Dorothy grimaced slightly, but couldn't help but be thankful when Gene left. She knew that the woman meant well, but the Med Bay wasn't an area for congregating. If she wanted to offer her services, fine. As long as she did it someplace else, she couldn't possibly care less. She nodded as Camilla left, and her eyes shot up slightly at the Captain. "It could be bacterial..." Dorothy mused, keeping her expression calm, even as Anisa showed her her arm. It wouldn't help Anisa if Dorothy freaked out about it. She examined her friends veins, before nodding.
"Nothing to worry about, love," Dorothy promised. "Some ung jeong jia ching jien sohs would suggest poisoned bullets back in the unification war. You'll be fine in no time." Of course, it was a lie, but Dorothy held her poker face well. She stepped over to the communicator mounted on the wall, and opened up a ship wide channel. "Preacher! Bring me the gorram body of Brutus, any bullets, everything on him." She figured that the stern tone of her voice would be enough to get the body brought to her, and if asked, she'd make something up. The benefit of being impulsive was that she could lie just as thoughtlessly.
Returning her attention to Anisa, Dorothy rummaged around through the medical supply kits, before finding what she was looking for. It had seemed silly to her when she was learning to be a doctor, but activated charcoal was the most common treatment. Without knowing more about what she was dealing with, it was all she could do. "I want you to picture your happy place, okay Captain?" Dorothy encouraged, grabbing a nasogastric tube. She washed her hands again, before going about the more than slightly uncomfortable process. Had this occurred back in the war, she would've just put the charcoal down Anisa's throat. She always thought that the tube would be more pleasant than that.
She let out a bit of a breath, once the tube was inserted. "This is activated charcoal, it absorbs toxins," Dorothy explained, measuring out a portion of it. She could only guess how much would be needed, with so little information about the poison. Using her best guess, Dorothy finished the set-up, the charcoal now going through the nasogastric tube. "I understand that this is rather uncomfortable, but I need you to keep your eyes open, and breathe as best you can."
Taking a moment, she went back over to the comm, opening it up again. "Preacher! Where is that gorram corpse?!"
The screen of the diagnostic tool flashed at Gideon as he pulled it out to check his progress. Apparently the ship has sustained further damage in the firefight. Groaning, Gideon ran a hand through his hair as the voice of Daphne came from below him. Running a hand down his face, Gideon pushed his frustration back and turned to the girl with his usual cocky grin as he descended towards the floor of the Cargo Bay.
"I reckon I could use a couple more hands." The engineer smiled as he tapped the screen of the device in his hand. "Looks like the Vengeance took more hits than her Captain in that little spat. We've got a hull breach on our hand which means we're going to need to find some supplies."
Frowning at the list of constantly growing tasks, Gideon muttered to himself. "Wish the gorram yokels would stop blowing 'oles in my boat."
Walking towards the stern ramp, Gideon ran a finger through a dingy yellow liquid that was spilling down the hydraulic hoists. Raising the finger to his nose, he took a deep sniff before cursing some more.
"The hydraulics are blown out, likely going to need to find new fluid to repair and re-pressurize them with. This boat ain't going up in the air no matter how much love we put into it at this rate."
Looking around the cargo bay, Gideon pointed to the mule that was parked as he spoke to Daphne. "Grab your gear, we're going out. I assume you know why the Captain wanted us beached here? Yokels have an abandoned mine nearby, keeps us out of sight and the yokels out of our business. What that means for us is that there's likely a ship load of abandoned materials and supplies down in them tunnels."
Turning to head to his quarters, Gideon paused as he turned back to Daphne to flash a pearly white smirk.
Harper exited the bridge, taking the main corridor down to his quarters. It was a short walk through a mostly empty vessel, thing which he just now took the time to appreciate. While the full gravity of his situation didn't weigh upon him at that moment, it had its beginning. A military vessel setting out to intercept an independent ship doesn't offload crew. It rarely brings aboard mission specialists, certainly not at the last minute. Suspicion bubbled up in him.
His door opened with a metallic hiss, common to ships of this kind. An overhead fixture illuminated automatically, giving the new pilot the lay of his new home for the next... well, however long it took until one of a short list of eventualities occurred. He still chose not to unpack, but he did go into his cases to take stock of his belongings. Most everything he owned looked like it had been purchased, very recently, on Persephone. There was very little in the way of personal belongings - a few small items stored unceremoniously in a bag to one side of his pack. He didn't even bother to look at them, pushing them out of his way to get to other things.
His cortex terminal and a small jar of desiccated fruit came out first. Next was a spare uniform, which he immediately hung up next to his bunk. This one he kept out. Of the other two, Liam plucked out a single, sugared peach and savored a bite, then jumped directly onto his Cortex Terminal. The changes made to the ship, both in new personnel and the downgrade to a skeleton crew, made him more suspicious about his situation.
The man he was supposed to be, who indeed he was now, got this assignment for a reason. If you're stripping down a crew, why would you bring a new pilot onboard? Punishment? Extreme confidence in his abilities? Did they know, deep down, that Lieutenant Harper was a non-person? Tì hóuzi dì dìyù, was everyone on this ship an outcast or a hired killer? Maybe he wouldn't have to blend in so much. Still, he had to know something. Hence his Blackbox.
He remained careful, ever so careful to cover his tracks, as he looked up routine files and specs that would be available to a person of his rank and clearance. And a number of things that were not. First, he looked into his own file for a hint of anything amiss. Next, that of his ship, The I.A.V. Retribution. He was curious as to what the Central file on this mission had to say. While he wanted to know was was being said, he was equally curious as to wasn't.
Tì hóuzi dì dìyù = Hell of the Shaven Monkeys
Foy Coiffeur
Location: Captain's Office
Reavers. Of course it was Reavers. Had to be. Now, the classy and quite unforgettable Foy Coiffeur had run into them before. Luckily, it was at a bit of a distance, and they had been riddled with gunfire before they got close enough to do anything more ungentlemanly than some particularly frightful grunting and trouser dampening unspoken promises of a tearing, penetrative death. Not Foy's preferred way to go. Nor anyone's, he would imagine.
If Reavers were landing at Whitefall, and the Alliance knew about it in advance, then that raised some serious questions. The fact that he had heard no word of this, likely also none given to Whitefall, aside, Whitefall wasn't all that much farther away from the Core than his native Farraday. True, Farraday was on the other side of the 'Verse, but if they were attacking settlements in a spiral pattern with the Central Planets at the end of their long-term campaign, they would get to Farraday long before Osiris, or Ariel, or the Alliance's seat of power, Londinium. It was odd, thinking of Reavers as creatures capable of that kind of planning.
His momentary thoughts on Londinium reminded Foy that he was still carrying a bottle of the planet's exported brandy and two glasses, cupped out of the way. Between that and the discussion of flesh-eating, ultra violent, yowling rape mongrels, Foy could really go for a drink. He set the glasses upon Captain Quinn's desk, filled them smartly, and kept the bottle for himself. Motioning for the other men present to have at the high priced hooch, Foy settled back into the briefing chair and blew out a long breath.
"Gentlemen; Captain, Doctor, if I may be as bold... We are here to give frank and earnest dialogue concerning the intimate study of Reavers, yes? To isolate that which gives a man the potential to Reave, if you will, sirs, and hide it from them, so as to promote the death of the individual, correct? I say, the very thought makes me wish to imbibe the sweet nectars of glorious distillations until my wits escape me. Why, if anybody were aware we were doing this..."
Realization dawned on him. "You cannot imply this with veracity, sir. Goodness, no. That being the case, I have two questions: Why are we not employing more in the way of an armed and experienced presence on board, and precisely what do your Black Mystery Boxes have to do with this lamentable situation?"
@Lord Wraith - Once Gideon gathers what he wishes to take with him (need a list of what he is taking) out the cargo bay you go. The mine is roughly a quarter of a mile from the ship, so it isn't a long jaunt. Now before you reach the opening of the mine there are remains of those that lived there and their quarters; plus a downed ship or two. Things with the former housing and downed ships are pretty toasty but you never know what could be beneath all the soot and ash if you were to take a look.
@Dragoknighte@Pundii@FantasyChic- With the extra set of hands, even if they are old, the horse is able to be moved. The kid is still just laying there as Atticus glances over, broken leg and all (details in previous Atticus post, first paragraph)
@Sigil - Harper isn't finding anything about the mission or the ship anymore in the central database, as if it never existed. In fact previous assignments for the ship seem to be gone as well. (The only one Harper would be able to find is the docking for the ship at its last port where you just took off from but even that has a new ship name. The Vindicator never existed.)
@JustDoingMe - Everything on the bridge is calm and only one basic crew member remains going over things and looking rather bored at that. Harper has left to his quarters and the other three are now in the captains office discussing whatever it is they are discussing. The place is rather quiet. Medical Bay makes a quick call in that everything is stowed now properly and accounted for before the call goes silent.
Atticus Pearson
Location: Outside the ship -> Medical Bay
Atticus looked over towards the com as it crackled and he heard Dorothy's voice break through. What in hellfire and brimstone did she want a corpse for? Much less all his belongings. His eyes widened a bit before he started gathering up what he could and dragging Brutus's corpse towards the ship. This was not going to work.
Dropping the dead mans legs he walked back into the ship and came out with a small cart. A few big huffs and heaves he finally was able to roll Brutus onto the cart. Pulling it over to the com as Dorothys voice came through again he pushed the button. "Patience is a virtue," he said, not knowing just how important it was.
Sighing he grabbed the cart and pulled it into the ship, wheeling the gorham thing towards the Med Bay. Yanking it in front of the door he looked around and stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell on the captain. "What the hell happened?" he asked as he let go of the cart and grabbed Brutus's belongings, stepping over to Dorothy and handing them off to her.
Anisa Crowe
Location: Medical Bay
"Yeah, nothing to worry about," Anisa said weakly as she lay there, she could feel something making everything in her burn. Very unpleasant. As Dorothy brought over the tube she sighed and wrapped her fingers along the edge of the table before the tube was stuck up her nose and down her throat. Uncomfortable was an understatement and the captain shuddered visibly as it snaked its way lower and lower into her system.
"Why so antsy, thought it was nothing," she said with a small smirk on her lips before she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The world was spinning and she wanted to throw up; granted she didn't know if that was from the tube in her or whatever it was in her veins. Either way she wanted to wretch but she did what she could not to let the contents of her stomach make a quick exit all over the Medical Bay.
She was able to keep it down but it wasn't because of self-control. Her body suddenly tensed, knuckles turning white as her body started to shake as she seized and her heart rate began to sky rocket as her blood pressure began to drop about the time that Atticus came into the room. Her jaw tensing and tightening as her back arched away from the table. Things had just become much more complicated it seemed.
"Oh, you know how Preacher and I are," Dorothy replied, brushing off Anisa's comment. As soon as the tube had been inserted and the activated charcoal began its campaign against the poison, Dorothy stood in attention, waiting for Atticus to arrive with the corpse. Had she not been drilled into maintaining a perfect posture, she would've been tapping her foot, waiting desperately for Brutus' body to be brought to the med bay. She knew that if the Captain died, some of the members of the crew would blame her, calling it Alliance sabotage. However, she managed not to think about that, instead regretting that she hadn't studied chemistry as well. It would've helped a great deal in identifying the poison, improving upon her own specializations in medicine and biology.
Dorothy kept her face calm, as her best friend started having a seizure. Everyone had seizures differently, but she knew that Anisa didn't have a history of epilepsy. The activated charcoal treatment wasn't working--at least, not at its current concentration. Dorothy increased the amount of the activated charcoal, and handed Brutus belongings back to Atticus.
"Look through there and see if there's an antidote," Dorothy instructed. "If you can't do that, try to identify the toxic substance on those gorram bullets. I've chucked enough medical texts at you, and if you've bothered to read any of them, it shouldn't be too hard."
Having set Atticus at his task, Dorothy returned her attention to Anisa. Time was working against her, and she grabbed an anti-epiletic drug, phenytoin. Measuring out the appropriate dosage for someone of Anisa's weight and height, Dorothy administered the drug orally, taking great care not to harm Anisa as her body worked against her. "This is an anticonvulsant," Dorothy explained, lightly holding the nasogastric tube, in order to prevent Anisa from yanking it out. The activated charcoal was the only thing fighting the toxin at the moment. While she usually didn't explain each and every thing she did for her patients, she always made an exception for Anisa. If there came to be a day that Dorothy was killed, someone should know how to remove a bullet.
"Preacher, any luck?" Dorothy inquired, as she readied a sedative. If the anti-epileptic didn't calm her seizure, then the sedative certainly would. And if Preacher couldn't find something quickly, she certainly had plenty of Anisa's blood on supply to do a blood test. It'd be best to do that once the Captain stabilized. Dealing with an unknown poison was a task that required two doctors.
The Vengeance only had one.
"We'll need to run a blood test, see if we can identify the poison that way," Dorothy added, determining Plan C as to figuring out what was pumping through Anisa's system. She couldn't help but wish Anisa had told Dorothy sooner about the poison, or that she had spotted it during her initial examination. Those minutes lost could have been crucial.
"I'm not afraid, I'm waiting on you Gideon," she said, turning to leave the Cargo Bay.
She could tell that Gideon was not very happy, but there wasn't much that she could do about. Daphne glanced down quickly at the device that he was holding, and she knew that they were not leaving any time soon. Well, might as well head off with Gideon, who knows what we might find. She made sure her pistol was in its holster securely, and walked to her room. She had to go up near the top of the ship, but she moved quickly, allowing her to reach her room in a little over two minutes.
As she walked by, she could hear commotion coming from the Med Bay. Wonder how Dory's doing in there. Well, knowing her I just be shoved out of the room, a hindrance rather than being helpful. I'll check on them when I get back with Gideon, hopefully it isn't too serious, otherwise Dorothy might be in trouble. She quickly passed it and up the next flight of stairs to her room.
She entered her room and started moving things around. She needed more ammunition in her pistol if she was going outside of the ship. Where did I put it? After a few minutes of looking, she found some of her extra ammunition. Daphne loaded her pistol with bullets, and pocketed a few more in case she needed them. She glanced around her room, wondering if she should bring something else, but decided against it. There wasn't much left for her to grab anyway, so she just headed back to the Cargo Bay, waiting for Gideon, so they could head out towards the mine.
Lionel's muscles strained, pulling bones and ligament taut as the still warm body of the horse slowly rose off of the boy's body.When there was enough clearance, he clenched his jaw tighter than a vice grip and his asshole tightened up so that not even a single molecule of air could pass through it. With a single heave they managed to throw off the horse entirely off the boy. With that last push, Lionel felt something in his back pop and then came muscles spasms and pain. Lots of searing hot pain.
"Aw FUCKing HELL!" he shouted, clutching at his lower back, "I think I threw out my 周一至周五 back! Argh" Lionel continued to spill out a string of explicatives, and walk/waddling away from the scene of the horse. Not in any direction, that required more clear thought than he was currently capable of at the moment. But if anything was clear, it was that the old man would be no help whatsoever with helping the kid with the broken leg stand up or whatever. He'd probably be fine though. Probably.
Straining somewhat, with the help of Atticus and Lionel, Jackson managed to lift the Horse off the boy and push it aside. Watching as the man lay there for a few long moments, the realization of his condition sunk in, Jackson staring down at him with a look which said something akin to - 'Are you fucking kidding me'. Letting out a sigh, he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose in a frustrated manner, holding back the urge to just shoot the man then and there, but he was only a kid, he was terrified, and Jackson might've been a petty thief, but he was no murderer.
Gazing back over to Genevieve as she spoke up, Jackson scoffed somewhat. "Oh no, everythin's just fantastic here, what with the messenger we want to send back having a broken leg and all." He commented in a tone of frustration, glancing over to Lionel for a moment before looking back to the boy on the ground. "Unless you got any idea how best to deal with a man's broken leg, best help you can do is go let Dorothy know she has a third patient on 'er hands." Moving closer to the man, he'd carefully move to pick him up and over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. "Lionel looks like he could use a hand, though." He smirked, nodding in the older mans direction.
Starting to make his way back up into the ship, Jackson carried the boy down toward the med bay, seeing it was quite full, he set him down on the couch outside carefully, pulling out his gun and keeping it trained on him for good measure as he moved toward the medbay, peering in and rearing back for a moment at what he saw. Heading inside, he holstered his gun and forgot about the boy on the couch for now. "Y'best not be killing the Captain, Dorothy." He said as he approached, looking over the Captain cautiously, unsure what exactly was going on.
Gregory Quinn
Location: Captains Office
Moving to sit in his chair quietly, Quinn watched the two in silence. Part of him urged him to speak up and question why Foy, whom he had deliberately paid little attention to since his arrival on the ship, was present, but he forced himself to keep it to himself, simply choosing to listen for now. Leaning back on his chair, he tapped his fingers idly against the arm of his chair as he kept his eyes on Jahosafat, waiting for him to begin. As he did begin to speak, Quinn was almost pleasantly surprised, seeing the change in his tone and the way he seemed to be acting was refreshing to Quinn, and the Captain made a note of the doctors ability to shift into what was to him, a more workable attitude.
Reaching out to take the pile of papers handed over to him, Quinn remained silent as he looked through the records and maps, taking a note of the pattern that he described. As he got onto speaking about Whitefall, Quinn set his papers back down and looked toward Jahosafat again, listening intently as he got onto the topic of the ship which the Captain had already been briefed on. Keeping his tongue as the doctor continued to explain his mission, Quinn made no move to touch the glass of alcohol Foy set down on his desk. Quinn's steely gaze was only momentarily damaged as he saw the file set down before him. For a fraction of a second, the harsh facade which Quinn usually wore was clear to see through, the pained man beneath making himself known for only a moment as he'd reach out, taking the file and looking at it intently.
There was something about Jahosafat's last words which sent a shock of anger through Quinn, he understood what the doctor meant, and deep down appreciated that he had been chosen to retrieve Camilla over any other officer, but there was the inescapable feeling of being used, which Gregory resented. He suppressed the urge to dismiss the two men in his office as his mind now swam in thoughts, but he remained silent as Foy spoke up to question the doctor, a fair pair of questions - even though Quinn barely understood a damn word the man said. He remained silent as he had the whole time, thinking on their new mission, and the new information they had, this mission had gotten considerably more complicated.
She noted Jackson's terse tone, yet again, and made it her new goal in life to get the man to talk to her for more than a couple minutes without being sarcastic or snippy with her. She merely nodded her approval and walked over to Lionel and offered her shoulder and arm to help him get to the Med Bay.
"Let's get you to the Doctor Lionel, she'll help you out," she said with a warm smile. Though she rarely talked to Lionel, she didn't dislike the man. She let him ring out his continued verse of expletives as they made their way to the Bar.
As they entered, she took the Doctor's gaze, "Sorry for coming into your territory again Doctor, but you have another patient here. He threw out his back. I'd offer my advice but I know how much you don't want that, so I'll drop him off and be out of your space."
As she took a minute to process the scene, she noted the frantic look on Dorothy's face coupled with the fact the Captain was now looking much worse for wear than when she last had her, she quickly dropped Lionel off before shouting curses in her head for being so idiotic. She ran towards Dorothy's side, "Let me help, what do you need me to do." She hoped the Doctor would look past her bull-headedness for this instance and allow her to be of some use today.
The Black faded away as the woman with her face pressed up to glass focused on the fog of perspiration collecting just outside of her peripherals. She pushed herself off the glass with one hand and wiped the fragile barrier clean with the other. Her heel spun her around to one crew member on the bridge. Quinn had that meeting with the dandy and Foy. Carla took a deep breath and adjusted the fit of her gloves. "Not dead. So it could be something else."Do I wanna know?
An uneasiness crept up on Carla as she exited the bridge and made her usual rounds to find empty hallways and empty tables. Where were the regulars? Where were the soldiers prepping to relief the crew on the bridge--well, crew member now. One of the most dangerous men she knew was in a meeting with the captain and a stranger who had higher clearance than her. The crew wasn't substantial to start but the manpower had been gutted close to the point that the passageways felt empty.
"Quinn...Alliance...Nose trimmers..." she muttered under her breath as she turned a corner.
Carla had an intense disdain for plots and scheming. She was usually at the end of such machinations and cut through them easily. They ended hilariously pointless more often than not. Being owned by the Alliance brought scheming and pointless need-to-know intel to her daily routine to the point that she found herself in a meeting to killing ratio of 15 to 1.
She made note of the shift as she passed the dining room and the crew that were usually eating or getting ready to relieve the ghosts that should be on board the bridge. She counted two regulars and six missing crew members. Re-trace your steps. She replayed the day in her head. From waking, to checking onboard, to the delays, to a brand new pilot--No. A Wu Ming Shao Jwu. Hard to notice among a crew. So why make him so obviously new and out of place? She briefly thought of Quinn being in danger but reasoned against it. She wagered Foy would have tried to kill her first.
Carla made a 180 mid-stride and found a bulkhead terminal. She made no effort to hide her steps and made a cursory view of the now vacant quarters of the crew. Empty within seconds of each other. An order was given and all non-essential personnel were cleared out. Only the crew needed to pilot and keep this ship from blowing out of the sky were left. "Right after you checked onboard. Harper." She said aloud to a sparse personnel file of the pilot that just checked on board. She logged out of the public terminal and made her way to the crew quarters. To Harper's assigned cabin.
She knocked three times, took a step back, and tucked her thumbs into her belt. A healthy cynicism of everything around her was one of the reasons she was still alive. Carla made it a personal policy to disregard the machinations around her, but this routine mission was turning more and more into a sloppily put together cover-up. The hasty nature of it was unusual enough to spur her into action. He deserved her attention.
@Lord Wraith@Bluesky44 - Okay, you two are gearing up and heading out, tell me where you go and what you are checking out from what has been previously provided. If you want to wait and get what you find in the next WN we can do that or you can pm me so you can include it in your next post - whichever works.
Atticus Pearson
Location:Medical Bay
Atticus turned back to the items and to the body of Brutus quickly as Dorothy instructed him to. The man might have normally spouted off scripture but now was not the time. They both had their jobs to do and their end game was the same; to keep people alive. "With Gods speed," he said. Okay, so he wasn't entirely dropping the cloth right then but hey, he did wear the collar.
Searching through it didn't seem like there was anything in the bags or gear he had brought with him. Then rummaging through the dead man's pocket like a thief in the night he finally pulled out something small. It was unmarked though, for all he knew it was the poison but he would leave that to Dorothy. She had more ideas about this sort of work than he did. Here," he said rushing back over to Dorothy and holding out the gun with the bullets still remaining in it. He didn't have gloves on and he was not about to be stupid enough to tough them bare handed. In his other hand he held out the vial.
"This is all I could find," he said before looking over at Jackson as he entered. "Not yet she ain't. I still gotta save this woman's soul. So she ain't been given any permission to die just yet."
Anisa just lay there, rigid and muscles tight as her body tried to shake against the tension that was building up. The anti convulsion medication seemed to be helping some and her back slowly un-arched and rested back against the table. Still she was not moving and her heart rate was still well above where it should have been and her blood pressure was still falling. Her body started to go limp and her head rolled to the side. Her eyes were open but they seemed dead inside, unresponsive to light or movement even as they seemed to look directly towards Lionel.
Jahosafat Moreau
Location: Captain's Office
Jahosafat turned and looked at his old friend. He had half expected the question coming from the captain but the man seemed stoic to say the least. Granted he did take note of the look on his face as Camilla was mentioned. It seemed perhaps the captain was not as cold as he had once assessed; this could play in his favor or very against it. Either way, it was an anomaly he made sure to file away in the back of his mind until later.
"I do say there is amble reason to have stripped down the ship and it lays with what is within those cases my dear friend," he said with a glint to his eye. He knew this was coming but he had hoped to explain things a bit more. Perhaps the best way to explain them was for them to see instead of words. Some people just were better able to hand such when they saw it for their own eyes.
"If you two gentleman would come with me. I would like to transport said cases from the cargo bay into the lounge and use that as a staging area. It is close enough to medical for me to be able to perform what I must and on a different level than the main quarters to help ensure more safety," he added as he gathered up what he had laid out and carefully placed it back in his case. All but one thing, the file on Camilla. It had information on what she had been up to over the last couple of years and some observation images further back. Tapping it a few times he handed it over to Quinn.
"Why don't you keep this safe for me Captain, perhaps you can find something I may have missed or at least provide a fresh set of eyes to her file. You I believe know the woman better than I," he added, waiting on Quinn to take the filed before picking up his briefcase and hat. Taking his spectacles he placed them back on the bridge of his nose before placing his hat back on his head.
"Now come Gentlemen, we have much to observe." With that he turned and opened the door to the office, waiting on the two men to join him. He kept his lips sealed from that point. Moving quickly and with purpose through the ship and down to the next level and then to the cargo bay. Once there he stepped to the boxes that were brought on the ship for him before looking back at them. "We take 1 for now, the rest will remained untouched. This one first, it is the least... concerning," he said patting one. Getting into position he waited for assistance from the other two to move the crate up and into the Lounge.
Nothing. Nothing at all. No record of this ship, this crew, their orders. Nothing about cargo being loaded, no filing of a manifest. No record of his log, at least not outside of the ship's databases. This ship simply did not exist. Harper had heard of this kind of a thing occurring before, rumors of this from years ago. He had never actually seen a boat in this situation before, though that may very well have been the point. Or, he may very well have seen one, but did not recognize its true status. This vessel did not have a digital trail of any kind, except possibly to the highest authorities in the Alliance. For all intents and purposes, the I.A.V. Retribution wasn't there, and never was.
She was a Black Ship.
A slew of curses sprang into his mind, in both English and Mandarin, but they could not find their way out of his face due to pure shock. Simultaneously, panic began to develop in the back of his brain, threatening to overwhelm his senses. Liam's mouth tried to work, to enunciate any piece of word aloud to give himself reassurance, only to find that his potential for rational monologue was stifled by the bare, stark truth of the matter: He had quietly escaped a prison that barely existed officially, only to land himself on board a ship that didn't exist officially at all.
Finally, when his brain allowed his mouth to operate, he managed a fairly solid, "I am running headlong into a massive spray of Da Shiong La Se La Ch’wohn Tian.1 Damnit. Just, just damnit..." He needed a drink. Someone on board had to have an alcoholic beverage, smuggled in or distilled on site. He had stuff to trade, and really needed a little something to take the edge off of reality right then. He quietly powered down his terminal, remembering to remove whatever residual signature he might have left on the cortex and his machine. (He would have to program a shutdown subroutine to that effect later on; it was a new and very non-personalized piece of electronics.) Tucking his cortex terminal pack into his traveling case, he rose to explore the ship and try to find someone with booze. Not too much, he had to report back to duty in a few hours. A dram or so would be sufficient.
Just before he actuated the door to his quarters, hand held inches away from the release, three sharp knocks sounded from the other side. Considering that he was already a little jumpy from what he had discovered, the unexpected noise jarred his senses. He edged open the door a foot, maybe a little more; just enough to make himself visible, but not enough to invite entry. Then he saw who was standing on the other side.
Lā shǐ.2Double Lā shǐ. The words echoed in his mind as he saw the blue gloved assassin Agent of our Benevolent Planetary Alliance waiting for him on the other side. He felt his eyes want to widen in alarm, but he forced the overlay of his generally cool exterior to take over. Harper cleared his throat, and spoke in confident, smooth tones. "Don't think we've met officially. First Lieutenant William Harper, Flight Officer. Captain need me back already?"
1 = Explosive Diarrhea of an Elephant 2 = Shit.
Foy Coiffeur
Location: Cargo Bay
"Of course, my fine sir. Always apt to lend an assist to a fellow man of class."
Foy Coiffeur gave a half-nod, half-bow to Dr. Jahosafat Moreau as he exited the Captain's office, following the two of them down the hall, to the lift, and finally down to the Cargo Bay. It seemed a little creepy, staring at those three large, black crates. His childhood chum had no difficulty walking right over to them, as if they were of no consequence whatsoever. Like they contained toiletries or protein nibs, ping pong balls, what have you. Foy guessed, and with no small measure of confidence, that whatever was in there was a game-changing affair. Otherwise, there would be little point in all of the secrecy. Otherwise, a man of his background wouldn't be there.
Truth be told, if Foy were called into contract by the Alliance (and he still wasn't vocal about which part within the Alliance held the other end of his contract) then something particularly dark might be transpiring that required a specific kind of operative. Or a madman. Or someone expendable. Not that Foy considered himself expendable, quite the opposite. That, and many people would take notice if something happened to the Dapper Gentleman of Fortune. Whether they would do anything about it... Well, another worry for another time.
Foy motioned over to the Cargo Bay's standard Grav Dolly, perfect for making these kind of short runs. But seeing as the man did like to take a more personal approach sometimes, he relinquished his desire to make the job easier, replacing it with the accepting nod of a man willing to do his friend a solid. Even if that solid did involve the lingering distaste of manual labor.
The esteemed Mr. Coiffeur rolled up his sleeves past his elbows, revealing a pair of Derringer pistols on quick release holsters along his forearms. Traditionally last resort weapons, and sometimes referred to as "hat guns", they were preferred by many as a good, no nonsense method of putting two bullets into at target at close range, particularly when they weren't expecting it. The unfailing gentleman took a moment to tuck his hold-out weapons elsewhere and get a secure grip upon the Black Mystery Box, heaving upward.
Now, though a man raised in the arms of the upper class, and somewhat slender of build, Foy was a lot stronger than he looked. His childhood was indeed privileged, but his teenage years and adult working life was spent in many vigorous, martial pursuits. He possessed a wiry strength of limb, and demonstrated exactly this now. "Dr. Moreau, Captain," he began with a hint of strain in his voice, "I would advise that we take this ebon monolith toward the ramp, sirs. Unless you have something with wheels picked out to expedite our transport?"
Returning from his cabin, Gideon pulled his hide jacket around himself as he checked his gun before adjusting the duffle bag slung across his back. Doing a last minute check, Gideon counted his angle grinder, a blow torch and power drill among the tools he had retrieved from his room. Hoisting the sledge hammer that was hanging loosely in his hand across his shoulders, Gideon climbed onto the mule where Daphne was more or less patiently waiting.
"Alright, lets move out." Gideon said giving Daphne a pat on the shoulder as he slunk into the seat opposite of her, putting his feet on the rail surrounding the the mule's cockpit. As the two traveled with Daphne's expert piloting easily navigating the dry and rocky terrain, Gideon watched the surroundings change as they entered into the mine's perimeter. Temporary quarters had been erected when the mine was still operation but between the climate of the planet and their abandonment, the housing had fallen into a state of disarray. The wreckage of downed ships and mining vehicles littered the area, scorch marks staining the remnants of the hulls.
"Anywhere here should be good." Gideon called to Daphne over the roar of the mule's engine as he pointed towards the old mine. As the mule landed, Gideon climbed down casually swinging around his sledge hammer as he began to examine the wreckage laying about.
"Keep your eyes open for a decent hull, we need a patch for ol'Vengeance." He began. "Hydraulic fluid would be good too, and hell I'd take a compression coil so we don't have to worry about the one I jury rigged." He paused, letting out a dark chuckle as he rubbed some ash off a piece of an old ship before leaning on it. "I image it would be futile to look for a fire suppression unit though." Looking back at Daphne, Gideon turned towards what looked to be a mostly intact housing unit, eyeing it up with a raised eyebrow, the engineer made his way towards it. Opening the door, Gideon stepped inside, fumbling around for a light switch within the dimly lit interior.
Although Lionel gladly accepted Genevieve's help, he wasn't none too happy with her decision on where he should go. It's not like he had any prejudices against Dr. Dolores' skills as a doctor, but it was quite obvious even from his limited knowledge and through the fog of pain that the med bay was pretty crowded as it was, and his problems were rather minor in comparison to being shot. At best he'd be on the waiting list, and at worst, his presence would be actively impeding the good doctor's work.
"I don't need no doctor right now." Lionel told Genevieve through clenched teeth in between small, hesitant steps. "My current malady will sort itself out with a couple hours of layin' down. Maybe even less." When they actually arrived at the med bay to find the Captain unconscious and convulsing, a tube pumping some black kěyí xiànfǎ de shízhì into her gut, he felt a measure of validation, and another measure of a great desire to immediately get out of the damn place.
"See? She's quite busy now. And whether you like it or not, I'm not going to loiter about like my ex-wife's dear old mother and provide hindrance to this delicate procedure. Beside my dear, I'm feelin' quite a ways improved already." After this declaration Lionel would try to disentangle himself from the Companion and walk away from the scene through his own power. Through doing so he'd demonstrate that his claims (at least appeared) to be mostly factual. He certainly moved with a lot more fluidity and strength than he had while he was outside the ship.
Dorothy kept her composure, watching as the medication began to take some effect on Anisa. It kept her from the throws of a seizure, but with the rising heartbeat and rapidly falling blood pressure, Dorothy couldn't help but feel the situation was grim. She accepted the gun and vial from Atticus, the last of the activated charcoal going into Anisa by means of the nasogastric tube. She opened up the chamber of the gun, careful not to touch anything. Biting her lip, Dorothy sincerely wished she had some knowledge of chemistry.
It was a rookie's mistake to think that high heart rate and low blood pressure were symptoms of one another, but Dorothy found herself scratching her brains. Back in her days of service, Anisa might have been allowed to die, as others were treated to. It was either that or they'd pray to have some sort of life support system in place. Scratching her brain, Dorothy recalled the makeshift treatment she'd used at home on her father. Salt. But with the unknown poison in Anisa's system, she couldn't be certain what it would react with.
"This is either our toxin or our antidote," Dorothy mentioned, and her face visibly fell as Gene pranced into the room, using the passive aggressive tactics of a lonely child. She grit her teeth slightly, hardly caring Gene's change of heart. "You can help attend to Lionel," Dorothy said coolly. "The last thing the Captain needs is a wu toh wu now circus in this med bay."
Dorothy quickly dashed over to the cabinets, digging through for the various medicines they had. There was a small amount of midodrine left, and she suddenly stopped, about to slap herself. Her mind had already gone into the field hospital mentality, and she quickly set up an IV drip for Anisa, one specifically designed for dealing with hypotension.
"Preacher, get me a vasopresser! It'll be in the drawer," Dorothy said, finishing up with the drip. She grabbed a needle, and without stopping to explain her actions to Anisa, drew a small sample of blood from her arm. She quickly readied the blood test, her hands steady despite the inner feelings of panic and fear. "Jackson, interrogate the joo fuen chse outside and see if he answers whether this vial has an antidote or a poison. Threaten him as best as you can."
She let out a deep breath, waiting for the results of the test, and continuing to watch Anisa's condition. If it continued to worsen and the blood test proved inconclusive, she'd have to make a judgment call. She'd use the vial. Dorothy, being an army medic, had never taken the oath to do no harm--and she couldn't let her dearest friend die without trying every option available to her.
Location: Med Bay -> Lionel's Room -> Med Bay Exterior
She didn't expect the best treatment when she offered her assistance, having acted like a child before, but she was still hoping Dorothy would look past that and allow her to help, even in the smallest capacity. That didn't seem to be the case as the Doctor all but told her to leave as the Captain was still down. Worry took over, but what could she do? It wasn't her Med Lab. She turned around to get Lionel, who made his way out the door already.
She gave chase quickly, "Here, at least allow me to get you to your room before you toss me aside." She helped Lionel as best she could, allowing him to walk on his own, as he was insistent on doing so, but she still walked with him in case he tripped or stumbled. She watched him while she was thinking about the Captain and what transpired. She knew Dorothy was capable, but it still gnawed at her that she couldn't do anything, much like she couldn't do anything in the Cargo Bay.
As they got near Lionel's room, she would take him to the door, but leave him be, respecting his privacy. "Here you are. I'm going to go find Jackson, but if you need anything, just message me." She gave the man a warm smile before she went on her way towards the Med Bay to wait for things to tide over, outside of it, of course.
After waiting for a few minutes, Gideon finally showed up. Man, he took his sweet time. He should learn to hurry up. She started up the mule, and off they went. It wasn't like flying the Vengeance, but it was definitely better than walking. It would have taken them a few hours if they had walked. This way was a lot quicker, and Daphne wanted to hurry up and get the ship off of the ground before Patience sent more men to the ship. She kept her eyes open, looking around to see if she saw anyone on the horizon coming towards them.
She looked over and saw Gideon had put his feet on the rail. Of course, he gets to relax while I'm the one flying this thing, typical. She focused her eyes back on where they were headed. Occasionally manuvering the mule to avoid rocks or other obstacles. She didn't feel like crashing today.
Daphne could barely hear Gideon, but she saw him point to a spot. He probably said something about landing, alright then. She easily maneuvered the landing of the vehicle. She set it down, and followed Gideon out of the mule.
Daphne was relieved that they hadn't run into any trouble during the journey to the mine. It was quiet, except for the roar of the engine, and she was fine with that. She watched Gideon head for a housing unit that was nearby. She looked around the wreckage, she only really had a vague idea what they were looking for, but it was enough for her to think of looking outside while he was wandering around inside the ship. Parts probably fell off of it or something when it crashed, hopefully I can find something useful.
Carla gazed at the pilot emerging from his chambers. She silently dropped her eyes to his boots and ran over his uniform. She quirked a brow at the wrench hanging off his belt and paused to take in it's detail. She then continued her inspection. Thin. Caucasian. Vitamin D deficiency? Working man's hands. Is that a padded jacket? Nothing noteworthy aside from this man's arrival coinciding with most of the crew being re-assigned off the Retribution. "Lieutenant Harper," she said as she tasted the words.
Her brown eyes met his green hues. She let the silence hang in the air a moment longer. "No, he's busy." She said dismissively to his question. The assassin began contemplating the series of events that led to Harper being assigned here. He was an officer who reported directly to Quinn. No special permissions were on his file. Alliance spook would have been briefed on me. Playing dumb? Lucky Browncoat? Carla had a brief flash of Whitefall. Sun. Sky. Blood pooling in the dirt. She blinked. "I'm Carla. Carla Lobo. Do you mind helping me figure something out?" She asked, motioning for him to step out of his quarters and walk alongside her to the crew's lounge.
While Jackson was certainly not religious, there was something about the Preacher's awfully un-preacher-like words and tone which reassured Jackson to at least a small degree about Anisa. Jackson watched the woman closely, any particularly thoughts of a more useful action he could be taking disappearing as he watched his childhood friend carefully, only glancing away from her for a moment to watch Lionel and Genevieve as they came in.
However, as Dorothy spoke up in his direction, he shifted his attention toward the doctor. In a different and less pressing scenario, he might've taken a moment to remind everyone about chain of command, but when it came to a scenario like this, and especially when it came to the Med bay, Jackson would relent to the fact that Dorothy had ten times the authority he usually did. Giving her a firm nod, Jackson turned his gaze toward the door, able to see the man outside still resting on the couch, looking in. He wasn't sure how much the kid would know, but at the very least, Jackson could've used something to take his pain out on.
"Don't mind if I do." Jackson said as he moved out, walking past Genevieve as she came out of Lionel's room. Moving toward the boy on the couch, Jackson smiled as he stood above him. "Now i'm sure you've seen that there vial the doctor's been flauntin' about - and i'm willin' to bet you know what's in it, eh?" Smirking, Jackson didn't wait for an answer before bringing his leg up, firmly pushing his booted foot down against the boy's broken leg. "What is it? Poison or antidote?"
Gregory Quinn
Location: Captains Office
Listening quietly and carefully to Jahosafat as he spoke, Quinn made a note to keep any emotional response to anything which was said to himself. The involvement of Camilla in the mission complicated things severely, in Quinn's eyes he was already too emotionally compromised by that fact to effectively lead, but he said nothing on the matter. Instead he was reminded of his growing disenchantment with the Alliance, which only seemed to be heightened by the arrival of Jahosafat and his plans. Being snatched from his thoughts momentarily as the Doctor held the file in his direction, Quinn nodded as he took it, setting it down in the middle of his desk as he moved to stand.
Moving out after Jahosafat along with Foy, Quinn kept his hands clasped neatly behind his back as he moved through the halls along with the others. When they arrived at the Cargo bay itself, Quinn took a good long look over the crates which sat within, looking over each as simply their ominous nature seemed to unsettle the Captain. He hated being left out of the loop enough on its own, and even with the briefing he'd received he still felt out of the loop. Especially in regards to what was in these crates, even if he was soon to find out.
Watching as the two settled on a more physical option to move the crate, Quinn reached up to work off his Jacket. He may have carried himself like a traditional, snobby and polished naval officer of the Alliance, but at heart Quinn was and always would be a member of the Army. Adjusting the undershirt he had on, Quinn approached the two and picked up the free end of the crate with a firm grip, lifting it with relative ease with the assistance of the others. "Lead the way, Gentlemen." He'd say, giving a nod toward Foy as if to affirm his suggestion.
@Lord Wraith@Bluesky44 - Oh isn't that smell wonderful? That blown out mine and stagnate air smell. Oh yum yum, hope you haven't eaten lately because it is pretty thick in the confined space of the mine. There is hydrolic fluid but you are going to have to siphon it out of various pieces of other broken down equipment and filter it out before it can be of use but at least it is something. There are some pieces that can be used to repair the hull breaches, will have to be cut down and such but it is a start. There is probably more but these are the first things you are able to locate and will probably want to take care of those before you keep searching with the work involved.
@Pundii - This kid has no backbone what so ever. He just folds and starts spilling his guts, after throwing up on Jackson's foot. The vial is the antidote, at least he thinks it is. He is pretty sure it is but he is yelling that you can't blame him if it isn't but he is sure it is. He also says to be careful around Brutus's boot, says there is a spring loaded dagger in the side of it that also has the poison on it. Seems he is wanting to survive and figures telling you everything will do that. He even goes into how when he was younger he stole an onion from the market, that he wanted to steal some meat but figured since he was nervous he would try with something he didn't like.
Atticus Pearson
Location:Medical Bay
Atticus nodded and rushed over to grab the vasopresser for Dorothy, rushing back to her side as he handed it over. He looked over to the others before looking back at Anisa, he knew the crew would get through this if she were to perish but the last thing he wanted was to give last rights to her. Especially not over something like this, it seemed like such a waste. Death could be looked at as a waste no matter what but some deaths were understandable, some were even needed; this was not one of those times.
Things did not seem to be working, Anisa started to convulse again as bubbles of bile and blood started to seep out of her mouth and run down along the side of her face before dripping onto the medical chair. Her fingers curling back against whatever was there for her to grab onto, her veins bulging as her joints went white. She broke out into a hard sweat as she started to gag on the liquids and a darkness set in under her eyes as well as at the entrance wounds from the bullet. The area around the wound swelling drastically and puss filled blisters forming around the wound.
"Mary mother of God...." Atticus said as he stood there helpless to do anything but what the doctor told him to but it seemed whatever she was trying was not working. Each thing seemed to help for a moment and then it was gone and it came back even worse. Hearing Jackson with the remaining member of Patience's gang he just hoped that the kid was indeed telling the truth and that it was not too late; god help him if he was lying...
Jahosafat Moreau
Location: Lounge (Sealed Off)
Jahosafat nodded and made his way up the ramp with the help of the Captain and his old friend. He was glad it was not far, a straight shot up the ramp and down a short hallway into the lounge. They were in there and Dr. Moreau had sealed of the room and changed the security codes before anyone would be the wiser or even had seen them come through thanks to the skeleton crew. With where the other two active crew members were in the ship in regards to the crews quarters a flight up, it would have taken them longer to make the trek down the ship, to a ladder, down the ladder and then back up the ship. They wouldn't arrive, if that was the destination until well after it was sealed away.
Dusting his hands off the doctor glanced around at Quinn and Foy. "Would you two be good enough to ready your side arms please?" he asked of them as he slipped off his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. Releasing the clasp that held his personal pistols in place before stepping over to the crate and taking a deep breath. "I ask you to not put a bullet through the head of what you are about to see unless it is as a last resort. This took some time to acquire gentlemen and it will not easily be replaced," he added as he looked over the top rim of his glasses to each of them in turn.
Taking another deep breath his hand ran over the top of the case before he went through the rather long task of actually unlocking the crate. An eye scan to start, then a biometric read, then a code. Finally he pulled out a key and turned it in place. There was a hiss and a whirl of mechanisms and a soft cloud of white cold smoke coming from the seal as it popped open just enough to break the seal. Jahosafat took yet another breath as he tucked the key away and stood up fully.
"Remain calm gents, just remain calm," he said in clear voice as one hand rested on the top of the crate and the other on one of his side arms. It was obvious he was being extra cautious. Slowly he opened the top and pushed it back. One couldn't right see what was in there at first, that was until the fog of chilled air cleared away. Within the crate was a body but he didn't look human, he might once have been but he was not anymore. Taking a step back Jahosafat watched teh body carefully in all its self mutilated glory.
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