Member
Mixtape Ghost N
SunDuckSgt. Gustave Boucher
Just as Goose stepped outside his quarters, a messenger caught sight of him and made a beeline for the former guardsman. The sudden rapid movement from his peripheral caused the man's instincts and training to kick in. One second the messenger was on his merry way towards Goose, the next he was lying flat on the cold plasteel of the floor with a mechanical fist looming overhead, ready to crush whatever it's owner wished it to crush. Just as Goose was about to let loose his fist upon his would-be attacker, the messenger simply squeaks out that he was wanted in Room 85 in the station they were currently docked at. "Oh, you were just sending a message. Apologies, Adept." Goose then let go of the poor messenger and helped the younger man up and regain his bearings before dusting him off. "Here. For the trouble." The former sargeant says as he slips the messenger a pre-signed requisition form for more...juice. Just as the messenger was about to ask why he even had a slip, Goose was long gone and traversing the labyrinthine halls of the ship to his destination.
Goose wasn't sure how long he had taken in maneuvering through he ship, but he finally found room 85. Doing his best to make himself more presentable before entering the room. "Good day, Doc. Uhh...I was told the Lord Rogue Trader requested that select members of the crew were to be given a medical exam"
Lazarus would look up and nod to the next arrival, standing as he spoke. "Yes, of course, you must be Mr. Boucher, the armsman. I'm Dr. Lazarus Germael, the captain's chief chirurgeon. He's having me conduct medical interviews on specific crewmembers. Now, unless you have any questions for me, I'd like to begin." The doctor would produce his dataslate, holding it before him and briefly tapping at the screen.
"I don't think I have any questions, Doc." Goose honestly admits as he looks to the screen presented to him by the medical expert.
The screen was a basic readout of the soldier's biometric measurements, such as mass and height. The device adjusted its displayed numbers as it continued to scan Goose over. "My last patient was curious about the device, so I figured it prudent to make people more aware of its purpose in the future, as it seems to be rather uncommon." Lazarus would explain, before turning the device's screen to him and holding it so that the back directly faced Goose, typing occasionally at its screen interface as he spoke. "First off, are there any foods or medicinal treatments you're allergic to? Specifically any that would cause symptoms that would require medication or life-saving measures to treat?"
"None that I am aware of. But there was one time where the mess served something that makes me a little queasy. It was something that looked like an armored spider but was way bigger and had like pliers at the front. But other than those things, I suppose I'm not allergic to anything." Goose did his best to describe what could only have been a crab...or something similar to a crustacean. Though he did leave out some information. Mostly regarding the abuse of narcotics during his hive ganger days. He considered it an 'allergic reaction' when he went too long without it and caused withdrawal symptoms but, ever since he joined the imperial guard, he gradually 'grew out' of that 'allergy'.
Lazarus nodded and entered more information into the dataslate as the man explained his food illness. "It sounds like you have an allergy to specific forms of seafood. I'll advise the mess staff of this and make sure they do their best to keep your diet straight. If you have any other problems like this, let me know." Hearing the man speak, or rather the way he stopped, carried the weight in the air of him having more information than he let on on the subject, but the doctor had learned it was better to let people out themselves on the topic later than push and risk them getting defensive. "Now then, next question. Do you have any preexisting medical issues or conditions that require routine treatment? Such as any sort of body illnesses you need to take specific medicine for, or an old injury that needs therapy?"
"Routine treatment? Uhh, would maintaining my left arm count?" Goose rolls up a portion of his uniform to show Lazarus his bionic arm. It was rather crude looking. Numerous dents and scratches covered what visible parts were shown. "It may look a little clunky but it's reliable. Served me well enough for the campaign and the campaign afterward. I mean, for something the medics and gearheads put together in a rush, this thing is quite effective. Just don't put it anywhere near sand or salty water. Makes it hurt as much as the time that ork ripped off my real arm." Goose ends with a chuckle. It wasn't a pleasant experience, far from it, but it was a learning experience for the man. Ever since the incident, Goose would always have a spare chain and one extra promethium tank on his person before deploying into combat zones.
This one was quite a character for sure. Not the most bizarre patient Lazarus had worked with, but certainly up there. Perhaps this just came with the territory of former guardsmen. "That definitely is something my staff and I will want to work with you on handling more properly. Even the best field replacements can only hold up for so long. Ideally, we'd like to get you fitted with a properly-manufactured replacement, as well as take the time to examine the area where it connects with your body to make sure there are no lasting issues from it being a battlefield replacement." Making notes of this for further reference in the dataslate, the doctor would adjust his glasses and continue. "Next, I'd like to ask if you consent to have a sample of your blood taken for records and storage. In the event we need to perform any sort of blood transfusion or replacement or need to identify you after death, the sample will greatly aide in that situation, so I hope you'll be willing to let me take one."
"Sure thing, Doc." Goose says before presenting his organic arm to the doctor.
With professional haste, the good doctor would gather up the necessary tools, and in no time at all a sample of the man's blood was taken, labeled, and placed aside carefully for later filing. Say what you will about the grunts, but the ones that make it far know when to listen. "Something a bit basic, but still just as necessary: Is there anything you'd like to bring to my attention that wasn't covered by the previous questions? Any medicae issues you'd like addressed?"
"Hmm...not really a medicae question, but what in the Throne's gold plating is juice?" Goose asked with all honesty. He had added the strange brown drink to his top list of 'favorite things to eat' but had no idea what it was.
Lazarus cocked an eyebrow at this. He was not familiar with the drink in question, at least not using the word 'juice' to refer to a specific drink. "Well, I can't say I know for certain, but I imagine its some kind of alcohol or another form of intoxicating drink. If I ever get my hands on some, I'll be sure to figure it out and let you know if its an issue. For now, I'd avoid enjoying too much of it at any one time in case it is a liquor of some sort. Unless there's anything else, you're free to leave."
"Aww." Goose frowned slightly. Not even Dr. Lazarus knew what it was. "Thanks for trying anyway. Emperor guide you, Doc." Goose says before leaving the impromptu medical room and back to the docked ship.
