In The Clear
In The Clear
Summary: D'Artanion is sprung from Sickbay. Reed and Zaharis talk about eels, guns, and who gets to inherit Reed's video games.
Date: 16 ACH (29 November 2008)
Related Logs: None

Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13
16 ACH 6735 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.

D'Artanion lifts a hand in a salute, "Yes, sir." She chuckles a little, then shrugs, "Might." She and Cravens are sitting on her bed. They each have a white container of food from the cafeteria. Burgers and veggies seem to be the order of the day. Cartons of milk sit on the table next to the one pound ankle weights that D'Artanion intends to use later. She looks to be in pretty good spirits, all told. "Oh, yeah? I'd heard that it had a good sports arena. Ramiro's been hoping to put together a couple of pyramid teams."

Zaharis has already been on rounds today, so his visit to the recovery ward this time is obviously with purpose. Carrying a clipboard with him, he makes his way down the rows of beds with a few quick stops to check in on this or that person. Then he starts for his target area. Look out, Craven and D'artanion!

Lacking all the essential vitamins and nutrients of real food, Craven seems to be savoring the food regardless. He's just finishing another burger before setting to wipe his hands clean before fingers claim the plastic fork. It's then that he spears what could be considered a green bean, "Yep. The arena is rather nice. Took a stop by earlier and had a look around. Interesting place, that's for sure." Oh No's! Boss man coming. The Doc is given a quick nod of his head as he begins to approach, "Hey Doc."

D'Artanion takes another bite of the veggies and nods while chewing. A swallow and she angles to reach for the milk, "Sound great. I wonder if we can use the sports arena to jog. That'd be a good way to exercise the muscles. Later." She lifts the milk and takes a long sip, then glances over as Craven addresses someone. Shifting the milk to the other hand, she lifts a salute, "Hey, Doc." She takes in his purposeful air and a brow lifts a little, "Uh… Everything okay, sir?"

"El-tee." Zaharis glances over the food. "Nice lunch?" He looks at D'art and smiles, making a 'don't worry' sound of gesture with his left hand. "Everything's fine. More than fine, actually. You still have about three days of healing before I'll be comfortable allowing you back on light duty, but having gone over your progress I've decided to discharge you."

Looking down at this container of food and then back up, Craven offers a soft chuckle, "Not bad. Figured I'd come keep the Gunny company, since I was just finishing up my roads. Plus, I had a real hankering for a burger." There's a flicker of his attention back to D'Art and he's giving a nod, "Hey, jogging is good. I can do that." Then, Zaharis is mentioning being discharged and Craven gives a soft laugh, "Well, looky there, D. A little patience and you're getting out of here."

Looking at Zaharis, D'Artanion blinks twice before a slow grin begins and she leans over to begin packing her stuff, "I am so outta here." Looking back, she winks at Craven, "Remind me not to tell anyone about this or they'll expect the same thing." Turning back to Zaharis, she motions to the container, "Want one?" There is another burger sitting there untouched. "I'd be glad to share, Doc. Won't be able to eat it anyway."

Zaharis smirks slightly at D'art. "Not hungry, but thanks. We're giving you with a medication schedule, and a cane. I'll expect you to be using that whenever moving around until we okay you to stop. For the next 72 hours you are off-duty and on orders to rest. I don't care whether you rest in your bunk or in the rec room or wherever, but you are to stay off that leg as much as possible barring an emergency. I'm giving you a schedule to report back here for cleaning and dressing the wound, and to have your sutures checked. In 72 hours, I'll give you another assessment and if I'm happy with everything, then I'll return you to light duty. Crystal clear?"

Food is put away and Craven sets about packing the containers. Then, he's looking over the multitude of things that D'Art seems to have managed to aquire during her stay here, "Gods, D. Looks like half your locker followed you into Sickbay." A quick flicker of his eyes over towards Zaharis and Craven is giving a quick grin, "If she fails to abide by your orders, Doc, do I permission to beat her?" As if that would ever happen. And so, the containers are repacked back into the little white bag that they came in.

D'Artanion stops packing up to listen to Zaharis. She sobers, then nods, "Crystal clear, sir. Thanks." She sidles a glance to Craven and she winks once at the man, "Yeah, well. Bell and a couple of others brought me stuff to do. And you brought a ton and a half of books, Stitch." Looking back, she nods once more, "Seventy two hours, yes, sir." She does eye the cane, then looks back at the weights, "Do you want me to bring those? Or just leave it for the next few days?"

"Would be a little counterproductive, don't you think?" Zaharis says to Craven, lightly. "You can hog-tie her, though. Just watch the sutures." He shakes his head as to the weights. "Those stay here, Gunny. While you're on rest you do just that - rest. You'll be in for regular therapy, so they won't get too sad without you."

With the containers of food packed away, Craven moves to attend to the books and the little bag those arrived in. Then, he's turning his attention back over towards D, giving a soft laugh, "Well, suppose since I'm responsible for bringing some of this up, I can help lug it down." Then, he's looking over towards Zaharis, giving a quick grin and a nod, "Roger that, Doc. If she doesn't comply, I'll hog-tie her and drag her back up to Sickbay. Complete with sutures still intact."

D'Artanion blushes at the turn the conversation has taken, "Hey, now… No hog tying. No beatings. I'd have to retaliate and it wouldn't be pretty." She does smile sweetly at Craven, then the Doc, despite the blush. Kind of like that 'it's not a threat it's a promise. Oh, yay. "Remember that I know where you sleep. All the little cubby holes and closets…" Scooting toward the edge of the bed, she does not seem terribly upset at leaving the weights behind. "Uh. I guess I will come up anyway. I need to borrow some of your books to research some stuff for the project. If that's okay?"

Zaharis nods smartly to Craven, turning the clipboard over onto his arm and starting to scribble down notes on the last page. He glances up as words jog his memory and bobs the pen between his fingers. "Oh, yes. Yeah, whichever ones you want. Why don't we take advantage of the off-duty time and dig out an hour or two to catch up about that. Tomorrow might be good."

Lifting a hand, Craven waggles a finger at D'Art, "Retaliating would be a bad thing. I, would then have to do the same and we'd be in this never ending loop. Until .." He points over at Zaharis, "Doc beats us both." He's giving the Major a quick grin and then when the last of the books are packed, he's moving the bag to the bed, "Ooh, projects. And studying. Have fun with that, D. Though, at least you'll have a good teacher."

D'Artanion nods, "Works for me, Doc. Thanks." Lifting her guitar's case, she slings it onto a shoulder, and scoots to the edge of the bed. Laughing, she lifts a hand, palm out, toward Craven, "True. And we don't want the poor overworked CMO to have to beat his own staff. Save that for recalcitrant patients." Her eyes sparkle, though she looks a hair on edge. Maybe anxious to see something other than the insides of the recovery ward. Her attention returns to Zaharis and she nods, her smile lighting once more. "Yeah. One of the best teachers, no lie."

Zaharis twirls the black cane he's holding, as though contemplating showing off a little softshoe. Thankfully he doesn't, just handing it over. "You both assume a lot. Assess me after I've attempted to teach," He says with a smirk. His pen scrawls across the back page again in some semblance of a signature, and he unclips the page. Fold, and that's given over to. "Your discharge orders. Go on, git."

Taking D'Art's hand, Craven gives a light tug to get her off of the bed. "Come on. I wanna see you wobble along down the corridor with the help of a cane." Then, he's arching a brow slightly and looking between the two and his mouth opens to comment, but he quickly snaps it shut. Once the cane is handed over, he gives a quick nod of his head, "Now that blunt instruments are no longer in your hands, Major .. what makes you think I was talking about? Maybe I was referring to myself." It's clearly a tease, for he gives the man a quick grin. Scooping up the bags off the bed, he holds one in each hand.

D'Artanion accepts both the hand and the cane. "Thanks." Bracing both on the cane and Craven, D'Artanion rises from the bed. Putting weight on that leg is just not fun, so it is done tentatively. Lifting her gaze to Zaharis, she half smiles, "Well… You're a frakin' fine doctor, if you don't mind me saying so. If you can't teach?" She shrugs, "I'll just hover and take notes an' like that. Ask a ton of questions. That sort of thing." She nods toward the door out, then begins to hobble that way. It isn't a wobble, though that might be purely to spite Craven.

No longer in his hands? Zaharis reaches over and baps Craven on the head with the back of the clipboard. "You forgot one." He smiles at D'art, watching her take the careful steps. "Well thank you, Gunny. We'll do the best we can, I promise. Take care of yourself."

Reed comes in from Sickbay.
Reed has arrived.

Oh crap. Clipboard. Craven see's the movement just in time to feel it hit his head and he offers Doc a mock look of pain, "Ow .. I'm going to need to take time off now. I think .. I think I'm woozy." But, a grin takes hold of his lips and he's giving another quick nod towards Zah, "Remind me, next time, to remember the clipboard please." Then, he's hefting the bags and moving to follow D'Art towards the exit.

As the people are heading out, walking to the door, upon opening it, THERE'S REED! Standing right there, like a slasher flick. Dun Dun DUN! "Hello." He says mildly.

D'Artanion looks over her shoulder to laugh as Zaharis baps Craven with the clipboard. "See? Never underestimate the opposition." She winks, then turns to open the door. Reed is /right/ there. The combat medic shrieks, then lifts a hand to cover her mouth, "Oh. Sorry, Major." That is sort of muffled, though, flustered, she lifts that hand to salute, "Uh. Hi." She blushes, either over the shriek or the muffed salute. She has a guitar case over one shoulder and is hobbling using a cane. Reversing a bit, she backs with a few hops out of the man's way.

Zaharis glances up slightly as Regas' voice comes over the intercom. Shipwide meeting. Boy, that sounds fun. He signs the extra copy of D'artanion's forms, leaving that on the clipboard, and tucks the thing into the crook of his arm. He notes Reed as the man shows up and nods that way.

Reed lifts a return salute to D'art and as she moves out of the way, he moves in, and stands to the side of the door, "Excuse me. I didn't mean to startle, As you were." He looks up to the sound of the intercom, then back to D'Art and Craven, nodding.

Following after D'Artanion, Craven is apparently playing bellhop or something, for he's carrying a couple of bags in each hand. As Reed makes his way in and D'Art stops and then backpeddles, the medic gives the man a quick nod of his head, followed by a smile, "Major." Anything further is forgone, as the intercom chimes to life.

D'Artanion looks up at the intercome, then over to Zaharis. Fun fun fun. She offers a wain smile, then turns to Reed once more, "Uh. It's okay, sir. Just…" She gestures vaguely at her leg, the cane, then back toward Zaharis, "Just got discharged, and was off to find a change of scenery. I'll… leave you all to it." Whatever 'it' is. Slipping past, she angles once more for the door.

Zaharis isn't stopping D'artanion. She's free like a bird, for the next 72 hours anyway. He starts for the door area as the gimp and bellhop start to leave, though he doesn't slip out. "Need something, Major?"

Reed smiles to Dart and Craven before looking to Zaharis, "I'm here to see a man about an Eel, and you're the man, if you have the time."

With nothing further needed, Craven makes like the bellhop that he has and ushers forward, following after D'Artanion, complete with bags in hand, "Catch you later, Doc. Major."

D'Artanion leaves for Sickbay [o].
D'Artanion has left.

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

"I have the time." Zaharis motions for Reed to follow along. "Let me drop off these charts with the nurses and we can talk in my office."

Reed nods, moving to follow along. "Of course."

Chief Medical Officers Office Genesis - Deck 13
16 ACH 6735 Souls

The office of the Chief Medical Officer is a small room, used mostly for consultations and review of sensitive patient materials than the paperwork of the Medical department, which goes through the Naval Administrative offices. Still somehow it has file cabinets along one wall stuffed full of papers, two chairs in front of a desk behind which a large leather chair is set. On the desk sits a computer terminal.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-

Reed comes in from Sickbay.
Reed has arrived.

Zaharis is quick about the dropoff, handing things over and giving a quick explanation of a medication schedule to a nurse. He heads for his office then and motions for Reed to choose a seat, shrugging off his lab coat and hanging it on the back of his chair.

Reed follows in, and as the door closes, he points up to the celing, or the intercom, take your pick, "Any ideas what that's about?"

Zaharis shakes his head, folding himself into his chair. He pulls over two of his empty mugs and the full carafe sitting on the desk, filling both up. "I generally hear about command things when the rest do. Perhaps an announce of plans." He looks over at Reed. "Or…perhaps they've decided to release what they know about the colonies. I really don't know."

Reed moves to sit in a chair, "Well, he sounded pissed, so I doubt it's all been a grand misunderstanding and we're going back home." He rubs his forehead, "So, any progress on the eel meat?"

Zaharis nods, pushing the second cup Reed's way. He rolls his chair the short distance to his file cabinet, his fingers tapping in his code on the numeric locking pad. A drawer pops open and he removes a file, rolling back to the desk. The file's placed down in front of Reed. "That's our draft of the backing. Complete analysis of the meat with regards to impact on the fleet as a primary foodsource, its benefits and its nutritional shortcomings both. With some explanations in layman terms for command. Take it, read it over, and let me know if you need anything further from us. If not I'll sign off on it."

Reed takes the folder, opening it and reading it over, carefully, he reaches and picks up the cup, taking a drink, and nodding as he reads the paperwork. He's not speed reading it, he's going about this carefully and nodding. at length, he smiles, "This is perfect, Doctor. This is exactly what we need. Now, do you want to submit this with the attachment from my research department, or do you want me to submit it with an attachment from yours?"

"I couldn't care less," Zaharis replies, matter of factly. "Do whatever you need to do to make it easier on command's braincells."

Reed nods, "Okay, I'll just send this in as an attachment and give them a dumbed down overview on top of a stack of reports that they can look at if they want to."

Zaharis half-smiles, picking up his coffee cup. "You get better at this command thing every day."

Reed smirks, "Don't tell anyone, I was supposed to be a research scientist.

"So I heard." Zaharis sips the steaming coffee. "But I'd been loathe to believe such nasty rumours."

Reed nods, "Oh, believe that hype, Doctor, at one time I was a humble project manager and head researcher for a terraforming project." He straightens, setting the file back on the CMOs desk.

"Nooo." Zaharis deepens his voice for the sound. "Stop your lies, I'm not having it. What will you tell me next, that you were working on making a desert planet suitable for human life? Get out."

Reed snickers, nodding, "Well, now that you mention it." He grins, taking a sip from his cup, "How many years has it been now?"

Zaharis raises an eyebrow. "Years since what?"

Reed looks at Zaharis, "Since the attacks."

"Forty," Zaharis replies, playing along. "Well. Forty and two weeks, two days."

Reed nods, "That feels about right." He sets the coffee down and sighs, "It really does." He rubs the back of his neck.

Zaharis rests his arms down on the arms of his chair. "Yes, I suppose it does. Are you alright?"

Reed lifts his arms, making a little floppy motion, "Hurdle cleared, I'm releasing tension. We can eat."

"What?" Zaharis looks passingly amused at all that. "Reed, really. Get way from those UV lamps, they're frying your brain."

Reed chuckles, "I been looking everyones death by starvation in the eye for what feels like years now. We just got that problem solved. I'm enjoying the catharsis moment of releasing the tension." He smirks, "And the lamps are frying my brain."

"Solved," Zaharis repeats, in a tone that doesn't quite believe it. "Just…remember what I said about hubris, Reed." The advice is given gently, and he moves on. "But, it's good for you to be able to take a breath. How have the sleeping patterns been coming?"

Reed waves a hand at Zaharis, "Don't frak with the catharsis I'm enjoying, you. kick me in the ass if I stop working." He rolls his head in a slow circle, "Ahh, good. I let myself regulate back into eight hours. I never thought I'd enjoy Condition Three so much."

Zaharis smiles slightly. "Good, sleeping better. Gotten your appetite back like a growing boy?"

Reed nods, "Things are starting to taste good again. Or bad, depending. Still, it seems to be that I'm evening out." He streches, "My shooting still sucks though, but I think that's because it always did and I still can't play the piano."

"Those, I can't give you any advice on," Zaharis replies with a smirk. "Though I could point you to a good guitar teacher if you're really looking to make your fingers ache."

Reed blinks, "Guitar, hmm? Naah, I'm too old to try to impress the chicks by showing them I'm a soulful musician." He chuckles, "Still, Live Guitar music might be good for the Taproom, who you got?"

"Gunny d'Artanion," Zaharis stretches out his legs, slowly. "She gave a little concert or two in here while she was laid up. Not bad at all."

Reeds eyes lift, "You're kidding me, really? That's great. I can see it out of her, in all truth." He chuckles, nodding, "Sorry I missed it."

"Yeah, it was pretty nice." Zaharis picks up his coffee, taking a sip now that it's cooled somewhat. "Has her own guitar and everything, never say a Marine's not prepared."

Reed nods, "Quite true. Guess we know what she spent her allowable personal weight on, now don't we. Guitar, nice."

Zaharis smirks. "Lot lighter than a piano."

Reed nods, "No doubt it is. I just couldn't get a piano cleared to be delivered on a supply ship for the PAS, you know?" He shakes his head, "They just wouldn't do it."

"Since you can't play it," Zaharis replies with a smirk. "I think perhaps they were just keeping in mind the wellbeing of the crew."

Reed chuckles. "Yes, I suppose that's likely to be correct." He frowns, "Damnit, oh well, I guess I'll have to just keep shooting things until my aim improves and then I can play percussion."

Zaharis nods once. "Still taking lessons from the Corporal, then?"

Reed shrugs, "He's taking all his leave time on the Carina still, but I am scratching up as much time as I can on the range, going through ammo, working on muscle memory, getting my grip reflexive, things like that."

Zaharis gives Reed the mild nod of someone who hasn't worked on such things in a long time. "Perseverance and all that. And is it working?"

Reed nods, "I think so. I am more comfortable with Ramiro there, but I'm working on the basics, and I hope I'll be able to have marked improvement when Ramiro gets back. There were some other Marines in the Range when I was and I know I looked like some REMF prick wasting ammo, but I was working on it and it felt better at the end."

"Well, you are an REMF prick," Zaharis smirks, taking a swallow of his coffee. "The wasting ammo, you might be able to redeem yourself there. But that's good, everyone needs something to focus themselves on. Resting on laurels is pretty boring."

Reed nods, "Yeah, I don't like resting on laurels. I'll take a break on them now and then, but just resting on them makes me antsy."

"I'm sure." Zaharis sips his coffee again. "Right, keep taking care of that. I don't want to have to draft that memo to Regas. 'Had to put Carter down, succumbed to Resting on Laurels Syndrome and went batshit insane'."

Reed chuckles, "Don't have a big service, just toss me into the airlock, throw the laurels in after me and hit the button."

"Will do," Zaharis replies, cheerily. "Can I have your suit?"

Reed nods, "If it's not too big for you, sure. You can even have my laptop and collection of video games."

Zaharis gives Reed a thumbs-up. "Oh, I can find a tailor. Better to be shorter than the donor than taller." And ten pounds lighter. "And I'd put the video games to good use, don't you worry. Maybe a little console in the wall in the rec room, the 'Reed Something Carter Memorial RPG Station'."

Reed bursts out laughing, "That would be great. Exactly what I'd want. Jameson. Reed Jameson Carter. to be exact, like you couldn't figure it out if you had a mind to."

"Jameson, right." Zaharis lightly snaps his fingers as he remembers. "I knew that somewhere…I think I'd blocked it out to avoid confusing you with Fotilas."

Reed nods, "Right first name. he came up when I ran a fleetwide scan… for.. name matches." He takes a breath, and shrugs, a little less jolly, but still he soldiers on, "So, Doctor, what have you got on your docket now that that messy business is out of the way with a gazillion eels?

Zaharis shrugs. "The health and well-being of six thousand seven hundred and thirty five people. Not quite as noteworthy as research, but it keeps me busy."

Reed nods, "I bet it does." He moves to rise, taking the coffee and drinking it, all of it, it's cool, he floods himself with the cup, and lowers it, "Okay, I need to go and do something, leave you to tend to the people."

Zaharis nods to that. "See you around, then." He pauses, rubbing the end of his nose. "Tomorrow, I think…to talk to Rhea. I don't want to do it before this massive congregation Regas is calling us for. If it's not about that, it'll be better if she has her full focus in place for whatever it is. If it is about that…well. We'll handle the fallout."

Reed nods seriously, "Count on it. I'm pretty sure that there's nothing my stations crew has done to bring this about, as long as your department is in the clear, and Engineering is as well, I think the three of us are good. Marines, and pilots, I suspect."

"My department patches holes, we don't make them," Zaharis replies, a little tiredly. "Well, I guess we'll see, won't we. I'll see you there."

Reed nods, "Outstanding. Okay, see you in the line up. Hopefully this final report will keep the ass whumping off us." He smirks, and moves out.

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

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