On Main Street

William Davies

Feeling the cut [9 - 13], you're pretty sure it's not life threatening. It's a pretty deep gash alright and she's certainly got some concussion, but head wounds always bleed a little worse than regular cuts, so many blood vessels close to the surface. A much more difficult proposition is going to be fixing her up. Realistically you need some sort of stitches, which aren't to hand, or a dermal mender, of which you doubt there's one on this entire planet.

That said, you're at least able to stabilise her and make her comfortable, laying her on the floor with her head elevated to minimise the blood loss. Speaking of which, you ought to come up with some sort of plan to staunch the blood, she's losing it at a fair rate of knots. Not enough to kill her, but enough to weaken her. Not to mention the risk of infection.


Nick

Try as you might, the terminal just doesn't want to behave [18 - 15]. It keeps dropping characters as you type them, deleting entire commands after you hit enter, freezing up and doing the precise contrary to what it is you're asking it to do. Almost as though it's taunting you, almost as though—

It's then that you get the idea to run a diagnostic sweep on the ship's systems. Ruttin' hell, it looks like control of the whole damn thing has been conceded to some sort of hideous virus. You're able to just about identify that it might be a substrain of the notorious Heimdall Trojan when the whole cockpit just shuts down on you. Black screens, power out, the whole shebang. You ain't getting anything else out of this today.

Barnabus gives you a wide-eyed expression of surprise. "Was it supposed to do that?"


Goldmund-Teller

As Jo eyes up the big lumbering brute [7 - 10] sidling off, she can't help but notice a slightly familiar movement to the way he walks. Between that and the cocksure, holier than thou attitude, and the gun at his belt, she can't help but figure that perhaps he fought for the independents during the war. Perhaps if she'd had a chance to see the colour of his coat, she might know for sure, but years of working in her field have made her a good judge of people.

The rest of the townsfolk sidle off, giving the ship significant looks, more than one having to squeeze past the ruined engines and muttering darkly to themselves. Evidently Nick's particular choice of landing strip has not gone down wildly well with the locals and probably the sooner you're able to fix yourselves up and move it, the less they're likely to detest you come the morning.


Sam

You're able to follow the beeps and the numbers on the read out of the device to follow the bouncing noise east, but you reach the hull of the ship before it does much more than perceptibly get a little faster. You presume whatever it is directing you to is a fair way outside of the ship.

---------- Post automerged 22-05-2014 at 23:08 ---------- Previous post was 21-05-2014 at 23:21 ----------

Morning in Hidden Acres​

As dawn breaks on Main Street, the bright light of the Red Sun falls across the scarred hull of The Manifest Destiny. The old boat has certainly seen better days, with one of the stabilising engines shot, your Resonant Catalyst out and your Nuclear Feeder jammed all to hell. Sam's given you all the lowdown, you're going to need new heatsinks for the catalyst and a replacement Feeder gear. Perhaps not easy parts to find in a place like this, but you do recall seeing signs of a Junkyard a little way out of town.

The town as a whole is quiet despite Sunday being the traditional market day 'Verse wide, not to mention a day of worship and prayer. With so much excitement the night before it seems like nobody is in any major rush to get out and about. Still, there's a few folks wandering down to the church at the north of town, but certainly not a full congregation. A couple of groups seem to have arrived from out of town, no doubt come down from the ranches to buy or sell, and are standing, staring, open mouthed at your ship and the curious parking attempt.

After a moment of gawping though, they lose interest and disappear off. Wandering in the direction of the stores, to go about their business. Or entering the saloon, from which emanates the delicious smell of searing beef. Or into the cathouse at the southern end of town, the sign above the door proclaiming 'Kamala's Bordello' in large, ornate script.

You all awaken, not having had the best night's sleep. The events of the night before had continued well into the early hours of the morning and though you know it's best to get a head start on things, you all can't help but feel a little groggy and reluctant.

Much worse for wear are Jo, Sinh and Sam. Jo's arm hasn't had much of a chance to heal and she's held up in the infirmary, keeping her company is Sinh, who has come down with some mysterious illness nobody has been able to diagnose and is fading in and out of consciousness. It seems the sooner you're all able to release Will from his confinement, the better.

On the topic of which, Sam has spent all night cutting through the steel and is, consequentially, might ruttin' tired. On the plus side though, he's about 5 minutes from cutting through.

Will on the other hand, has spent a very pleasant few hours occupying one of the First Class Suites. Having been able to staunch Virginia's bleeding and get her comfortable in her own quarters, there was little more for him to do than crash in one of the big comfortable beds. After all, the less he moves about the less oxygen he wastes.

Anyone happening to exit down the ramp and off the ship will find that the Sheriff and his deputies are waiting in the street outside. They seem just as dishevelled and tired as you, and it won't take a genius to work out the big sheet of paper in their hands spells trouble for y'all.

What do you lovely folks do upon waking up?

 

Momo Phan - Hidden Acres

Momo groggily stretched and picked himself up. He pulled on various clothes and harnesses as well as a small sling with attachment points. He throws a jacket over it and then clips on a trio of round objects, slides his pistol in his belt and exits the room.

He makes it two steps down the landing platform and notices the Sheriff and his men. His eyes narrow to slits and he stares at them. He begins to mutter under his breath as he notes the piece of paper in their hands and the grizzled look about them.

One hand goes to the pistol, resting on its butt, the other goes to his mouth and he lets out a piercing whistle, hoping to get Sinh or Jo outside ASAP to do the talking thing.

 

Nick King - Morning in Hidden Acres

"Wuh de tyen ah, yesterday was a hell of a fucking day," Nick grumbled quietly.

The Destiny grounded by a space battle with some gorram homicidal members of the Triad, apparently Will's trojan had managed to entrench itself in the ship, which meant they were locked out of electronics, and Sam's briefing on their engine troubles weren't promising, considering what a podunk little backwater town they were in... and those were just the ship problems!

Will had spent the night locked down in the old cell block with a hurt passenger, Sam was exhausted from spending all that time trying to cut them out, and Long was down with some illness that Nick certainly couldn't identify himself. Privately, he figured that she went into shock from not getting her way when she waved that massive blade of death around, but he'd keep that to himself.

And the crew wasn't all the problem, either. Jo hobbled on board and collapsed, apparently shot through the shoulder and in a bad way, and even that secretary of hers broke some fingers. It was just god-forsaken mess, from top to bottom. Of the whole damn bunch of usual, only a couple of them were in any capacity to be useful. It would be time to try and get off this rock, or at least get things in working order, soon enough, and he needed Sam for that... and probably security, frankly. Sam had a mouth on him at times, and God knows Nick didn't want to scrap.

So maybe get the kid out, then see if Sam had it in him to trek out to that junkyard? Yeah, that was probably the best move. Sam could take the day off after they got back. Here's hoping that Gareth would agree to come; if anything Momo was worse than Sam... but with grenades.

As he gathered his thoughts and prepared to move, he looked out the cockpit viewport and saw what must have passed for law enforcement on this hellhole standing with what looked like paper in his hand. A citation? Why the hell not? "When it rains, it pours, eh?"

Then he heard Momo whistle, and his trepidation doubled. Fragmented as everybody was and as rough a night as it had been, the merc might well draw on them, and then they'd have a real mess. Time to go stop this before it became a problem. With that thought, Nick headed out, yelling for Gareth to come too when he got close to the infirmary. At this point, he needed all hands on deck, and Gareth was the closest thing to in charge of the GTs with Jo out of commission. After they nipped this crisis in the bud, Nick could run his plan by the older merc and see if he'd come with them.

 

Sam Bose - Morning in Hidden Acres

Sam continues cutting through the door, and, not for the first time, he mentally curses Will for getting stuck. The heat from the torch causes sweat to drip down the mechanic's forehead, and it takes everything in him not to fall asleep.

But he sees the end in sight. Though it won't be a real end. He'll likely have to go to the junkyard and find some piece of trash that he can get working again to fix the engine and repair this door when he's done cutting it.

And finally there was the GPS signal. Where in the rutting hell had it come from?

As he sees Nick head out the door he wonders what else can go wrong.

 

Gareth Clark - Morning in Hidden Acres

Sam explained how things had went south for the Manifest Destiny after we’d departed for the saloon last night. On top of everything we already had to worry about in Hidden Acres, I found out we also had Triads gunning for us and a computer virus messing with the ship’s systems, which may or may not’ve been related to a suspicious passenger they’d picked up. While I wasn’t tech-savvy enough to help fix the damage the ship had sustained, I did what I could to pick up the mess in the cargo bay some before deciding to turn in for the night.

Morning came too quickly. I’d have liked nothing more than to sleep in, but with all we still had left to do, that wasn’t a luxury I could afford. I got up and showered, which helped with the remaining grogginess, and had started trimming my beard when Nick King, the Destiny’s helmsman, went by and started calling for me. Naturally, my concentration faltered just enough for me to nick my skin with the razor.

“Shit,” I muttered. I grabbed a towel and dabbed at my face to clean up the small amount of blood as best I could. “I’ll be along in a minute!” I answered.

Tā mā de, couldn’t I at least eat some breakfast before things started falling apart again? I quickly dressed and gathered all the things I thought I’d need for the day, taking a page from Morris’ book and filling my jacket’s pockets with a couple extra magazines. Just in case. I also grabbed my sunglasses, since it was daylight now and all, and belatedly remembered to bring my watch before leaving.

I peeked in on the infirmary as I passed by. Jolene was still sleeping, as she had been ever since she’d shuffled in last night. With her out of commission until Will could be freed from the passenger block, I supposed I was in charge of our little group of Goldmund-Teller agents for now. Not exactly a position I relished, but hopefully it would only be for a short time. I didn’t linger though, and continued towards the stairs down to the cargo bay.

Once down there, I saw the trouble. The sheriff had returned with his deputies in tow, and Momo was staring them down all threatening-like with his hand near his gun. Yes, that’s precisely how I liked to start the day -- gunfights with law enforcement.

I approached Momo and clapped him on the shoulder, tacitly telling him to stand down. Then I nodded at the sheriff. I really should learn this guy's name, I thought to myself.

“Morning sheriff. Something I can help you with?”

 

William Davis - Morning in the Hidden Acres

Free at last!

One could say that William was far from being the worse off this strange night on this backwater planet. First, he hadn't been shot like Jolene. They had told him he was need in the infirmary as soon as the door was cut through. Second, he hadn't spend the night up trying to cut through a prison ship's door. He had slept quite well to be honest; those guests quarters were definitely amazing. This morning he had make sure the missus was alright and true enough she was back to being her true self now that no risk of death loomed over them.

"Thanks Sam! Have some rest eh!" He said dashing off. He barely saw Gareth going to meet some of the locals, he had a patient waiting.

Opening the door to the infirmary he took everything in at first glance. The captain was sleeping on a bed. They didn't told me something happened to the captain. Jolene was clearly trying to sleep, but her face was grimacing in pain.

Let's get to work.

Grabbing some plastic gloves, he approached Jolene first. Removing the bandages carefully he examined the wound.

Tā mā de! They didn't even remove the bullet!

At least it didn't allow for a lot of blood loss, but the bullet would keep tearing through muscles with every move. He grabbed a syringe and filled it with a local anesthetic. That was going to be painful.

Better to wake her up. Wouldn't want to get my head blast off.

"Jo," he said shaking her lightly,"I'm going to administer a local anesthetic. It's going to hurt for just a moment, then I'll procede to the surgery. Alright?"

When ready, he inserted the needle right into the wound and poured the liquid into it. A cold sensation quickly replaced the pain the action had caused and soon enough his patient couldn't feel much of anything from the wound.

"I'm going to remove the bullet now. It's going to feel strange, but don't move."

Grabbing his forceps, he started parting the flesh to get access to the bullet without damaging the flesh any further (14 or 16 with BDHD if 14 is not enough) [1 JINX]

 

Jolene Ang - Morning in the Hidden Acres

"Finally," I say as Will walks into the medbay. I give him the strongest glare I can. "Hope you had a nice nap."

The local anaesthetic takes a moment to kick in, but when it does the lack of pain is like a drug itself. I feel myself relaxing and realise I'd been tense as a coiled spring. "Zhù fú nǐ, Will. You're a godsend."

I lapse into silence as he works. It's uncomfortable as hell and occasionally painful as he touches on a place that the anaesthetic hasn't reached, but it's better than leaving a bullet lodged in my shoulder.

 

Morning in Hidden Acres

Momo and Gareth

As Momo descends the ramp, the Sheriff's men straighten their posture slightly, standing taller, no doubt in an attempt to look intimidating. Perhaps for anyone else it might've been, but Momo has seen plenty of action that'd curl these fella's hair.

"Don't worry boys," drawls the Sheriff from where he's sitting on the lip of the water trough in front of the saloon. "We're here to speak to the Organ Grinder, not the monkey."

He stands though, when Gareth appears a few moments later and tips his hat in the direction of the greeting.

"Mornin' yourself. An' call me Zheng," he replies and waves the paper in your directions. "This here is a citation for the—" and he glances at your ship "— haphazard manner in which you've parked your vehicle. There's also a surcharge for damages." He holds it out for you to take. "Of course, I understand what federal budgets are like these days and I'm happy to accept payment in the form of services rendered, if any of ya'll are able to help me begin to make head or tail of what occurred last night."


Nick

As Gareth swarms past you, a bleary-eyed Barnabus appears in the corridor— it appears he'd borrowed a bed from one of the occupied crew members last night, but he doesn't look as though he's slept well. His once well-kempt hair is sticking out to one side and there's big dark shadows under his eyes.

He casts about in confusion. "What's going on?" he asks, then looks at William as he runs by. "He's out?" Then looks around again. "Is the ship fixed? When do we leave?"


Sam

No sooner have you used your magnetic clamps to pull the section free of the door than William comes bounding out, full of energy. You can't help but feel a little jealous as he bounds up the stairs and out of sight. What you'd give to be that full of energy.

All night that GPS has been bleeping quietly in the background. At first it'd been really damn loud, but when it'd gotten too annoying to take any more, you'd wrapped it in a couple of rags and shoved it in your pocket. That'd shut it up— mostly. There's still a faint bleep, bleep, bleep rising from your shirt.

A few moments after Will emerged through the hole, Virginia follows after him, still staggering and with slightly glazed eyes. She pushes her bag through the hole ahead of her and then steps through and pushes it into your hands.

"Be a doll," she says, in a vague far-away voice. "And carry this for me, would you? I think I'm going to disembark here."

Without waiting for a response, she wanders in the direction of the exit ramp, taking uneven steps on her evidently wobbly legs. As she passes, you can see the bloodstain at the collar of her dress.

Will

Whoever the gorram hell treated this wound might've well have been a butcher, as far as you're concerned. The bullet is lodged deep into the bone, no doubt, and perhaps it'd not be possible for your average country doctor to remove it, but the exploratory work was shoddy and the stitching— you'd seen better from vets.

You scowl your way through the operation [9 - 14], plucking the bullet from the wound as easily and delicately as picking a blossom and then begin to suture the wound closed with deft movements that you probably could have done blindfolded; stitching the muscle back together first and then tidying up the skin.

As you wind a fresh dressing around her upper arm, you're pretty sure she's always going to have a pretty horrific scar and that she'll be A Little Stiff [D6] for some time, but you've essentially worked a miracle with the wound.

 

Nick King - Morning in Hidden Acres

Ahh. Barnabus. Yes, that would be a loose end if Nick went traipsing off with most of the rest of the crew that could vouch for the new passenger or explain things to him. Hell, that trigger-happy merc Phan might shoot him first and ask questions later, with the way Nick's last 24 hours had been going. Okay, what was the most efficient way to handle this?

He saw Will run by while he was gathering his thoughts for a response, and came to an internal decision about his most appealing next move. He'd brief Barnabus on the general plan he had put together so far, and see if he couldn't get him to get a bit of rest, in Nick's own quarters away from all the action, if nothing else.

Then he'd go check on the kid and his patients; maybe he could work a miracle and get Long back on her feet, where he could follow orders instead of give them, but it seemed more likely that she was out of commission for at least a bit, judging from how she dropped in the middle of the mob scene with no warning. While he was worried for his captain and friend, Nick had enough general medical training that he could ascertain that she wasn't in critical condition, or anything like that. She'd probably just need a little time. Hell, maybe not even that. Whatever was wrong with her, it was a queer thing.

The other patient, though, should have been eminently fixable for Will, with only a wounded shoulder. Nick had more than a touch of pride in his own intellectual prowess and technological ability, and there was enough carry over between the fine-motor skills required for tech and required for treatment that in a tight spot he could even do pretty passable surgery, but the boy was a damned savant with a scalpel. If the GT's fearless leader wasn't restored to functional health very soon, Nick would eat his chair.

Anyway, with Jo hopefully back in the action, he could let her handle sending somebody with him, a little security to stay with the ship maybe, and the investigation as she saw fit. Worked for Nick; that meant he was just responsible for getting the boat back in the sky again. Okay, let's do this.

"Afraid things aren't quite that shiny just yet, Barnabus, although with any luck they will be before long," Nick said. "You see, it seems Sam just finished cutting Will out, and now that we have a doctor again we're gonna let him check up on the captain and that woman that you saw them carrying up to the infirmary after we ran into trouble with that damned Hemidall trojan. Hopefully the kid can sort them out, or at least have them headed in the right direction," Nick finished optimistically.

"Once the team is back to as close to 100% as it can be, me, Sam, and maybe one of these mercs are gonna go look for the parts to get the bird in the air again. Then we'll put it back together and get the hell off this rock!" Nick grinned at Barnabus, hoping the thought was as positive to the passenger as it was to him. "But before all of that, I'm going to go check in on the infirmary. You're welcome to come if you want, but if you don't mind my saying so it doesn't look like you've got much in the way of rest. If you want, my quarters are up near the cockpit, on the left, and well away from the action. You might be able to get some sleep there, if you want it. With Will out, you could probably even get back in your room, although I'm afraid it'll still be in lock-down mode, if that's too great an inconvenience. Either way, don't you worry about a thing; we'll have this taken care of in no time!"

With that, Nick started towards the infirmary, and made just in time to see the kid finish suturing up Jo, the lady leader of the Goldmund-Tellers that had been on the Destiny long enough that they were practically crew, and watch her sit on up. Long was still stretched out on the bed. Nick heaved a sigh, equal parts concern and frustration, then looked back at Jo. "Jolene!" Nick exclaimed. "Good to see you in better shape, ma'am. I knew you could pull through, but I hate to see a good lady down. What happened to you?"

In typical fashion, she didn't do too much in the way of answering, but that was okay. She could take care of herself. Before the maniac swept past him and started trying to work again, though, he needed to try and procure a guard. "Well, as always, if you need anything, Will and all of the rest of us are at your service. If you had a man to spare, though, I was hoping you'd send one of them with us to go see if we couldn't scrounge up enough parts to get this old bird in the air again. We need the parts in a bad way. Me and Sam could make it fine, but that crowd looked pretty rowdy earlier, and if it came to a fight, well..." Nick looked down at himself, then back up to her. "Let's just say I'd rather not throw down with that over-sized bastard jawing at all of y'all earlier."

 

William Davis - Morning in Hidden Acres

"Morning to you too Jo!" He said absently while preparing his work. "I hope you didn't pay much for this butcher that fixed you up. He probably did the same to a pig for less than he charged you eh!"

Little cut here, small movement there. It didn't much time at all to dislodge the bullet, after that it was only a matter of closing the wounds and making sure everything was bandaged properly.

"I'd suggest keeping the sling at least. Best not move that arm too much for a few days. You should be able to perform usual business after that."

Cleaning the blood, he turned toward Nick as the man entered the medbay on his super turbo wheelchair.

"Morning Nick! So, can anyone tell me what happened to the Captain mayhaps?"

He turned to his other patient, reading her vitals as best as he could. Heart rate. Pupils. Signs of injury. Anything that could clue him in. (12)

 

Jolene Ang - Morning in Hidden Acres

"Gotcha, Doc. I've been shot before, I know what to do."

Just as I'm readying myself to get up and go find my crew, Nick wanders in and starts the well wishing parade. Normally I hate that kind of thing, but Nick has gone through more than any of us so it doesn't sting as much as it usually would. Plus, I like the guy. He's good people.

"Okay, sounds like we're having a bit of a problem out there then. Take Momo with you if you're worried about security. He's good in a fight whether it's fist fightin' or shootin'."

I'm still annoyed that he disobeyed my orders back in the bar, but I can't afford to waste time on it right now. Too many things to do and I can't have one of my crew getting all curmudgeonly on me. Either way, it can wait until we're in a less desperate situation.

That sorted I head on out into the rest of the ship, trying to find Gareth and get an update on what's been happening. I search through the upper deck first, though the slightly off kilter floor makes it difficult on my wounded shoulder. I move it around, trying to prevent it from going stiff, but it already seems to be going that way.

 

Gareth Clark - Morning in Hidden Acres

The sheriff seemed to be in a pleasant mood, which was good. I returned his hat-tip and said, “Thanks. And since I don’t think we gave you our names either, I’m Gareth Clark, and this here is Morris Phan.”

I listened to what the sheriff, or Zheng, had to say, and then took the citation from him when he offered. One thing I liked about Goldmund-Teller, at least I never had to give out parking tickets.

Technically, Captain Sinh was the legal owner of the Manifest Destiny. We just rented out of it. But I doubted she or anyone else would complain if we accepted the sheriff’s offer. We were going to do it anyway, might as well get out of paying a fine along the way.

The fine was substantial, by the way. More money than I’d ever had at one time, that was for sure. I looked up from all those zeroes and nodded. “Right. I think we can work something out.”

I thought for a moment, and then gestured back to the ship. “Listen, we’re still getting reorganized after last night. I’ll take this in to the captain, we’ll meet up quick and see what needs doing to get this hunk up and out of your town as soon as possible, and then we’ll come down to your office. It shouldn’t take long."

 

Sam Bose- Morning in Hidden Acres

Sam is exhausted, sweaty, and annoyed from that insufferable beeping. All he wants is to get some sleep, but what with the engine in ruins, a hole in the damn ship, and that insufferable beeping, he knows that's not likely in the near future. His self-control is already hanging by a thread, mostly from that gorram beeping, and that thread is abruptly severed when Virginia treats him like a bellboy.

With the beeping still coming from the background, he turns abruptly and rages, "I'M NO-"

Blood. He sees it on the woman's collar, and his anger is crushed. Sam drops the bag and grabs the passenger by the arm before she can go any further.

"Miss. Do...do you know you're bleeding? I think you may need to see the doc on this one."

 

Momo Phan - Manifest Destiny landing ramp

Momo glared at the Sheriff and his men, slowly moving his hand away from the holstered pistol. He looked each man full in the face, trying to determine if they meant harm but all he saw was the honest hard working look folks on the rim usually had, mixed with wariness.

But than, his temporary home had basically leveled a block or two of their home. They could be forgiven for the wariness.

He stood to the side as Gareth spoke to the Sheriff about trading work to pay off the ridiculous fine they'd no doubt been saddled with.

Have just one mention of the Core or even drag a core-worlder around and people automatically charged you more. It was stupid and annoying. He'd much rather have just shoved his pistol under the man's chin and told him to piss of.

"-shouldn't take long," Gareth was finishing. The sheriff looked somewhat skeptical but took a moment to think before nodding.

"You wait there, bottom of the ramp. Don't. Fucking. Move." Momo said to them, not caring if his language was abrasive or not. He hated the law in all honesty. Or at least, incompetent lawmen. Honest men made poor sheriffs in the end. Do-gooders were too wrapped up in trying to seem just and good, and not wrapped up enough in removing and detaining threats and injustice.

Gareth eyed Momo with annoyance, used to his partners curmudgeonly attitude. Momo spun on heel, strode up the ramp and then dropped onto a crate to keep an eye on the lawmen as Gareth took the receipt inside to deal with it however he could.