Post by Deleted on Jun 9, 2014 2:03:24 GMT
Entry: Bombs
A day in hell. I've had worse.
A patient was brought to me by the warden. He was insane, making loud ramblings about 'Those who Watch' and 'We must Entertain Them'. He made loud noise and spoke rapidly about how the bombs would come, and death would follow, and chaos and horror would be in its wake. In retrospect, he may be a latent seer, or even one of those rare one in six billion, a psychic. I do not know, I do not care.
Only, that what he proclaimed was horrifically accurate. At the time, I diagnosed him as being paranoid and delusional, but not actually harmful to himself or the station. Maybe I should have listened more. He went out and I did not see him again. I did not remember him until I sat down with my bottle of honey whiskey, and let myself relax. I wish I had listened.
What happened next was horrible. I was walking past the Cryo-Chamber, when I noticed the janitor on duty. Observing them a moment, I passed beyond the large bulkhead that provides shelter and privacy for those coming in and out of Cryo-Healing, when I felt glass pepper my back and hip, and cut my tendrils. I hate when tendrils get cut.
It appeared that the Janitor blew up. Be it sabotage, accident, or on purpose, the Cryo Tubes were destroyed. And that was the start of my day.
I had the delight of rupturing a lung, as I fought and battled my way out. There were no 02 tanks available for breathing, and a breach in the bulkhead permitted me only the barest grip to avoid being sucked out of the station. Thankfully, a maintenance drone was nearby and began working to seal the breach almost instantly. If it wasn't for that little drone, I'd be dead. Whoever programmed them, they are someone I thank.
Then I had to perform surgery on a security officer that had the misfortune of being impaled by flying metal from a secondary explosion. With a collapsed lung, I did it. I did it, with only the barest of tools and time. He is doing fine, so I've been told. I am glad for it.
Then I had to direct someone to doing my own, because I was starting to get internal bleeding. I will spare the details, but I recommend anesthesia for repairing internal bleeding in the chest and lungs. It's not a pleasant experience. Thank you to the secondary officer who followed my pained instructions on how not to kill me. It hurts.
But then the Captain, ninety five minutes late, arrives on station. Throwing her weight around, yelling, screaming, and generally not listening when anyone tries to advise, she begins to physically threaten the crew with violence if her will is not obeyed. This is after the conflict and the bombs are done, breaches sealed, and injured cared for. A little late.
I have launched a formal complaint, for when the emergency ship was called, they were pushing people out of the way to leave the station - and threatening anyone who came too close with her sidearm. I question the mental processing of that individual.
None the less, a Tajaran companion, Nasir, and I will be enjoying some relaxing Tajran music and movies - and he has invited me to a few dishes at a local restaurant to enjoy. Nasir performed beautifully and remains a suitable companion.
Dr. Anassis ibn-Salah, MD - Psychologist and Surgeon
A day in hell. I've had worse.
A patient was brought to me by the warden. He was insane, making loud ramblings about 'Those who Watch' and 'We must Entertain Them'. He made loud noise and spoke rapidly about how the bombs would come, and death would follow, and chaos and horror would be in its wake. In retrospect, he may be a latent seer, or even one of those rare one in six billion, a psychic. I do not know, I do not care.
Only, that what he proclaimed was horrifically accurate. At the time, I diagnosed him as being paranoid and delusional, but not actually harmful to himself or the station. Maybe I should have listened more. He went out and I did not see him again. I did not remember him until I sat down with my bottle of honey whiskey, and let myself relax. I wish I had listened.
What happened next was horrible. I was walking past the Cryo-Chamber, when I noticed the janitor on duty. Observing them a moment, I passed beyond the large bulkhead that provides shelter and privacy for those coming in and out of Cryo-Healing, when I felt glass pepper my back and hip, and cut my tendrils. I hate when tendrils get cut.
It appeared that the Janitor blew up. Be it sabotage, accident, or on purpose, the Cryo Tubes were destroyed. And that was the start of my day.
I had the delight of rupturing a lung, as I fought and battled my way out. There were no 02 tanks available for breathing, and a breach in the bulkhead permitted me only the barest grip to avoid being sucked out of the station. Thankfully, a maintenance drone was nearby and began working to seal the breach almost instantly. If it wasn't for that little drone, I'd be dead. Whoever programmed them, they are someone I thank.
Then I had to perform surgery on a security officer that had the misfortune of being impaled by flying metal from a secondary explosion. With a collapsed lung, I did it. I did it, with only the barest of tools and time. He is doing fine, so I've been told. I am glad for it.
Then I had to direct someone to doing my own, because I was starting to get internal bleeding. I will spare the details, but I recommend anesthesia for repairing internal bleeding in the chest and lungs. It's not a pleasant experience. Thank you to the secondary officer who followed my pained instructions on how not to kill me. It hurts.
But then the Captain, ninety five minutes late, arrives on station. Throwing her weight around, yelling, screaming, and generally not listening when anyone tries to advise, she begins to physically threaten the crew with violence if her will is not obeyed. This is after the conflict and the bombs are done, breaches sealed, and injured cared for. A little late.
I have launched a formal complaint, for when the emergency ship was called, they were pushing people out of the way to leave the station - and threatening anyone who came too close with her sidearm. I question the mental processing of that individual.
None the less, a Tajaran companion, Nasir, and I will be enjoying some relaxing Tajran music and movies - and he has invited me to a few dishes at a local restaurant to enjoy. Nasir performed beautifully and remains a suitable companion.
Dr. Anassis ibn-Salah, MD - Psychologist and Surgeon