AWD #159: Introducing The New Doctor
Introducing The New Doctor
Summary: An Orion air crew picks up some critically wounded - and a new Doctor!
Date: 14/06/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: None
Bennett Ygraine Mahasti Samtara 
Picon Front Lines
Somewhere out in the middle of the heavy fighting on Picon.
June 14, 2005

One of the things that happens regularly still is the medical evac flights from Picon. This particular trip happens to have Bennett and Ygraine assigned to bus duty for the trip, with Samtara taking a trip out to have a periodic review with what ANVIL laughingly calls a 'medical staff'. This particular trip, the Raptor brought back four Marines that had finally recovered from their serious injuries on the Kildare and were cleared to return to duty, leaving the three to potentially return to the Orion empty handed this time.

But if that were the case, we wouldn't be here now, would we? As the three are heading back out to the landing pad, a Marine Lieutenant comes running out of a corridor after them, "Sirs! Hold up!"

Sam is in a fine fit of temper, carefully leashed for the moment, because the phrase 'medical staff' and 'professional standards' along with 'standardized procedures' has her damn near gnashing her teeth. Damn near because, well, it's bad for teeth enamel to gnash teeth. But she's near to it. "Lieutenant?" she asks as she turns, hitching the file bag she's carrying a little higher on her left shoulder, banking that 'chew steel, spit nails' temper so that the LT doesn't think it's directed at the LT.

Ygraine doesn't have her helmet on just yet, instead it dangles from her fingers, her braids whipping around as she turns on her heel to address the marine. "What's the word, el tee? Told ya before I'm taken, no matter how many goats ya offer."

Bennett is tromping along slightly behind the doctor and ECO, her own helmet similarly grasped in a gloved hand while she mentally goes over her pre-flight checklist for the return trip. The shout from behind them has her turning abruptly too and drawing to a halt, brows knitted together in mild consternation. Silent, she lets Samtara and Ygraine do the talking for the time being.

The Lieutenant sort of skids to a halt on the worn stone surface, and for just a moment, is caught offguard by Ygraine's comment. He even flusters for a moment, then shakes his head as if to clear it, "Major says we have someone for you after all, couple of folks if the message is good. There's a detachment that just retook part of a village and found some folks hiding out in a basement. The doctor out there with them says they're pretty critical. If you have the fuel to grab them on your way out, we have some Marines to send out with you that will be staying out in the field where the doctor and the civvies are waiting for evac. Its about a hundred clicks north of here, close to the front line. Can you make it?" He lifts both brows, flickering his gaze between all three women.

Ygraine looks back over her shoulder. "Butch? Did you look at the gauge before we parked the wagon?"

Sam's lips press to a thin line, her expression thoughtful pensive and rather methodically speculative before she turns to Ygraine and Bennett. "Do we have the fuel to make the run, bear the weight, lift off again and make it back?" she wonders quietly.

Bennett's eyes are riveted on the marine as words begin tumbling out, and gradually the furrow between her brows smoothes. Her lips curve into a smile. "Slow down a little," she tells the Lieutenant. "A couple. How many is a couple? What should we be expecting on arrival?" She glances to Ygraine, nods slightly. "I did, and I think we're fine—" She slips a slim datapad out of her flight suit pocket and hands it to the blonde backseater. "Could you double-check my numbers, please?"

The Lt. clears his throat and straightens up, "Sorry, sir." Addressing Bennett, he nods, "The wireless said two gunshot wounds, infected, one gangrenous. Doctor wants to come back with them, the Captain in the field sounds like he'd rather have a few more rifle-carriers than a medic for his next push anyway. We have three marines to take out with you…just trade them out for the two wounded and the doctor and take them with you?"

"So we take three and return with same, factoring in the variance in weight as the unknown variables but presuming that we aren't trying to lift off with someone twice the normal weight of the average human.." Sam says quietly, "and I want to talk with who ever their doctor is. Infections are one thing, gangrene is another," she says thin in a voice that is downright stern AND grim at the same time.

Ygraine is reviewing the datapad, having tugged off one of her gloves with her teeth to tap on it and check the numbers. "Shouldn't be a problem, we're prepped for three and we've room t'adjust for medical equipment." She offers Bennett a nod. "Your final call Captain, but we should be good."

"Three out, three back, then," the pilot confirms, nodding once to Samtarain agreement. Her voice is crisp when she continues, but not unfriendly, "I am guessing time is of the essence here, so let's walk and talk, shall we?" Her smile briefly shifts to a grin, and she starts off once more, assuming the marine will follow. "Lieutenant Vashti will need coordinates from you, and I need to know whether we should expect any cylon presence enroute."

"Lets do this thing," Sam agrees with another measured nod, this time to Ygraine and Bennett before she turns back to the LT who walks and talks (she bets the LT can chew gum and probably hum at the same time).

Ygraine turns the pad outward for the marine expectantly for him to provide the coordinates.

The Lt. nods, "I'll get the Marines and the coordinates for you, Captain. Give me thirty seconds." He holds up a finger and turns to run back the way he came, leaving the group alone for about a minute. When he returns, he has three Marines in heavy body armor and assault rifles in tow, and a couple of pieces of folded paper: namely, a quick printed map and a page with the transcribed message and coordinates. The papers are handed over to Ygraine while the Marines pull up, waiting for clearance to board. The Lt. offers a salute and nods at the papers, "That's where they said they're at. They're close to the front line, so there's a chance you might see some KEW fire, but the Forge truck in the area got hit last week and they havent moved in new anti air yet."

"Aww, so only a lil' bit of potential fun." drawls Milkshake wryly. "Let's get movin'." She turns to head for the raptor in earnest, noting to Samtara, "Doc, where we're goin' may get bumpy. So if ya think you're gonna spew, spew into a closable container."

Samtara's does grit her teeth this time, because honestly she just has to. "I'll try to remember that," she says in a low voice before heading back toward the Raptor, keeping pace with the rest of this newly formed motley crew. She eyes the marines for a moment before she nods to each in greeting. "Try not to catch any bullets to bring home as souvenirs and I'll avoid throwing up in your bird."

Marines and coordinates? It's Bennett's lucky day. While the marine is gone, she thinks to ask Samtara, "Do you have equipment on board to handle this.. situation?" She can't seem to bring herself to say 'gangrene'. "Is there anything we should request before we dust off?" The paperwork and ground pounders armoured to the teeth, she lets Ygraine corral. "Understood," she tells their messenger. "Please inform them we are enroute. Lieutenant Vashti will update you with our ETA once we're in the air." She sketches a brief salute, then turns and follows the others at a brisk stride.

The Marines will dutifully follow the crew onto the Raptor and take available seats and strap themselves in. For the most part, they aren't very talkative: two male corporals and a female sergeant who remain pretty grim faced for the flight.

The particular area called out on the map is a small village that's been partially flattened by shelling and the random tank platoon making their way through, with some buildings still smouldering and leaving smoke trails spiralling up in the air. A little further north, beyond what is left of the village, tracer rounds still lance across the field, where combat is apparently still raging on.

"Yes and no," Sam replies quietly. "I have what every field kit contains. But gangrene needs extensive rounds of antibiotics and depending on how far the gangrene has spread, there may be nothing for it but to amputate or do some measure of surgical excision of necrotic tissue. if it's already in the blood stream though," she makes that slow shake of her head, "nothing for it but to see if the antibiotics help," she back tracks briefly before rolling one shoulder in a hug. "Infections get the same battery of meds, different types, but the same process. We have more antibiotics than ANVIL does so I won't take anything from their supply when some of their doctors are operating by candle or torch light in caves or abandoned buildings."

This said before she straps herself into the seat, buckles every possible buckle, then holds tightly to said harness and resolutely refuses to look out through any of the windows. She doesn't really need to see where they're going, and she's a lousy passenger.

"Anvil, this Raptor Delta Niner Foxtrot. Our ETA is four minutes." Some time later, Ygraine is reporting to Anvil as Bennett promised. "Hopefully we won't haveta linger here. I can't imagine anybody's wanna."

Bennett wastes little time with pleasantries once they're aboard the raptor. Preflight is completed in a perfunctory fashion, and they are airborne in record time. "I suppose we will have to make an assessment upon arrival," she answers Samtara, raising her voice to be heard over the roar of the bus's engines lighting up in sequence. Minutes later, as they're approaching the pre-disclosed coordinates and Ygraine is giving the base their update, she murmurs, "Looks like some scuffling over there. DRADIS is clear though, for now. Milkshake, start spooling FTL, please, in case we need to make an emergency jump."

The wireless responds rather rapidly to Ygraine's transmission, «Raptor Delta Niner Foxtrot, ANVIL, understood. Good luck and send an all clear when you are outbound, Out.»

The good news at least is that, at the particular coordinates they were given, there does seem to be a couple of armed and armored Marines in the windows of a house, covering the outside approaches, and perhaps to assist the process, someone has tossed a canister of purple marker smoke into the dirt rod intersection nearby. «This is Wet Socks Three Five Two to Colonial Raptor overhead. Are you our Evac? Over.»

Ygraine leans back against her chair with a small sigh, one hand used to type coordinates into the drive while she taptaps her comm. "Wet Socks, this is Milkshake, Raptor Delta Niner Foxtrot. We're comin' down, so have your patients ready for flight when we do."

With one hand on the flight yoke, and the other checking weapons systems readouts — just in case they get caught with their pants down — Bennett leaves Ygraine to man the radio. "All right, Captain," she addresses Samtara evenly, like she's given this speech before, "I'd like to minimise our time spent on the ground. We're going to touch down, Milkshake will help you get the patients aboard once our rifles are out, and we'll dust off again as soon as everyone's in. Please do not attempt to perform any treatment until you're all aboard, unless it cannot wait."

Rifles, probably, meaning marines.

The Marines on board seem to understand that, as they all unfasten their harnesses when Bennett speaks about getting ready to take on the potential casualties and get their gear ready to move the moment the Raptor's hatch is open.

In the house at least, the Captain turns to Mahasti and grunts, "Your ride's here, Doc. Help that one out and the Sergeant will help the other to the bus. Try not to get shot on the way back home, huh?"

Mahasti nods and gives a quick salute. Her ruck sack - already prepped is grabbed and thrown over her shoulder "Yes sir." her capable hand extends, helping the soldier with the wounded leg up first "I know it hurts but we need to go." she offers, helping the wounded man up. With some grace the red headed woman has her patient out the door and towards the bus as quickly as he'll move. Her poor white coat is virtually ruined, nitrile gloves still on her hands. With help the patient is loaded in carefully, the doctor careful to buckle him in first and take out his medical file first to hand over, then the incoming patient's file, "This one, he is in need of immediate care, preferably a surgeon. I do not have the proper training to debride the wound, sir." She seems more worried about the patients than formalities at this time.

Once they land and the side hatch opens, Yggy's already bounding down the walkway and in the direction of the wounded and doctor. "Somebody call a taxi?" she asks in a cheerful backwoods Leonese accent. Without waiting for further word she moves to help with the loadup, and once everyone's on board declares, "Thank for flying Colonial Fleet Airlines, we regret that we will be unable to provide in-flight entertainment." To Butch, "Wouldn't ya bet I woulda looked so cute in one of those stewardess uniforms? Too tall, though. Them's the breaks."

As a former CSAR pilot, of course, St. Clair is rather comfortably in her element at the moment. If one could truly call anything about this 'comfortable'. She guides the ungainly bird into a somewhat bumpy descent, its engines keyed up to a low whine right before they touch down— roughly. They're gonna be feeling that one for a while. The wind and rain whipping against the windows tells the story of why, at least. The hatch is thrown open, and then it's pretty much in the hands of the doctor and her backseater. "Too tall?" she repeats, once the blonde's back on board. "That's shit. Don't the freckles count for something?" Lighthearted her banter may appear, but her eyes are constantly scanning DRADIS, and with the engines still running, she's preparing to take off in a matter of seconds— as soon as everyone's aboard.

The Marines promptly exit the Raptor to make room for the new cargo, streaming through the rain into the house to report to the Captain, who warns them they are heading out as soon as the Raptor clears the area. A sergeant escorts the other wounded civilian in and waits until the crew and/or Mahasti seems to have it under control, then offers Bennett a salute and hops off, "good luck, Captain!" and clears the area so she can take off when ready. One of the Marines guarding the approach chuckles softly at Ygraine's banter and calls after her through the rain, "Hey Lieutenant. Can we trade the civilians for you?"

"Ya would think. I got more of 'em then there are stars in the universe." says Ygraine wryly, and then to the marine, "Aww shucks, cutie. That's sweet, but then when would I get my fly on?" She gives him a waggle of her fingers before she rises and checks everyone's straps, because she doesn't actually trust assuming that everyone's secured properly. Then she slides into her seat. "Five by five, Butch." she calls back to her pilot.

Bennett smiles slightly at the exchange between Ygraine and the sergeant, but her focus is on getting their bus airborne again. "Copy that, Milkshake, five by five," her voice crackles over the radio. "ANVIL, this is raptor delta niner foxtrot, we have your men and are enroute back to Orion." The hatch release handle is given a good tug while her backseater checks harnesses, and she'll barely have time to hit her seat before the raptor is tipping forward and swooping back into the air again. Rain drives at the windscreen as the Captain brings the bus about and on a correct heading. "Welcome aboard, by the way," she greets their guests, voice silky smooth.

Mahasti is quiet, hand resting on her lap. "You probably should at least alcohol swab your hands, sir, I've not had time to clean up after dressing the patient's wounds." she addresses towards Ygraine after being belted in properly, tone soft and polite - Leonese accent sliding in, its the smooth, soft accent that well off city dwellers develop, considered 'posh' in Hedon's casino. Her fingers carefully remove the infected gloves, taking out a sealed portable hazardous material bin, which she carefully inserts the gloves into, a small container of hand sanitizer removed and worked into her hands, over her wrists and between her fingers a little worriedly.

Ygraine holds up her hands - gloved, before they went airborn. "I'll get 'em sterilized and have myself checked in sickbay if you're that worried, Doc. But it'd have t'be some mighty powerful infection t'get past a suit that'll stand EVA." says Ygraine cheerfully. "What was I saying? Right. I'm Milkshake, and this is Butch. We'll be breakin' atmo shortly and will be performing a series of jumps back to Orion forthwith." She turns back to her console. "Once emergency medical treatment's handled, y'all can expect a fairly thorough inspection process t'confirm ya ain't skinjobs."

ANVIL is quick to answer, «Delta Niner Foxtrot, ANVIL, roger that. Have a good flight and we'll see you in a couple of days. Thanks again, out!»

The two wounded aren't very talkative - one barely seems to be conscious, the other kind of just eyes Bennett and Ygraine, then closes his eyes again, relaxing maybe a little for the trip (and we'll assume Samtara is eeking over the state of the wounded and non communicative for the time being).

Thorough inspection processes notwithstanding, it doesn't hurt to have a sidearm under your seat. Which Bennett and Ygraine most assuredly do. "We are at minimum altitude for the first jump," she informs her backseater, easing off the flight yoke as they continue to hurtle skyward and through the dense cloud cover. They have clearly flown together before; she leaves the rest up to Ygraine, and periodically checks on Samtara's work in the back of the bus.

Mahasti blinks "I would hope it does not, but, I've been dealing with dirty, grime, bodily fluids, I apologize if I offended." she admits, taking a moment to put on a fresh pair of gloves, touching the barely concious man's forehead before taking her pen and the med chart to make a notation. "I wish I had gotten to them sooner." she admits, taking the barely concious man's wrist to press two fingers over the veins there, eyes closing, mentally concentrating for a moment before writing down his pulse and making sure that the files are up to date, legible, the usual.

Ygraine laughs. "Doc, I grew up on a dairy farm and got three older brothers. If th' words 'run off' got any meanin' for ya, this ain't my first germ rodeo. Three…two…one…jump." And there's that sensation of being here-not-here, as the raptor blinks out.

(Scene transferred to Hangar Deck here and continued in general RP without ST assistance)

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