AWD #001: Medbay Musings
Medbay Musings
Summary: Petra comes down to check on the wounded and has a talk with Augie.
Date: 06/01/2013 (OOC Date)
Related Logs: Last Rites
Augie Petra 
Battlestar Orion — Deck 3 — Recovery Ward
About half the size of the Medical Center, the Recovery Ward has fewer beds to allow space for those who are going through recovery. Rather than the drab gray of most of the center, the walls in here have been done in a neutral creme color. The beds are a little thicker and the blankets are actually present. There are a few clocks and the only other decoration are a couple of flatscreens that show muted movies from the ship's library. A couple stacks of old magazines are available near the door for nurses to pass around, too.
06 January 2005

Recovery is full. Patients and civilians, noone seems to have figured out what to do with the influx of civilians yet. The beds are almost all full though. Over in a corner, the pilot that made the last run from Caprica is sleeping, her daughter curled up in her arms. In another bed, Madeline Cervantes lies, hooked up to life support, a breather and still recieving transfusions as she fights for her life. At one bed though, comes the strumming of a guitar. It's five chords, repeat as Augie is playing for a sleeping Ceres, who's hand is wrapped up tightly. Apparently he got up for coffee, as a large mug sits nearby, steam rising off of it as he plays his wordless tune.

Its oh-dark-frakkin-thirty, and Petra is up and functional looooong before he's due in CIC. He came down to watch first the Air Wing, and then the Marines return back with their wounded and dead, and now that he's gotten a little rest and Medical has had a chance to do what they can, is taking advantage of the relative quiet to visit. Sleeping faces are looked at and left alone, but the music is probably what has him turn the corner and slowly approach Ceres' bed. He slows to a stop, eyeing her hand, then her face, and then finally looking over at Augie and murmuring in a low voice, "She have a lot of trouble getting to sleep?"

"Hey, sir." Augie's still dirty from his run in the hell of returning and burning flights from the night before. "..naw, once the sedatives kicked in, she passed out quick." he comments, stopping his plucking on the strings and sets his hands on the wood of the guitar. "I just didn't find it right to leave her side since she asked me to stay." It takes a moment, but he switches over to his other thoughts. "Only minor debris damage to the ship. Nothing that can't stand a coat of Bondo and a good wipe down. I'll get the Chief to run ya the reports on the status of the birds. By my estimates, we have one lost Viper, one Viper and one Raptor that's probably gonna need to be scrapped and recycled."

Petra takes in a slow, deep breath and nods at Augie's assessment, shifting his gaze back to Ceres' sleeping face. He sucks on a canine tooth while several other thoughts running through his head, "I'm sure you'll find a way to make it work. We're going to have to think about reserves. What armories might still be intact. Shipyards where the Navy dumps its decomissions. Things the toasters wouldn't consider as important, that we might be able to scavenge for parts and equipment." He pauses there for a moment and lightly shakes his head, "I counted nine basestars before we jumped. Nine, in less than 30 minutes."

Augie pulls out a cigar and offers it to Petra. "Chew on this, it's better than yer teeth." A small smirk at that as he considers and nods. "Not to sound like a ghoul, but we may want to return to the battlefield as well. Scavenge what we can from those that don't need it anymore." It's a harsh truth, but one that has to be considered. A low whistle at the count. "Nine? Gramps used to tell me stories when I could sit on his knee about how scary one of those frakkers is. How'd they get built back up so damned fast, Major?"

Petra waves off the cigar with the faintest hint of a smile, one that fades just as quickly as it appears, "They're machines. Don't have to sleep, dont have to rest, can work as fast as their physical parts allow them to. Add 40 years of time and…I would not be surprised if that group of nine was only a scouting group for them. You saw the wreckage. And you saw the bombardment. Its not going to matter if they didn't nuke Caprica city. Put your DCO hat on…what happens when you nuke saturate 75% of a planet's surface?"

Augie tucks the cigar in his pocket. Enjoy the offer while it lasts, it'll take a few days but the DCO will start to get greedy with his stogies. His mind wanders at the problem presented before him, and he comments quietly, "Aprodite's sloppy seconds is what it is, sir. At least a ninety to ninety five percent casualty rate, salvage is gonna be timeconsuming and a bitch, and it's probably going to take a good fifty years for a natural decontamination." he lets out a slow breath. "Frak." It's a muttered word, then he considers, "Hope this planet is as bountiful as the brass made it out to be. I don't think a wooden battlestar can do shit against that frakkin clusterfrak."

Petra nods very slowly, turning his attention back to Ceres' face, "One good thing is that the Battleships apparently survived. As long as that flag Admiral keeps those things armed and intact, that's a major advantage in our favor." Another pause and a slow blink, and he adds, "I was listening to the comms during the fight. I know about Talkshow. I don't know what the old man is going to decide, but whatever he does, there's going to be a lot more of that. The Cylons aren't paying us a quick visit."

"Yeah, I doubt they're gonna come back and ask us if we'll be interested in a set of nice cutting knives." Augie grunts gently. He glances down at Ceres and brushes away a stray hair that wandered onto her face during the night. "She took it pretty bad. I know that they had a history together, so I'll just have to weather that shit if I'm gonna be in her life." he shrugs at that. "Any word from Flag yet?" he asks finally. "Are we gonna keep trying to push back, or are we goin guerilla?" It's a simple question but the undertone is there. Is this a Good luck, you're on your own. situation?

Petra shakes his head very slowly, and drops his voice almost to a whisper, a tense expression creeping onto his face as he looks around the medical bay, then returns his attention to Augie, "I think the only reason the Battleships survived was because the Admirality shoved them in an undisclosed location and told them to sit and hide. I don't think there IS an Admirality anymore. I think Jameson IS Flag now, we just don't know it yet. And if that's true…" He trails off and purses his lips, "We're going to have to make some decisions no one is going to like. But I sure as hell do not intend to just quietly go away."

"Frak that. Ya know I'm about as quiet as when Aphrodite rubs one out, so I'm on board fer whatever madeness we have ahead of us." Augie finally says with a lift of his chin. "We're just gonna have to keep our eyes and ears peeled and look for opprotunity." he glances around the medical bay as Petra does and finally asks. "We gonna move the civvies to the surface once we have them stabalized?"

Petra nods a little more confidently at the last question, "We can't keep them on the Orion, and as long as we continue to take microjumps and stay on our balls scanning for trackers, then P is a safe place for everyone. We need to scout each of the colonies, both for survivors as well as equipment and supplies, and have everything fall back to P. And then we have to decide what in frak's name we do."

"Frak sir, that's the easy question to answer." Augie says to Petra, meeting his gaze evenly. "We survive. We survive harder than Hephaestus' drippings on the inside of Athena's thigh, and we make the Cylons pay for every last piece of mother frakkin' blood soaked ground they took from us. It may take us forty years, but we will come back stronger. Of that I have no doubt."

Petra frowns just a little at the commentary, something else haunting his eyes for a second, a particular dream becoming poignant as he listens to the Lieutenant. He clears his throat softly, but keeps his voice down, "We have to do more than that. Surviving isn't enough. We have to give everyone a reason to do more than just live. Revenge isnt a purpose." He pauses, the corner of his mouth tugging up just a little, "Well, okay, it is, but it's not one that we want to make our Reason For Being. Does P become New Caprica and our plan is to wait them our and whittle them down until they leave…or do we pack up everything we can, and run?" He slowly rolls one shoulder, "I need to talk to the Commander and the Admiral."

"Sure, Major." Augie says, assuming that he is about to leave, and pauses. "But if we're gonna be the Hunter, we can't hunt no more." he quietly intones, and glances down at his guitar. "I'll be back on duty soon. May try to grab a shower so I don't offend up on deck or some crap."

Petra mms lightly, licking his lips and nods, "Yeah. Time for me to get my ass to CIC and see what third watch has to say. Thanks, Lieutenant. If she wakes up before you leave, tell her I hope her hand is feeling better." He manages a faint, wan smile at Augie, and turns to go, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck as he does so.

"Will do, sir. Get some rest, gods knows ya deserve it, sir." Augie responds. As the Major goes to leave, the DCO starts to strum those same five notes from his dream, but adds some words, still working out some frustration, apparently…

"There once was a doctor with huge boobs,
who had a fondness for booze.
She gave her bottle a nip,
and her knife took a slip.
And now a medic is up her ass without lubes.

And he falls silent again, playing those same chords again and again, eyes narrowed in thought.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License