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trans_92010-07-10 08:08 pm
quark-assassin.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92010-07-10 08:08 pm
Entry tags:
Treating the Wounded [Open, Bendytimed to a few days after the Ohm fight]
The dead of night—or at least a simulated night, but the crew took to it in their usual patterns and created a deadness that was acceptable—that was the time, the reason. The place was the Hangar, cluttered even now and moreso than ever with parts of damaged vessels in stages of repair, their insides strewn about their bases in careful (or careless) heaps, looming shadily in the subdued lighting. One particular ship, pure black like the darkness that surrounded her, was the destination; the lone traveler hobbling amongst the piles to reach her was Dustin.
For the few days allotted for him to heal, the frail genius had been making remarkable progress. He could breathe well enough to make this journey without becoming completely winded, he was strong enough to carry his backpack full of tools, his shoulder and ribs had healed to the point where both of his arms were mostly functional—but most importantly, Dustin now had the capability (and a properly sized crutch) to sneak his way out of the Medbay in the first place. He was well enough now, considering, and though it would take another few weeks for his shattered leg to completely mend he would’ve been released within the next day or so. This was merely a test, a way to see how well the ship’s technology was holding up and combining with his own internal synthetic systems.
He was also obviously checking in on the one patient not immediately attended to after the battle.
The Dart loomed in front of him, broken and forlorn. Only a week ago Dustin had finished the final adjustments, soldered the last wires; now she was a crippled veteran. Just like her creator, yeah?
There was a movement nearby. The scraggly man stumbled and froze, piercing green eyes searching his surroundings.
For the few days allotted for him to heal, the frail genius had been making remarkable progress. He could breathe well enough to make this journey without becoming completely winded, he was strong enough to carry his backpack full of tools, his shoulder and ribs had healed to the point where both of his arms were mostly functional—but most importantly, Dustin now had the capability (and a properly sized crutch) to sneak his way out of the Medbay in the first place. He was well enough now, considering, and though it would take another few weeks for his shattered leg to completely mend he would’ve been released within the next day or so. This was merely a test, a way to see how well the ship’s technology was holding up and combining with his own internal synthetic systems.
He was also obviously checking in on the one patient not immediately attended to after the battle.
The Dart loomed in front of him, broken and forlorn. Only a week ago Dustin had finished the final adjustments, soldered the last wires; now she was a crippled veteran. Just like her creator, yeah?
There was a movement nearby. The scraggly man stumbled and froze, piercing green eyes searching his surroundings.
no subject
"I'll leave you alone if you promise to come back in a few hours." Evidently, that little rant sapped the rest of her energy, because now she just looks like she wants to sleep for the next ten years.
She pauses, looking back up at him with a faint smile fixed on her face.
"And don't thank me--worrying is my job, unfortunately. I'm pretty sure I'd do it whether you liked it or not."
[ooc: late tag is many much late. >>;]