S1: Ep1 - Birds of a Feather

Started by noseatbelts, April 28, 2020, 01:48:53 PM

Pele Kesher

Drugs. It's drugs. We're drug pushers. Pele felt another hysterical giggly fit coming on as Lady Sun went on about the business of weighing the 'rations' that were most definitely drugs, no doubt about it now. Judging by Captain Ingenue's chilly demeanor, the truth was finally dawning on her as well.

The whole ordeal was over mercifully quickly, or perhaps it only felt that way because Pele had all but disassociated from her body during it. Nevertheless, she to make it through with her certified companion composure intact, not a giggle to be seen or heard. She promptly rejected the Greasemonkey's offer for a ride; her shoes were digging into her heels, but uncomfortable clothing was something she was used to dealing with, unlike the risk of accidentally sitting in gore.

"Do you really think we're in the clear?" she asked Francis, somehow managing to match his speed despite her much less practical footwear. She was clutching her purse like a disgruntled church lady. "For someone who's supposedly Sebastian's right hand man, you don't seem to know a whole lot about what's going on."

Speaking of footwear, here came the infamous other shoe, not only dropping but exploding on impact. It all happened so fast; Pele had barely registered the knife against Charity's throat -- a universal sign for "don't make any trouble" if she ever saw one -- when the bullets were already flying, the damsel in distress be damned.

Maniacs, every last one of them. Pele dove behind Francis' back like a startled celebrity hiding behind her bodyguard, only she wasn't going to just cower there. No, he just made for a good meat shield while she rummaged through her purse, her fingers finding the pistol much faster than last time. Maybe she'd skip the thigh strap in the future, as glamorous as it was on paper.

Jedikiah Rembo

November 19, 2020, 07:50:59 PM #81 Last Edit: November 19, 2020, 07:57:40 PM by Jedikiah Rembo
And then they headed home. Or to the ship, not quite home.

After asking Mr. Brown about sending a wave, the good Captain Charity offered him a ride, "Jed, dear, are you sure you wouldn't like to sit here?"

How considerate, but, "No thank you mm," He almost said Miss, but, "Captain. I'd like to work my legs a couple more kilometers, not the same as pacing your ship. Nice to get to stretch out a short walk'a'bout." He smiled at her. A previous look at the others made it clear few of them thought they were clearly NOT in the clear.

That was a spacer way, you're never safe unless you're on your 'boat' and in the black flying at a good solid burn. Still, the crew's sense of uncertainty was infectious. Not that Jedikiah Rembo was ever not at ease and yet ready, prepared and aware. It was the same practiced state of mind.

- - -

At the site of their previous encounter with the Red Talon Jedikiah found his long thin solid staff that had been lost in that recent struggle. He swished it about like a vid swashbuckler a couple of times before he returned it to a steady soft tap to the street while he walked.

- - -

And then the gangs blocked their way. The intricacies were irrelevant. Red Talon, some enemies/former associates? of lawman Black, and a threat to the soft spoken neck of their precious Captain. Miss Charity.

As the silver coined 'Dime' novels read, 'the bullets started to fly like sparrows from the crack of the gun from the tree in the square'.

For Jed it was a slow motion play, there was only one concern as the others moved with speed of those sparrows taking flight. As did he.

If they shot straight and true then the nervous system of the man with the knife at good Miss Charity's throat would go limp. But if not - there would be blood; and thus the staff moved like the striking cobra, without thought, malice or foresight. The staff directed toward the non-space between the soft bit of flesh that touched knife, a prayer to all the gods that came before, to come between steel and the life of this woman that deserved good years yet to come.

Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Charity

They were almost there. Almost back to the safety of their ship. Almost done with this clearly not charitable mission. In her mind, she'd been crafting a elegantly worded wave that she'd be sending in Little Sebastian's direction once they were in route, with a few borrowed words from her crew's less than polite dictionary, when something changed. They were very suddenly met with a group she did not recognize, who seemed to have a problem with the man who was still following them. Her gaze slid in his direction and a brow rose. He was persistent, if nothing else. Maybe he was growing on her, maybe he wasn't. She carefully slipped off the loader and cleared her throat, preparing to be the diplomat in this situation.

"Hello," a second stranger greeted. A hand grabbed around her upper arm and tugged her back and away from her group. Her mouth opened to protest. The cold feel of steel against her neck stilled the debutante and her eyes widened in surprise. Again?! What could she do? Scream? Useless. Fight back? Pointless. And how would she even do that? Her skills in combat boiled down to the ability to faint on cue or to slap someone as an insult, and the only weapons on her body were a parasol and a fan. She was useless.

While she occupied herself with self-criticism and mild annoyance at her situation, several things seemed to happen at once. Something hit the knife just a tad lower from her neck, the blade resting at her décolletage now. Then, the man holding her exploded. Wait, was that right? Yes... yes it was. Two thunderous bangs rang out and peppered his head like a watermelon squeezed too tightly. She flinched, hard, her eyed widening again as blood and brains splattered across her face and neck, staining her dress and promising to keep her company during nightmares. The body fell to the ground with a sickeningly wet squelch and very slowly, Charity turned her head to look down at the mess.

Other things were happening around her, she was sure, but she just couldn't focus on them. A hand clamped over her eyes, King's voice at her ear as he pulled her away from the ensuing battle. "Easy, don't look, you don't need that image in your head," he muttered.

Somehow, it appeared that the stranger, Darius, was the closest and least occupied, as well as their Doctor Jed, who'd been near Charity when the man had gone splat. "You! Lawman! Get her back to the ship! Anyone tries to stop you, you drop them, understand? Or I swear by her pretty floral dresses I WILL end you." King said, his voice full of violet promise. He shoved Charity in Darius' direction, then pointed at Jed in the same instant. "Same to you Doc, Go!" he commanded. Then, he ran in toward Cooper, drawing his knife and gritting his teeth against the pain in his foot.

Charity stumbled against Darius and extended her hand toward King as he ran, "King!" she called out, although she was too startled and disoriented to untangle herself from the lawman and run after him.

*King narrated w/ Axe's help and permission
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Cooper Brown

December 15, 2020, 01:39:25 PM #83 Last Edit: December 15, 2020, 01:55:48 PM by Cooper Brown
Bloody hell I'm still alive.

Then someone kicked him in the face. Then he knew he was still alive. Knocking back into another man that was coming at him from behind he threw an elbow back, and swiped at anyone nearby with his hammer before letting loose the last round he had for his pistol. Now both weapons were bludgeons.

He saw King working his way towards him in the fight. Wasn't he going to let him and the old man have a proper last stand? Then the possibility of dying for gorram Lil' Sebastian just started to irk him. Cooper resolved to himself he'd just have to fight like a demon and kill everyone. What the hell had he gotten himself into? This was supposed to be a bloody run for a pack of smokes.

He blocked as many attacks as he could but more and more were getting through. The adrenaline turned it all into a hot haze of burning. All the mad nomad could do was give as good as he got until help got to him and the former sheriff. He felt the slide on his pistol break as he used it to deflect machete with it. He hadn't fought like this since the war. But only once had death ever felt more certain. He needed to get King to turn back before he got hurt trying to save his doomed arse.

"That boat can fly itself, go!"

That probably wasn't actually true though. He was just getting loopy from all the head-kicks. Block the edged weapon, counter with hammer, shove their collapsing body towards a nearby ally, buy yourself another moment, block the next attack. These were the only thoughts coming together cogently.

noseatbelts

Bodies fell. The man with a blade against Charity's throat? His head popped and his body fell. The knife, luckly, went wide of its target. Shikai and Cheing Po were, unfortunately, not among them. Their absence from the fight might have been conspicuous if not for the chaos that ensued.

Those with the misfortune to meet Cooper? Felled with surprising abandon for the attacks of a mere gypsy mechanic. He took his own beating; a blade drew blood, a club bruised (maybe broke) his ribs. Clearing the path took its toll.

Darius found himself beset on all sides, mostly by Cheung Po's crew, but his years of experience of putting the hurt on those that meant ill will were put to good work. While his gun may have needed reloading, it didn't stop him from dealing death. That was, until, he was given a sacred task of getting the captain to the ship.

Jed joined the former sheriff's quest; smooth as his moves would be, the sheer number of their assailants proved that age and experience did not overwhelm numbers. Getting while the getting was good was most likely as prudent as his ancient teachings.

Francis, while his lack of ammunition had certainly caught up with him, found the training instilled into him during training for a war he never fought in mighty handy. He pilfered a falled pair of clubs and beat the living out of those who got in his way. The ship, and salvation, was in sight... but that might mean leaving some of those that fought by his side. Tempting but...

Her gun found out of its hiding place, Pele had a slight hesitation in her aim at a perceived enemy's head. But in a question of him or me, the answer was obvious. The small gun had little kick, but the snap of the man's neck as his life faded from his eyes. He was dead and she, or her comrades, were not. Now, to make her escape...

King, much the same as the other combat ready among them, found bodies on all sides; just as many dead as alive it seemed. He hadn't seen the sort since his time in the war. How were there so many? Which of them were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Pirates? Gangsters? Innocent bystanders? They were all the same.

The Odette had enemies all about and a clear goal: get the hell out of Eavesdown.

Darius Black

January 04, 2021, 07:36:06 PM #85 Last Edit: January 04, 2021, 07:40:59 PM by Darius Black
When his gun went dry, it became a bludgeon. 

When an armed enemy went down, Darius holstered his gun and took theirs. 

It wasn't his preference to use random firearms from random pirates.  But preference had very little to do with his current situation.  King had given him an order, and it was one he was keen to make good on.  He would get the Captain to her ship, one way or the other.

He was slower than he'd have liked, on account of his bum knee.  But preference didn't matter much there, either.  One foot in front of the other would eventually get anyone where they wanted to go.  Even a gimp.  Walking slowly wasn't a bad thing for accuracy, either.  Every few steps, he snapped off a shot with whatever pòlàn gun the closest dead man had been carrying. 

He was hit.

Of course he was hit.

You didn't walk through numbers and fire like that without being hit.

But none of it had stopped him, so he kept on going on.  Ever closer to his goal: Escape from the Pirates, Embarkation onto a Ship, Protection of the Captain.

One foot in front of the other.  One bullet after the other.  He hoped he ran out of steps to take before he ran out of bullets.


Jedikiah Rembo

January 09, 2021, 11:41:19 PM #86 Last Edit: January 09, 2021, 11:46:43 PM by Jedikiah Rembo
"You! Lawman! Get her back to the ship! Anyone tries to stop you, you drop them, understand? Or I swear by her pretty floral dresses I WILL end you." King said, his voice full of violet promise. He shoved Charity in Darius' direction, then pointed at Jed in the same instant. "Same to you Doc, Go!" he commanded. Then, he ran in toward Cooper, drawing his knife and gritting his teeth against the pain in his foot.

Charity stumbled against Darius and extended her hand toward King as he ran, "King!" she called out, although she was too startled and disoriented to untangle herself from the lawman and run after him.

—- — —-

Jedikiah Rembo found that there was little too do after the first moment of the chaos. The outstretched hand of Charity was first gently taken by the old man, then his grip moved farther up her arm as the situation became one of speed rather than grace.

There would be no easy smooth flow of water over rock, nor grain in the wind.

Jed took Charity upper arm in his hand firm and harsh. He move along side Darius, then behind him. It seemed prudent, his order was to protect the Captain. A duty commanded by Akhsar King, though as me moved with haste his mind sorted the odd order and just why he took it as such.

'.. i swear by her pretty floral dresses...' the man had said as he moved Charity behind Darius, the result perhaps seemed to be the lawmen getting shot as a shield often is. Extra words of poetry and description in a scant moment of time.

And the pecking order of the crew was not significant, save the Captain. Save the young woman.

A few got close, a cut along Jed's arm opposite the one that lifted Charity.

Time slowed.

There were too many, unless the relentless tide defied the eternal ocean they would soon die. The moment slowed again. It was not too soon for him, but for the pretty young Captain, perhaps she had a destiny.

Jedikiah Rembo half tossed the Captain forward behind Darius Black and the Berserker Rembo darted out alongside him. A scream of the banshee and devil conjured from the dark realms came forth and he threw himself forward.
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Cooper Brown

January 19, 2021, 08:27:47 PM #87 Last Edit: January 19, 2021, 09:09:30 PM by HumanHyperbole
A familiar sensation. A lull in combat but not just that. The feeling that death had past him by. The grim reaper was walking in his footsteps again, but his inverse Midas touch had yet to grace him. Cooper felt that slight dip in adrenaline again as he'd felt back then, and then that realization he'd survived a suicide mission. King had fought his way towards him. The old sheriff was with the Captain. Not only was he still alive, this time he might have a chance not to lose his crew, his blood by oath and stay alive. And maybe even come out of that too.

He felt a leg buckle slightly, but the space-Romani was able to push through it. Brown dashed as quickly as he could towards King, and the cargo-loader. He gave the fellow veteran a look. A flash of relief, mixed with an sort of amusement one can only have after narrowly avoiding death. Though fate's judgement for the day wasn't yet made up. He clapped him on the shoulder and jumped up on the loader like it was his faithful steed. The engine quickly hummed to electric life.

"Let's go!"

His first instinct was to raise up his pistol and provide covering fire, but his pistol on inspection was gravely damaged from trying to block more than a couple attacks, and as a blunt instrument itself. The Golden Trail expat dropped the wrecked weapon to the ground he continually damned himself by setting foot upon. Cooper changed his priorities, if he couldn't fight, he'd help them run. There'd be a cost to engine reliability and it'd drain the battery like nobody's business, it was just a matter of popping open the fuse box, pulling one, then a wire re-directed right into where the fuse once was. The wires sparked for a second, but then the vehicle's mild electric hum intensified.

Once King was on back, Coop threw the accelerator down. The filthy mechanic was back on the war-path.

Charity

January 27, 2021, 02:21:29 PM #88 Last Edit: January 27, 2021, 02:26:42 PM by Lomari
Before she could do anything more to protest, Darius was running back toward the ships and Jed had her arm in his grasp, pulling her along with a strength she was surprised he possessed. Appearances were deceiving, something she should not have been so taken aback by. Still, Charity wasn't too keen on this new trend that was popping up in her life. Hide behind this person, get taken hostage by that person, get shot or get her companions shot. She was utterly useless. Dark thoughts clouded her mind as they raced along, punctuated by the blast of guns and the sounds of combat.

The docks got closer and then, a blessing showed itself to the Captain. Their ship, beautiful and shimmering and safe. Now that they were near civilization, she imagined that the attacks and the numbers would ebb. Of course, she had never been involved in this type of thing so that very well could have been wistful thinking. In any case, she pushed past the sheriff, moving beyond Jed in doing so, and quickly ran her hands over the consoles, entering in the perverse entry code Cooper had decoded for her. "Inside, now!" she commanded to the two who were closest.

The doors to Odette's cargo bay opened in welcome and she reached down to grab two handfuls of her skirts as she ran for the ramp. "Oh! My parasol! I've left it somewhere!" she called out, pausing for a moment before mentally slapping herself in the face. Now was not the time to worry about parasols. She could buy another! She could buy twenty parasols, but only if she was alive. Her heels clicked in quick rhythm as she moved up the ramp and into the ship, and once Jed and the lawman were inside, she began pressing a few buttons on the side console until the doors stopped opening and closed again. Again she pressed the button, stopping the doors when they were about three or so feet apart: the perfect width to allow one person in at a time and hopefully not a squadron of thugs.

Charity stepped back several steps, looking around in a mild panic and chewing on her lower lip. They were in the ship. They had delivered the cargo. The rest of the crew was, hopefully, not far behind. Now what? They needed to get out of here. But she wasn't a pilot! She doubted the doctor could fly this boat. Her attention snapped back to the errant lawman who had led her to safety and she grimaced. He was in something that looked like a flight suit. So surely...he could fly? She pointed at him, wincing as she noticed his wounds, "You! Up to the bridge! We need to get the ship ready to go the moment the others arrive. Please and thank you!" she commanded, her voice stern, followed by an apologetic smile.

A few minutes later, Pele was shoved through the gap in the door, quickly followed by Francis wielding someone else's gun and pointing it back the way they'd come. He was bleeding from several shiny new wounds gained in the gentlemanly role of protecting the lady. Something to brag about later, if he'd felt so inclined. When things had begun to heat up, and Charity looked firmly tended to, he had taken it upon himself to become Pele's personal paparazzi bodyguard. Except, instead of blocking photos and pushing reporters out of their path, he was moving her out of the line of fire and emptying clips into pirate's faces. Really, though, was that all that much different?

"Jed, dear, please get the infirmary prepped, it looks like there's going to be quite a few that need tending to. I can try to look at your shoulder if you need me to, but all my my medical knowledge is theoretical, I'm afraid. Pele, if you're unharmed, best to get strapped in, I'm hoping our lawman can get us airborne rather quickly and that might be a little...unpleasant. Francis...keep...doing what you're doing. Once King and Cooper are on board, please shut the doors behind them," she said calmly, skillfully placing herself deep in denial about the danger of their situation. 

*Some narration provided with NoSeatBelt's permission.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Pele Kesher

Pele had expected her first kill to go one of two ways: it would either feel empowering, and she'd wish Cecil was there to witness her be a stone-cold badass after laughing at her skittishness at the shooting range, or she'd be overtaken by a kind of profound horror at the reality of taking another person's life and perhaps taking one step closer to becoming more like Cecil in the process.

Neither of those thing happened. She just felt vaguely nauseous as her assailant fell limp to the ground. Next thing she knew, she was being dragged through the gunfire by Francis. It was about time he did what he was being paid for... well, technically she wasn't paying him.

They arrived at the ship, Pele frazzled but without a scratch, Francis significantly more banged up. She was still gripping the pocket pistol tightly in one hand despite not having to fire it again on account of her bodyguard doing all the shooting. She listened to the captain's words in a daze, barely registering what she was saying. Something about strapping in. Shiny, shiny.

As the crew in the cargo bay began to disperse, she turned to look at the blood on Francis' shirt and frowned.

"Are you even wearing a bullet proof vest? I thought you were a professional."

Darius Black

February 06, 2021, 12:10:26 AM #90 Last Edit: February 06, 2021, 12:11:57 AM by Darius Black
Darius was surprised at the call for a lost parasol. 

Shock, probably.  It seemed to him that not everyone in this crew was accustomed to bloody violence.  That was probably a good thing.  A crew too casual with such situations probably invited them too often.

When he was ordered to the bridge, his eyes widened in surprise, but he did not complain.

Looks like I'm hired, he thought to himself.  Pay would have to be negotiated another time.  Right now, he was quite content with getting off this planet and staying off until things cooled down.  If the governmental security forces hadn't seemed so scarce, he might even have needed to worry about being charged with a crime for the carnage.  But things had changed a lot since his father's time.  It seemed that very little was being policed nowadays.

"Yes ma'am," he acknowledged, moving swiftly to the cockpit and taking a seat, he looked at the controls.  He'd never flown a bird like this.  But he'd flown enough that were generally similar. 

Looking for his helmet, he found it on his belt-mount, where a magnet kept it secure at his side while he walked about.  He didn't remember putting it there.  With trembling hands, he affixed it to his suit, and then affixed the suit to the ship's air supply.  No need to tax the suit's reserves unless something went wrong.

Then he began thumbing through the startup procedure.  Not the procedure for this ship, perhaps, but the generalized checks and primings that needed to happen on most birds.

No time to think.  No time to worry.  Just do the next thing, and the next thing, till all the things were done.

 

Jedikiah Rembo

There was a minute of the flurry of the most reckless of martial styles. Some called it the Berserker, others the Rabid Monkey, but all recognized it as having only one use. To strike as fast, hard and frequently by hand and foot anyone that can be reached. No mercy, no restraint and no defense offered very little except an obvious arrival at desperation.

Jedikiah strikes were not always true nor purposeful, he himself was struck as often. Fortunately they caused as little damage to him as he caused to those around him. The crazed old man did make a small contribution to clear the path to Odette.

Once there the Captain took charge and moved them in with speed and efficiency. As the portal to their ship began to be secured she directed him to the infirmary with an offer for her to tend to his wounds.

"Yes Miss." He turned to those around, "Everyone needing medical let's go." The infirmary was prepped, that being the point of having it of course. Jed considered his own wound on his shoulder. It was still bleeding but a quick dermo-patch would stop that, for the interim.

Another look at who was following, there would be some that would tend to the ship first, or each other.
Spacers... bleed to death they would before being the first in the medical ward.
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Akhsar King

Death was a dance. A steady one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three-four. When you're in an extended fight or a battle, time loses meaning. This was no different. One-two-three. King was aware of nothing but the crush of bodies around him. That familiar metallic smell filled his nostrils. Block, incapacitate, shift to a new target. One-two-three. Block, parry, kill, shift. One-two-three-four.

Then, as suddenly as it had been lost, time regained meaning. The lull. Not an actual pause to the fight, but he had time to actually look around in between dealing with attackers. Somewhere he had acquired a second knife. He must have looked fairly terrifying, face covered in blood, with the feral look of a cornered lion.

King looked around and located Cooper just as a gap opened up between them, which Cooper took advantage of and dashed over. Cooper gave King a look, which King returned with a half grin. Hey, maybe we don't die today after all. Cooper clapped him on the shoulder and hopped into the drivers seat of the loader. "Let's go!" King covered him as best he could, dispatching two more men while Cooper fiddled with some wires. The vehicles engine noise intensified and King knew it was time to go. He jumped onto the back of the loader, his leg almost collapsing form the pain in his foot, and Cooper put the pedal to the floor. "That is the LAST time I am leaving the ship without a rifle, extra mags, and several grenades." He said under his breath as the loader sped off.

Cooper Brown

February 25, 2021, 03:17:03 PM #93 Last Edit: February 25, 2021, 03:39:51 PM by Cooper Brown
"Make way!"

Cooper wasn't so concerned about his firepower as King was. They needed a ride with cover, or something faster for terrestrial travel. Maybe he took his berserker charge through the enemy for granted. Or he just didn't give a damn on some level. Avoiding crashing was taking up a decent amount of headspace at the moment too.

"You can worry about the guns, mate. I'm more concerned about the fuel cells exploding on this dodgy loader!"

The loader weaved through oncoming traffic. Traffic being people, mules, horses, carts. The engine's manic electric hum grew more concerning the closer they got to the docks. He could see the crew clambering into the ship as he and King blazed past the security checkpoint.

"Watch out no brakes!!!"

He totally had brakes, but he needed people to get out of the way as if they didn't. The hum turned to a more traditional combustion engine like sound. Which was a very bad sign. Smoke started pouring out every seem in the machine. Cooper resigned himself the possibility Lil Sebastian was going to take the replacement for this burning contraption out of his pay.

Coop eased off the "gas" and let the loader coast and shot King a look that it was time to hit the ground running.

Mr. Brown tried to hop off like it was just his bike or something but he took a beating that was starting to catch up with him. The space-Romani crumpled but rolled to a stop before clambering back onto his feet. Limping, he painfully pushed through it and ran up the ramp of the Odette. Each metallic clang under his foot felt like salvation.

"Watch him! Loader's gonna blow!"

noseatbelts

Francis gave Pele a look. "C'mon, that's just hurtful..." He was doing his best. And then he realized she was right, and he should have been wearing a vest, and that he was shot, and before he could hit the button to close the ramp he fainted.

Momentum forced the loader to follow Cooper up the ramp and nearly into the ship. It teetered on the edge of the ramp, the threats of Cooper's assessment as to its explodability causing all of those present in the cargo bay to wince as the loader and, perhaps more accurately, gravity decided whether it was coming along for the ride. A split second that felt like an hour, plus perhaps everyone's instantaneous inhale, shifted events in their favor. The loader teetered back down the ramp from whence it came and rolled back onto the Eavesdown Docks where it finally sputtered, shuddered, and uttered a final sigh of defeat.

And then promptly exploded.

It was a small explosion, but enough to snap everyone out of their shock. Except for Francis, who was crumpled on the deck, and Darius, who was plugged in at the helm.

Speaking of: Darius hit the required sequence of knobs and buttons and levers, noticed the cargo bay doors were still open and closed those up, and lifted Odette off and away from Eavesdown. It was only once they broke Atmo that he realized his suit, and the tender flesh underneath, was compromised as a fine mist of blood and oxygen sprayed all over his lap.

They were free but not so much clear.

Jedikiah Rembo

April 01, 2021, 11:13:44 AM #95 Last Edit: April 02, 2021, 03:18:47 PM by Jedikiah Rembo
No. No one would be following or probably even going or getting to the med bay.

Jedikiah moved to Francis and took a quick manual check of his vitals, breathing, pulse, eyes.
Darius had seemed in a bit of a bloody situation but had headed off toward the bridge.
So much for bathing for medical attention.

Then realizing everyone could well be injured and not saying much about it.
'Spacers!' He shook his head.

He spoke loud and clear, "Everyone not keeping Odette flying and the crew safe gather now in the cargo deck for Triage." And to get some help on the matter, "Captain, could I have your assistance in patching up your crew?"
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


Charity

The Captain breathed a sigh of relief as the rest of her crew appeared in the cargo hold, then held it tight in her chest the moment the loader continued on in with them. Shoulder stiff, Charity set her hands over her mouth and watched it with wide, dark eyes, hoping it would decide it didn't really want to kill them all today. Her shoulders slowly began to lower inch by inch as the loader drifted back down the ramp and out of the ship. She started to think it was all over, and they'd finally gotten out of danger with the darned thing exploded. Charity squeaked loudly in surprise before quickly hurrying to the wall panel again and lifting her hand as though to slam it down on the red button to close the door the rest of the way. However, it looked like Darius had gotten to those controls himself up in the cockpit and her hand promptly lowered.



Once they were back in Atmo, the planet visible in the view port on the cargo doors, Charity turned to look at the rest of the crew. King and Cooper, the ones in most dire need of medical attention, had returned to the ship after Jed's kind offer for help, but before the loader's explosion. She watched Jed make a turn about back to the rest of them and check on Francis, who had fainted quite delicately. She had to commend him for such a masterful collapse.

"Everyone not keeping Odette flying and the crew safe gather now in the cargo deck for Triage," Jed called out again, now that everyone was on board and no longer distracted with the idea of immediate death. She shook her head a little and chewed on her lower lip, watching King in particular. "Captain, could I have your assistance in patching up your crew?"

"Huh?" she started, looking back at the doctor and raising her brows. A second after she asked, her mind turned his words into a proper sentence in her head and decoded it for her, not that it had needed decoding, but she was still running on adrenaline and listening actively was a little fudged up at the moment. "Oh...ah...no," she returned. "I mean, yes, but not here," she clarified, clearing her throat.

"Mister Cooper and King, come with us to the Med Bay. Francis, eh, I might need some assistance lifting him and getting him there," she offered Pele a look, "Would you like to go with us to make sure he's alright? I think I can manage to drag him with Jed's help," she continued, still looking around without fully focusing on anything at once.

"Uhm...the pilot man was injured as well, I'll just..." she turned and pressed the comms button, "Mister..." Oh shoot, what had his name been. He'd introduced himself, she was sure. Darien? Dexter... Dar..Darius! "Ah, Mister Darius. Please put the ship into autopilot and get to the Med Bay. Thank you," she ordered. Politely.

Her hand settled over the nasty bruise on her arm from where the strange man had grabbed her, but it was just a superficial wound and she doubted it would need any serious treatment. With that, she offered them all a frown, her brows raised to make sure they were going to listen to her, before she turned and sashayed out of the cargo hold toward the Med Bay. Then, realized she went the wrong way, recalibrated, turned, and stared off in the right direction.
Dialogue Color: AntiqueWhite

Pele Kesher

"C'mon, that's just hurtful..."

Pele had just opened her mouth to double down on her hurtful words when Francis' eyes suddenly became unfocused and he fell at her feet with a 'thud' that sounded comically soft after all the gunfighting that had just assaulted her ears. Don't be a drama queen, she wanted to tell him, although she knew full well that wasn't why he'd fainted. It might have slipped her mind in the heat of her anger over his perceived lack of professionalism, but she was now reminded that bullet wounds were kind of a big deal.

The mechanic was screaming something. Pele tore her gaze off the man lying at her feet and watched the loader approach them, then begin to slip away, too dazed to even properly register what exactly the problem was. It wasn't until the explosion that she snapped out of it and realized what had been happening. Oh. So they were almost blown to smithereens just now. Shiny, shiny.

A little more lucid than before, but no less paralyzed, Pele was still standing passively over Francis's crumpled form like an uncaring goddess when Jedikiah rushed in to do his doctorly duties. She let out a small sigh of relief at not having to take any action. As comprehensive and varied as a companion's training was, it did not include tending to gunshot wounds.

"Would you like to go with us to make sure he's alright? I think I can manage to drag him with Jed's help."

"Why me? Why would I care if he's alright?" she fired back, too quickly and too frantically, a far cry from the usual finesse with which she sprinkled her subterfuge around. Sure, the two of them had an arrangement, but as far as the other crew members knew, she was just Pele the passenger and she couldn't let them get wind of their shared secret.

But it wasn't just that. Whether the others knew it or not, she kind of was Francis' employer (although she technically wasn't paying him), which kind of made her responsible for him in some way, which kind of made his current state her fault, which kind of made her feel bad, which kind of was a tough pill to swallow on top of everything else.

Jedikiah Rembo

Dr. Rembo slid a temporary dermal patch against Francis' injury and then carefully lifted him in a well practiced sort of 'Fireman's Carry'. Not best method of transport but there seemed to be nothing organized about getting anyone to the medical bay. The Captain's offer of assistance seemed forgotten as she headed in the opposite direction as though she was in a hurry to get to the ballroom before the next dance started.

Then she turned and headed in another direction, perhaps ending up in the medical bay.

Once there Jedikiah went work on Francis, a quick hook up to the medical monitoring equipment and then an examination of the man's wound.
Yang Style Tai Chi and Shaolin Kung Fu
 - And Medical Practitioner


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