The New Lieutenant
The New Lieutenant
Summary: Zaharis hands Craven a commission.
Date: 9 ACH (22 November 2008)
Related Logs: None

Chief Medical Officers Office Genesis - Deck 13
9 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.

Zaharis is sitting behind his desk, flipping through a stapled stack of papers in his hands. His computer is on, casting a computer's ugly glow at the side of his face.

After having been summoned to the Den of Death, Craven made his way to the door and knocked lightly before stepping just within the frame and bringing himself to attention before offering a quick salute, "Doc, you wanted to see me?"

"I did." Zaharis' voice sounds slightly tense. He doesn't look up from the pages he's flipping through, just nodding Craven to one of chairs. "Have a seat, Petty Officer."

Relaxing somewhat from the position of attention, Craven gives a quick nod of his head, moving over towards the indicated chairs before he lowers himself down into one. Hands lift upwards, coming to rest in his lap before fingers twine together and he turns just enough to settle his gaze upon Zaharis. It's then that rank pins are noticed and a brow arches upwards slightly, though nothing is said. Yet.

Zaharis doesn't give Craven much chance to say anything. He closes the pages and regards the man across from him, levelly. "PO, we have a serious problem." The sheaf of papers is held up, slightly. "This is your re-cert exam. I gave you an order to pass it."

Blink. Blink. Blink. And then that brow stays arched upwards as Craven cants his head slightly to the right, "Problem …?" He trails off slightly at the mention of the re-cert exam and the order to pass and he seems momentarily at a loss for words. Then, that brow begins to lower, "Can't tell me I failed it, Doc. I'm /sure/ I passed it … 'least, I thought I did."

Zaharis' fingers tighten unpleasantly on the papers and he exhales. "You knew how important this was. You -told- me you were ready to take this. You knew how badly we needed you to be on the ball, here." He purses his lips into a line. "So here's my problem, PO, and I need you to help me solve this. How can I sit back and let this fleet suffer…" He drops the papers onto the desk. On the front, the score shows nearly perfect, and suddenly the CMO cracks a faint smile. "…from not having someone like you in a position where he can be of more use?" A brief pause to let the score and his words sink in. When he speaks again it's no longer tense, but it is serious. "With permission and on behalf of the Colonial Fleet, I am authorised to serve you a commission into the ranks of officer, Lieutenant grade, to function as our coordinator of and lead hand of our medic corps. Do you accept?" From his tone, the answer can't really be 'no', but the formality is there to be nice about it.

There's another blink and Craven's lips move in a silent 'Oh Frak' as his hands begin to tighten against each other. It's only when Zaharis' finishes the rest of his statement that he begins to relax, though there's a somewhat stunned look upon his face. Finally, after a moment, he lowers his gaze to take a look at the paper and the score, where it rests for a second or two before lifting back to settle on Zaharis. There's a faint smile and a quick nod of his head, "I do accept." Only then do his hands loosen and then unclasp, coming to wipe gently against his uniform pants.

Zaharis opens the drawer at his right side, taking a small black box from inside. He stands up, stepping around his desk, and motions for Craven to rise as well so he can remove the pins from the man's collar. "Then likewise does the Fleet accept your service. Lieutenant." Then suddenly the wireless buzzes, talk about wrecking the moment. He smirks, jerking a thumb at the box. "You can pin on your own brass. First duty." Grabbing the headset, he flicks it on.

[Private] Zaharis says, "Genesis, Zaharis."

[Private] "PAS Actual" Reed says, "Carter here. Doctor I'm sending you innoculation specifics for the planet below. This place has been quiet since just after the first war. There's detailed files on indigenious diseases, and the like and we're running atmospheric dip probes now."

Rising at the indication, Craven offers a very soft chuckle and he stands there, waiting for the pins to be set in place. When the wireless buzz's, the Medic gives a soft laugh and nods his head, "Aye sir." He's quit then, so as not to disturb the call, but his hands do lift upwards to remove the PO pins and set them on Zaharis' desk so that that he can take the Lieutenant ones and pin them to his collar.

[Private] Zaharis says, "Copy that, Major. We're ready for them."

[Private] "PAS Actual" Reed says, "Excellent. this could solve our food problem if we can get the right critters. The colonel has specified not to feed him snakes."

[Private] Zaharis smirks. "This ain't the mess hall, Carter. But I'll send someone down to pass it on. Thanks."

[Private] "PAS Actual" Reed says, "Okay, files incoming, they have decon specifics as well, call if there's a problem. Carter out."

[Private] Zaharis says, "Copy that. Zaharis out."

[Private] "PAS Actual" Reed hangs up the wireless and ends the call.

[Private] Zaharis hangs up the wireless and ends the call.

Zaharis clicks off the wireless, putting the headset down. He looks back at Craven and at the pins, nodding in satisfaction. "Since you've not attended OCS and all that other shit, we're going to have to do some on the fly training, but you can handle it. As of today you are in charge of all volunteer medic operations when it comes to the Pandora. I'll assign other duties as needed. These files are coming in from the planet. I'm going to forward the necessary ones to you and I want you on the ground team that checks it out. Understood?"

And so, Craven stood there until Zaharis was finished his call and when he's once again addressed, he gives the Doc a nod of his head, "Sounds good, Doc. I'm sure I can get some of the material on what is done at OCS and review it in my off time." His hands move to clasp behind his back and he's giving another nod, "Understood, as well. With your permission, I'm going to shuttle over to the Pandora and get myself familiar with it. Havn't yet had an opportunity to look around. And, I'll make sure I'm ready for the ground teams are departing for the surface."

"Permission granted." Zaharis nods, heading back around his desk. "When you're over there, note both the trauma station and the hangar deck. Two of their Raptors have been specially outfitted with life support equipment for emergency airlifts to the Genesis."

"Hanger Deck and Trauma Station. Noted. I'll make sure to check those out when I first arrive there." There's another quick nod of Craven's head as he follows the CMO back to the desk, "I take it then, Doc, that the Pandora has a couple of Pilots on stand-bye, specifically for medical emergenacies?"

"All pilots are under the CAG's command, including those working the Pandora at any given time." Zaharis replies. "When airlifts are necessary, they'll be coordinated through her."

"Perfect. I'll remember that. Hopefully, it won't come to needing to coordinate anything." Wishful thinking, no doubt and Craven allows his hands to unclasp from behind his back, "Think that's all the questions that I have, for the moment." It's then that a hand lifts, motioning towards Zah, "Congratulations, by the way, Doc. See you got yourself promoted to Major."

"Like viruses, brass pins," Zaharis comments, smirking as he sits back down. "Things Spread. Alright, get out of here, Lieutenant. You have work to do."

There's a soft laught to that and Craven gives a quick nod of his head, "Will do, Doc. Thanks again. If anything comes up in the immediate time, I'll be over on the Pandora having a look around." He comes to attention then, offering a quick salute before turning to make his way towards the exit.

Zaharis returns the salute from his seat. He fishes a cigarette from the battered pack on his desk — that No Smoking sign has long been tossed in the trash — and feels about for his lighter as he returns his attention to his computer. Planet files coming in by the truckload.

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