the brig!"

What? Huh? Someone's trying to break up the fight? Eddie's blood is coarsing in her ears, the pounding of her blood running through her veins and the pound of her fist on the man's cheek is making her deaf. The guy in the corner with a broken nose pipes up, his voice sounding horribly nasally. "We were just mind our own business, and she just went ballistic, sir." Both the men are privates, marine grunts by the looks of them.

The Sheriff takes two long steps to where the female is still beating the officer and leans over to grab her upper arms and forcibly pull her off of him. Not matter how much she may struggle or fight, he keeps a firm grip and turns with her in his grasp and push her against the wall facing him. Looking over to the one crewman who is watching with the phone, "Call a corpsman down here to look at those two!" Then back to the wildcat. "Lady, calm yourself down and explain right now!"

The Crewman behind the cage nods and turns to call the medical team. The man with the broken nose is getting to his feet, but the other one who's fairing far worse is rolling around on the floor and groaning. Eddie gets pushed against the wall, her features pulled into a snarl as the Sheriff gets in her shit kit. Her breath smells like alcohol as she huffs out a breath, her body still rigid and just begging for another fight. "I slipped." She looks like the other guys got in a good few swings too, her lip is busted and her cheek is reddened and will likely bruise into a nice shiner.

A pair of MPs come into the mail room finally and Steele turns his head to address them. "You two, stay put until the medical team is down here and follow them and the two privates here to the sickbay. Stay on guard on them until they are checked out and I get a chance to talk to them." Cold blue eyes looks back to the woman he has immobolized against the wall, an eyebrow rising. "You slipped? Is that the best you've got? Name, rank and department! That assumes you haven't drank so much you forgot." The Sheriff leans his right shoulder against her shoulder so that ha can pull a flex-strip restraint from his belt and then turns her around roughly so that her face pops the metal wall just hard enough to knock a little sense into her brainpan. Her hands are jerked back behind her and the flex-cuff is slid over her wrists and zipped tight.

Thunk. Ow. MP brutality! Eddie's kissing wall now, or rather her cheek is, dark eyes slipping shut as she's jostled around. She's still as the flex-cuff is slid on, even compliant, perhaps no stranger to getting this sort of attention from the right side of the law. "Ensign Edwina Morales, Viper pilot. Red Squadron." The words come as a mutter.

"Should have known. Now, you want to try telling me the truth before we head for the brig, Ensign?" Steele watches as a pair of combat medics stream into the mail room and begin to check out the two privates. The one in the corner waves off assistance in standing up, but follows the medic out of the door. The one who had been pummelled on the floor requires a bit more finesse and patience to get him up. "Both of you, I will be up there soon to take your statements."

Eddie stays where he has smooshed her, the adrenaline slowly fading from her system, leaving her a little weak kneed. "I told you I…" She stops abruptly, the lines of her face tightening. It's the only warning given before she suddenly convulses, trying to double over, before she spews this morning's chow all over the wall and the deck by their feet.

Steele lets go of the cuffs when the ensign doubles over to take a second look at her last meal. A look of digust flashes on his face and he gives her a moment to stop hacking and heaving before reaching down for her upper arm and bringing her back up to her feet. "We're going to the brig, Ensign. I'll send down a medic to make sure you are only drunk and not worse. You are being held under suspiscion of two counts of Assault and Conduct Unbecoming. Get up and get moving ahead of me, Ensign Morales."

Eddie sniffs loudly, her eyes dimming from his words and no doubt the pain pinging around in her head. She doesn't say anything, she merely straightens with his insistant grip and turns towards the door. As she passes one of the guys, her lip curls with disdain, but she's out the hatch before she can further react.

You are entering Brig - Deck 2.

Brig - Deck 2

While the larger classes of the fleet might have two separate brigs, one for officers and one for enlisted, this would not be the case on the Kharon. Three cells are packed into this small room, each containing a toilet and bed. The bars provide no privacy, possibly as an incentive to the ship's crew to stay out of this room. Done in the same drab battleship gray that the rest of the ship is, there is only a single desk to occupy this room which faces the cells. Perhaps a bit oddly, this room is almost as strictly utilitarian as the Naval Offices.

Steele guides the ensign through the opened door of the brig, cutting the cuffs off and then shutting the door behind her. "Have a seat. You're here for a while, ensign." He turns away from her now to the phone set in the wall and picks it up, speaking into it clearly and concisely.

Eddie rubs at her wrists ruefully as she steps inside the cell. She's never been inside the Kharon's but they're all the same. Glancing around, she gets her bearings, then finds a seat on a bench near the toilet. Just in case she has to repeat the spew show from the mailroom. Her lip is busted, her cheek is red which will undoubtedly form into a nice bruise. When she sits, there's a wince, and a hand goes to her side adding that to the list of woes.

Steele hangs up the phone and turns to the small duty desk that just barely fits in the room and sits on the edge of it, waiting for the person he called to make their way over. He passes the time by fairly pointedly ignoring the ensign, his arms crossed over his chest while he watches the door.

Vendas moves through the door in her off-duty tanks and stops just inside, stepping out of the hatchway. She quirks her brow and looks from Eddie, in the cell, to Steele. "You rang, Gunnery Sergeant?" For the moment, he's got her attention.

Eddie's head hangs as she hears the CAG's voice, the Ensign stock still and drifting off into the recesses of her own mind as the Major and the Sheriff talk.

"Major, thank you for coming so quickly. I just broke up an altercation between you pilot, Ensign Morales, here and two Marine privates who are currently in sickbay being tended to. When I arrived at the call fo the mailroom clerk, she was straddled over one of them beating the crap out of him and I have to forcibly remove her from him and restrain her. When asked what happend, the best she can tell me is that she slipped. She has been uncooperative so far. She's looking at two charges each of Assault and Conduct Unbecoming. These are very serious charges, Major, and I truly hope she sobers up enough to understand that."

Vendas shoves her hands into her pockets and looks towards Eddie. Not pleased. Its like mom getting called to jail to pick up her D&D daughter. There's a long sigh and she looks back to Steele. "So she beat the shit out of one Marine and then.. what about the other? What are their conditions at the moment? Other than being in Sickbay of course."

Eddie is used to that sort of look, that's why she's concentrating on her bootlaces at the moment. No doubt bits of the conversation are wafting to Eddie's ears, but she doesn't react. She's just…numb.

"One has a busted nose, he's the lucky one. The other was barely able to walk out with assistance of a combat medic. I only saw her hitting that one and I have not had time to get statements from the two marines yet, but that will be my next step, of course." Steele leans forward and levies himself off of the edge of the desk, his arms still crossing his chest. He looks over at the ensign behind the bars and shakes his head slowly. "She reeks of alcohol, Major. And since she refuses to say anything, I have no other information until I can speak to the others."

Vendas looks back to Eddie as the GSGT runs off the details. She tilts her head a bit to see what kinds of injuries the Ensign has that are visible. "Well, I won't stop you from talking to the Marines. If they can talk." Its not the sound of someone who is impressed, either. Finally her gaze slips back to Steele. "I'll ask you to remove her from the cell and I'll sign for her. Ensign Morales and I have a few things to discuss. And please, inform me if those two are going to be pressing charges? I'd rather know before I have to hear it from the JAG's office."

Eddie apparently registers what's going on outside the cell, for she's attempting to get to her feet. It's a slow affair, one rife with winces as the adrenaline wears off and gives way to reality. One of those, 'it was one helluva fight, but you should see the other guy' sort of affair.

Steele nods his head slowly, letting out a sigh as he reached behind him for a clipboard with an irregular-shaped paper fastened to it and a pen. "Just sign here, please, Major" He hands her the board as he digs for the keys from his pocket and then flips through a small ring of similar card keys, all holepunched in one corner, finally finding the cell key and slipping into the slot of the lock. "I'll keep you informed if they decide to press charges. And I hope your discussion proves fruitful, Major. We don't care much for return customers down here." The door opens and he waves a hand to the exit. "Ensign, you're free to go with the Major."

Vendas takes up a pen and begins signing-off the clipboard. Name. Rank. Time. Date. All the fun details. She sets both back down on the desk when she's done and doesn't bother giving Eddie a glance just yet. "I don't care for my pilots spending time in the brig, either, Guns. Next time she get's to sit all three hours and then I press charges." There's a curt nod to the man and she finally looks to Eddie. "You. Me. The Ready Room. Right now."

"Yes, Major. Thank you again for coming down so quickly." Steele grabs a glance to Eddie as she passes him and follows the major out of the brig room. He sighs again as his arms finally lower from his chest and he turns to grab the clipboard from the desk and look it over casually.

Eddie gives a pained, "Sir, yes sir." Her hand drops away from her side, and she follows after Vendas like a little bruised and battered puppy. Eddie mustering up as much dignity as possible, which isn't much when your breath smells like vomit, and your eye is slowly swelling shut.

In transit

Vendas appears in the stairwell looking rather displeased. Eddie is in trail, looking pretty beat up and downtrodden. They take an immediate turn for the Sims/Ready Room.

Wil is chatting with the marin on the deck, a notebook tucked under his arm. As Vendas and Eddie pass he immediately straightens after he notices their passing. "CAG on Deck." he calls out, neutrally.

Willem does add a salute.

"One of those might work." Jules straightens up as Vendas and Eddie pass her, rifle going up to her shoulder again and a salute given. Eyes still on Wil, she waits til they've passed through before asking, "I think you're nice, anyway. There's lots of people that aren't nice. Like Lieutenant Crazy McCrazy the other night."

You are entering Ready Room - Hangar Deck.

Ready Room - Hangar Deck

The soft glow of white lights overhead cast hardly any shadows across the battleship gray walls and dark, trodden carpet floor. Divided into two sections of chairs, their bases bolted to the floor with an aisle running up each side and the center of the elevated riser. The plush black leather of the arrangement has been worn-in over the years to provide for a well-used but comfortable atmosphere. To the front a pair of large liquid crystal displays provide for the analysis of anything required while a single podium occupies a place up front and to the left. A pull-down screen is secured to the high ceiling to be used with a digital projection system that is fed on the side of the room.

Doubling as an office area, there are a few desks at the rear. Various technical manuals as well as tactical guides are set on a low bookshelf above the writing spaces. Around the side is a line of metal cabinets that hold various labels as to their contents. Hangers hold a row of spare deep green flightsuits and helmets on the other side of the room while half-hidden posters and pictures adorn the walls. One section of the wall near the front, kept clear of clutter and debris, is a wooden wall-plate that goes nearly floor to ceiling.

Vendas leads Eddie into the Ready Room and motions to a seat at the front while she stays behind to lock the hatch. The rolling mechanism clanks into place and she heads towards the front. "So I'm not pressing charges as you can see. Mind telling me why one of my pilots went to the brig?"

Eddie slides into the seat, looking every bit the part of a kid being sent to the principal's office. Her breathing is shallow, pain clear on her face if she takes too deep a breath. She hasn't been seen by medical yet, but she's not complaining. Sure, she was uncooperative with the Sheriff, but Eddie knows when to clam up, and when to spill. Seeming how the CAG just shovelled her shit out of the slammer, now's not the time to play the strong and silent type. "I went to the mailroom to send off a …mail. To send off some mail." Nevermind, the mail hasn't come nor gone since the attacks. "I was standing at the the counter filling out the address, and these two jack-offs came in. I didn't pay 'em any mind, but they were being loud. Boastful. Started talking about when they first came aboard, they liked to play pranks.." Eddie falls silent, if only to take a breath and chew on her last words like they are putting a bad taste in her mouth.

Vendas arrives at the front about the time Eddie starts to speak. Those first words get a slowed reaction from the Major. She turns carefully and looks to Eddie. Its not quite shock and not quite sympathy, but there's evident concern. Rather than stand over the Ensign, Danika takes a seat beside the pilot. She doesn't force Eddie to look at her, the CAG's own eyes on the floor in front of her. "What kind of pranks?"

Eddie squares her jaw up a bit, "Stupid shit. Short sheeting beds, changing out toothpaste for denture cream. They got my attention when they started talking about Red's berthings. They didn't know I was a pilot. Started on about an Ensign, too smart for his own good. How they jimmied the lock on his locker and stole his notebook. Wrote all kinds a shit on it about loving farm animals, then they soaked it in booze." She shakes her head. "That's when I turned at 'em. They were talking about Ensign Roubani. Called him a faggot." She almost spits the word, venom growing in her voice. "I got up in one guys face, yelling, and that's when his buddy cracked me in the ribs. What happened after that…" She shrugs. "A blur."

Vendas doesn't outwardly react to what she's hearing - yet. But one can only imagine the punches being thrown in her mind. She's quiet after Eddie finishes, her hands sliding to the arms on the chair. Fingers grip at them, turning her knuckles white. She takes a few strong breaths before words find her. "Ensign Morales.." she begins, sounding stern. "You get into a fight like that again without your wingman or backup from your squadmates and I'm going to put you in a sling, myself." Yep, she sounds angry. But not with Eddie. "How much've you had to drink?"

Eddie's tongue passes over the split in her lip as she quirks a little lopsided smirk. "I won, didn't I?" She gives a chuck of laughter, that has a slight groan on the tail end of it. "Dunno. I got off shift. Had a few drinks before I could work up the bravado to go down to the mail room."

"I don't give a shit if you won, Ensign. You should have come to me with that info or at least gotten some backup with taking those assholes to task. Now I'm down a Viper pilot while you get fixed." The Major forces herself to calm down, looking side-long to Eddie. Her eyes don't look at the woman's wounds, though. It takes a moment, but she softens. "Got a reason you're trying to mail things to the colonies, Eddie?" Not 'home.' The Colonies.

Eddie reaches up to touch her cheek tentatively. "My kid's birthday." Might explain why she was drinking, too. "I'll put some ice on my eye. Swellin'll be down by tomorrow. I can fly."

Danika averts her gaze to the floor and nods. "Kendra, my daughter. She'd be thirteen in two months and twelve days. I don't expect I'll be in much better shape when that day rolls around." She sighs. "Get yourself checked-out in medical. Especially your ribs." She sets her head back in the chair and looks to the front of the room. "I won't punish you, Eddie. But remember I'd be well within my rights to. Now go sleep that off or somethin'. You're dismissed." Strangely still, she just keeps her eyes forward and her voice quiet.

Eddie slips to her feet with a quiet, "Yes sir." She's not going to stay around, and further humiliate herself infront of her CAG. But as she slips past Vendas' chair, she murmurs quietly. "Saddie'd be five.." And then she's got a salute and a quick step out of there.

You are entering Sickbay - Deck 2.

Sickbay - Deck 2

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.

Eddie has been shown into sickbay and is currently sitting on an exam table. She's just been minorly roughed up in a fight, so the chart is waiting for a nurse's attention instead of a doctor. Eddie's dressed in sweats, and she's currently rubbing her palms on her thighs, as if nervous. Her lip has been split, her left eye is slowly swelling shut, and the intake says she's got pain in her ribs.

While not required, Castaine has been doing a daily duty rotation in sickbay since she arrive don board and this is her usual time slot. Upon entering sickbay, the Marine winces a bit at the beaten pilot. On her way to give her hands a good washing, she snags the chart and sets it aside to head as she washes. Once clean and dried, she turns back to the table. "Good evening, Ensign" she begins, giving the pilot the once over. "What happened?"

Eddie's tongue passes over the split in her lip, managing a bit of a smirk for the woman. "Which version you want? There was a fight. The other two fellows are probably around here somewhere. I've already been released from the Brig, so don't worry. Your paperwork won't be time consuming. CAG just wanted me to come up and get cleared."

Castaine perks up a brow, "Which version? I prefer the truth, Ensign. I wasn't there but I'm fairly sure that neither the CAG, nor your Brig time, nor my paperwork had anything to do with a black eye, a split lip, or possible broken ribs. So.. want to try that again?" As she asks, she turns, setting the intake down and gathering supplies from a drawer.

Eddie looks vaguely annoyed, but being petulant isn't going to get her out of here any faster. "That is the truth. Me and a few guys went at it. And I've been drinking. Though I threw most of that up on the Sheriff's feet." She says in the essence of full disclosure in case there are pain meds to be dispensed.

"Fist, elbow, foot, or knee? Which did you take to the ribs?" Castaine asks as she opens a packet, sets it aside, and uses a cloth from it to begin cleaning up the pilots face. "This will numb the skin a bit," is offered as a warning.

Eddie winces slightly, even if the cloth hasn't been set to skin. This sort of attention makes Eddie a little uncomfortable. "Um. Elbow? I think. Happened fast, stuff's kind of a blur. Maybe a fist."

Castaine listens as she begins to clean. This piece of cloth is used around the pilots mouth. Her touch is light but thorough. "Hurt all the time or only on an intake of breath?" the medic asks.

Eddie doesn't look like she wants to admit it, but she finally says. "When I take too deep a breath. But I've had broken ribs before. Doesn't feel as bad. Not like someone's stabbing me constantly."

Castaine finishes with the mouth area and tosses the cloth into the right bin. Then she pulls out a second cloth, this only being used around her swelling eye. "Likely need to get a picture just to be sure. If nothing is broken, you won't be off flight status as long."

Eddie gives a little nod, before she realizes that's probably not a great idea given that Castaine is prodding around her eye. It'll be a nice shiner when it gets passed the swollen stage. "Whatever you need. I'm under orders to be here and get it checked out." Because otherwise, Eddie would have just crawled into her bunk with some booze and tried to sleep it off.

Castaine makes short work of the eye area as well with that cloth going into to bin too. "Alright. Lift up your shirt. You can tuck your sweatshirt up enough that I can get a look at your ribs."

Eddie works her jaw for a moment, clearly debating about complying. Slowly, her hands roll up the material, exposing her midsection and her ribs that are slightly pinkish and will undoubtedly bruise. But that's not the odd thing. The odd thing are the myriad of scars that cross her stomach, like Eddie's repeated gotten into a fight with a fiesty cat with big claws and lost.

If the scars worry or upset Castaine, she doesn't show it at all. Infact, she by passes them and goes right for the ribcage. "Try to relax," she says as her fingertips touch the side of that ribcage. "I'm going to press a bit and I need a pain scale from you. One being low and ten being high and don't pull a Marine stunt and give me the 'it don't hurt' bullshit." So saying, she begins to press - though it's not hard, she's thorough.

A muscle twitches at the corner of Eddie's eye, "Four.." As Castaine moves her fingers, it changes to a, "Six." But the pain doesn't seem to be upsetting Eddie, rather she's quirking a little eerie smile.

Castaine pulls her hand back and straightens. "Looks like we'll need to take a picture. Go ahead and lay back while I get things set up." Reaching over head, Castaine pulls a piece of equipment down that's attached to the overhead light. A slate is slide into a spot under the exam table and then she waits for Eddie to get comfy on the table.

Eddie exhales a long breath, trying to keep the dismay out of the sound. She eases back onto the table as instructed, wiggling around a moment until she's comfortable.

The xray will show that the ribs aren't broken, she's just going to be tender for a few days.

Castaine takes the picture and works the magic voodoo of xray film. Ten minutes later, Castaine has the answer and she returns to the pilot. "The good news is that you haven't broken anything. The bad news is you'll be ground a few days while you heal up if only because pulling those G's the way you hurt now will be a hell of a lot worse." She shrugs then adds, "Now, I can get you something for the pain or I can just let you go to deal with this as you like. Something tells me you're no stranger to dealing with pain in your own way. Which will it be?"

Eddie rolls her shirt back down, swinging her legs over the side of the table and sitting up. "Dispense the drugs." She says flatly her eyes a little bit more steely after that comment from the Sergeant.

Castaine nods. "I'll let them know" she says as she jots it down on the intake form. "One of the docs will review the xray and my suggestion for medication - the rest is up to them." Once she's done writing up her report, she attach's it to the xray. Setting that aside, she digs around in a drawer then lays a white pack in Eddies lap. "There are a few ice packs in there. I suggest using one on your eye, one on your lip, and one on your ribs."

Eddie grabs up the pack. "Thank you. If you could make sure my squad leader gets a copy of the report, I'd appreciate it." She seems to think that's the end of it, and looks ready to leave.

"Take it easy, Ensign," Castaine offers before turning to clean up after the pilot. Oh, the fun of working in sickbay. "I might suggest that in the future you keep a hand up to protect your face more." No, she wouldn't suggest she not fight anymore. That would just be crazy talk!

Eddie smirks slightly, hitching her head over her shoulder before saying the very cliched, "You should see the other guy." Before easing down off the exam table and heading for the exit.

Castaine smirks as well. "No doubt I will" she offers back without looking up from her work.

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