The Walking and the Wounded
The Walking and the Wounded
Summary: Regas visits Sickbay, leaves carnage behind.
Date: 70 ACH
Related Logs: Boarded
Players:
Eve..Zaharis..Myron..Quill..Reed..Snatch..Micah..Regas..

Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13
70 ACH 23817 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.


Zaharis is in bed, as he will be for a while yet. Glass and metal gashes and bullet wounds tended to. Explosion burns over his back, shoulder, and face carefully dressed. His right shoulder is held immobile in a brace. His face is already showing what's going to be a brilliant patchwork of bruising that stretches down past the collar of the hospital gown, and there's oxygen tubing for his nose to combat last night's smoke inhalation. His breathing rhythm isn't that of sleep. Occasionally his eyes open, looking at nothing in particular except the small cracks in the paint job overhead.

Evelyn is still here, relegated to sticking out some 'observation' time for a concussion. That doesn't mean she's going to stay in bed, of course. No longer needing an IV, though the shunt is still in her hand, she's been given a pair of scrubs so she can amble around and do her bit with checking in on the wounded and listen to their stories and offer reassurance. She's likely not so different from the Chaplains, though she's more interested in mental health as opposed to that of the heart and soul. Now its time to check in on Zaharis. "Heeeeey, bossman." She says quietly, just in case he is actually nodding off.

Zaharis' eyes turn away from the ceiling and onto Eve, his head rolling a little on the pillow. "El-Tee." His voice is hoarse and he keeps it quiet. "Scrubs, huh? Comfy, aren't they."

Eve edges into his little curtained off stall, "Don't know why I never petitioned to have this my normal duty wear." She offers a bit of a smile, though seeing him like this isn't particularly easy. Even with her aversion to blood and gore aside, this is her boss and a man she respects deeply. Seeing him trussed up like a modern day mummy is hard to swallow, but she puts on a some what believable mask for his benefit. "They give you the good drugs?"

"Far as I can tell," Zaharis even manages a slight smile, blistered and bruised as his face is. "Haven't seen my own chart yet…think I'll hold a little while on looking." He licks his dry lips. "We lose anyone?"

Eve slips into the chair by his bedside, seeming how he doesn't seem to have any objections at the moment to her being here. "I'd recommend, from a professional point of view, to avoid your own chart. Doctors make the worst patients." Her smile quirks a bit with that, remaining there while she reports. "Heavy casualties. No losses. We were lucky, odd they chose our deck to focus on." She too, has a steri-strip on her forehead.

Zaharis glances at the foot of his bed and he gives a wry smile. "Don't worry. I can't get up to reach it. Lucky them." At the news of no deaths his eyes slowly close. "No losses…gods. That's a miracle."

Myron comes in from Sickbay.
Myron has arrived.

Eve reaches out to find some part of Zaharis that isn't bandaged. She settles for patting his knuckles. "It was. I'm glad you're alright, Sir. Well. I mean you look like shit, but…" She smirks, trying to add some levity to the fact that Zaharis is a crispy critter. Evelyn sits in his little curtained knook, poised on a chair at his bedside. Eve's out of sorts, in a pair of scrubs and a steri-strip on her forehead, but she's mobile where the CMO is not.

Zaharis lies in his bed, right shoulder immobile in a brace, burns over his face, shoulder, and back dressed. He's a mess of bruises and blisters, hair singed, lacerations bandaged all over his face and neck. His left hand isn't burnt or covered though, so those knuckles are available for Eve to pat. He smirks a little at her words. "I'll take looking like shit over the other alternatives. How are Quill and Zimmermann?"

Myron wonders into the ward, eyes drifting to the many occupied gurneys, filled with wounded. He's got papers in his hand, forgotten for the moment while he gazes from one bed to the next. A frown curls his brow, the eyes unsteady yet not quite able to look away at the sights before him.

Micah comes in from Sickbay.
Micah has arrived.

Eve chews on the inside of her mouth, choosing for the direct route instead of sheltering him from the truth. "Quill is in much the same state as you are. Rhea is sleeping right now, but the doctors think she'll be just fine. She was tore up pretty good though. But she's strong. You're all strong." Unlike Eve, you fainted at the first trickle of blood from her forehead which now has a steristrip closing the small laceration. The psychiatrist is currently in a pair of scrubs to save her the embarrasment of a paper gown, seated next to Zaharis' bed instead of her own. She's not hooked up to an IV, though the shunt remains in the back of her hand. She glances over as a man with papers wanders in. Eve's not a nurse, but they all seem occupied at the moment. "I'll be right back." She assures the CMO, though he's probably happy to see her leave. A bit unsteady, Eve gets to her feet, a hand on her forehead as she ambles out of the curtained stall.

Eve addresses Myron, "Can I help you?"

Zaharis nods to Eve. As much as he can, which is just a minute movement of his head. He's about to ask after her face but then she moves away. And that seems fine by him, as he lets his eyes drift shut again for a few seconds.

[Intercom] Attention! Set Condition Three throughout the fleet.

The ensign turns to Eve, almost surprised by her query. Myron catches Eve's bandage and shunt quickly enough, which only seems to delay his reply. "Hello. I, uh, was ordered here for scheduling a physical." The eyes sweep the room and he grins awkwardly - interrupted briefly by the drop to condition three on the horn. "Maybe I should come back another time?"

Micah enters the recovery ward a bit brusquely, looking like he's slept (fitfully) in that flight suit he's still wearing. Raking his fingers through his hair, he starts prowling between the beds while flitting his eyes over the faces of those injured. Where is she, where is she…

Reed comes in from Sickbay.
Reed has arrived.

Eve offers the Ensign a bit of a bleary smile, "I apologize, but with the recent events, we're a bit short staffed at the moment for doing routine physicals." No, Eve's not a nurse, in fact she looks like more of a patient, who's just lucky enough to get thrown a pair of scrubs instead of one of those embarrassing open backed paper gown set-ups. She's standing in the aisle between the rows of recovery beds, addressing Myron. "Give things a few days to settle, and then I'm sure we can accomodate you." She's standing just outside of Zaharis' curtained stall, a steri-strip on her forehead and an IV shunt in her hand. She's too busy concentrating on staying on her feet and talking to Myron at the moment to notice Micah's frantic search.

Regas comes in from Sickbay.
Regas has arrived.

Reed enters the Ward, duty uniform, satchel over one shoulder, looking around with a slight frown as he moves along the rows of beds, looking at the injured and laid up as he approaches the activity.

As people talk in different areas of the recovery ward, Zaharis has let his eyes close again. He's in his bed, duly mummified in bandages for the explosion burns and lacerations, and a brace for his shoulder. Eve is talking to Myron right by his curtained bed.

Regas arrives with the train, ending up as the caboose. He passes through most of it all, giving a nod here and there and makes his way to the curtains glowing around the CMO's bunk. A Regas Prize.

Micah doesn't take long to spot the queasy looking woman in scrubs playing nurse at the moment. Swiveling when he hears the murmur of conversation between her and the Ensign, he peels away from Rhea's bed— whom he'd been studying with silent concern— and makes a beeline for Eve. Thump thump thump, she can probably hear him coming a mile off as he weaves between curtained-off gurneys.

Zaharis was just put where they put him, man. He was passed out when they moved his gurney. His dark eyes drift back open when boots come towards his bed, a little foggy from painkillers. Oh shoot, it's the bossman. "Commander. Sir." He doesn't give an apology for not saluting. That right shoulder is forcibly immobile.

"Well, that's fine by me," replies Myron. "Don't want to get in the way really." He regards Eve a second and adds, "You probably 'd do better to be off your feet rather 'an talkin' to a nugget anyway." A smile. "I'm sure I can find something else to do instead of being poked and prodded." His ears catch the sound of approaching rapid footsteps, and he turns to let his eyes follow.

Reed moves toward the immobile CMO and turns, noticing the Commander. He straightens at the approach, and moves back, letting the senior officer proceed to fly the flag with the injured.

"Doctor. Didn't they tell you in medical school you shouldn't end up as your own patient?" A little Command Humor <tm>. He looks around for a nurse and speaks quietly to her when she comes over. It's an obvious direction, CMO. Private area to get better. Unless he balks at it and flails. Glancing to Reed, he nods. "Step in here and close the curtain, would you, Carter?"

Eve smiles to Myron, "Yes I know I was just…" Oh, well. Zaharis is busy now with brass. So there's nothing really keeping her from going and laying back down. Heavy footsteps, headed her way. She knows that particular stalking rhythm. "I'm going I'm going." She gives a smile which turns to a mock cringe as she sees Micah. "I'm fine, I swear it." Lowering her voice, she mutters an aside to Myron. "If I don't survive this, send my love to my mother." A joke, apparently. Who's mother is actually still alive after the holocaust?

"All fail sometimes, sir. At least I'm not asking to see my chart," Zaharis smiles a touch, his blistered cheek moving. He clears his smoke-hoarsened throat, opening and closing his unburnt left hand. It's the only movement that doesn't hurt and so he just does it sometimes to remind himself that something's functional.

Reed nods to Regas, moving inside the curtained area and closing the privacy screen. It'll keep out most prying eyes and a few drafts. Inside he turns, moving to Zaharis' bedside opposite the Commander.

Micah shoves an unused IV stand out of his way that was playing interference for the psyche. Conspirator! It's not hard enough to send it clattering to the floor though, and at least he's not shoving people. That'd just be un-officerly. And probably send him packing out of here fairly fast. "Sit." Yes, he's talking to Eve. And pointing to what appears to be her bed. Neither of them are on duty, so he's not bothering with a 'sir'. Myron is pretty much ignored.

Regas nods, his voice remains low within the confines, but if someone was listening it could be heard. "You look like hell, Jesse. But atleast you frakking survived it all. Hell of a turn there and you saved a crewman. Quick thinking on your part." He smiles, doing the pat and praise thing for his CMO.

Only then does Myron realize the presence of heavy brass. What to do, what to do, his eyes seem to speak. Eve's remark brings a confused smile and he looks at Micah for the key to that clue. Myron chuckles to himself, stifling it almost instantly as his eyes fall to a burn victim mummied up with bandages. The eyes avert downward, and the ensign departs the ward quietly.

Myron has left.

"Quill's not so good off, sir," Zaharis' voice is half just breath. It's louder in his own ears than it really is. "Favour…tell him if he doesn't survive…I'm going to kick his ass when I finally see him in afterlife."

Eve is moving back towards her bed, which is easily identifiable with the books littering the end which all seem related to one kind of psychosis or another. "Pick that up." Hah! He's not the only one that give cute little orders affectionately. Of course the implication is that if he doesn't right the fallen IV stand, then she will, and probably topple over with the effort. But she seems content that its a fair trade, and so she's shuffling back off to her designated bed.

Regas nods, glancing in that direction. "And our ChEng took a hit as well," he glances to Reed on that one but returns his attention to Zaharis. "Anyway, Jesse, I have a proposition for you. So you'll need to get well and out of that bed. If you feel like listening to it now."

Reed smiles to Zaharis, nodding, "I'll deliver the message." He glances to Regas, reaching into his satchel, and pulls out a laptop. "For now, though you can relax and focus on getting yourself healed up." He nods, "You've done the heavy lifting for now. Just relax. It's you, the nurses," He pats the laptop, "And Blast Hardcheese." He sets the laptop on the small bedside table. "Should be enough movies to keep you entertained. If not, then you let me know and I'll rotate the films." He looks to Regas, and nods, then falls quiet.

Micah studies Eve for a moment or two silently, then paces back to set the iv stand upright. He can probably hear the Commander's voice behind that curtain, but it's not particularly any of his business. So, it's the psyche he focuses on for now. "You okay? What happened, where were you when it.. hit? I was frakking worried." The pilot collapses in the chair by her bed, bleary-eyed from minimal sleep. For a variety of reasons, probably.

Zaharis' laugh is a pained breath of air, but sincere. "Thanks Carter. Take care of Rhea, okay?" He licks his dry lips. "Tell Adele what happened, please. Some way to make her not worry." Yeah, good luck there. His eyes shift back to Regas. "Every intention of getting out of this bed, sir. Tell me."

Snatch makes a noise as if about to wake. Or maybe she's just shifting to move her face out of the nice droolpuddle she left on the pillow. But as she sleepily moves her head from one side to the other, she gives a somewhat lounder noise and shifts it back to resting the way it was. Oh, the dilemmas of slumber. Face full of drool versus sleeping on the new hole in her head.

Eve settles back onto the thin mattress with a sigh, resting immediately back on the pillows, though the head of the bed is raised so she's nearly sitting herself. "I'm sorry, Micah, I don't remember much. I was in the hall, then the whole ship…shuddered. I think I lost my footing and got a knock on the noggin on the way down. I'm okay, they say its just a minor concussion." She holds out her hand, palm up for his. "You look worse than I do, sweets."

Regas lifts a brow toward Reed, if he feels like asking, he doesn't. He probably doesn't want to know. A nod back to Zaharis, "I want you to head up a project on the Pandora. The entire ship will be classified and used as research. A good thing about this, is it has the guns to defend itself." He clasps his hands behind his back, "It would also mean you turning CMO over to someone you feel as capable to do the job, so you can focus on this."

"Ah'm fine," Micah mumbles dismissively. The offered hand is taken briefly between both of his, and squeezed. "Gods, ah'm glad you're all right. I tried to come by an' see you last night, but those bastards wouldn't let me in." He's grinning a little at that. 'Bastards' is spoken somewhat fondly. Mopsus over there catches his attention for a moment, and there's a furrow of concern in his brow. "Hey, you sit still for a moment, aye?" murmured to Eve as he drops a kiss to her forehead quickly.

Reed smiles to Zaharis, and looks to Regas, tilting his head. He concentrates on the Commanders words and starts to get that intent overclocked look in his eyes, as he considers the pros and cons of the conversion of the Assaultstar into research center for Cylon matters. He nods slowly, and smiles, as he looks back to Zaharis.

Zaharis is clearly a little 'like, whoa' at Regas, even if his expression is subtle. He's silent a few seconds, then says, "I think I'll need to address that when I'm not on morpha, sir. I'd like to hear more when we can talk in depth." There's conflict in his voice, yes.

Snatch manages at length to shuffle herself up the pillow and hug it in one arm, draping her head onto the cool bedding beyond at a not uncongenial angle. Her eyes open slowly and then immediately search for the Cap'm in the next bed.

Eve gives a vague little nod towards Micah, accepting the kiss to her forehead with a soft curve of smile. She rests by merely looking at the ceiling and counting cracks again, lest she close her eyes and a nurse runs over to flash a light in her eyes again.

Regas nods, "I thought you might. So I wanted to lay it out there for you to chew on," his eyes drift to the laptop, "when you able to think of something besides someone called Blast Hardcheese." His hand comes up then, "No, don't even explain, what you all do in private is your own…thing." He clears his throat slightly. "I'll let you get some rest." He then begins to move off from the CMO's bed.

Reed nods to Zaharis, head tilting slightly, as if saying 'Good point.' He then looks to Regas and nods, turning back to Zaharis, "You can mull it over at length in the future." He moves the table closer, "I'll talk to Adele, what else?" He asks.

"Sir." Zaharis isn't quite done yet, his left hand opening. His fingers motion to Regas, wanting him to come close enough to say something quietly before the man goes. To Reed he says, "See if you can talk the Commander here into letting her visit. I have something for her." Yeah so Regas is standing right there, and he smirks as he says it.

Snatch's eyelids droop again once she visually confirms her Cap'm's continued presence and a distinct pattern of breathing indicated by subtle motions from the ChEng. That's good. She keeps watching her Cap'm as she begins to gently let herself drift toward doziness again.

Regas steps back, waiting now as Zaharis motions. Getting a closer step, he leans a little for the quieter conversation from the CMO.

Reed nods, looking to Regas and Zaharis, now, tilting his head, to see if this is something he's in on or, if it's something he should just kind of tune out.

Zaharis' voice lowers, not that it was loud in the first place. This won't carry past that curtain, and he doesn't seem to mind if Reed hears. "Fatigue pocket. Inner right, there's…secret pocket. Datacard in there. Before they blew the lab I downloaded our files. It's not everything…don't know much I got. Please keep it safe, sir."

Micah gazes at Eve for a long moment, then wanders over closer to Snatch's bed. He doesn't claim the chair nearby, though he does crouch. "Hey." It's murmured softly to the snipe. "You doin' okay there?"

Eve tugs over a book to read to occupy her brain, which surprisingly enough, looks like a religious text instead of her normal fare. Maybe she's using it as a cross reference.

Regas nods and raises his head, "I'll see that it is placed in a safe area." Straightening, he lets a smile go. "No more worrying about this, just get back on your feet."

Reed nods seriously, then smiles, looking to Regas and nodding, "Indeed." He looks to Zaharis. "Time to focus on yourself. We got everything else."

Snatch's eyes focus again, "Han— Jailhouse," she greets, "Ah'm faaahn," she declares, "Jus' got min tapped a li'l bit. Cap'm's poor off. Ah got t' git 'roun' t' bringin' 'er aught," she considers, almost to herself, gaze drifting back to the Cap'm again before she peers back at Micah, "Han— you hitched yernsailf t' yer'n girl yet?" she asks him.

"Aye, I see that," Micah replies of the 'cap'm'. Though when he turns to glance in Rhea's direction, it's Quill's bed that draws his gaze longer. There's a slight scowl before he turns back to Mopsus. And flushes a little. "Uh. Naw. Naw, not yet." It's mumbled low enough that hopefully Eve won't hear it. "You need me t'bring you anythin'?"

"Feet didn't get burned, so I'll be back on them soon, Commander." Zaharis half-smiles. The expression doesn't look as pleasant as it used to, with the blisters and part of his right eyebrow singed off. "Thank you." He lets his eyes roll back to Reed. "Carter, there any water sitting around?"

"Som'n drink'd be naahce," Snatch relates, "Ah reckon Ah got mahn nex' pills t' take. An' y'ns bes' ought git to that. Y'ns let that chaald o' your'ns git dropped a basserd an' Ah'll com' beat'cher ass mahn own sailf," she tells him with a smile, the words threatening but not uncaring.

Reed nods, "Of course." He moves out of Z's line of sight to get a cup of water, returning in a few seconds with it as he carefully holds it up to Zaharis, not just pouring it down the Docs throat.

Micah's only hope at the moment lies in the fact that.. well. Nobody else here probably has any clue what Snatch just said. His own voice drops low, thick with that Aerelon burr when he speaks to the snipe, "Ah'll go hassle a nurse for you." And then, "You hurry up an' get better, you're welcome to try." Content that she's in good hands, he grins and pushes to his feet. Her shoulder's touched gently before he weaves back to Eve's bed.

Regas lets Reed take care of the CMO for now, along with any nurse that comes around. Walking from behind the curtained area, he takes in the rest of the Ward. The sleeping ChEng. Quill. Snatch. Eve. A brow raises to the psyche as he steps over. "You weren't on that deck with the cylons, were you?"

Micah intercepts a bustling nurse along the way, gesturing toward Snatch and explaining something to her firmly, though politely.

If there's one thing Sickbay has, it's bendy straws. Zaharis takes a few careful sips of water. He's a doctor, he knows not to gulp it. He breathes out a little relief, clearing his scratchy throat again. "Heard nobody died."

Snatch pushes herself up and shifts herself around to an upright sitting position as Micah stands, smiling to him and looking over to the side table where Mellie left her next bout of pills.

Reed nods to Zaharis behind the CMOs privacy curtain, "That's right. Just injured, and you get the prize for worst off." He smirks, "Everyone's going to recover." He smiles, setting the water closeby.

Eve glances up from her reading as Regas steps over, peeling the glasses from her nose and resting them ontop of her head. There's only a little steri-strip on her forehead, and an IV shunt in her hand that's not currently hooked up to anything. "I'm a little fuzzy on the details sir, but I was in the hallway heading to sickbay when the ship shudders. Lost my footing is all, mild concussion from lack of coordination. I'm on observation, likely more so because of the baby."

Micah halts somewhat awkwardly, a few feet from Eve's bed when he spots the Commander. Posture unconsciously straightening a fraction, he gets ready to snap off a salute if the man should look over. Which hopefully he won't, as he'll spot one of his pilots looking more than a little disheveled and clogging up the recovery ward. And with any luck, that nurse is bringing around a cup of water and a bendy stray for Snatch.

Regas nods to Eve. "When we go to Condition One, Lieutenant, you should remain in your berthing areas. As you have no need to move to Sickbay. There are those who balk at the idea of my placing our pregnant Officers on the Carina, yet, this makes it look like I need too. I hope you understand."

Zaharis nods a little to Reed, his head shifting on the pillow. "Frakking miracle. Civilian ships? Were they boarded?"

"Urrgh.." It's with this articulate, charming sound that Quill rejoins the land of the living. And then he closes his eyes again, as though wishing he /hadn't/ just rejoined the land of the living, but there's no help for it. Awake is awake. Blearily, the snipe looks around and attempts to make sense of who's here and what they're doing.

Reed shakes his head, "No, only Genesis. They were deliberate in attacking the largest vessel, like last time. Fared better this time though."

Snatch is ready with pills when the bendy-straw deliveryperson— nurse, rather— comes 'round, and she takes the water with a grateful sort of look, pushing her pills onto her tongue and swallowing them down with the cool water, then finishing the water for good measure and setting the cup aside just in case any one of the nurses feels like coming to fill it again. The noise from the Doc distracts her attention from an attempt to get a refill, though, and she turns to look. "Han, Doc," she tells him gently, drawing her legs to the side of her bed.

Eve opens her mouth to immediately protest Regas' words, but her words of advice to Salin come flooding back to her. Instead she just sighs, and gives a vague nod of her head that's soon followed up with an obligatory, "Yes sir." Frak. Cattle. Her gaze drop to the book in her lap, enough to shadow her face so the Commander won't see the sheen of tears glossing over her eyes.

"They were deliberate." Zaharis' eyes move again, half-lidded, as he whispers. "Deliberate in what they destroyed, Carter. Frak…they knew. Damn it." His eyes close and he draws a breath. Nicely oxygenated from the tube running under his nose. When they reopen his attention shifts slowly towards Quill, hearing noise from that way.

Reed looks over, then back. "Rest. We'll address it in time." He straightens, and moves back, looking around, and his eyes falling on Rhea, asleep in her bed.

Micah simply waits, a little off to the side. His jaw tightens slightly as he listens, but the mouthy little jig remains silent.

"Sir." This croak seems addressed to Zaharis, despite the presence of multiple sirs here, and Quill manages a bit of a smile. "Glad to see you're alive and kicking, sir. Did I think you for saving my ass? Thank you. For saving my ass." Hey, he's lucky he's talking, being articulate is a ways off yet. Confusion registers at the greeting from Snatch, though Quill smiles to see her as well. "Mopsus Doe. Why are you here? Are you hurt, are you alright?"

Regas frowns just a little at the look on her face. Hormones. He can almost see it coming. His gaze then slips to Micah standing few feet away and getting that feral protection look, "It isn't done to be spiteful. It is done to protect our race. Those women who are carrying and on this battlestar…" he pauses, not so eloquent with words on this kind of thing. "As you can see, had they broke through to sickbay, we could be mourning you instead of you simply gaining a bump to the head."

"Your own legs saved your ass, Jig," Zaharis manages the same kind of smile back. "Good to see you breathing. Hang in there, okay?" He looks back at Reed and nods a little. "Yeah. Don't suppose you want to sneak me my handheld." Only half-joking.

Snatch gives a mellow sort of smile as the pills make the throbbing in her head go away, "Ah war shootin' at them tosser-binches," she tells the Doc, lifting one shoulder in a shrug, "Ah reckon' they'ns figgered on't bein' rude 'f they din' shoot back. Ah'm faaahn, Doc," she adds, drawling out the word longer than she usually does, for emphasis. "An' y'ns gone git t' bin faahn, yernsailf," she assures him, "Sickbay's don' tennin' yin raaht up."

Reed looks at Zaharis, and smirks, "Laptop's got everything you need in it." He drops wink, having thought of that. He moves to Rheas bed, and draws up alongside it. He reaches into his satchel and draws out a laptop computer from it, setting it on Rheas bedside table silently, then leans over her. With the infinite tenderness of a lover, he slowly presses his lips to her brow, eyes closing as he breathes in through his nose deeply before rising again from over Rhea, looking down at her.

Eve presses a palm over her mouth for a moment, before its being dragged down off her chin. Her dark eyes lift back to Regas' face. "Same could have been said for anyone here, I'm sure. But I understand your position, sir, and I'll respect any decision command makes regarding my condition." Its said a bit hollow, without even daring a glance to Micah. She just looks a bit tired now, but that's pretty common around here.

"Aye, sir." That's from Micah, and he's looking directly at Regas when he speaks. The pilot's hackles are definitely up, but he's staying mostly at heel for the time being. "With all due respect, sir, every one of those twenty thousand lives is crucial, sir. I think the lef-tenant'll keep that in mind next time during a condition one, sir." Never can say 'sir' enough times when talking to the Commander.

"Yes sir," Quill responds to the 'hang in there', with a dry smile. "Hurts like frack, sir. Good to be alive. Major Carter!" He's spotted the scientist-commander over by Rhea's bed. "Sir, the ChEng. Is she okay? She'll be okay, right?" He looks to Snatch as though seeking additional confirmation Rhea will wake up, then nods at her words. The bit of a smile reappears. "Glad to hear you gave those grille-a-pain hell, Mopsus Doe."

Snatch nods her head fondly, "Cap'm's gone bin faahn, ou-ais," she tells the Doc gently. "Gone git t' bein' a whaahl a-fore-times, bunshe'ns gone git thar," she relates the news gotten from the nurse.

Zaharis turns his head straight on the pillow, looking up at the same crack in the paint again. He's not inserting himself into the Eve/Regas mess. The CMO is officially off-duty today, and it's doubtful he can talk loudly enough anyway.

Regas shifts his glance to Micah now, "Everytime someone says 'With all due respect' to me, I tend to notice alot of hostility." He glances toward Eve now. "You make it sound as if I am placing you in a slot somewhere with others who are breeding. I don't believe we have become that cruel yet, Lieutenant." The Commander is calm enough as they bristle.

Reed tears his eyes from Rhea and looks to Quill, nodding, "Yes, she'll make a full recovery." He smiles, and looks back to Rhea before moving back, then around to the other snipes, "She'll recover if we have to keep her in bed with building blocks and the smell of engine grease to soothe her nerves."

Quill laughs at Reed's words, which turns into a choke, which turns into regret. "Frack, sir," he wheezes. "No being funny near people with respiratory distress. It's true, though, should do something of the sort while she gets better. Smuggle in little pieces of machinery to place near the beds to keep Major Zim calm. And me." He nods slowly at Snatch, "I trust you can make this happen." He's kidding. Probably. Maybe.

Eve has enough presence of mind to smile and try to soothe ruffled feathers. She's first and foremost a psychiatrist, and she knows how to turn a conversation. "The Jig here secretly agrees that I would be safer aboard the Carina. And going to berthings on Condition One is certainly an acceptable solution. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply the Colonial military means to turn me into a broodmare. I just have a headache and I'm not thinking straight." Easy boys. Eaaaaaaasy.

Zaharis watches the ceiling silently. That crack in the paint is fascinating, in an annoying kind of way. And it leads to others, which Zaharis follows with his eyes. Sickbay crew may be busting out the paint when he gets back out of this bed.

"Whansoe'er y'ns both on y'ns needful fer," Mopsus Doe promises, "Ah'm out on 'ere mahn own sailf today, ou-ais, Ah cin raid the supplies-closet 'r what-half-yins. Ah war gone axe 'fin y'ns wanned a book 'r suchlaik from y'rns bunk."

"Figure it lowers my chances of gettin' tossed in the brig for insubordination, sir," is St. Germain's bemused reply. He even chances a small grin for the Commander. C'mon, how could you get angry with that? Then, of course, Eve has to go and hit the nail on the head. Curse her. "I want that little bugger-" The baby, probably. "-t'be safe more'n you can imagine, sir." No more arguments, it seems. Just a steely look about the viper jock, and a sense that he probably would get himself thrown in the brig if necessary, to support that woman.

It is probably a good thing he has never sat down on Eve's couch. Regas watches the psyche for a few long moments. His gaze then returns to Micah, "Then why aren't you her husband and make her keep your child safe?" The Commander then begins to walk off, wondering about some people.

Reed nods, "We'll see how she is when she wakes up." He tells the snipes, smiling at them, seeming to find quite a bit of approval in their attitude as he then says, "Alright, get yourselves better, and that'll help her recovery, having her best snipes back on the job bringing her reports."

There's a twitch at the corner of Eve's eyes, looking very much like a wince. Likely Regas meant to bitchslap Micah with that one, but of course, Eve's going to get caught in the friendly fire. No, she likely doesn't see the volcano that is Micah coming to a boil as she looks down to her hands, but she murmurs sounding a little meak. "Micah, can you pull the curtains for me please." Her eyes glance up, then feeling something is amiss. "Micah!" It sounds like a warning, a plea, a 'don't you frakking dare'.

Zaharis' attention slowly shifts to the Eve-Micah-Regas conversation. Can't help it, doctor's instinct when it sounds like conflict is going on in Sickbay.

"Medea," Quill requests of Snatch when she offers book-hunting, with a grateful smile. "Thank you. It's between FTL Theory, and the blue book about engine…" Wait what? Quill stops talking, with a certain amount of shock, as he belatedly notices what's going on over there with Regas and Micah. There's a pre-emptive wince, waiting for fallout.

Micah turns slowly when the Commander makes that little jab. Cue St. Germain trigger temper. It's almost visible in that twist of his jaw, tongue snaking out to touch his lower lip. Them's FIGHTIN' words, Rages. He takes a step toward the man like he might grab his shoulder and pull him back around, but then there's Eve's voice nattering at him, somewhere beneath the din of boiling blood. So it's that poor iv stand that gets kicked instead. There. Take THAT. He even bites his tongue to keep a 'frak' of some kind from slipping out. Though, unfortunately, there's probably a nurse headed his way about now to remove him from the ward, and ensure he doesn't abuse any more pieces of equipment.

"Medea," Snatch repeats. "Star's with an M. M'a fin' 'er," she assures the Doc, about to say something to Carter before the Doc's attention brings her own attention to the impending doom, and she nods in approbation to the Commander's words, "I was just saying he'd better do so," she murmurs, evidently to herself, as it's in Aerelonese. Then she draws her feet back up onto her bed, as if to keep all arms and legs inside the ride at all times while Jailhouse goes about re-earning his name.

Reed turns at the sound of the clattering IV stand. Blink, what? He so wasn't expecting anything to happen here and now.

Regas continues walking. Those in the sickbay can take care of pilot fits. A nod goes to the nurse blinking at him and then scurrying to make sure nothing was broken back there. Like people or feet or brains. The door is pushed open and he heads out. Leaving carnage behind.

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

Zaharis' eyes roll up and then slowly close. He only says, calmly, "Please stop kicking my equipment, Lieutenant St. Germain."

Eve will get her curtain her own damn self. Eve slips her legs over the side of her bed, paused there on the edge of the mattress of just a second to get her bearings. Micah's getting ushered out, Regas just hit a sore point, and she doesn't particularly want an audience. "Thanks for stopping by." Evelyn croaks with a dry throat, the statement meant for Micah? Regas? Who knows. She gives a hard yank on the curtain, sending it clattering closed around her bed. Not soon after, there's the sound of wretching from within.

Reed looks at the scene that almost happened, and is at a loss. He looks around at the others there, and settles on Rhea again, before simply starting for the exit. Not sure what happened, but things are on his menu now.

Frak this, frak the iv stand, and by the way, frak Regas too. Zaharis' order gets a disconsolate 'aye, sir' from Micah. The nurse herself is setting that iv stand upright again as she ushers him out. He chances a look over his shoulder at Eve, but she's pulled the curtain shut; nothing like having a domestic dispute in front of half the recovery ward.

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

Abused, clattering IV stands. Yanked curtains. Wretching. Sickbay is, if possible, and even more fun and happy place now than it was before. Quill looks upwards and searches out his own ceiling crack to look at, but he doesn't have one. Sigh. The snipe settles for staring at the one over Zaharis's bed instead, and does this until consciousness slowly ebbs away again.

Zaharis rests his left hand on his chest, looking down over the rows of beds. The CMO's resigned to being unable to actually get up and tend to anything, so he's once again quiet and still for the time being.

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