The Ohm had retreated. The various GIA forces on Lirath were withdrawn.

Refugees were being treated and dropped off at the refugee camps, and the crew that had been left there was gathered up. There hadn't been any other outbursts of Catastrophist attacks--it seemed that all of them had either been taken out or killed. Those that had been captured quickly self-detonated their neural explosives to avoid questioning, though the bodies still remained for investigation. Plenty of dead Ohm were there for study as well. Perhaps now the forces aligned against the bug menace could get some answers.

Currently, the Trans 9 was in orbit around the planet the camps were on while Stacy regenerated, allowing them access to and communication with the GIA. Several of the surviving GIA ships were orbiting, making similar repairs. It would be there only briefly before moving out.

Life went on.

Except, of course, when it didn't.

There was no time to recover the countless bodies lost in battle and it wasn't safe to stay on Lirath after the attack. The Ohm could possibly come back in greater force. Only one body was gathered up, with great respect and dignity, and carried up to the Transmigration 9--Superman's.

However, despite the people lost on Lirath--refugees, soldiers, and crew alike--the Ohm had been hurt badly this day. A full invasion force had been defeated, sent running.

They could be beaten, after all.

After the battle, the warriors' task was over. Their job, for now, was to rest and recover for the time being.

The healers' job, on the other hand, was far from over. Some exhausted from the battle, others rotating in, they took to their bay and continued the process of treating the wounded. Some patients were free to leave in a few minutes, while others would have some time (or quite some time) on the cots. Their mission: relax. Stay as still as possible.

Unfortunately, the temptation of so many familiar faces alive and about would ultimately prove to be too great. Keeping track of this group was going to be a third task all its own.

[this is a free for all for all your injured! Have them socialize, be thorns in the medics' side, try to escape, or bring the medics together for some action. Just note in your post if you'd like a medic to visit your character---if not, it's time for a chat!]

Zouichi had taken a few wounds during the mission, but nothing that he would deem serious enough to require medical treatment. He'd already begun to heal, and he estimated that by the time tomorrow rolled around, he'd once again be at full strength. This was not, of course, true of everyone who had fought on that moon -- those who had lost their lives, for instance.

But for him, intense combat was the norm. There was no sense dwelling on loss of life or regretting the past, and there were no nightmares about the dead or dying. There was only the future, and the battles to be found there.

So it was back to business as usual: maintenance on the HDC, clearing stray leaves off the front steps and caring for the flowers... and teaching his pet parrot some commands. Today, however, Alan seemed more intent on rolling onto his back and demanding to be picked up. So Zouichi settled back in the shade of a nearby tree instead, playing with the bird and occasionally wondering where he'd picked up all these new phrases that sounded suspiciously like Lash.

Maybe if Howard showed up, they could look for odds and ends in the City.