AWD #509: Hunger of the Torn Planet - Pt 2
Hunger of the Torn Planet - Pt 2
Summary: Marines are deployed to Scorpia to meet up with the resistance leader there, special forces Major Fuentes.
Date: 12/11/2016
Related Logs: Hunger of the Torn Planet - Pt 3
Angelis Kapali Miri Randy 
See the log…

After getting away from the facility and the mass execution, the Stalkers lead them through the jungle but they only ever see the one. It readily becomes clear they aren't going back to the boat, either. With the night having long-arrived, they walk for hours through the humid jungle without a word said. They're even overflown by a Raider at one point but the Stalker just turns to make sure everyone is still wearing their hooded ponchos she had handed out. Eventually they do step out of the jungle onto a road and there's a pickup truck waiting. No weapons, no armor, just a truck. The other three stalkers are already there and waiting, covering the two directions the road heads. One of them gives a thumbs up to the new arrivals and then moves to start the truck. "Get in the back," the Marines are told.

Kapali pauses on the road long enough to eye the truck. It might be with a mildly acquisitive gleam. Rolling with it, however, she moves forward, braces one hand on the edge of the truck bed and climbs up and continues forward until she's seated with her back against the cab, backpack compressed (as much as it does compress) between her back and the metal/glass itself. Rifle held between both hands, like it's grown attached (commitment to cause), but aimed away from member of her team or the Stalker team.

Angelis also eyes the truck, but follows Kapali willingly enough, hopping lightly up into the back of the truck and moving forward until she's wedged between the open side of the truck and the window. Her own rifle is cradled across her chest, pointint outward as her covered eyes scan their surrounds.

Randy waits more near where Kapali and the truck roll to. She steps up on the wheel to give her a boost into the bed. She swings her EOD kit forward, something she will never go anywhere without. Then she settles in next to Kapali. She keeps quiet with a somewhat blank stare, though those that know her might notice the signs of wheels turning.

Miri gets into the truck last, making sure everyone gets in safely. With one last glance around, she climbs in, damp fatigues squishing against the truck as she settles in.

The truck takes off without lights on and bounces down the muddy road at a pretty decent speed. Without lights and NVGs, the driver seems to know the road well enough to drive it simply with the aid of overhead starlight. Large puddles are forded easily, ignored like anything else in their path. There's even the sound of very distant gunfire at one point but none of the stalkers seem too concerned and mostly just focus on the sky overhead and the road in front of them. Another hour, but a welcome one. The humid air is stifling but the wind is a huge relief and allows them to dry off some of the sweat that had built up.

The truck eventually turns off down a side-road under the jungle canopy and bounces a few times before coming to a stop after one hundred yards. "Out," they're told and everyone else starts to climb out. "Wait here. You're safe to speak here, just do yourself a favor and don't point your guns at anyone." The girl smiles once and moves off, melting into the night with the rest of the armed team, leaving the Marines alone with the truck. They're probably going to get Fuentes and aren't worried. There's no way any of them could figure out where they were after everything they've done tonight.

Following one of the hard and fast rules of being in transit in a war zone, Kapali had closed her eyes after the truck started moving and allowed herself a bit of a cat nap. Not because she wanted a nap, or because she particularly needed one, but because it was smart to take one while in transit. If not driving the vehicle, guiding the vehicle, supporting the vehicle or guarding the vehicle? Nap in the vehicle. By the time the truck rolls to a stop she's wide away again, quiet, and dismounts once the 'Out' order is given. She lands quietly, knees flexed, moves out of the way and takes a moment to stretch, plucking the IR webbed poncho away from the rest of her gear to get more air flowing under and around it before she snags the canteen from her side and takes a single mouth full of water and returns the canteen again.

There's a slight reluctance to leave the truck, but Tabi does so anyway, taking a moment or two to adjust her semi-dry fatigues, the ponchos and the weight of her gear. All gets tweaked and shrugged until it's slightly more comfortable. Then she's got her rifle in both hands once more, pointing toward the ground, for now, but ready to swing up into action at a moment's notice. Tabi takes a slow walk around the vehicle, studying their surroundings, scanning the ground and the shrubbery with practiced eyes.

Randy hops out and puts her safety on. When they're left alone, she tries to reach back and separate her undershirt from her skin where it's stuck to her body from all the water, moisture, and general overall Scorpianess of the mission thus far. She also reaches up under the poncho into her rig for a rag. She blots her face lightly so as to not completely strip off all the camo coverage she put on gods know when last. "Try not to look so twitchy," Randy advises. "It's impolite to look twitchy in anyone's home."

Miri gets some rest as well, leaning against Randy, despite the uncomfortable stickiness. She wakes up instantly when the truck stops and hops out, landing lightly on the ground. "They run a tight operation," she remarks to no one in particular, checking her gear and pockets for water damage and leaks.

"Oh come on, Sarge," Kapali murmurs, "we can look twitchy. Or slightly rabid. Maybe a little bug eyed. Possibly mind blown. I can look deranged if I have too," she offers and does her best (comic) expression of bug eyed deranged, one eye twitching deliberately.

Angelis doesn't even bother responding to the comment about being twitchy. Having circled the truck and scanned their surrounds, she comes to a stop. "Just looking to see what direction they went in." She lifts one shoulder in a slow shrug then falls silent again, eyes scanning the encompassing jungle.

"Yeah, well I did the same thing, but I didn't look like I was doing it did it?" Whether Randy really was doing the same thing or not seems to not matter and she knows it. "Is everyone okay?" she finally asks, eyes still fixed on some inanimate object, some frond or another.

"Yes we do." The voice in the darkness is no more than six feet from Miri. Female. There is a distinct command presence in it as well. "Nobody meets me without a very good reason so we made sure to take our time checking you out and watching you. You're only about two hundred yards from where you were dropped off." The woman steps closer and looks over each of them as she passes. There are no pins on the uniform and no nametapes, but its very clear who she is. There is no faking that presence and practiced movement. Her camouflage is nearly impossible to pick out in the low light, that mixture of colonial marine with the dye of what the ghost troops use make it incredibly effective, almost absorbing all light and making her see-through to the foliage behind her. She mostly just appears to be a dusky skinned head under the poncho. "I am Major Fuentes. Tell me your names and ranks, your specialties, and why you are on my planet. All of you will answer for yourselves, not for anyone else."

Focusing on Fuentes when she arrives, Kapali doesn't allow her focus to shift away from the Major when she requires their names, ranks, specialty's and reason for being on her planet. She also doesn't change how she's holding the rifle, for that matter, because that would be either rude or insulting. "Kapali, Sergeant, combat engineer and EOD. To observe, assess, learn and report back on all of the above."

Randy steps forward and straightens up to stand at attention, though her voice is kept at normal level. "Sergeant Randolph Flynn. EOD tech. I am here to make contact with Major Fuentes, deliver a package on behalf of Commander Spree, and assess." She doesn't provide her history or anything. She tries to watch the woman, but the optics science in that camo junk is kicking her butt. She tries to catch her age, do math in her head, and wonders if her father is nearby.

Angelis steps forward and to attention. She studies what she can see of the major from eyes still hidden by NVGs. "Lance Corporal Angelis, rifleman. I'm just here to follow orders." Which is pretty obvious given her low rank comparatively.

Miri stands up straight from leaning against the truck. "Specialist Miri Zahav. Corpsman. Keeping these three alive, sir." A droplet of condensation falls from her helmet to her camoflauged cheek, rolling off of the greasepaint.

Fuentes just looks at the four of them, eyes flicking to each as they speak in turn. She's measuring and looking at the way they stand. Their eyes, too. The only sound for almost a minute are the insects, frogs, and birds. Monkey or two. She finally gestures for them to follow and steps off to lead them further into the jungle. "Its a shame you're not here to offer support. We've got a lot of needs here. I'm glad they sent enlisted Marines, not some weenies from intel or officers who have been parked on their ass most of the war. At least field enlisted understand what we'll be talking about." She glances over her shoulder to them, then back forward. "Matt told me they dropped you off near Site Twenty-Two. You saw the executions and new arrivals?"

"How often does that happen, Major, and how many sites like that are on planet?" Kapali question answers the Major's question regarding Site 22. She then exhales a small sound that is absolutely not a laugh, "Logicstical officers are useful, sir, when they're useful," and leaves it at that.

Angelis doesn't say a word, falling in behind her fellow Orion marines, she moves quietly through the jungle, listening to the conversation, such as it is, but doesn't contribute anything. Her brain's working hard though. Well, as hard as Tabi's less than intelligent brain ever works. She keeps her rifle ready, but fingers carefully free of the trigger.

For how young Randy might appear, she carries herself more like someone in their thirties. War has aged her demeanor to match the age of the wistful look lingering in her eyes. She makes no comment on the general usefulness of officers. "We did." At this point, it's the Major's show. No need to interrupt or direct what the woman needs to uncover to them yet. She stays close to the Major, trusting her ears more than her eyes with all the foliage. But there's plenty of jungle noises too.

Working hard to remember her orders and be diplomatic, Miri visibly holds her tongue. She does not reply to the Major, but nods in response.

"About every four months, Sergeant," she tells them as she leads them through the jungle. There's the scent of a cooking fire, but no light can be seen. Smells like fish and rice. "We've identified twenty-five sites. They're all pretty much identical. We only know about three who escaped across the last five hundred days of war and all the sites. We think there's five more out there and we are still hunting them down." More squared shapes can start to be made out as they approach, looking like tarps on ropes. The smell of food is closer. "We used to blow them up but we had to stop. They would take local daughters if we did that. Our underground support nearly vaporized in those areas so I shut it down." The Major leads them around a canvas tarp and there's a very tiny cooking fire set up with a couple of officers similarly dressed, all cooking fish on skewers while rice boils in a pot in the center. Simple meals. "Take a seat. Hungry? we don't have a lot but we expected to feed you." There isn't an MRE to be seen anywhere. Not even a candybar. Most of the faces don't look very well fed.

"I brought along some dry goods to share, if that's ok?" Kapali offers, keeping her hands visible at her sides without reaching for her backpack. "Some corn meal, a couple pouches of dried fruit and stuff. A good guest brings something to share and all," she adds with the first - very brief - gleam of a smile, careful to keep the expression small. "I just need to take off my backpack to get to it."

"That sounds like a cycle of testing or multiple cycles possibly," Randy murmurs as she follows after. "Yeah, makes sense." No judgement from this Sergeant there on not blowing them up. There's an understanding of the strategic value there, especially as she begins to take in what they have and the food that is offered. She shrugs off her pack and sits. "Major, before I forget." She sets her rifle to the side, a big signal that she's not here to fight or start one. She does it casually, and reaches into her rucksack to pull out the package. "Should I open it or do you want someone to check it out?" Once an EOD always an EOD. She must assume everyone still alive is as paranoid as she is.

Food is offered and Tabi /never/ says no to food. Her stomach doesn't either as it makes a loud, very audible comment on it's lack of sustenance. "Food would be great." She sniffs the air and finally relaxes enough to flick her NVGs up and take a good look around the camp. "Man, fired fish… it's been so long." Tabi sounds genuinely appreciative of that. Backwoods girl that she is.

Miri looks between the Major and Randy. "Sirs, if I may ask, do we know what they're doing with them?" she asks cautiously, slowly setting down her rifle, rucksack and medical kit next to one of the chairs.

Everyone looks at Kapali as she mentions having food. Every set of eyes. Then they all sort of look to defer to Fuentes. She's taken her own seat across from the fire and nods slowly. "Carefully hand the food around to your left and one of my guys will look it over." She then makes the same gesture for Randy to do the same. "Its not testing." There's a glance to Miri and nod. "They're trying to breed the skinjobs with humanity. They seem to think it is possible to pair up and raise skinjob children who will kowtow to their bullshit like those APF fraks we've heard about. They try for about three months with each female and if there's no positive results by the end of the fourth month, they take them out back and bring in new ones. …The sick part is that they keep doing it but we've never heard of a success." Meanwhile there's a Lieutenant who offers a skewer with a single piece of fish on it over to Angelis, "Make it last. Thats dinner." A single piece of sushi. "A small bowl of rice for dessert."

Kapali clips her rifle to the carry sling that's worn diagonal across the rest of her gear then unclips the belt around her waist that secures the backpack so that it doesn't slide around and shrugs out of the backpack without taking off the layers of ponchos. The backpack is a sturdy thing, water resistant but nothing is really water proof. She opens up the main compartment of the pack and extracts a sealed bag of corn meal, still carrying the label from the store it was lifted on in a raid, and passes it left. Next is several vacuum sealed packages of dried fruit, also passed left. Followed by a couple vacuum packed pouches of beef jerky. It isn't a lot. It won't make a feast. But it's what she could fit into her gear. Her hands reach in one last time, looking a bit chagrined, or maybe embarrassed, but she lifts out the last of the things she could carry that don't weigh much of anything at all, and it's a bag of hard candies - individually wrapped - still sealed in original packaging. Sergeant Sweet tooth. "We've heard rumors about the skinjob breeding program almost since the start of the war," she says as she comes out with a canteen full of iodine pills and passes those off, lastly, and then reseals the pack and shrugs the much lighter pack onto her shoulders. "We haven't heard any rumor that there's been any specific success with these efforts, like the ones you have going on in that building," she phrases it very specifically. "I didn't think that the skinnies were compatible with our original breeding stock. Who'd have thought machines would get trapped in a redundant circle of illogic."

"Aye." Randy hands the package over to the left so it can be inspected by Fuentes' men. "They might be using supplemental drug treatments to try and make the women more fertile," Randy ponders aloud. "It would account for continuing to do this. They are machines after all…unless they're looking for a human mutation they believe would allow for such a conception." She reaches up and rubs the back of her neck. Then she finally uses her rag to wipe off some of her good old fashioned camo paint. "Kappa, these are the camps where they are transported to be killed. It isn't where they're running these so called experiments," she points out. "Major, you know this. I will also need to know what your capabilities are. I know these things change from day to day for you, but the more information I can bring back to those that sent me, grim or grimmer…well sir, I don't have any fancy words that will make anyone feel warm and fuzzy. You know the score."

Angelis finally settles down, shrugging her backpack off and securing her rifle before sitting down at the fire, legs crossed indian-style and hands shoving forward to the heat offered by the small cooking fire. She listens to the Major as she outlines what's been happening, her brain working overtime to try and process the information. But then there's food being offered her way, meagre as it is, she's definitely not complaining. "Mmm… thanks, Sir." She accepts the piece of fish that's offered her way, and gives the LT a small smile while her Sergeants discuss important matters with the Major. A small nibble on the fish, because she knows how to make things last, then another look sidelong to the Lieutenant, considering a moment before leaning closer, "So what's the fishing like, here?" She's genuinely curious, keeping her voice soft so she doesn't interrupt important matters. "I mean, my family were dependant on hunting and fishing… before. So." In case he thinks she's asking out of some recreational need curiosity.

"Maybe…" Miri looks horrified. "Maybe they've hit a horrible glitch in their programming and they're stuck in a loop?" Horrors aside, the looks almost hopeful. If their mechanical brains can get stuck on buggy programming loops, that makes them easier to defeat, right? She digs into her food appreciatively.

With the food being pulled out, there's a lot of interest from those around the fire. Two Captains look at a small bag with a little jerky and seem like they might tear into it. But most of the food is pocketed and kept somewhere safe in their gear. Fuentes doesn't even ask for any of it. But nobody is eating it, either. The bag just gets handed back. But the Major waits for Randy to finish before speaking again, meawhile the other officers are sizing up Kappa like she might have more and she's just holding out. "Actually, Sergeant Flynn, that is where they are doing the experiments. They are trying different gene therapies and cocktails to make them more fertile, yes. If they are lucky, they're selected for non-invasive labs. Most the just try the old fashioned way. Why do you think they don't have any female staff?" She just stares right through Randy. That Stalker looking at them, mouthing 'Where have you been??' was begging for help, not making an accusation. "Our capabilities are pretty good, but getting weaker every day. Food is getting short and because of that, troop endurance is suffering. A lot of my people who are still alive are SF. They're built of sterner stuff. But the body needs fuel. We don't have the ability to launch major offensives anymore. Mostly just small raids. Meanwhile the Lieutenant looks over to Angelis and leans a bit, "Its shit. Most of the rivers are polluted from radiation or chemicals from the yards deorbiting. Only people who eat down here are those friendly to Cylons. We have to go north to be able to eat, but there isn't much fight up north. We have to be careful we don't kill all the fish the chemicals haven't, too." The balance of overhunting or fishing. Even if the wildlife is more prone to land, they are going to get their water from rivers, lakes, and streams. Slow death.

"Which model lines are attempting the old fashioned way, Major?" Kapali wonders, having to ask the question that maybe she doesn't want to ask but asks it all the same.

"And if they're so good at science, why aren't they switching it up and trying skinjob women with real men?" Miri muses aloud, recoiling when she realized she said that in her outside voice. She scratches her nose self-consciously, some brown greasepaint coming off on her hand.

Angelis bites her lip at the LT's response and frowns, nodding her head slightly. She nibbles a bit more on her fish and stares at the fire, silent while she makes her brain work over the information that's being put forth on both fronts. "You've mapped which catchment areas are still safe? Water wise, I mean?" Tabi asks eventually, still staring at the small flames. "I'm not familiar with this… with Scorpia… what's safe and not. To eat I mean." This fact actually seems to annoy her, somewhat. She finishes off her fish, then and licks her fingers clean. Tabi is familiar with hunger. "It wouldn't be ideal to hunt around here, anyway." This is more mumbled to herself than the LT.

"It's more efficient. That's why they're doing it all on one planet," but it's something Randy mumbles, not something worth sharing with everyone, like a thought being rambled. She makes mental note of the salient details. She doesn't look surprised by the fresh horrors. When it rains, it pours, and this is just another fresh storm system coming in to frak everyone's shite up. Still, it hasn't all just rolled off the Sergeant's back. "Major. I have to ask. Has anyone done any rough calculations on whether this is sustainable?" It's the kindest way she could phrase it, but it's still straight forward. There's no sugar on the question same as there are no barbs. She opens the package and hands over the carton and liquor once it's been looked over. "Compliments of Commander Spree."

"Depends on the site, but we've seen all male lines at the sites at some point. The Ones are the only commonality to all of them. They seem to have a vested interest in seeing it succeed." Fuentes keeps it basic, but understandable. Looking to Miri, she shakes her head. "You tell a group of humans that a bunch of men are being kept in a box with women sleeping with them all day, not many people are going to raise alarms. Men are expected to enjoy that. They're always supposed to say yes. That's the stigma. We think they probably exist, but we don't know where. That means there's a lot of male victims out there that would probably be ridiculed if they ever told the truth - assuming they survived. The whole thing, regardless of gender, makes me frakking ill." For Angelis, the LT just nods. "We're almost out of food. Most of the stuff your sergeant handed over is going to go to our Marines, not us. We've got people starving to death in some areas. Its why Fuentes mentioned it being a shame you aren't offering support." But while hte LT is whispering, Fuentes answers Randy, "Yeah. And it isn't. There's no logistical train and Scorpia was never meant to sustain people on its own. This is not Aerilon. We don't have the acreage to support full time rice farming like we would need to. Most of us will have to quit and take up farming or die in the next six months." But when the liquor comes out, the Major stands up and reaches for it. "Oh, now that I am most definitely keeping for us. No doubt. Thanks, Sergeant." She's already trying to open it.

Focusing on one aspect of the logistics, a brief moment of doing mental math with her eyes closed, "So say 25 female prisoners per site every three months, which makes it 150 at 25 camps so that's roughly 3750 females, no actual working number of male prisoners who may be kept in facilities of the same manner, but a generous count would be to double that number," Kapali muses in a low voice, a carefully empty painful neutral tone of voice. "Have you heard of any success rumors at all, Major? Anything to support why they're persisting with a potential zero success rate thus far, aside from the obvious obstinate nature of the command structure to keep pushing because they don't exactly have to deal with a population shortage to continue their experiments on." She carefully, carefully, quells her reaction to the Major's statement regarding all of the male lines at the sites at some point. "The 2's and the 12's looked a little off, which isn't saying much as I don't have a good read on what they look like when they're particularly On. Any real chance there's an opportunity there to use as a point of leverage?"

Angelis sighs quietly and gets to work on the little bit of rice because despite her sudden lack of appetite, she's not going to hand it back. Nope. "I supposed sending a group north to hunt is completely out of the question? Your people seem freaking amazing at blending." Definitely more than a little admiration and maybe even a little envy there. She's definitely paying attention to the more important end of the conversation between the Sergeants and the Major, and the Specialist, but has nothing to offer on that front so just keeps her mouth shut.

Randy stands up to hand the liquor over, allowing the major the honors. "I wish my pay grade were high enough to say whether we even could help you guys, but the reality is, they didn't send that person." They sent the Enlisted, the prematurely aged Sergeant and a pack of girls. Randy takes off her helmet and starts to rub down her scarred head with the other side of her rag, already filthy. "Alright." And here is when the questioning side gets tense, ugly, blunt. She scoots closer towards the Major's seat to ask a few things like roughly how many people they are losing per week, what their current numbers are. "We'll need to change communication protocol-" as Kapali starts speaking about the 2s and 12s, Randy presses her lips together. "Also, I wanted to speak to you about ideas for better, more sustainable communication. I don't expect us to be able to pull off our tricks multiple times without raising suspicion. Even if we can't solve it today, I'll be damned if there's a solution and we never tried. Engineering is my area, but covert communications would fall in your expertise Major. If there's any equipment or anything you can think of that would help in this area, I will stop at nothing to get it or do it." Her devotion has been pledged.

"Do you have medics here? Do they need a hand while we're here? I can see what I can do," Miri adds, not wanting to interrupt too much. She adjusts her helmet.

"Close. Every four months. So that's 75 females per site, and we suspect there are thirty sites for females. About 2250 per year being bussed in for this." The Major keeps her voice dry. The number probably haunts her dreams. "No, I haven't heard a rumor that actually checked out. There's always rumors but every time we chased it down, it was a dead end or we couldn't determine fact or fiction. Granted a lack of proof is not proof of inexistence, but still." She finally gets teh cork open and gestures for the officers to get their glasses. "Yeah, we only think the Ones are enthusiastic about the whole program. None of the males seem to want to be there. We haven't seen a Six at one of the sites in probably four or five months. You're not assaulting one of those sites, though, so don't think about it. Leave them alone."

To Angelis, the LT still whispers, "We sent a few groups. They didn't come back. Nobody blames them if they opted to stay up north, though. But yeah, the camo is a suggestion we got from Matt - that Seven. He said he'd seen it used pretty effectively. We're loving it. Since we report to the Major and she's pragmatic, we've all changed over. Makes us invisible." The LT then nods to Miri, "They could probably use a hand. We're long out of any kind of real supplies and we can't get to hospitals." And humid conditions in the jungle.. open wounds barf bacteria into the body. The attrition rate from injuries most be horrendous.

The Major looks back to Randy and shrugs while she pours. "I'm not looking for them to send a Colonel, Sergeant. They sent a combat NCO. That means they're serious about being serious. The reality is that either we will get the help we need or we will not. Nothing changes for us if we don't." 'Where have you been?' The look on her face. But Fuentes explains the numbers and how many she has - a LOT. But most are too tired or weak for more than raiding. Numbers in the tens of thousands planet-wide. It had been hundreds of thousands up until about five months prior. "There's an easy way. SCAMP terminals. Basically microwave commo. Raptors have the receivers built in. Spree just can't afford to send us Raptors but once or so a month. We've got the talk-time and commo all set up, but there's just not much we can do without a Raptor to do something with it." She finishes pouring for her officers before pouring one for herself. "Get us supplies, enough to sustain us for awhile, Sergeant, and I'll tell you where the fleet's primary special warfare armory is located."

"2250 per year not counting any male prisoners who are being kept for the same general reason," Kapali reiterates this number in that same, carefully neutral, tone of voice. "Aye, major. Not discussing it or assaulting any of the sites, leaving it alone," and then the engineer shuts up. Because that's the smart play.

The LT's answer about folks not coming back from up North makes Tabi… possibly a little bit unreasonably angry. The LT might not blame them, but she sure as nuts does. Her fingers tighten into fists, for a second, but she distracts herself from her anger by focusing on the bowl of rice, eating some more of that instead of responding right away. Randy's pledge to the Major has Angelis looking over, a short nod, she'll back the Sergeant on that pledge, as best she can, considering her lowly rank.

"Precisely." There's appreciation in Randy's tone at the Major's ability to read between the lines. Everything Fuentes says, Randy commits to memory. It's information she'll guard with her life and she does not trust her life to a piece of paper. "Alright. I'll look into that matter." She smirks as the Major mentions the primary special warfare armory. "I'll see what I can do…Aside from food, any medical supplies you might need, Zahav will collect that information. Zahav, no writing anything down." They aren't out of the woods yet even if they are the Major's guests. "Thank you for keeping us knuckleheads safe."

The medic nods. "Yes, sir," heading off to do a quick check of the camp's medical supplies, if they'll allow her.

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