Summary: After the Pandora catastrophe, Sickbay is one busy place.
Date: 18 BCH (26 October 2008)
Related Logs: None

Sickbay Genesis - Deck 13
18 BCH 2085 Souls

The medical facility is large enough to hold a few dozen beds. Each bed is set with a curtain for privacy, a chair near the bed and any monitoring or medical aids needed. A nurses desk sits at the front near the hatch and a surgery area, Medical Officers area and supplies are on the far wall behind the desk. Nurses, doctors and medics man this area at any time day or night. Visiting hours are usually kept to the day and evening schedules, unless stated otherwise by medical staff.

Sickbay has been organised chaos since the Pandora injured began pouring in. Soldiers are everywhere, sitting and lying on gurneys as they're seen by the nurses and doctors, some awaiting surgery and some being moved into room space for the night. Nearly every room tonight has an extra bed set up tonight, except for the most critical of cases.

D'Artanion walks into sickbay with the streatcher carrying Captain Desusa. She waits while it is settled with the others waiting for attention. The man is stable and unconscious. Not a lot she can do for him right now, so… once he is settled, she moves to assist with the cases that fall under her expertise. Anything to lend a hand and alleviate the suffering around her somewhat.

Zaharis emerges from one of the hallways lined with gurneys, having traded his uniform for dark blue scrubs before heading into surgery. He pulls off the thoroughly unattractive cap and hairnet as he comes back towards the exam rooms, protective mask left to hang around his neck. Pausing by the intake desk, he's immediately snowed under for a while with nurses and doctors giving reports and grabbing quick consults. Near D'artanion, a nurse smiles warmly at the Marine, taking over Desusa's gurney and wheeling it towards a room.

Craven comes in from Corridor 13B.
Craven has arrived.

D'Artanion nods to the nurse, though she pays attention to which room he goes into as she has been tasked with keeping an eye on the man. Well… Technically, she was told not to leave his side, but… With all that is going on here, that is not entirely practical. Moving to a sink, the woman scrubs her hands and face, then pulls on those delightful gloves that make everything feel like it is coated in a thick layer of slime. Yay. Turning, she claims a set of scrubs and a mask. These are pulled on, though the mask is left hanging for now. Turning fully, she takes a look around the room. Spotting Zaharis, she walks that way and waits her turn. Finally, she smiles a bit, "Hey, Doc. Point me in whatever direction you wish. I'm here to help. If you want me to just stay out of the way, I can do that too. I'll go sith with the Captain, in that case."

What was once a perfectly pressed and clean medic uniform, is not so much anymore. As Craven rounds a corner and makes his way into sickbay, it's clear he was off tending to the wounded somewhere. Spots and stains of blood dot the olive and brown garment, as well as the gloves that cover his hands. Carefully, one glove is removed and crumbled up in his other hand so that a finger can slip beneath and extract that one from his hand, effectively containing the soiled gloves within. Moving to toss them into the proper disposal bin, a soft sigh crosses his lips as he moves to reclaim another pair. Neither D, nor Zaharis, are noticed at this moment.

Zaharis smiles at D'artanion, the expression bringing out lines around his eyes that aren't quite as visible when he's gotten enough sleep. "Technically I can't let you let you loose in Sickbay, Sarge. You know that. Though I think I can keep too many folks from noticing if you just happened to follow me around for a while." He glances around the busy reception area, taking stock of things. "Ever been on triage in a collapse situation before?"

New gloves are snapped onto his hands in a fluid motion and it's only when he turns away from where he claimed them that his eyes fall upon D and Zah. There's a couple of slow steps taken towards the pair and when he draws near, he begins to speak in a tone that's void of expression, when once it would have been cheerful and pleasant, "Captain. Sergeant." A moment's pause and his gaze settles upon Zah, "Anything you want me to do, specifically, Cap? Other then just continue to treat them as I can?"

D'Artanion shrugs, "Dunno, Doc. Captain Gaelan asked me to ask you to assign me to some rotations here. Gotta be a way to make it a go. But, now? Yeah, I know. Paperwork trail hasn't happened." The woman looks frustrated until the man makes his suggestion. Then, she smiles and winks, "Right-o. Just like your shadow." More soberly, she inhales and nods, "Yeah… Though it was a mine collapse planetside. Different parameters… similar trauma, I would expect."

"Oh, we'll get you set up for rotations," Zaharis' tone seems to promise. "I just can't send you around unsupervised. Don't take it personally, I doubt they'd even let me send around a board certified surgeon unsupervised if he wasn't Navy." He smirks slightly, then nods to her. "Similar, yes, with respect to CRUSH syndrome and external injury. Not dealing with the same dusts and lung damage you'd find in a mine, of course, but there was a fire in the hangar bay…" He gestures around. "So many of the patients are also coming in with smoke inhalation and burns. Pop quiz, patient presents with second degree burns over twenty percent of the body, shortness of breath, cough, irritated eyes, nausea, cherry red skin, and confusion. First step?" He nods a bit to Craven. "Treat as you can. Sarge here's helping me out for the night. Stick with us if you want or help Lieutenant Brown over there with the burn ward, one or the other."

Although she does half smirk, there is no laughter in her gaze nor in her tone. "Understood, sir." She falls silent for a moment as though considering a retort. But, it will be saved for another time or abandoned to the needs of the now. Listening, she lifts a brow slightly, "Make sure the airway is unobstructed, which may include administration of a bronchodilator, then see to providing oxygen." She sounds certain and confident. There is none of the easy banter that she exibits when off duty. When Craven comes over, she does offer him a quick smile and a nod.

Replies arn't immediately forth coming, for Craven waits until D has taken the time needed to answer Zah. Then, he's offering a nod to her and the very slightest of smiles, "Almost a text book answer. You always were really good with that." Then, his gaze shifts back over to the Captain and he nods again, "If you don't mind, Cap, I'll tag along and help where I can. Then, when we're finished up here, I'll head over to the burn ward and spend a few hours there. Let some of the other nurses and medics rest their feet for a bit." A shift of direction and he's moving to claim a set of scrubs for himself. No sense dirtying his uniform more then it already is.

Zaharis grabs a fresh pair of rubber gloves from one of the many, many boxes scattered around for hurried medical staff, pulling them on. "Perfect." That might be to D'art, might be to Craven. The latter gets a nod to show he was heard. Medical train, departing for room two. "Got a patient with severe inhalation, needs a bronchoscopy and a good analysis of the extent of the lung trauma. Up for it, Sarge?"

D'Artanion decides that the answer is one of thos so often employed by medical personnel. Why use two words when one will do? Therefore, the reply is to her as well as to Craven. Cool. She nods, "Certainly, sir." Turning, she pauses long enough for Zaharis to lead the way. As they pass the room where Desusa lies, she glances in briefly.

Choo! Choo! Craven seems to be taking up the rear of the train that's departing for the land of the healing and as such, he sets off to follow after the rest. Eyes flicker from side to side, room to room and another soft sigh can be heard as it escapes his lips, "What happened, anyways? I don't think I've heard anything … either that, or I was just busy to catch it." A passing nurse is offered a slight smile and a quick nod. No point looking all grim and grave in the face of chaos.

"Engineering's still analysing what happened," Zaharis replies, as he steps into one of the rooms. "But the Pandora experienced multiple explosions and electrical fire. One of the causeways in her hangar bay collapsed." He nods slightly to all the bodies in gurneys. Collapsed on top of them, no doubt. In the room he's led them to, their patient in question is unconscious. Breathing on on his own but noisily, audible even behind the oxygen mask he wears. Burns cover the right side of his face and neck, dressed carefully. Supplies on on carts near the middle of the room, including the endotracheal tube for the procedure.

D'Artanion walks into the room after Zaharis and in front of Craven. She moves to the patient's bedside, lifting the mask over her nose and mouth as she walks, "Has the patient been anesthetized? Or is he unconscious due to the trauma?" She picks up a folder with the man's chart and flips to the relevant page to read any notes available. Once she finds what she is looking for, she nods and replaces the chart before reaching for the endotracheal tube. Moving to the patient's head, she glances up at Zaharis to see if there is any information she needs that is not covered by the chart.

There's a nod to Zah, even though it won't be seen and then a soft 'hrmm, "Interesting. Would like to know what caused this sort of … mayhem." A shake of his head now, a murmered "Shame" and then he's moving to follow D within the room, moving to pause off to the side of her. A quick crane of his neck and he's looking at the chart as well before taking a step back, so as not to interfere with the procedure. A drift of his eyes down to the patient and he's mentally recording visible wounds and burns and no doubt gauging the rate of respiration.

Zaharis stands back, obviously not going to interfere unless something goes seriously wrong. He lets her look at the chart for a few seconds before he details for her, "The Petty Officer here is out due to trauma. Normally we wouldn't perform such a procedure on an unconscious patient, but he has presented significant distress and is considered at risk for respiratory failure. Chest x-ray has shown no leakage in the lungs, but has given suspicion of possible foreign body or scarring, which we need to see up close. Anti-secretory medication has already been administered. Craven, if you will keep an eye on the blood pressure monitor and ECG." The tube is fiberoptic, black and smooth, and already properly hooked up.

D'Artanion purses her lips behind her mask at the details, then nods once. Moving to the man's head, she takes stock of his burns, the treatment of them and then glances at the monitors for an instant or two. When she is satusfied, she gently moves the man's head into an appropriate position and opens his mouth. First, she inspects the visible airway visually, then begins the insertion. Although most doctors hold the endotracheal tube in the right hand, she holds it in her left with the laryngoscope in her right. Turning the scope on, she checks to be sure it is properly projecting, then begins. Though her touch is gentle, it is efficient and it is not long before the intubation has been completed. All the way through the scope has been operational, recording and displaying what there is to see.

There is a slight nod towards Zah and Craven's attention shifts over to the array of the monitors, watching both blood pressure and the ECG. "You know, Sarge, this is like medical school. You, me and a doctor." A wistful sigh and a shake of his head, "Though, it wasn't life patients then." The entire time, his gaze doesn't leave the monitors, ensuring that everything remains within levels that are acceptable and tolerable. "Cap, you mind, later, if I just grab an hour of shuteye on a piece of floor somewhere. Easier then heading back to the quarters and then back here again."

"Help yourself, PO." Zaharis watches D'artanion's handling of the procedure as he talks to Craven. His eyes lift to watch the camera's output screen. Mmm, burnt lung. "Broom closet number three's got pillows on the gurneys, if you can deal with my snoring later." He waits to give D'artanion ample time to poke about, making a few mental notes, then nods. "What have we got, Sarge?"

D'Artanion takes enough time to get a good look around without lingering and potentially making things worse. "Well, it looks bad enough, but not terrible. I doubt he'll lose a lung, which is good. I would start a 5000 IU/ml heparin solution inhallation as soon as possible." Gently, she retracts the equipment and sets the things on a nearby tray. Looking up and around, she seeks a tenting setup, then looks to Zaharis. "Or an equivalent, if heparin is not available."

A soft, mirthless chuckle is offered and Craven allows his lips to curve upwards in a slight smile, "Snoring won't be a problem, Cap. Won't even notice your there." There's a slight spike in the ECG, but it causes no alarm. After all, poking and prodding within the body tends to get the heart beating just a touch faster. A slight cant of his head and then he's nodding, moreso to himself then to anyone around, "Looking good here. Pressure and Heart Rate are slightly elevated, but that's to be expected."

Zaharis nods slightly to D'artanion's assessment, but shakes his head slightly to her proposed treatment. "Heparin would be a excellent idea. Problem is, it's also a powerful anticoagulant. In a patient with burns and possible internal bleeding, we would never administer it." He motions to the patient. "Atandolin or hisperdal will reduces cell activation and accumulation in the airway, plus neutralize mediators and cytotoxic cell products, all without aggravating his bleeding. You can note it on his chart." He nods to a nurse hanging about, then looks at the two enlisted. "Well done, thank you. I need to get a quick drink of water and possibly two minutes with my ass on a chair. You're welcome to join me."

D'Artanion should have thought of the blood complications. She pales a little at the idea of just how bad that might have been, then flickers a glance at Craven. The pallor flashes to a flush and she nods slowly, "A lot like medical school." Stepping away from the patient, she removes her gloves in the same way that Craven did and tosses them into a nearby receptical. The mask is left for now, though it is lowered once she is out of the patient's room. The offer of water and a chair is tempting… "Uh. Sure. In a sec. I want to check on Desusa and I'll need to send a report to Captain Gaelan."

A slight frown crosses Craven's lips, maybe it's the prospect that he's was thinking along the same lines as D. Either way, what ever it is isn't voices and he's shaking his head to clear it away. Turning from the monitors, he casts a look over towards the Sarge and gives her a smile before turning his attention towards Zaharis, "Sounds like a good idea, if you ask me." A look down, at his feet and he nods, "Good, still there. Just couldn't feel them." Following the other towards the door, his gloves are removed and disposed off and his mask is lowered only when he's left the room, "Gonna be a busy few days, Cap. "

Zaharis tosses away his own gloves and pulls his mask down as they get out of the room, nodding to the Marine. "We'll be over there, Sarge." He points her towards a glassed-in room, the last little bit of clear refuge space for medical staff needing a quick breath of air. Starting that way, he gives Craven a mild nod. "Can say that again, PO. This isn't going to be all of it, either. Expect we'll have more coming in as these rescue operations continue tonight."

Greje comes in from Corridor 13B.
Greje has arrived.

A final nod to D as she moves to check on her comrade and Craven turns his attention over towards the glassed in room. Beginning to move in that direction, his gaze shifts back over towards Zah and he offers a quick nod, "From what I gather, won't just be tonight. Seems like Rescue Ops would be goining on for a couple of days and I imagine we'll see both injuried and dead come in throughout." It's then that the medic shakes his head ever so slightly, "Hopefully not so many that are deceased. But, well .. we both know that the first few hours are key."

Sickbay is still organised chaos at this point, though with the passage of hours it's slowly reclaiming the space stolen for triage earlier in the day. The reception area is busy indeed, patients being helped, carried, and wheeled to surgery, exams, and multiple-bed recovery rooms. Nearly all of their medical staff is on duty, rotating in the sense that all of them get ten minute breaks every so often so breathe. Zaharis and Craven are on such a short break at the moment, having barely taken seats to rest feet. Craven's still in bloody medic gear, Zaharis in dark blue surgical scrubs. "We'll do everything we can," the CMO is saying to PO. "Severe burns are nasty things, sometimes it seems one's on the road to recovery and then kaboom." He is not, of course, so callous as to be talking loud enough to be heard by the general area.

While Craven and Zaharis make their way to a glass enclosed area, D'Artanion walks in almost the exact opposite direction. She makes it to a small room off the main reception area and ducks in. Walking to the bed, she nods to a nurse on duty, her smile faintly strained. Lifting the chart, she glances through it while the nurse is otherwise occupied, then settles it again and moves to Desusa's side to take a look at his vitals and so on.

The Medic offers another nod of his head towards Zaharis and his lips curve ever so slightly in a frown before Craven is shaking his head once more, "Ya, I know. Tell me about it." A quick glance around the area and then he's looking towards the glass room, "Hopefully, we'll see minimal cases of that. Let there always be hope. S'good for the patients morale." A slight smile claims the spot on his lips, forcing the frown away for now, "Though, Cap, I think I may go catch thirty in the broom closet. Put my head down for a moment to clear the webs and let things settle."

Gaelan steps in the busy Sickbay. Looking around he quickly sidesteps and moves around people until he is finally right against the reception desk. Not really liking the idea of being in the middle of things this close after a fiasco like they witnessed. Thankfully the military is really good at labelling things and his eyes catch the words Recovery Ward and an Arrow point towards it. Carefully he shuffles his way towards the Recovery area to check on the influx of Marines.

Zaharis drinks down his little paper cup of water, leaning over again to immediately refill it. He makes a small toasting motion towards Craven, nodding the man off. "Go on, get some rest." That second cup of water's downed swiftly, the paper tossed in the trash and then he stands back up. Ten minutes are over.

Gaelan leaves for Recovery Ward [RW].
Gaelan has left.

A quick nod of his head towards Zah and Craven is then murmering a soft thanks for turning and shuffling down a hall towards the fabled broom closet. Once within, a gurney is claimed so that a few moments of restless sleep may be attempted.

Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13
17 BCH 2085 Souls

This is a large room holding over twenty bed stations for patients to recover after having treatment severe enough that they cannot immediately return to duty. Each station has various connections for medical equipment, a bed with collapsible railings, fold out table, adjustable positions and a privacy curtain.

Gaelan steps in the Recovery Ward area. Stopping just inside the entrance he looks along the rows of beds, his lips tight as he knows that the majority of those here are Marines. Keeping to the side he just watches those shuffling around for a few moments as he tries to figure out just handle this weird place called Sickbay.

The recovery ward is pretty full by this point what with the number of surgeries and other, less invasive procedures that have happened today. Beds are occupied or prepped to receive occupants. At one end of one row, D'Artanion pauses and lifts a chart to flip it open and read what is written there. This does not take long and she replaces the chart and moves to the bed's side to check the occupant's vitals.

Lakis is arguing with some corpsman as she takes the clothing from him, "I could give a frak," she mutters tightly and is half leaning on the edge of her bed as she pulls the clean clothing on. Flashing! Her back is bandaged along with her lower leg. When D'art comes up, she just looks at the other woman. "What's the word?" Her eyes are a bit wild at the moment from the pain meds.

Zaharis makes his way back into this recovery ward after a time spent dealing with those in critical care. His blue surgical scrubs leave no place for his rank pins, though down in this territory he hardly needs them. A nurse swings into his path to show him an electronic chart of a Marine nearby, which he looks over and mutters to her about before signing the bottom with a stylus.

Gaelan passes a glance to Zaharis as he slips in and nods to the Captain, "Doc, good to see you got everything in order. The extra hands helping out I take it." Looking along all the beds he also asks, "Has anyone figured out where we are putting these Marines on discharge.."

D'Artanion does not see or hear Gaelan or Zaharis initially. She finishes with Desusa, then turns to Lakis. A brow lifts and she nods, "It's going." Her gaze flickers over the bandages, then takes in the private's eyes and her brows rise, "Going somewhere, Private?" There is a certain edge to her tone, an authority that has not been in evidence before. Still, the curiosity remains and she clearly means to give the other woman a chance to state her position.

"Where's the smoking room," Lakis looks through the clothing for the smokes too. When a pack falls out, she grabs it up along with the lighter. Heck with the boots, she begins putting her feet into the hospital floppy things. "Captain Zeus is going to want some answers when he wakes up." She shifts a glance to the big man's way and frowns, "And some ass..not that kinda ass, someone's ass on a plate."

"Their bunks," Zaharis replies to Gaelan, handing the small electronic tablet back to the nurse and sending her off to retrieve medication. "Standard procedure. And yeah, the extra hands are appreciated like you wouldn't believe."

Greje comes in from Sickbay.
Greje has arrived.

Gaelan looks to Zaharis and shakes his head, "They don't have bunks right now, remember?" Eyes slide up to the exchange between the Sergeant and the Private as he passes a glance to the Doctor and motions his head towards Desusa as he quietly comments, "We served on one of my first duty stations together. I had no clue he was even out and about still."

D'Artanion's expression softens just a bit though she shrugs, "Sorta don't think there's a smoking room down here, Private. Not with the oxygen and other volitile gasses in use. But, you'll have to ask the Doc. Or one of the nurses. Sorry." Her glance flickers over as she finally notes the two. Looking back, she lifts a brow, "Might be a good time to give 'em up." The comment is offered with a modicum of mirth, though it dies quickly, "Oh?" Her eyes flash to Zeus and she winces, then looks back, "So, what happened?"

"We've got enough for some," Zaharis replies, raising an eyebrow as he looks up and down the rows of injured. "Rest I suspect will get housing over on the PAS or the other ships for now. Carter mentioned once they're not at capacity yet. Think they will be soon." His tone's slightly dry, then he turns to look at Desusa. "Never met the man, myself. Heard enough stories to make me want to, though. He'll be up and at 'em soon, albeit on light for a couple weeks. I'm sure you can find a way to keep him from going stir crazy."

"Frak if I know, bombs, explosions, frakkin' booze went up like a skyrocket. I figured someone would know by now," Lakis spies the two Captains and begins a shuffle-hobble half way toward them. The smokes are in her hand as she waves it around, "He ain't going to like that," she tells the CMO and then looks at Gaelan. "You look familiar." She tears the pack open and plucks one out to tap it.

Gaelan eyes the Private calmly before reaching out and pulling the cigarette from her hand and then the pack as he comments, "And how exactly do I look familiar to a Private I have never seen before?" He extends the pack towards Zaharis to let him use his sage medical advice for making that decision.

It's been a long day for the recently recruited Chaplain. Oh, she's no slouch, keeps fit, runs, plays sports. But after hours upon hours of lifting litters and helping carry people from transport to transport, her back aches, her arms ache, her legs ache, everything aches, she's exhausted, and her real work is hardly begun. She appears in the entryway of the ward, a dark figure despite her pale complection, in standard uniform with the addition of a hood, a cloth that covers her shoulders and the top of her back as well as her head, casting shade over her face in deference to Apollo, should she be called upon to perform the paean, the god's healing hymn. She also carries two pouches, connected by a rope wrapped around her wrist, in order to give proper peace to the dead and dying. A spectral and somber-looking figure, on the whole, keeping her back straight despite the aches.

"Light that in this room, Private," Zaharis says very mildly as nods to Lakis' cigarette. "And after making you be the one to extinguish the fire after the explosion and clean up every square inch of what's left of this battlestar, I will have you tied to the bed and gagged." That's accompanied by a pleasant smile, and he gives a slight tip of his head to Gaelan to indicate she can hold onto the pack. "I know the feeling. But you want to smoke, a nurse or medic walks you out to the outside hallway." His eyes flicker as Greje comes in, and he gives her a slight nod.

Lakis stands there with her mouth open as the smokes are taken from her by the Marine Captain. She follows them as they end up toward the CMO. Blowing out a slow breath, she pushes the hair off her face, although it ends up back in a drift across her forehead, "Sir. Captain Zeus has pictures of where he was stationed. You look like a guy in a few of them." When the words come that she can go smoke, a sudden cheery smile arrives. "Can I get drunk too?" Turning to see the somber Chaplain, she is reminded once again of the devastation.

Gaelan eyes the pack and hands them back to the Private as he shakes his head slowly, "No. No drinking until you are cleared for active duty, Private. So what happened to the ship?" Yea he completely ignored the whole photo reference, he looks briefly down the row of bed's to Desusa's then back to the Private who has obviously been in the Captain's office enough to see the pictures.

Is it a good thing or a bad thing when a Preacher shows up in the Recovery Ward? D'Artanion is never sure. The Staff Sergeant shakes her head a little, then offers the woman a smile, though it does not touch her eyes. Lakis' shuffle-dart to the others is met with a lifted brow and a soft sigh. She offers Gaelan and Zaharis a quick salute, though does not really expect it to be returned. Not with the smoking exchange going on. Working her way down the row of Marines, she helps out where she can and where the Navy folk don't seem too irritated by her presence.

"No." Zaharis' pronouncement comes at the same time Gaelan's does. So much for the drinking. He reaches over and pulls Lakis' chart up, glancing over it. He does note D'art's salute and returns it somewhat absently, his eyes down on the scribbles on the tablet. When he looks up again it's over at Greje. "Padre." He uses that for greeting, even though the figure is clearly a woman.

Lakis tucks the cig over her ear and the pack into a pocket along with the lighter. She figured the 'No' would come quick about the drinking. Then, turning a look over the room and back to Gaelan, "I'm not at liberty to say more than we were on recon and had some troubles, then it all went to frakkin' hell. Sorry, sir. Captain Zeus would have my tail." A glance goes to the Staff Sergeant, "Good to see some medics though."

The hood shifts a little as the head within inclines toward the doctor. Despite the obvious and easily recognized significance of rope wrapped around her outstretched wrist, she lifts her free hand to push back the edge of the hood, letting the room's light hit her face as she offers the doctor a weary smile, "Jesse," she greets, "Is it all right if I take a turn or two around the ward… see if there's anyone who might like to hear a quiet hymn, or a story from the scriptures?" she asks in a quiet, subdued tone.

Gaelan slowly leans down and closes the distance between the Private's face and the Captain's face as he locks eyes with her, "Private. Your Assaultstar maintained multiple explosions throughout her hull. You had Marines that died today and you don't want to tell me if we need to start preparing for a possible threat that could put this Battlestar in danger?!" The rasped whisper of a tone is almost calm as his face backs up the fact that he is not playing around with this idea.

Nonono. She's Preacher. The dude is Padre. A faint smile touches D'Artanion's lips, though it does not reach her eyes, yet. Catching some of what is going on between her Captain and the Private, she looks that way, her gaze quick and cool. One might think that the medic would stick up for the patient and in some situations they would be right. Not this time, however. She turns her attention to the next Marine, her gaze taking in her wounds and the treatment offered. She smiles at the Navy nurse and shifts out of the way as medicines are administered.

Zaharis glances between the two Marines but says nothing, brow making a slight raise. He gives Greje a nod, gesturing around the room. "Keep the volume on low and you can minister as you see fit, El-tee. If you need anything just let us know."

Lakis might understand that threat better, if she wasn't drugged. Ok, she does. But it takes some moments for it to sink into the foggy braincells, "Sir. No sir!" She comes to some what of attention, not exactly straight. Her eyes go to some point now, "The Captain will understand that it is above this Private's pay grade, sir, to speak of classified information known only to the eyes of Brass, sir!" Sneaky, stealthy snipers, she must have heard something somewhere. And so much for low volume, do they all speak that loud?

Gaelan shakes his head as he straightens up and just simply asks, "Fair enough Private." Glancing over to Zaharis he just shakes his head slowly without saying a word, obvious frustration at the whole chain of events that has unfolded with this Assaultstar. Finally looking to the Private he points towards the bed, "Don't you think recovery is a little better than smoking, Marine?"

Greje looks to the two marines, as well, then back to Jesse with a subtle nod, "That won't be a problem," she keeps her voice especially low as she continues, "Is there anyone in particular to whom I ought to look— sooner, than later?" she asks, asking the question in discreet but, she thinks, understandable terms.

And thus the smoking break is revoked. Ah, well. Such is the life of the uncooperative. D'Artanion shifts a glance over her shoulder to the Private and Captain, then looks back to the Marine she was looking after. Turning, she finds herself back by Desusa. Noting that nothing has changed, really, she turns to claim a folding chair placed near his bed. Her gaze drifts to the group by the door, then drops to her lap. Time to take a load off for a minute, or so.

Zaharis returns Gaelan's look, mild sympathy there. He's not going to comment on Lakis' smoking though, it having no impact on her recovery from shrapnel wounds. He replaces Lakis' chart and motions to a nurse. "Have a check of the private's leg, get it cleaned and re-dressed. No more walking round tonight. She can get back up in the morning if it's healing well."

It's a toss-up, really. Rest and recovery. Smoke and a high for jangled nerves. Lakis looks back to the bed and the look across her face makes it look like the former wins out. "Yes, sir." She can smoke later and she turns to shuffle-hobble back to the bed. Easing down on it, she looks up to the ceiling and her eyes go half-lidded. "It'll all make more sense tommorrow." She hopes. A turn of her head to where Desusa is lying still unconscious. "Hang in there, Cappy." She also offers a lop-sided grin to the marine medic sitting there now. "You'd like him."

Zaharis makes a tilting motion with his head for Greje, indicating the exit. "You'll want to have a walk round ward two. This wing is for patients whose stay should be short-lived. In…you know, a good way."

D'Artanion looks up, clearly startled at being addressed. She offers the Private a half smile, "Captain Desusa? I'm sure I will, Private. When he's recovered and no longer crabby about being forced into light duty. Until then? I get to lord it over him as his medic. Just seein' to it he follows the Doc's orders." She inclines her head toward Zaharis and Gaelan, who will probably do the actual 'lording' but a girl can dream, right? Her gaze returns to Lakis and she lifts a chin, "Staff Sergeant Amalina D'Artanion. What's your story?"

Gaelan shakes his head as he looks around and looks to the Doc, "I will try to make sure we have places for everyone to sleep at when they get discharged." Reaching out he pats his shoulder and hooks a thumb towards the Medic, "Make sure she actually gets some rest. Especially she is the reason he was so stabilized upon coming in."

Greje nods again, discreetly, with a draw of her lips into a slightly more full smile. "I'll be back in, then, later," she replies. "Thank you, Jesse," she adds, drawing the hood further over her head again and turning to withdraw into the other ward.

"PFC Silj Lakis, sniper corp. I've been with Captain Zeus for almost three years now. From Leonis, I was due for some leave soon. Didn't think it would happen like this though." She tucks her arm under her head as it rests on the pillow and keeps to her side so the pressure isn't on her back now either.

Zaharis smirks at Gaelan. "I'll do what I can, Cap. All else fails, she won't see the syringe of sedatives coming." He gives a friendly smile towards D'artanion. Too friendly, really. He might really mean that about the syringe. Greje gets a nod. "'Course. Be well, Padre."

It would surely be a shame if someone attempted to syringe the medic and she did notice. Especially if she noticed just a little too late to stop a retaliatory strike to the gut or neck of the offending attacker. Truly it would. Honestly. "Good to meetcha, Private." She shrugs, then rises again, break over, "Oh, well. Time off's time off in the Marines. S'just more fun some other way. Still, I'm sure some've the guys'll help keep you entertained. Just don't play cards with 'em unless you define the stakes first." She winks, then turns in time to see the /Preacher/ head toward the door. The guy is the Padre. A frown touches her brow briefly and she lifts a hand to the Private, "S'cuse me. I'll be back to harrass you after the nurse changes the dressing on your leg. Gotta have a word with the Preacher."

Gaelan leaves for Sickbay [o].
Gaelan has left.

"I'll remember that," Lakis says as the Staff Sergeant gets up to head off. She then lets her eyes close down and the morpha to take affect finally. Whoever changes her bandage should find it easy atleast. The hum of the room fades off into the background as she drifts off.

Zaharis is back to looking at charts and making his rounds. Having taken his ten minute break, it'll be a few hours before the next. The life of Sickbay.

D'Artanion nods to Lakis, "Rest well, Marine." She smiles at the woman, though it may not be noticed, then turns to walk toward the door. She does watch Zaharis for a moment before ducking into the other room.

Greje is walking the second ward, a slow, almost ceremonial cadence to her steps, the twin pounches swaying below her wrist in time to her pace as she pauses by each bedside to offer a few short words to each one conscious, stopping longer to speak to those who seem eager for her attentions. In a soft, soothing voice she whispers the Rape of Kore and how Hermes learned to travel into the kingdoms of the Unseen Lord, the girdle floating in the water and the laugher of Demeter even in her grief.

The door from the recovery room opens and D'Artanion slips out. She closes it softly, then moves forward. Her gaze sweeps the ward, then settles on the Pre… Pa… Priest. There. Walking toward her, she waits until the other woman is not speaking to one of the patients. Clearing her throat softly, she shifts forward a hair or so, "Excuse me, ma'am?"

Zaharis is here somewhere, constantly ducking through crowds of people to get into and out of the patient wards. At some point someone hands him a paper cup of coffee, which he doesn't even notice until a few minutes later when he stops and stares at it for a second. Then shrugs and carries on, downing a few swallows.

Greje turns, recognizing the woman from the taproom, even if she herself isn't recognizable in the shade of the hood. "Amalina," she greets in a quiet but friendly tone. "How can I help you?"

It is just a little creepy to be recognized by folk you don't. The medic pauses, but only for a moment. "Uh. Yeah. Listen. Do you have office hours or something? I'd like to talk to you about something. Later. When this…" Her hand lifts to indicate all the patients around, "…has cleared up. Would that be okay?"

Greje nods, "Of course, my child," she answers, using a rather more ritualized form of address, since Amalina seems to be coming to her in that capacity. "I'll be here… tonight, probably all of tomorrow until I really need some sleep. Let's see what the state of things are then, and make plans to meet."

Although Amalina is certainly older than the Priest, she smiles at the address and nods, "Thank you, ma'am." Flickering a glance back to the patients, the smile fades and she nods a little briskly, "I won't keep you, ma'am." Turning, she places her hands together before her and half bows, then turns to make her way to where ever Zaharis has gotten to so she can continue playing shadow.

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