Very Much Alone [Star Crew]

[Jeff Weston]

Making his way to the areas in question Jeff listened to Trace. Two places of blown damage was what he was told about and what he saw. As for the pieces that were to be near-by they were about a quarter klick back. Farther than any ropes they currently had to be of any use to him.
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'Close?? Trace we'll have to talk later about your terms of length. While I'm off ship get some sealent and Jorden's second tool box from the cargo bay. I'll try to be back to the ship in ten.'
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Jeff looked at the gapping holes noting the hose fuel lines. The line that blew was a secondary fuel line the primary he knew was just feet between the two. Looking into the hole he also saw that the primary was boxed off and shielded. So it was fine and safe for use. Flipping closed the cut off switchs he readied for the internal sealing.
....
Moving to the other hole he found a possible cause, a set of wiring had rubbed and grounded to the splitter for the secondary fuel line. The spark emurged from the joints causing the fuel lines to blow. That repair would have to wait he had to seal the outer hull. Standing up right he switched his hud unit on to track the parts. Removing his sonic weapons and switching them to a setting he set for space walks, he deactivated his mag-boots and set to retrieving the pieces.
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'I'm not fully sure a month on Whitefall is worth this trouble. Maybe if Dru and a pool was included I might think differently.'

[Lance Howe]

Lars called over with the bad news just as Lance was finishing this stage of the work on Dru. Bad was of course a relative term. When the ship was dead in the water and venting atmosphere, the crew was still being choked by smoke, three crew members were down or nearly down due to injuries, and a fourth was still MIA "bad" meant a whole lot more than it did on a typical day.

"Wong Ba Duhn!" Lance exclaimed both at the injury in front of him and his own failure to recognize the wound earlier. Puncture wounds were always bad, even worse when the ship was falling apart, they were running on emergency power, the patient was already having other serious issues, and the doctor's attention was split. "Ma Fuhn.'

The doctor stood there for a second nervously drumming his fingers on the table trying to decide what course of action to take. "Forget it. Leave it in for now." Lance finally announced after about five seconds. Removing the object would just add a serious bleeding issue to worry about, something that they didn't need to think about right now. If the injury was really serious then Jordan would probably be dead already. Since she was alive and only suffering a bit of light bleeding then it wasn't all too serious. Again, the term "not serious" was relative to the situation.

The doctor still did an inspection of the wound and loosely bandaged around the impaled object. The burns still had to be treated and of course that damn thing needed to be yanked out sooner or later but things were somewhat stabilized for the moment. The doctor then turned to Lars. "You're up captain." The extent of the young man's injuries were not lost on him. They had merely been ignored while Lars was up and about, fighting through the pain. Now all that shrapnel had to come out if anyone was to get any more serious use out of the captain.

"Alright, we've got two ways to do this." Lance explained. "I can numb the area and gently remove each piece or I can give you our friendly toxin and knock you out on command." Lance wasn't expecting a great reaction regarding choice B but he needed to explain. "Hear me out. If I knock you out then there will be absolutely no pain, I should be able to finish in half the time, and I can bring you back to 100% nearly instantly. The traditional option will take longer, is not guaranteed to be painless, and you'll still be partially numb should you need to do something afterward... I should add that the toxin is coming along very nicely since early tests..."


( Wong Ba Duhn - Son of a bitch
Ma Fuhn - Complication)

[Lars Engström]

The captain knew just as well as anyone else how humped they were right now he didn't want to admit it, but he had no choice. If things didn't change fast, well.... He pushed the thought away for now. But now the doctor was talking to him, and Lars' face grew more serious as the man spoke. When Lance finished talking, Lars smiled in a sarcastic manner, although weakly. "I thought we were going to test the ruttin stuff on Seamus." He grumbled, raising his good arm in a gesture of mock exasperation.

"Doc," He said, as he sat back in the only real empty space there was left, the counter. "If you kill me." He took off his ruined shirt, to give the doctor easy access to the area he needed, wincing noticeably. "I swear to God you are fired." He gave Lance a glare, that was somewhat serious and somewhat an attempt at some humor. "So don't go thinking you can steal the ship from me if you give me poison instead of whatever this stuff is." He laughed, barely and leaned back against the wall. Waiting.

[Trace Kennet]

Trace smiled nervously at Jeff's comment about distances, "If we make it out of this....' He murmured, naming numerous bargains he would make. Then Jeff was talking again. "Alright" Said Trace said, glancing down once more at the controls. "Meet you in the bay in ten." He flipped a couple of switches, trying to get the distress beacon just a little more power, before sprinting off towards the bay.

Trace was almost all the way to his destination when his foot caught on something and he slammed into the handrail, knocking the wind out of himself. He gasped, for a moment, before he managed to regain some sense of breathing. He stumbled his way to where the tools were kept, cursing his own stupidity. He took the tarnished cross from his shirt, and held it for a few seconds. "Please" he said silently, "Please.." He didn't finish the words. He hurriedly replaced the cross in his shirt as he gathered the needed tools. "Come on Jeff." he thought, his nervous energy clearly showing.

[Jeff Weston]

The trip was not what he was expecting moving to the panels was not hard nor were they that far, for they were still moving toward the ship. Gathering them was another matter though being bulky with no hand holds. So using his mag boots and some twisting Jeff surfed his way back.
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The first stop was the hatch to the cargo bay for the tools. The speed he achieved allowed the plates to bang on the hull of the ship giving him a sound signal that he was there. He hoped that the patch job of his would do to get some sort of stable working condition for those inside.
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OCC-sorry for the short post the RL has finally caught up to me. I'll try to post as I can.

[Lance Howe]

"Back on Persephone I managed to do some, uh nevermind. The important thing is that it works and it's proved reliable." The doctor replied. "And what would I want with a busted up ship anyway?" Just like the captain, Lance was also half serious and half joking.

He pulled out a syringe and stuck it in Lars' arm with little ceremony and no hesitation. Immediately after the entire serum had been injected, he quickly went back across the room to prepare the counter-agent so it was ready to revive the captain whether the operation was finished or not. By the time he was back over, the captain was already starting to slump as it took effect.

"Knocked out" was actually not the proper term for what was happening since the subject was technically still conscious. Sometimes they were completely unresponsive and wouldn't remember a thing. Other times they'd have some blurred memories of what happen. Occasionally they'd be aware of everything happening. That was currently the only variable with a reaction to the drug. The important thing was that the subject would have absolutely no control of any voluntary muscles, basically everything but the heart going dead (the heart exception being the important thing), and he would also have absolutely no pain or any other form of bodily sensation while under the influence. The toxin was a masterpiece.

With Lars slipping, the doctor began his work. Without worry about causing further pain, Lance quickly removed shards in the manner that was quickest and would allow for the best recovery of the many minor wounds... and boy were there a lot of them. The doctor even contemplated using a powerful magnet to pull all the tiniest speaks out but decided against it. If they were impossible to find because of their size and the lack of a damage trail they caused then the body would be able to slowly work them out on its own. There was no need to risk shredding the young man's insides by sucking shards out or God forbid risk any other unknown piece of medal getting involved. As unlikely as it might be, Lars could have a pacemaker or even a cybernetic limb. Such a thorough removal was unnecessary especially in the present situation.

With the extraction completed, it was time to bring him back. Lance injected the counter-agent and then got about bandaging Lars while he began to regain control. The speed of the agents was of course the crowning achievement which made an incredible concoction even better. Noticeable effects in 1 second, total paralysis in 5, and then for revival is was 3 seconds for control to start to return, 10 for complete mobility.

[Lars Engström]

"Who are you calling busted up?" Lars mumbled, his words somewhat slurred as he felt himself go under. "I'll show you busted...." he fell silent.

"Son of a Bi***" Lars howled as he came out a few minutes later. He jerked up on his feet and promptly stumbled around like a fool. "The scissors, the gorram scissors." He stopped talking and looked at Lance with wary eyes. "I was dreaming?" He asked, as his mind somewhat caught up with him. "There was a man." He said, without waiting for an answer. "Had a pair of giant rutting scissors, and he came after me...Was it you?" His eyes fell on Jordan and Dru, and he remembered the whole situation in a rush. "Oh." Was all he could manage.

Lars leaned against the wall, and looked down at his arm, then back at Lance. "Thanks." He said, his eyes conveying the true value of what the doctor had done. He looked around, and then back at the women, then to the doctor. "Do you need any help here?" He asked, having nothing else come to mind. As he waited for a response, he found himself speaking, although he didn't remember starting. "This isn't how it ends, not like this." there was a grim determination in his voice. "No."

[Seamus Callahan]

(Just sorta made up what happened to Mack...if this is overstepping into godmodding yell at me and I'll edit.)

"See if you can't find the Marshall"

Seamus left before Lars could even finish his sentence, glad to be out of the room. Still carrying the fire extinguisher under one arm as he moved through the corridors of the ship toward the marshall's quarters. Luckily, it seemed this section of the ship had suffered little damage. There was no fire in this section, but the air was still filled with smoke and Seamus found himself hunching over to avoid the worst of it.

Coughing violently, Seamus made his way to the marshall's quarters - glad that emergency procedures had overridden any lock that may have been on the door. He got the door open with little difficulty, and stepped into the dark room beyond. Seamus let out a yelp as suddenly his foot hit something soft and fleshy. He dropped the fire extinguisher with a clang and crouched down to see the marshall sprawled on the floor.

"Well tā māde..." Seamus crouched down, wishing he had more light to see by. The man was obviously unconscious, and a nasty looking mark on his forehead still leaked blood like a sieve. Muttering curses, Seamus racked his head for what to do - he had never felt more useless in his life. He wasn't a doctor, he wasn't a mechanic, he was just a musician...he was more familiar with passed out drunk people than passed out injured people. Still, he assumed the first thing he should try and do is stop the bleeding. Then after that, he needed to get him to the infirmary as quick as possible.

Seamus removed his shirt, stripping the unsalvageable garment and holding it to the man's bleeding head. He ripped a long strip of it off and bound it tightly so it held the shirt in place and kept pressure on the wound. Then he straightened up, wondering at the next challenge. Moving the marshall would be a feat, as the man was a good bit heavier than he was. Nevertheless, Seamus hooked his arms under his knees and back managed to lift him - the muscles in his back straining and his arms protesting.

He made slow progress back to the infirmary, gradually managing to shift Mack into a piggy back position. By the time he got back, the captain was coming too and Seamus heard the normally stoic man howling curses halfway down the hall. "Best watch out for those scissors, cap'n. They'll getcha." Seamus appeared in the doorway, the strain evident on his face as he flashed doctor and captain a weak grin.

"Someone want to help me with this big lug?" He grunted. The marshall had now begun to bleed through Seamus' poorly made shirt-bandage, and there was a trickle of blood running down the musician's bony shoulder. A scarlet trickle over his bare chest, the sensation was making his skin crawl and Seamus could feel the bile rising in his throat.

[Lance Howe]

"Yes, it was me. Oooooo!" Lance replied offhand to the captain's mumblings. It took another second for the man to completely acquire his faculties again at which time he inquired about the doctor's situation with the other patients. "I could of course use help but you're probably better off helping heal the ship."

Just then Seamus returned with the marshal who was of course injured as well. "Just put him anywhere." Lance replied. With Dru and Jordan taking up the operating table and recovery cot there really was nowhere else. Lance gave Mack a quick survey to see the extent of the damage and was pleasantly surprised with Seamus. He'd been able to apply consistent pressure and get the larger man back for further treatment fairly quickly. Head wounds were always difficult to treat. Applying pressure was all you could really do, slowing circulation to the head not being a good idea. If only you could apply a tourniquet around the neck and solve the issue!

"Here." Lance said as he tossed a few gauze packets to his new medical assistant. "Just keep applying them as he bleeds through. Do not remove the soaked ones. Just keep up the pressure." The doctor then turned back to his crowded supply cabinet and prepared another medicinal cocktail, for Mack this time.

[Lars Engström]

Lars wasn't impressed with the double joke he ended up being the brunt of. "To hell with you and your damn scissors." He muttered, casting a somewhat amused glare at Seamus. "And I'll show you Ooooo." He turned his gaze to Lance, a brief flash of a smile. He then returned to his serious demeanor. "I'll get on with the saving the ship business." He said, heading for the door. "Let me know if anything happens down here."

Lars made his way to the deserted bridge, and sat at the console. "Alright Guys." He said, speaking into Jeff's frequency. "What is the situation?"

[Jeff Weston]

(occ-Over moding Trace and his actions)

Jeff retreived the sealing compound and foam along with the tools. He had made his way to the gaping hole and had started to plug and seal the fuel lines when the Cap's voice came over the coms.

'Hey Cap, good to hear you on your feet well the second fuel lines must have developed a weak spot in the metal or in the joints enough to fill these holes with enough fuel to cause the blow-out. I've got the plates back but it's slow going. Give me four minutes and test the engine room's integraty. We can reseal and patch as we limp to the nearest O2 source or planet. If you go for a planet then I suggest no one enter the room for safty reasons. Don't want anyone getting thinner than they are.'

Jeff sprayed the next hole careful not to miss and opening or covering pipe that would leave a weak spot. After using three sealants he moved the plates into position. He wished that the mechanic was by his side. Taking apart was his fort'e not putting together. Grabbing the power wrench he bored and rethreaded the holes and fit in new bigger bolts. Stepping back it looked like a frankensten patch job but it would hold, for how long he did not know.

Ok Cap try to pressure up the room. If it's going to break it'll do it not not later.'

[Lars Engström]

Lars heard Lance's voice crackle through the comm. "Good to hear your voice too Weston. I thought you might have just floated away." He smiled, it was good to be back in the swing of things. He hated just sitting around. Wounds or no wounds, he was the captain, and he felt most at home in command. "Copy that." He said, when Jeff relayed the situation. "Say the word Jeff." And then the waiting began.

As the seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, Lars looked around the bridge. "Why didn't you tell me you were hurting?" He muttered, talking to the ship. "You've never let me down... what changed." He sat silent for a time, thinking. His face slowly took on a pained expression. "Or was I just not listening?"

Jeff was back on the comm. He was asking for pressure in the engine room. "Alright, here goes nothing." Lars flipped a switch, and then said a prayer. The green light came on and he let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Alright, we have pressure. Looks like a solid seal. Now we can get to the business of fixing the engine." He sighed. "Good work Jeff, get back on board." He hooked the comm handset back on the wall, and headed towards the engine room.

Lars made a quick stop by the infirmary, and looked in. Jordan and Dru were still out, Seamus was busy with the business of keeping people alive. Lars sighed, and nodded as he made brief eye contact with Lance. "Engine room isn't a vacuum anymore." He said, "I guess I get to play mechanic now." He glanced at Jordan. "If she wakes up, let me know right away. And if you can, think up a way to get her down to the engine room." He sighed and headed off to the engine room. As he passed the Cargo bay, he saw Trace, standing and looking off into nowhere. "Trace, you have a ship to fly. Make it happen." He said, and watched the pilot start, and then jog off. "You can daydream later." He called after the man.

He paused outside the engine room, before he opened the door. He knew that everything should be okay, but he was worried all the same. Taking a deep breath he opened the door, and then he just stared. The place was a mess, to say the least. There were scorch marks everywhere and the whole room would smell like smoke for a long time. "Well," He muttered, grabbing a set of tools that had escaped most of the damage. "Time to play knuckle dragger." He took off the shirt he was wearing, and crawled under the engine. "Jeezus Jordan." He grumbled as he tried to fit his large frame in to the gaps. "Why are you so gorram small."

[Jordan Maxwell]

It took some time before Jordan’s eyes finally fluttered open, how long had she been out? She didn’t know, she just remembered sitting on her hammock talking to Dru about the engine, when it started to rattle, she knew what it was right away. Normally she knew before something went wrong, she had a feel for the engine, but it didn’t have any of the other signs. Jordan had slapped the emergency gas flow shut off, and tried to get to the engine when it went up, she just didn’t have the time to stop the explosion, but at least the whole ship hadn’t gone up.

Her eyes slowly opened and the small girl started coughing right away gripping at the sides of the table, each breath hurt, each movement seemed to burn. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she looked around, everything hurt, everything burned, everything… Her mind shot through the images of everything that happened, and eventually they landed on Dru. She had screwed up, and there was no way she was going to make it better now.

“Dru…” She managed to whisper between cough spells, then after a long, wheezing breath in her eyes finally found the doctor. The small mechanic sat up and looked over to the man. “Did… Everything…” She breathed out then took a moment, to swallow, her throat felt as though it was still on fire, her voice horse, her arms.. She looked down at the burns, slightly thankful she still didn’t have them in the engine when everything fell apart. “We… aint… movin…” She said it to him softly studying his expression, she didn’t know how bad it was, she knew how bad it could have gotten, God, she hoped that everything was still working.

[Lance Howe]

(Sorry. I'd been waiting on a post by Seamus and never noticed there was a Jordan post waiting for me.

The doctor was pulled from his other work as Jordan began to regain consciousness. Her words and thoughts were broken but they seemed on subject. She at the least knew something bad had happened and at best even in her state she might have known exactly what that was. Regardless of her depth of knowledge, the simple fact that she was quick to think such things was reassuring. Her body had taken a beating but at least her mind seemed intact.

"Stay down, stay down." The doctor said in his most gentle tone. It still came across as stern despite his best efforts. "The captain's taking care of the ship and I'm taking care of you." He said. They needed Jordan to fix the ship but there was no way he'd just give her a lollipop and send her on her way out of the infirmary.

The young woman had substantial burns from the accident. It was nothing life threatening or even likely to leave much of a permanent mark if treated properly, but it was a considerable hindrance for the time being. Of course she'd also been knocked out and suffered serious smoke inhalation which contributed to a general state of health which typically required some recovery time. The most pressing issue, and the one to which Lance now turned, was the piece of shrapnel that was still sticking out of the mechanic's leg. There was absolutely no way she'd be going anywhere until that had been dealt with.

Not even bothering to tell the slightly coherent girl what he was doing, the doctor quickly applied a local anesthetic to the wound area and then in one quick motion yanks the piece out. That's not how they'd do it at St. Lucy's but the gorram ship was on fire. Quickly the doctor flushed out the wound and then sprayed a coagulating sealant in the hole vacated by the shard of metal. This quick fix was topped off with the quick application of direct gauze pad and then a tight bandage around that. Assuming there were no complications it would be fine. Mobility would be low and touching it would hurt like hell but the wound would heal.

[Jordan Maxwell]

Jordan laid back down and looked up at the ceiling. She didn’t fully understand what had happened, perhaps that was for the best. However she watched the doctor like a hawk. She wanted as he moved to get the needle, put something inside of it then put it in her.. wait… What in the world? She tried to sit up but as she did her lungs screamed for air, the small girl fell back in a coughing fit as she tried her best to watch him pull the metal from her leg. What he did next was lost on her, she was just looking at the metal, her delicate fingers reaching out and lightly taking it in her hands.

It was sharp, rather long, there was no markings on it that she saw so far. She began wiping the blood off the piece, where did this go? That was the real question, it was more round than flat, so not a piece of the hull. It had to be from the engine, it was the only thing that made sense. Though it couldn’t have been… Was it really that bad?

“Is ma…” she coughed and wheezed. “How bad is ma’ engine?” Her eyes closed as she tired once again to catch that breath that never seemed to be there. A few more coughs and her hand went up to push on her chest. She couldn’t believe this, it blew up, on her watch. On HER watch. Well then again, when wasn’t it her watch? “I need ta’ fix it.” She said it weakly, her mind zoning out for a moment, her eyes filling with show and a vacant look passed over her eyes, as they slowly closed. They remained that way for just a moment, then opened once more, she was having a hard time staying awake, however she needed to. “Did dey vent the lines?” She asked at last. If the doctor wasn’t going to let her out, then she needed to try and keep everyone else safe. “Cap da’ tank?”

She hoped they had closed off the tank from the engine, nothing would be worse than leaking their fuel into space.