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SLA Ten Forward • View topic - Silence is Golden

Silence is Golden

Firefly: Monarch is a sim based in the Firefly universe. The crew serves onboard a Firefly class starship running cargo, legal or not so legal.

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Tavey » Sun Apr 05, 2009 6:54 pm

Kynthia looked up at the young man and smiled.

"Park your bum and get a bit of rest youngling." She said. "Tell me a bit 'bout yourself while you rest."

TAG - Bug

Her voice softened noticably. "Mei mei." A wide smile lit her face as she spotted Ameri curled into a 'don't notice me' position nearby. Close enough to them to be close, far enough away to scramble if she was startled. "'Tis good to be seein' you. How is your back feelin'?"

TAG - Ameri

"Merry, Lu, this here is.. is.. I done forgot your name younglin'. What was it again?" she asked the young man sitting with them.

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby KendleRJ » Sun Apr 05, 2009 7:13 pm

While she was surrounded by her newly-found family, a nurse from inside of the main area came out with Nakali’s personal effects, or rather, effect. Namely his watch. She strode directly up to Tarra. “Did you come in with him, ma’am?”

Nodding, Tarra took the watch offered to her and put it onto her wrist. Even at its tightest, it still spun around, but at least she would have it for safe keeping. Glancing at its face, she noticed that it was still just over 2 hours out, and then suddenly felt the band shift and adjust to accommodate her smaller frame. She hid her wrist from them all and said to cover, “I need to know a few things, Nurse.” Her voice took on a harder edge, one that she recalled from her time on Londinium; authoritative without being too over the top.

The Nurse nodded and waved over an orderly. “I have to get back in there. Shouldn’t be much longer; he’s fairly rehydrated after his bout, but we’ll need to treat those burns.” Turning to see her family still clinging to her and the obvious concern on Tarra's face, the Nurse actually stopped to give her a reassuring smile. “Whatever was done before he got here saved his life; he'll be fine, dear.”

Tarra stopped her with her hand placed firmly on the Nurse’s arm. “Will this take less than 2 hours?”

Nodding, the nurse removed Tarra’s hand with deliberation and said, “Longer if you don't let me go. The orderly will be able to answer the rest of your questions.”

After determining all manner of things and also a payment plan that would be acceptable to them and a promise to make a dinner that wouldn't be beat, Tarra took the platinum pendant from around her neck and placed it in the orderly's hands. A small twist swum through her briefly as she released the last vestige of her past and the most valuable personal item she had owned.

"This hopefully will show you that I intend on paying off the rest," Tarra said, voice thickening and she took all the details from them as they did up official records and such. Signatures that hadn't been used for a while were set on flimsies, and she glanced down at the final figure comparatively, and the probable and expected debt for possibly some time to come. Worry threatened to well up, but she curbed it; there wasn't enough energy within her to allow another part of concern to invade her at this time, not when lives were at stake.

Her family stayed with her as she completed it all, chatting and catching up on spread out family members and staying artfully away from anything from Londinium or what may have transpired there. There had to have been fallout, but there was nothing to be gained from revisiting and opening old wounds over five years old.

Their conversation finally found a lull and there was a pushing out of doors; a gurney carrying Nakali who was treated and wrapped in areas of worse off places. He was dressed in local clothing over top of the gauze, but at least he looked better than he had when they brought him in, and her decision was vindicated in that moment.

TBC
Last edited by KendleRJ on Sun Apr 05, 2009 7:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Galifestus » Sun Apr 05, 2009 7:20 pm

Bug plopped down gratefully a little down the ramp by one of the big hydraulic rams. He got out the little collection from a bulging pocket and began to go through the assorted things there, deviding the good stuff from his cleaning into piles according to likely need.

The stuff he piled quickly in the space of a few mumured words from the Captain to a skinny woman curled up nearly at the top of the ramp. He made a pile of stuff for the Captain and another for the stuff he could hope to garner for himself.

~Small stack of platinum, Londinium Twenty Pound, Sihnon 140 Yuan, and a few others: Captain.
~Diary, locked -- obvious girl stuff: Captain.
~Camera, tourists disposable: Bug's
~Pictures, mostly of the Chef from wierd angles: The chef, or maybe the Captain. A few of these was too gross, and he had burnt them with the rest of the yucky stuff.
~Gun, Snubby automatic, no ammo: Captain's, of course.
~Assortment of small parts: Bug's.
~Dogeared old fashioned pulp paper book, soft leather cover....

He barely noticed the conversation come back to himself, and he gazed a moment trying to recapture the question. He got it in an unusually short time.

"Burton Sifton, Ma'am, but everybody calls me 'Bug'."

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Sam Crerar » Sun Apr 05, 2009 8:31 pm

Sam came to the group at the base of the Monarch's ramp at a jog. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, "Oy, Kynthia, I knew we were in need of some cashy money, so I set up a run for us. Food bars, to Dyton" She walked over to where the Captain was and leaned over, to whisper in her ear. "Hashweed run, half a metric ton, large profit, low risk, long as we act all natural like."
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby KendleRJ » Sun Apr 05, 2009 8:37 pm

"We're taking you to a cabin, Miss," said one of the brothers who had also brought Nakali in. "Wait here." They picked up the litter easily and began walking the gurney to one of the beds in the back and Tarra stopped short.

“Um, I can’t leave him here," her eyes shifted slightly as she reconsidered her words. "He’s already had one seizure... and I’m afraid he’ll have more.” Tarra said. She weighed everything in her mind and asked, “Is there anything you can give him to help with that?” There was no way they would let her stay with him; their care would be more thorough and their questions would be too probing and she just didn’t want to deal with either. Nakali's angished face passed through her mind one more... She did the mental math and added another few months onto her monetary sentence. “Money isn’t an issue at the moment; ANYthing to make sure he’s comfortable.”

Too much to worry about, torn about staying and leaving despite the care he was receiving, she said to the orderly, “If he wakes up AT ALL, you come and GET ME.” She searched the orderly’s face for confirmation of full understanding before she locked eyes with him and nodded once to verify her intent on leaving.

Aunty Caren, Uncle Tyrell and her cousins, Lucy now firmly entrenched in her arms all wandered out of the Infirmary area, duffel slung over one of Tarra’s shoulders and her legs now stumbling forward of their own volition. They were about halfway to the house when she got a strange look on her face. 'Oh,' thought Tarra, 'I feel so funny all of a sudden...'

“Can I stop a moment?” Tarra asked, voice growing smaller as she held out Lucy, sleeping soundly and comfortably in the crook of her arm. Caren took the baby and Tyrell caught his niece as she almost crumpled in the middle of the road, exhaustion finally overtaking her and slung the duffel over his shoulder as it slid from Tarra's shoulder.

"Poor child," Caren said as Tyrell carried her easily to their home. Calling back over his shoulder he arranged for someone to come to THEM if that boy woke up. "JJ's got some nerve tossing that girl to the wolves. Seems she's done ok so far, but she's fairly on edge. SHE needs to be looked after."

Exchanging glances, Caren said, "Doesn't seem the girl's been doing much celebrating. How about a belated birthday party? I think it'd do her the world a good..."

~Tag
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Jake Sjet » Sun Apr 05, 2009 8:45 pm

Loading the crates was easier to do than it would have seemed. Dennis and Nabaal, a very young man with stoner reflexes and an older man with war wounded and hardened reflexes respectfully, acted the problem by promptly cheating. The cargo hauler, little more than a large horse shoe shaped vehicle with a hand held remote attached to the front, would have been a common sight at any Core ward space port. Designed to sidle up to a cargo container and wrap its two long arms around it, and then using the power of magnetism and some arcane trickery of gravity that was the devils own devising, allow multi ton cargo pods to be dragged around by the weakest of men whilst floating a foot off the deck.

Or, be dragged around by Soto Nabaal.

Six pods, one hauler, so six trips in total. Nabaal had a days work ahead of him, and Dennis had a days worth of counting the money and getting away with nothing at all. It burned Nabaal to work with, if not for, a guy like Dennis. Soto might have broken the law, or at least the Fed’s idea of law, to be landed here on Silence but being forced to work with Dennis...

Well it was this or work on an Alliance farm stead, for Alliance tax payers, and Alliance fortunes to grow. It was either the Devil, or the guy who goes into the 7/11 to get the Devil his pack of gum, and neither would keep Nabaal’s conscience any cleaner than what it was.

He began the short trek to the town from the farm, leading the way with the remote in one hand and the cargo hauler dutifully floating behind him dragging the pod with it inside its vice like grip. The barest hum of its operation gave cause for the insects ti pause in their daily choir.

“Whatever happened to using a cart and a ass...” Nabaal grumbled as he entered the town, walking down the middle of the road “...couldn’t they live without giving something an extended lifetime warranty?”

No one answered him, then again who would, who would listen to the old man who’d come to Silence with a little black ankle bracelet that was all the rage back where he’d come from. Whatever happened to tossing a guy in a cell, letting him rot away like some forgotten branch of humanity?

Community service on paradise? When did that become a deterrent?

He soon found the ship as well, his head leaning back to take in the swan like neck and its dazzling solar panels. Her skin was a delicate colour that brought back many a found memory for the old Browncoat, wishing he’d worn the symbol of independent leanings on his travels with the cargo pod. Shore he’d have gotten a few heated glances, but who cares what an Alliance dandy thinks of a proud Browncoat unafraid to walk the streets in his preferred colours?

Guess the hat worn at a odd angle would have to do.

“You’re not the Kestrel...but you’ll do...” he smiled, looking down and into the cargo bay for a moment and cupped one hand around the side of his mouth, about the same time he noticed a woman, a girl, Sam and...

“Bug?” he called out, noticing the kid from his visits into town and feeling a little bit of scorn creeping into him from the little known ‘OldManGene’ “What are you doing bothering these out of towners for ‘son? They’ve only been landed worst part of a day.”

He pulled the hat of his head, revealing the white and grey hairs that made up what would have been a proud lions mane of tussled locks, and held it over his chest so he could bow his head towards the lady of the ship.

“Ma’am, pardon my intruding, and the boys, but I’m looking for the captain of this here ship...came here on the advice and direction of the first mate, a fine and upstanding young lady who knows the price of a hard day’s work.” He said, slowly putting the hat back atop his head and giving Sam a smile before adding “If I’m not being an trouble of sorts by doing so?”

TAG-Ramp people, hope you don’t mind me butting in but there’s only so many crispy Nakali post I can think of.

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Fellow Crew Injured By Keth: X


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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Tavey » Sun Apr 05, 2009 9:12 pm

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"Oh Bother." Said The Borg. "We've assimilated Pooh."
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Kris » Sun Apr 05, 2009 10:38 pm

Lu looked over at Ameri and gave her a small smile, not even knowing if she heard what happened. She again, unconciously, started to play with the wedding ring on her finger. It was going to be hard to get rid of the ring. Noticing the others heading off towards the lounge, she followed along behind them but still wasn't fully there at the moment. Maybe it was seeing Ameri and not having someone else with them, she wasn't sure. She would eventually get her head back into things.

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Jake Sjet » Mon Apr 06, 2009 5:10 pm

“Soto Nabaal, formally of the losing right side.” He said with a rakish grin, and then turned his elder eyes upon Bug “And the kid’s been working hard ya say, first time for everything I guess but I’ll save off pledging my allegiance to the gold stars and stripes.”

He pointed the remote at the ship and after a moment the cargo hauler silently moved its secret cargo up and onto the ramp, bobbing and weaving slightly do the metal grate decking.
He waited until Kynthia had turned to lead the others to the lounge, and let out a grating cough.

“Er...captain Talland? Ma’am?” Nabaal growled in his thick Rim accent “I don’t mean to impose on you like this, but after a long day...and it being a frightfully warm out side, my old bones a tad parched and I’d be...very grateful if I might spend some time in the shade of your ship? Maybe partake in some liquid refreshment?”

TAG-All in the cargo bay

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Tavey » Mon Apr 06, 2009 6:50 pm

“Er...captain Talland? Ma’am?” Nabaal growled in his thick Rim accent “I don’t mean to impose on you like this, but after a long day...and it being a frightfully warm out side, my old bones a tad parched and I’d be...very grateful if I might spend some time in the shade of your ship? Maybe partake in some liquid refreshment?”

Kynthia jumped at hearing her name so strangely uttered. "'Tis Kynthia. An' don't ma'am me. Come in and rest Sir. Some might say as how 'tweren't the losing side after the Miranda Wave you know."

She smiled, leading the way with Ameri into the cool interior of the ship.

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Quamie » Mon Apr 06, 2009 9:40 pm

Her voice softened noticably. "Mei mei." A wide smile lit her face as she spotted Ameri curled into a 'don't notice me' position nearby. Close enough to them to be close, far enough away to scramble if she was startled. "'Tis good to be seein' you. How is your back feelin'?"

"Better," Ameri whispered.

"Merry, Lu, this here is.. is.. I done forgot your name younglin'. What was it again?" she asked the young man sitting with them.

"Burton Sifton, Ma'am, but everybody calls me 'Bug'."

Ameri looked over at him, then nodded shyly.

Then Sam came over and whispered to Kynthia. A little while later, another stranger approached and subsequently sat down with them. Ameri shifted backwards little by little.

When she noticed Lu smiling at her, she gave a little smile in return. Then Kynthia started inside, and Ameri, unwilling to be left behind again, followed slowly, albeit after a bit of hesitation. She stuck close to Kynthia, her eyes also on Lu, filled with a desire to be around as many familiar faces as possible.
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Jake Sjet » Tue Apr 07, 2009 4:08 am

“Wouldn’t rightly know Ma-...I mean Kynthia, don’t watch much of the news that comes to Silence.” He grunted, making his way up the boarding ramp, his eyes roving around the cargo bay as he pulled down his hat.

This was memory personified, this was destiny. Only a few months left till the anniversary, his probation being what it was with many a travel restriction, and with other concerns…this was meant to be. And a Firefly of all ships?

“Besides what good would a God fearing son of the Rim have with the Waves from the core?” he joked, walking after them at a respectful distance “Apart from the odd farmer’s Wave, always find those to be of the most interesting subject matter.”

TAG-All

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Galifestus » Wed Apr 08, 2009 10:03 am

Bug ate.

It was the best meal he'd had in rather some time, though it was only formed protien paste and some kind of sauce or something, and a piece of ship's biscuit for a sop. It was a cheerful table, too, even with old man Nabaal sitting nearby. The old man had said some things that might get the Captain thinking he wasn't a one for the ship, and that made Bug mad at first, but the lady had blown off the bad words. The boy hoped he might still get to go with the ship when it took off.

He was exhausted and stuffed. He tried hard to stay awake, but the boy could not. Soon his head was propped up on one elbow on the tables edge, his eyes closed, his breathing soft.

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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby KendleRJ » Wed Apr 08, 2009 11:17 am

Serena Johnson was dreaming a dream of tranquility. She was home, wasn't she? Heard the soft rustling of curtains being swayed gently by a mid-afternoon breeze as her head sunk into a real pillow, atop a REAL bed on the stability of ground.

Noises that wafted into her, cocooned as she was against the outside world and its harsh memories, held the promise of a youthful wonder from a seemingly long past. A whole world away... And her eyes slowly opened after a restful sleep, afternoon sun slanting along the base of the bedclothes in a strange bedroom with no known markers for her excepting one: there was her face placed in a frame, centrally located on the wall across from the bed.

It gave her an eerie feeling as she looked at a younger version of herself until she realized it had dates listed beneath it and was actually the front cover of her obituary and funeral pamphlet. Then she found it downright creepifying.

Consciousness slowly sifted its way through the grating of her mind, placing pieces of her memory in the correct slots as she realized that she was Tarragon Hunter, probably in the house of her newly found family through association rather than blood and quite possibly late for some sort of appointment. Almost on cue, the watch on her wrist gave three sharp beeps and the face flashed red momentarily, before reverting back to the time. Her eyes widened as she realized where she was to go.

Sitting straight up in bed, she discovered that her boots were placed beside the bed and her vest was hung neatly over the bedpost at the top of the headboard. She slipped an arm through each open armhole and began tying it up quickly as she almost stumbled over the duffel, tucked up beside the bed near the boots.

Pushing her feet quickly into each one, tamping down the stairs to secure them, she headed for what she hoped was the front door. Passing by her Aunt and Uncle who were seated in the Dining Area, Tarra smiled and said, "I'll be back in about an hour or so." Their faces showed a bit of surprise at her speed and the fact that she was up, but they nodded and swapped glances. "Certainly dearest, but you know, the Infirmary hasn't sent anyone by yet. That young man isn't awake yet, and you shouldn't be either."

Tarra smiled and said, "How far to the Infirmary, Aunty Caren?" And pushing out the front door, was surprised to see a long front walkway and a familar-looking silhouette of a building that seemed about a ten minute walk if she took a bit of time. Glancing down at the watch, she realized that she would need to cut that down to about half and before Caren or Tyrell could answer, had taken off at a run, hooking the duffel's straps through both arms like a backpack as it thumped rhythmically on her butt as she flew down the street.

The speed pushed the sleeves of her loose-fitting shirt up and away from her wrists, showing the souvenirs from his last siezure in the Cargo Bay. The bruising was looking absolutely awful; purplish and blackened spots in varying places strewn across her skin from wrist to elbow on both arms. There were also outlines of finger prints and hand grasps along her upper arms and two bruises that she couldn't remember getting that ran over each other in a nasty-looking area on her right shoulder and into her neck, almost to her hairline. They were sore to the touch, but the adrenaline had kicked in and she almost chastised herself for even considering leaving him alone.

With the rest and the run, Tarra felt refreshed, and they might need her assistance with him. Besides, if he woke up without knowing ANYone... she thrust that thought from her mind and pushed herself the last few steps. She was winded but rejuvenated, and pushed her way back through the now-familiar doors. "I'm here to visit my friend and I'm going to need a few things..."

~Tag Infirmary Folk / Anyone
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Curtin » Wed Apr 08, 2009 12:52 pm

(OOC: *kicks real life* I had this written like... five days ago...)


Paul Manser was feeling restless. He had been cooling his heels on this planet for far too long.

He stood in front of a terminal, perusing the ads for ships heading off this rock. He was trying to get to Hera.

Sure, he hadn't fought at Serenity Valley. By then, he was in prison. And not a POW camp, oh no... thank to Daddy, Paul had spent time in a nice, clean, real prison, on Londinum, close to home. And when he was released, he ran away, again.

Until he found himself here.


Staring at advertiements.

One caught his eye, about halfway down the list.

"The Monarch. Clean accomodations available for short trips. Picking up on Dyton heading to Hera. Reasonable rates. Rooms from cubbies to cabins. Food included. Send a message to this ident for more information."

Paul grunted. Money had been tight lately. His parents had cut him off, not surprisingly. After 10 years of running away from them, the purse strings were tied shut.


He tapped on the ident, and using the keyboard, began to compose a response.

"Still have room? How much? Reply to this ident."

There. Short, sweet, and to the point.

Now, all Paul had to do was sit back and wait.


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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Jake Sjet » Wed Apr 08, 2009 8:43 pm

“Oh now don’t you worry none. We have it all covered here.” Came the voice of a large, short, barrel like man. To call him a midget would be wrong, he wasn’t so short as to need that label, but he was getting that way. But his height obviously did not stop his appreciation for food, evident as plump fingers slid the remains of a pastry into his mouth.

He delicately wiped away the last few crumbs of a deliciously doomed Danish (triple word sore), and using a napkin cleaned the offending hand before extending it towards Tarra. She’d not seen him when she’d first arrived with the flame grilled whooper called Nakali, but the pale blue doctor’s smock and medical tablet propped under a stubby arm gave credence that this man might be a Doctor.

Might be.

“Augustus Paddlefoot, of the River Down Paddlefoot’s two valley’s over. Very rarely do we get a return of one of our lost daughters of Silence, welcome home.” He shook her hand and appraised her with two beady little eyes made as large as coke bottle bottoms by his thick glasses. These were perched on his nose, and if the gravity had been higher like some boarder worlds of the Rim maybe they could have been the cause of his stout stature.

“It’s not every day we get a medical conundrum like your friend either,” Augustus stated, turning imperiously and leading the way through the clinic’s wooden door that lead out back “usually I and the other trained medical practitioners have to duel at dawn just to get first dibs on a sprained ankle or minor laceration. It’s so hard to keep ones mental faculties sharp and up to date without a genuine mystery.”

He turned around in the corridor to look at her, giving Tarra a chance to see that some of the items on the shelves lacked the rustic air the front of the building had owned. There could be very little doubt in her mind that a rustic infirmary would not likely carry a clean, antiseptic white case labelled ‘Mk.98 Laser Scalpels’ or next to that bottles marked ‘Saline’ that could easily have seen the Monarch through the end of the month.

As long as they avoided another roasting.

“You never did mention how he came to us so...burned, dehydrated to a point we rarely see. True enough the water immersion and the...primitive saline intake you gave him saved his life, I have no doubt there, but it was a challenge to revitalize the skin cells. Prompt new and accelerated cellular growth, continual growth I might add.” Augustus Paddlefoot, of the River Down Paddlefoot’s of two valleys over rubbed his beef hands together “A real challenge, and one I feel obligated to thank you for.”

He stopped at a door in the side of the corridor; a very sophisticated lock impeded their progress. Deftly he poked and prodded the touch pad until with mechanical reluctance the door yawned open on the room set aside for Nakali. The room he had was built like many Core based hospital side rooms: a bed in the centre surrounded by medical monitoring equipment supported from the ceiling on swan neck like armatures, with cabinets and closest for tools and equipment lining the side walls.

This was not the case here.

The medical monitors that remained attached to their mechanised arms hung limply, their screens dark or flickering with a forecast of static and snow. Draws were pulled from their hiding places, their contents spread out across the floor in a pattern that would take a PhD in chaos theory to decipher. Some had been clawed at, some others even attacked openly with their cargo tossed carelessly around.

“Oh my good lord!” Augustus let out in a rush, stepping across the threshold with his big, coke bottle eyes “Look at this mess! And where-”

An arm, or at least what might have been a arm flashed out from behind the door as it opened inward. The clenched fist connected in a world class right cross that intercepted the doctors jaw line with a resounding crack. Deftly the pudgy man spun on one heel, falling and sliding away from the open door to land on the floor in a sort of round blob like heap.

But in the time that the doctor took to fall to the floor by gravities whimsical scale, the thing that had struck him had found Tarra. Claw like fingers, rough and jagged grabbed at her shirt and pulled her roughly into the room. With considerable force she was pushed with her back up against the table in the middle of the room, the duffle still behind her back as the free hand of the monster held a gleaming blade of surgical precision an inch from her right eye.

A gesture would present her with a world with a little less red in it.
A twitch would leave her with the embarrassing habit of missing the edge of tables and stairs for the rest of her life.
A single motion would give her a reminder of the true price of pity and sympathy every time she looked in the mirror.
A moment, a pause...

The man who stood before her, scalpel in one gnarled hand with the collar of her shirt in another, resembled Nakali only in numbers. The same height, around the same weight give or take some fluids, the measurements of the face were close to matching here and there, and on an anatomical scale he had the right number of limbs and sensory organs.

But the resemblance ended there. His skin, that which could be seen looked raw, red and angry befitting his temper. But not all was red and snarling flesh, here and there were islands of pink baby soft skin, new growth in the burning bush fire of his life’s work. Healing gel, foamed into a white crust flaked off here and there accompanied by ribbons of confetti like skin from where it still clung to its patient.
The same hands that held her entrapped were scabbed in places from those same burns exposed more to the sun above Leviathan than most of his body had been.

He looked like he’d fought his way back from the gate way to Hell, and gotten only half way.

His left cheek was a molten plastic rendition of skin starting at the temple, slowly oozing its way down to curl a smooth finger to just under his chin. There was a thin layer of dusty, dried gel on this area but it would be a long process to heal that scar to any real extent. But that did not remove from him any ounce of fury, or rage, it merely added more fuel to the furnace that had kept him going through 10 years of hell.

120 months of torment.

480 weeks of venom exploding from the very back row of Dante’s rouges gallery.

And to count the days, the hours, the minutes and seconds would be to invite insanity and the very stuff of madness into his musings. And never give away such invitation to a man holding a knife to your very favourite head.

His eyes narrowed, looking at her, into her, and all together past her.

“T...Tarra?” he let out in a voice that was part gasp, part rusted nails scrapping together.

It was if that single word, that utterance and motion of mental recall, sapped the last of his strength and energy. For the greatest amount of time he had been immobile, floating, his muscles sitting with little to do than go to waste. The fact he’d been able to work up this amount of steam to power his rage was a testament to the unlimited power of the human body to pull through in a crisis.

Adrenaline, better than sparkly skin any day.

The scalpels blade dipped slowly, before falling away completely as both weapon and man began to crumple to the floor. The former clattered uselessly, impotently on the floor amidst the chaos and destruction. The latter landed on his knees, reeling back slightly as his hands rested on his legs, head lowered as all thought of moving just vacated his mind.

This is the song that never ends, he thought, it goes on and on and on my friends...this is the song that never...

Ends.

TAG-Tarra, anyone else going to the infirmary

Nakali 'Xiancho' Sjet
Ensign Keth Soban, Medic on the USS Legacy

Fellow Crew Injured By Keth: X


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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby KendleRJ » Wed Apr 08, 2009 9:52 pm

“Oh now don’t you worry none. We have it all covered here.” Came the voice of a large, short, barrel like man. To call him a midget would be wrong, he wasn’t so short as to need that label, but he was getting that way. But his height obviously did not stop his appreciation for food, evident as plump fingers slid the remains of a pastry into his mouth.

And she was brought up short by a change in shift. Who was this mountebank behind the counter? And where the hell was the orderly? She was about to open her mouth to provide detailed instructions regarding water, blankets and clear meat-based broth, when his attention shifted from his sticky fingers to her. And somehow, she felt the dirtier for it even BEFORE he reached over to shake her hand.

“Augustus Paddlefoot, of the River Down Paddlefoot’s two valley’s over. Very rarely do we get a return of one of our lost daughters of Silence, welcome home.” He shook her hand and appraised her with two beady little eyes made as large as coke bottle bottoms by his thick glasses. These were perched on his nose, and if the gravity had been higher like some boarder worlds of the Rim maybe they could have been the cause of his stout stature.

“It’s not every day we get a medical conundrum like your friend either,” Augustus stated, turning imperiously and leading the way through the clinic’s wooden door that lead out back “usually I and the other trained medical practitioners have to duel at dawn just to get first dibs on a sprained ankle or minor laceration. It’s so hard to keep ones mental faculties sharp and up to date without a genuine mystery.”


Tarra's eyes blinked back tears, but of anger, not of sadness; thinking that Nakali was a little bit more than a practice patient or guinea pig from Earth-that-Was to the likes of him. She recalled the look of him, his condition when she brought him here with the brothers and couldn't imagine how they might heal him of these wounds. She only knew that they would HAVE to...

“You never did mention how he came to us so...burned, dehydrated to a point we rarely see. True enough the water immersion and the...primitive saline intake you gave him saved his life, I have no doubt there, but it was a challenge to revitalize the skin cells. Prompt new and accelerated cellular growth, continual growth I might add.” Augustus Paddlefoot, of the River Down Paddlefoot’s of two valleys over rubbed his beef hands together “A real challenge, and one I feel obligated to thank you for.”

Smiling and almost speaking between her gritted teeth she said as sweetly as possible, "I don't believe I DID share that information with you." And considered that he was THANKING her for bringing him a puzzle for his books rather than a living, breathing and hurt individual who required extensive medical attention and compassion to recover from his injuries.

His prattling voice continued speaking about horrific things in a matter-of-fact way, as if Nakali had purposely suffered this agony for his medical benefit. Oh, she would have loved to just deck the heartless sishengzi and felt her palms itching with the anticipation. They stopped in front of a door, locked and barred as if a man who had been burned so badly on the surface of a sun-in-training would actually have the energy to escape.

But her thoughts left her too soon, as she saw a fist burst forth to slam into the face of Proudfoot, who might be a little less proud and a lot more foot. It would have been amusing indeed as her wish practially materialized in front of her, until something a little more surprising happened that challenged her instincts and brought her face-to-face with her fear and concern in a unique manner.

But in the time that the doctor took to fall to the floor by gravities whimsical scale, the thing that had struck him had found Tarra. Claw like fingers, rough and jagged grabbed at her shirt and pulled her roughly into the room. With considerable force she was pushed with her back up against the table in the middle of the room, the duffle still behind her back as the free hand of the monster held a gleaming blade of surgical precision an inch from her right eye.

She remembered a moment similar to this as she stood looking into the point of a blade, this one much shorter but no less sharp than the one Nakali held to her in the Kitchen on the Monarch. And then, as she did now, she didn't move. But her reaction was so different than the one she had on board. There was no one else in the room, and no one else it could be.

Her breath caught in her throat as her brain and her heart took in the man before her. She only moved her eyes which teared slightly as he threatened her like a wounded, wild animal. And he WAS wounded; but healing.

The man who stood before her, scalpel in one gnarled hand with the collar of her shirt in another, resembled Nakali only in numbers. The same height, around the same weight give or take some fluids, the measurements of the face were close to matching here and there, and on an anatomical scale he had the right number of limbs and sensory organs.

But the resemblance ended there. His skin, that which could be seen looked raw, red and angry befitting his temper. But not all was red and snarling flesh, here and there were islands of pink baby soft skin, new growth in the burning bush fire of his life’s work. Healing gel, foamed into a white crust flaked off here and there accompanied by ribbons of confetti like skin from where it still clung to its patient.


A sob escaped from her throat, keeping her head straight, but clouding her eyes enough that she had to blink and even then, his torn image and crazed eyes were dancing before her in sliding streaks of water, parodying his own pain, fear and instincts. The redness and whiteness swirled together in a melting candy-cane affect, and she almost couldn't comprehend how he could even be awake and functioning.

His eyes narrowed, looking at her, into her, and all together past her.

"T...Tarra?” he let out in a voice that was part gasp, part rusted nails scrapping together.

It was if that single word, that utterance and motion of mental recall, sapped the last of his strength and energy. The scalpel's blade dipped slowly, before falling away completely as both weapon and man began to crumple to the floor. The former clattered uselessly, impotently on the floor amidst the chaos and destruction. The latter landed on his knees, reeling back slightly as his hands rested on his legs, head lowered as all thought of moving just vacated his mind.


"Nakali." Voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, it's me," Tarra said, closing her eyes as the tears slowly coursed down her face. "I..." she swallowed before the emotions threatened to overcome her voice completely. "I didn't mean to leave you here alone." She knelt down beside him, unsure as to where to place her hands. She chose to simply wrap her arms gently around his middle, covered in the loose-fitting shirt of the locals and hold him close.

"I'm here, and you're safe. Really. We're on a planet that we were dropping off the Captain on and you needed medical assistance." She spoke slowly and gently as if to a child, and kept her touch away from the exposed and raw places almost everywhere. "Now, can I help you up, so you can lie down again? You're healing and you're in need of getting settled..." Looking down at Nakali's watch, she noticed the time and said a little urgently, "Very soon."

~Tag Nakali / Anyone else in the Infirmary
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Sam Crerar » Thu Apr 09, 2009 10:21 am

While most of the crew headed to the dining room for food, Sam tapped Ky's shoulder. "Heading into town for other supplies, also to check on the crispy zhoushide. I'll be back later." She said quietly, before heading to go get her alcohol from Seamus. It took her a few minutes to get back to the pub, where she stuck her head in.

"Oy! Sorry 'bout that, got called to deal with ship business, supplies and the such. I'll take two cases of the medium cider, friend, and I've got cashy money to pay." She said, pulling out some folded bills from her shirt pocket. "If you could have the cases shipped to the Monarch, that'd be real shiny. I have to head out and check up on some of my crew."

After dealing with the alcohol shipment, which would get them through a few weeks at least. Probably more, but knowing how stress they'd been, one never knew. Now to check on the crispy critter. He'd be taken to the clinic, which she wasn't sure if it'd be a nice core like hospital or a rinky dink back home "clinic" in someone's sitting room. Docs seemed good enough. It was several minutes walk to get to where Nakali had been taken, and Tarra would probably be there as well.

Entering the clinic was like changing worlds. It was bright and clean, a sterile depressing blue color. No one was around, but there were voices in the back. She headed to the back, then saw a round doctor on the floor, unconscious. Sam headed over to him, kneeling and checking pulse and breathing. He was fine, though he'd have a throbbing jaw in the morning by the look of the bruise already starting to form. "Tarra? Everything alright?" Sam called, pulling a pistol out, just in case something was up.
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Jake Sjet » Thu Apr 09, 2009 12:53 pm

There it was, in her words that catch and hitch, the ever present ticking of the clock. 13 hours and change until the cycle rinsed its fowl mouth once more in the waters of his mind, just over half a day to repair the damage and half second to make it new.
He remarked, in silence, at the ironic timing choice of fate: 13 was not a lucky number.

“Can’t get settled...” he let out in a low, well meaning whisper that could have been his breathing as apart to actual speech “...Rest to long in one place, you become a person...a person people know, recall...remember...I’m someone the worlds need dearly to forget.”

Tarra closed her eyes again and knew EXACTLY what he was referring to. “Well, that’s all well and good to wax poetical AND philosophical,” she said and her voice cracked slightly despite the strength and conviction of her delivery. “But right now, Nakali, I need the practical. So you MUST get up and settled so you don’t hurt yourself again.” His head still lay on his chest and she spoke up into it from her position below. Her face was wet, but looked both determined and angry. “I said, NOW, Bianselong.”

He seemed to flinch slightly from the sudden harshness of her words, a strange ripple of muscle memory coursing across his unscarred cheek. Burnt nerves trying to recall what it is they did, or the vanguard of his inner demons attempting the opening chapter of Exorcism for Dummies? His eyes looked at her, trying to determine a meaning to her caring need.

“Not here.” He sighed, his body seeming to lose more and more energy as his shoulders sagged, his head shaking “Have to keep it all in the family...so to speak...in the duffle, white case...green skin popper...into the neck...”
There was a pause of inaction.

“Now...” he said, his voice rising as he closed his eyes tightly, a fist balling “Quickly!”
Spinning the duffel from her back, she untied the knot quickly and plunged her hand deeply into the innards, fingers searching for the white case. “I’m hurrying…” And suddenly, her fingers closed around it, pulling it up through the contents and rescuing it. She opened the case and found the green skin popper, placing it quickly against his throat and injected it. “There.” Her shirt had shifted with the urgency, bruising now obvious and uncaringly displayed in the midst of his need for comfort. “And what family? I didn’t want you to be hurt on the floor…”

“Ky, Sam the rest, you...could have all told someone about this...someone who’d know what to do.” He grimaced, the twitching of muscular madness along his unburned cheek slowly as the drug coursed through his wrecked nervous system. It hid the rushing of blood to the cheek, the blush of shame, humiliation, at the sign of his mark against Tarra’s skin.

Even the madness in his mind reached out and marked those around him.

“But they didn’t, you didn’t...that’s trust, in you...” he said after a fashion.

He reached out suddenly and placed a hand on her shoulder, the same one that had moments before gripped a knife to use on her in an unkindly fashion. He tried feebly to stand up.

“If I am going...to make a spectacle of myself I will not do it in a hospital room where records can be made.” He growled, a timber of his voice changing perhaps due to the strain or the oncoming assault on his mind “I will do in a trustworthy place.”

“What do you think of us, Nakali?” Tarra looked at him as the pain obviously began coursing through him. “You hid it as well as you could; but after Leviathan and the Cargo Bay, it wasn’t so easy.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper as she told him, “I stumbled across this…” she didn’t know WHAT to call it, and continued, “And shared it with Sam only. And only about your seizures…” She looked down at the watch again, and nodded.

Placing her hand gently upon his, she said, “I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Pulling into him close, like the first time she had ‘helped’ him to the Monarch, she tucked herself under his arm and placed her left arm around his waist. Tucking her feet underneath her and balancing the duffel again on her back, she began to stand. “Lean on me, and we’ll get up together…”

This was unusual, to say the least. To share his burden, both physical and mental, was not something he had thought himself able to do. A person, who walks alone, placing themselves apart from the majority out of some misplaced need to protect it, can get use to being like that. Self reliance is a noble feature to hone and control, but perhaps, like now, it was a weakness.

Perhaps, now, was a time to change?

“We’d best hurry...” Nakali growled, now up from one knee with Tarra’s help, his words squeezing themselves into a vicious hiss “The green popper only retards it, don’t ask me how they just do...It’s still coming.”

And then Sam appeared in their little drama, stating a question that really needed no answer.

“Ah...look...” Nakali said, a loopy smile spreading across his face “Its Sam, hi Sam...Your there right? You can see her too, Tarra?”

“Yes, Nakali, I see her, too.” Taking a deep breath as her emotions began spiralling inside of her in a rush; they stepped over the prone Proudfoot and she turned to face Sam, fully supporting him in his slackened state. Tarra said quickly, “Seizure, Monarch, NOW.” And then her voice failed her; all of her strength now needed to help Nakali remain standing and also keep her wits about her. She WANTED to say that she had no idea how he was even awake, or walking or even BREATHING, but she had focussed her own attentions into a tight beam and hoped like hell that Sam could lend a hand.

TAG-Sam, welcome to the party.

A JP by Tarra and Sjet, brought to you by Sizzler: ‘Flame Grilled-That's good Eaten’
Ensign Keth Soban, Medic on the USS Legacy

Fellow Crew Injured By Keth: X


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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Sam Crerar » Thu Apr 09, 2009 3:34 pm

JP by the Three Stooges

“Whoah! Now hold it a minute, Tarra, we can't take him to the Monarch. He's got to stay here." Sam said, moving in the way to stop them. "We don't have the equipment, or the medication to handle a seizure like that again."

"The bag the bag the bag!" Nakali snarled, the hand wrapped around Tarra's shoulder digging in as he clenched his eyes shut.

Tarra's eyes teared from the additional pushing on her already bruised shoulder and she tried not to cringe completely away. Shrugging to hide the pain, she said, "Here! Here's the bag."

Sam stepped over to Nakali, helping take his weight. "We need to get him back into bed."

“NO!" he snarled, trying to stand, to shrug off the help he had so eagerly accepted a moment before "No! Not here!...No no not here, not here.....

"Nakali! You're delusional!" Sam barked, trying to get him back to bed. "They won't know it's from this, whatever the hell this is, severe burns and the treatment can cause seizures. Just go BACK TO BED!"

"Sam," Tarra said, "Nakali will NOT stay here... thinks that the Infirmary's watching him. Documenting his seizures. And they're NOT from the heat, they're from what I told you before." The watch was heating slightly against her skin. "We don't have time to ARGUE!"

He was being clear wasn't he? 100% reason, argument and evidence tied off with a ribbon of conclusion. Why couldn't they understand, or see, or feel...why?

Sam growled, "We can't take him back to the Monarch, one, we don't have time if we don't have time to argue. Two, there's an unconscious doctor on the floor, and if Nakali's gone, they're going to think he fled, or we kidnapped him, for some evil purpose, and the lawmen are gonna search us. The seizures are explainable as being from the burns, WE HAVE TO KEEP HIM HERE!"
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby KendleRJ » Thu Apr 09, 2009 3:38 pm

JP by the Three Stooges - Part the Second

Looking around the Infirmary, Tarra tried to find a place they could hole up to wait this out. Somewhere away from prying eyes, and somewhere safe and secure. "Not here, but here maybe..." Pushing open a small storage closet, there seemed to be linens there...

“Sam, look at it like this...place like this reports odd happenings to a higher power." he let out in a gasp "LIke hospitals reporting gun shot wounds..."

"And seizures after severe burns ain't odd happenings, kidnapping patients is. Get your arse back in bed, zhoushide!"

He looked into the closet, dark, cold, coffin like to his always burning eyes...the path way to Hell. Logically he knew that wasn't the case, but the animal part of his mind, the one spinning up to full power at the back of his head KNEW what was in there....and it pulled away.

Tarra closed the door quickly and held Nakali up firmly. "You decide and let me know." She was frustrated and ready to simply curl up and stop.

"Ya....no, no no..." he let out a long moaning sigh of desperation, knowing screaming and pleadings for salvation were just around the corner "No you’re...you’re gonna have to KO me...knock me senseless or dope me quick!"

"We can do that, when you're back in your bed!"
His breathing was hammering away past his lips, nostrils flaring as like a sardonic lover whatever evil he had touched in kindness on Hera cracked itself open, drew in a breath to summon itself...and came into being.

Pulling open the door once more, she shoved them all into the closet. "We're in here, NOW!" And Tarra summoned all the strength she had as she slammed the door shut behind them. The light sputtered on inside and they sat there in the midst of the linens.

Sam growled from inside the closet. "Tarra, I'm going to beat you and your zhoushide if the lawmen get suspicious of us now."
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Jake Sjet » Thu Apr 09, 2009 3:52 pm

He was back in the hot place now, its sputtering burning light already picking at his skin, searing it as blood bubbled and boiled beneath his skin. He could feel it, they should feel it, but they weren't screaming in agony. Then again neither was his, his jaw clamped shut as the muscles on his face drew back in a rictus like grin.

His fists began to clench, tighter and tighter together like the heart of some microscopic star in its death roes. Small groove like scars, four of them, matched his finger tips as nails dug into flesh. And yet he never whimpered, his eyes wide and white and fearful.

In the tub it had been an action of the body, a reaction...awake, it was something far from any text book.

Sam watched, unable to really help. There was one thing she could do, but she didn't want to do it, she didn't want to have to do it. She looked around for anything that would help, but it was a supply closet, nothing more. No medications, which here would probably all be locked tight anyway.

"Compromise," Tarra's breath heaved out in ragged sobs. "We're still here, and he's not being watched." Her face went white with the proximity to this agony and she said in a fearful whisper, "But he certainly is haunted."

Looking around, she said, "Grab those cloths, it looks like he's going to start causing himself harm and he'll need them."

Sam didn't grab the cloths instead she did something she'd done several times on the field. Used the poor man's sedative, a quick, hard, punch to the jaw.

The fist's path was true, its target steady. And the effect exactly what was expected of it. His head was cocked back, that rictus of terror spreading across his face shattered for a second as his brain reenacted his highest pin ball high score. He slumped for a moment, fists still balled as he seemed to curl in on himself, the muscles along his neck etched out in tight bundles and knots.

With the connection, Tarra's breath pushed out in a sob and she dipped her head down to her chest. "S-s-sam," she stuttered. "Ah, hell." She felt Nakali's strain slacken but the seizure became the similar stilted dance as they experienced in the tub. Conscious mind now slumbering as the physical reactions continued. Tarra pulled down linens to pile under limbs, head, shoulders and legs as his whole body convulsed and threatened to reinjure itself and her along with it.

Sam would have been happy to know that she had spared him the horror of what was the next act in a particular show, for his eyes had been staring at the door...a door that was slowly watching on fire from a sword wielded by a being from the other side...
Ensign Keth Soban, Medic on the USS Legacy

Fellow Crew Injured By Keth: X


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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Sam Crerar » Thu Apr 09, 2009 3:58 pm

Sam sighed, "There's nothing we can do while he's unconscious except try to keep him from hurting himself. I'm going to go see if I can explain this fine tangled mess to the doctor he clocked, or you clocked...the round thing on the floor."

Nodding, Tarra tried to keep Nakali's limbs away from the unpadded floor, pulling down pillows, blankets, towels, sheets, ANYthing that would soften the blows. She did remember to try to protect herself as well. The bruising was going to be painful, but nothing had been broken. She had experienced worse when sparring with the General before she left home.

"Nakali clocked him," Tarra said between reflexive dodges, "He was alone, and protecting himself." She mentally slapped herself. "I found some family and left him here for an hour while I slowly lost consciousness..."

Nakali seemed to be slowing down, like a clock work toy who's spring was slowly being undone. His shivering was little more than a odd tremor, and the arch of his back now more a hump, a pot hole any doctor could fix with care. But his eyes, unconscious as they were, still danced and rolled beneath closed lids. And his hand, oh his hands, how they bled from wounds grown tired of healing.

A new voice came from outside, a low muffled groan of a man to accustomed to eating and not defending himself: Augustus Paddlefoot, of the River Down Paddlefoots, was waking up.

Sam shook her head, "Tarra, it'll be alright." Then she headed out to check on the Doc. "Oy! Doctor dude..."

Tarra wrapped his hands in the cloths she had pulled down and began sopping up the blood that ran freely from them. She had been spared the full force of a waking seizure that was the thing most threatening Nakali's sanity, but she had seen the beginnings of the witnessed reaction and she was visibly shaken from it. It was a good thing that Sam was going to check on everything and smooth it all over, Tarra would not have done well with that, more concerned with staunching the blood flow than with how it might appear to the outside world.
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby Jake Sjet » Thu Apr 09, 2009 4:04 pm

Nakali lay there beneath Tarra's gentle ministrations, the tremors subsiding and the cramping contortions of muscles returning to a semi normal stance. He could have been asleep, a combination of the green skin popper and whatever sedative it had contained, and Sam's own remedy for such things.

Which made what happened next a little...odd. His lips parted for a second, a moment and he breathed in. Not a lot, but enough...and then he spoke: "Deus servo totus quisnam supplex procul muto."

The voice was his own, but different. No inflection, or tone, or pain or anything, just the words and whatever meaning they carried. And then a return to silence, stillness, and perhaps peace. Well, peace in the closet anyway.

Nakali’s face looked serene and Tarra was a little surprised by the words. She tried to remember them, committing them to a part of her memory that she could call out. Perhaps she would ask Reverend Long about them when next they waved Leviathan. But for now, she sat in the quiet solitude of the closet, pressing the cloths hard against each palm. The blood flow was slowing, and in a great deal of relief, she left the cloths where they were and sat back, exhausted and emotionally spent. And vowed never to leave him alone in a strange place again.

Paddlefoot was getting up, or trying to, and he was complaining loudly about it. "What in God’s name...happened..." he gasped "To my medical examination room!!"
Sam helped the rotund doctor to his feet. "You had a patient with severe burns that you should have known could develop altered mental status, and because you done skipped your job, your medical examination room is a mess and your patient seized in the supply closet."

"If you're even thinking of using that...that....SLANDER against me little miss I will sue you for....well for slander! No one with sense between their ears would....would...." he looked around, brow furrowing as a pudgy hand rubbed his bruising chin "Would...you happen to know where that closet is?"
Ensign Keth Soban, Medic on the USS Legacy

Fellow Crew Injured By Keth: X


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Jake Sjet
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Re: Silence is Golden

Postby KendleRJ » Thu Apr 09, 2009 4:13 pm

JP by the Three Stooges - Part the Last
**OOC - Thanks so much to Sjet (who also took on the role of Proudfoot) and Sam

Sam glowered at the Doctor, then grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. "First off, Doc, call me little miss again, and you'll have more to worry about than slander. Second, he's over here, you incompetent piece of go-se."

"Why I never did..." he scrunched his face up, an act that made the idea of him turning himself inside out a real possibility, turned and stormed towards the closet door "Never in all my days have I had to deal with such narrow minded, Rim wandering Neo Barbs!"

He yanked the door to the closet open, snarling behind his inch thick glasses and looked down at Tarra and Nakali. And was nearly, but not quite, lost for words.

Tarra began pushing the linens she had pulled off the shelves into a pile on the floor. They would need to be washed and, with her state of negative cashy-money, she figured that it would most probably fall to her. Checking once more on Nakali's hands, they had finally stopped bleeding and she took the soaked cloths and wrapped them in a large towel away from the rest of the laundry on the floor. And was surprised by the suddenness of the door opening. She blinked in the brighter light.

"What is going on here!" he wailed, looking down at the two of them, at the burns, the blood, and the ruined linens. This was not turning into a good day, why had he fought so hard for this case again?

"This narrow-minded, Rim wandering neo-barb just saved your patient." Sam leaned down at whispered in his ear. "Altered mental status, seizing, probably 'cause of hypokalemia....maybe, you know, people with burns get that after being treated with hydrotherapy and rapid fluid infusion..."

Tarra opened her mouth, but caught Sam's mental state and decided to shut it promptly again. She was on a rampage with the medical professional and Tarra thought it best to take care of Nakali.

"I will not be talked to in such a way by some, some tourist!" he said holding back the dogs, or kittens, of war...and pulled a pencil like com device from a pocket "I have had just enough of this. I'm going to call Molly."

Molly McDonald.

Wife of Shamus McDonald.

Local law enforcement.

"Call her, Doctor, I'll make a full report of your negligence." Sam replied, straightening herself.

Paddlefoot paused, lips open and in need to speak. "You know, I'm a local and you’re the outsider, who's word would she take over the others?" he asked.

Tarra got very quiet, voice taking on the hint and ice of General Josephus Johnson and carried very effectively in the small space. "Is that a THREAT?"

“I think it was.”

Her eyes glittered dangerously at him as she sat on the floor of the closet and looked at Proudfoot in the eye. "My Uncle Tyrell might not take too kindly to you accusing his niece of any such thing. Do you think that Tyrell Johnson might like that, Sam?"

Sam shot a glance over at her. She had no idea who Tyrell Johnson was. "No, but I don't think Saul Armstrong would approve either..."

Paddlefoot did three things all at once.

He got very quiet.
He got very pale.
And he got ever so red around the collar.
"I...I er...I didn't know you were that well..." he thought for a second before, saying in a rush "that well connected...Madame."

Sam wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder. "So, let's avoid the threats right now, and work on getting my crewmate back into bed. Everything'll be shiny, doc, right?"

Tarra felt a weight lift from her shoulders emotionally; some pull, some connections? It was like a small light of hope had shone briefly over them and illuminated their small corner of the 'Verse. "And don't forget about these linens," Tarra shot out at them.

"What?!" he shouted almost turning on Tarra before remembering just how 'well' she was connected to a man...known for not taking slights well "Yes, of...course...and yes, everything should be...shiney."

~Tag Any
USS Legacy
Ensign Navkiran Khangura - Engineering
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