Log:Defiance Guild: The Radioactive, Fallout Blues

Defiance Guild: The Radioactive, Fallout Blues

OOC Date: July 5, 2017
Location: Defiance Engineering Bay, Wayside Medical Clinic
Participants: Tarion Tavers, Sapphira Tavers, Trillian Taim, Eevy Kal

The Defiance Workshop... A large, cavernous room of durasteel and concrete. The mixed smell of an array of solvents, cleaners and starship fuel are kept moving by the giant fans embedded in the ceiling. Over at a workbench, Trillian Taim is hunched over a schematic and poking at what looks to be a subspace manifold, somewhat disassembled. She's dressed in her usual flight suit, and her hair is piled up in a bun on her head. So far, she's got two pencils and a retaining rod stuck through it. A smear of grease is striped across her nose. She looks up, stretches and then waves excitedly as she sees Sapphira and Tarion make their way into the bay.

Defiance's hangar is one of the few places in the world Tarion Tavers is comfortable enough to remove his habitual suit of armor, perhaps due to the multiple layers of security between them and the outside world, something his suit usually has to stand in for. It's a rough life, being a wanted man and an asshole to boot. The hunter makes his way down into the workshop, clad in cargo pants, boots, and a stained tank-top that was probably white before he was too cheap to replace it, and there's only a few holes in the ribbed material. Clutched in his hands is a mechanical something, and it looks heavy, judging by the way he's lugging it, like a big bowling ball. Trillian's grease is striped on like war-paint, while Tarion appears to just sort of bathe in it, as it's all the way down his arms in a rubbed-in grey and fingerprinted all over his temples and cheeks where he's been touching his face. "Well, krif, how are we supposed to bang if Trillian's down here?" he complains loudly.

Sapphira was //actually// coming down here to get some work done, but then who'd believe that after Tarion's little exclamaition? She's dressed in some of her old Nar garb again: a black drop-waisted ruffle skirt of simple linen, a tank top of deep blue, over which she wears a home-knitted grey cowl that can be pulled up over her head in times of the Nar rain. It's not raining in here, so it's left down. Her hair is pulled up in twists that ring the back of her head, giving her a subtle crown-like appearance. She wears her long Tanaab necklace, and has fingerless knitted grey gloves that go up to her elbows in a slouch. Her high cheekbones are red, burning with embaressment at Tarion's announcement.

"We're coming down here because I need your brute force to remove some of those burnt coils," she reminds him. "Besides, I'm still sore." Yes, there's that reason too, but it's muttered more quietly.

Trillian waves, oblivious to any sort of implied social hinkiness, and, not realizing that she still had ear-protection on, calls out. "HEY TARION AND SAPPHIRA! DON'T MIND ME. I'M JUST DOING SOME WORK ON THIS MANIFOLD. LEMME KNOW IF I'M IN THE WAY OR STUFF, K?" And then with another cheerful wave, she goes back to poking at the pile of parts on the workbench.

Tarion smirks broadly, which is really the only expression anyone ever sees on his face due to the fact that he is insufferable, reaching over to- wait, his hands are full. A small frown, and then he just bumps the big techno-do-hicky into her hip instead. "Don't lie to-" then Trilly shouts. "Oh, well. That kind of ruins the joke." Small frown. "What did you need forced?" he asks, glancing down at his own little project in his hands. Who knows what that is. He doesn't really know himself.

"It was a joke?" Sapphira asks with mock playfulness. "Unfortuante for you then." She grins at the hip bump, and shrugs a single shoulder as they make their way down to the bottom level, her booted feet finally touching down. "I pulled one of the power cells out of one of the ships that seemed to be leeching energy." So nuclear radiation. Fun times! "And it was, so much so that when I tried to strap some readers on to the thing it melted them right to the casing." With that, she starts to lead her husband toward a table with a metal insulated workbox on it, casting her green eyes over her shoulder toward where Trillian is busy. "Wonder what she's working on."

Trillian is, in fact, working on tweaking the manifold for the subspace engines in Crawler to get a slightly better mix of fuels and hopefully eke out a slightly improved fuel efficiency. At least, that's what it LOOKS like she's doing. The intake valves have been remachined, and are soaking in a greenish solution. Using a pair of long-handled pliers, Trillian pulls one of the shiny pieces out of the liquid and holds it under a drying apparatus to blow off the excess liquid. Then, taking the piece and examining it closely, she fits it to the other parts, humming as she does so. After a few minutes, she turns, popping her earbuds out. "Oh huh.. forgot I had those in. Hey Sapphira, if you've got a second, could you take a look at this and see if I've put it back correctly? I'm still getting used to the Shuttle architecture."

"So... you want me, with my electricity-powered arm, to grab your radiating, meter-melting power cells and haul them out of this ship." Tarion looks at her for a long moment, having stopped in his vaguely-following forward march, before he starts walking again. "You better make this worth my while, galma-top," he half-teases, referencing a red fruit. His attention shifts to Trillian for a moment when it seems like she might spare him from imminent cancer. "Maybe you should help her out."

Tarion's words almost make Sapphira stop in her tracks. "Damn, I keep forgetting about your arm," she admits, looking to him a touch apologetically. "But either way I wasn't going to have you touch it. I just need you to use some brute force with a smoother to pry or scratch these things off. I got one with a wooden handle, and I'll have gloves for you of course." Because that makes it better? But then, at least, he does get a smile and a kiss on the cheek. "I'll make it doubly worth your while," she promises. Then grins. "I'll pay you hourly for your time." With amusement in her bright green eyes she turns to Trillian, walking over. "Sure, I can look if you'd like."

Trillian smiles as she watches one of her favorite power couples flirt. Much better than when they yell at each other... mostly due to the stress of being fired at, or fired upon, or shooting at each other... As Sapphira comes over, she moves out of the way to let the petite engineer double-check her work. Trillian moves over to the caf maker and pours a mug for Sapphira, and then looks at Tarion and points at the cup wordlessly and with a quirked eyebrow.

Lol power couple. "OVERTIME, for power cells," Tarion demands, dropping his own bowling-ball-sized-but-even-heavier contraption on the nearest workbench. "And I want compensation for any radiation sustained, and if my arm malfunctions you have to come to the clinic with me and explain it was not my fault for once."

"I'll come with you to the clinic either way," she assures him. "How else am I supposed to keep track of how you hurt yourself?" Sapphira turns her green eyes thoughtfully to Tarion's bowling ball-shaped item. Her brows lift slightly. "What have you got there, dear?" she asks, waiting to begin working on Trillian's project until she's sure that whatever thing Tarion has isn't going to cause a problem. Like the bugs, that one time.

Trillian hands a mug of caf to Sapphira, and then, not getting any sort of indication from Tarion, goes over and pours him a mug as well. "Yeah... What *IS* that? It looks heavy," says Trillian, handing a mug to Tarion. Trillian wipes her hand across her nose, smudging the thin line of grease into a larger swatch. "Do you want some help putting it on the bench?"

"It's not full of bugs," Tarion assures them both, rolling his eyes and smirking as he accepts the cup of caf from Trillian. "It's out of one of my speeders." Because he has several, he's just not sure where they all are at any given time. "Making a weird noise and I'm going to take it apart and SOLVE IT." Yes. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, thank you dear," Sapphira says half-distractedly to Trillian as the mug is handed over. She sips, listening to Tarion's explination. It's enough to keep her distracted from looking at Trillian's project. "It's making noises? Why didn't you just tell me?" You're literally married to an engineer, Tarion.

Trillian's eyes light up as Tarion mentions speeders. "You race, Tarion?" she asks eagerly, coming over to take a closer look at Tarion's sphere. "I didn't know you were into speeders!" Trillian pulls a light stand over from beside the workbench and focuses it on the sphere so they can start taking it apart. "Because I'm not a dependent little bitch," Tarion replies, smiling brightly. "And of course I race, I lost my arm in a swoop gang." The incident had nothing to do with swoop racing, but he was technically in a swoop gang at the time. "I have like, speeders and swoops and all that noise, whatever is fastest and scariest." Then he picks up on what Trillian is doing with the light. "Now hold on a second, this is my ball of metal."

"I'm free labor, or near enough to. One would think you couldn't pass up that kind of a deal," Sapphira says, taking another swig of her caf as she watches the whole exchange with amusement. "Oh, he's being modest, believe it or not," Sapphira says to Trillian. "He's leading in the Five Sabers tournament, or was until the tournament was postponed." Nevermind that he wasn't actually flying at the time. "Although to be fair, the last time he took me out for a ride, he totalled his speeder."

Trillian looks disappointed at Tarion as he chastises her for trying to help. "Oh... um... Sorry. I was ... just trying to be helpful," she starts to say, before stopping herself. She /DOESN'T/ just apologize and hide... In fact, she looks Tarion in the eye. "That is... if you don't mind having the help..." she says, holding the gaze for a second before dropping it and worrying at her fingernail.

"I'm probably the greatest swoop racer alive, if you only count those with one arm born on Nar Shaddaa," Tarion replies, hedging his own self-aggrandizing. His hand falls on his ball-o-metal. "I thought you girls had urgent workings to be doing, anyway, why are you so eager to pick over my little, uh..." he peers at it. "-whatever this thing is, anyway?"

"Because you're referring to it as a 'whatever this thing is'. Though if you don't want help, you won't have to suffer it being forced upon you. Trillian and I are quite capable of handling our own projects, so long as whatever you're doing isn't going to kill us all," Sapphira points out, her grin widening. She looks sidelong to Trillian. "Sometimes the only way he'll learn is by touching the hot stove, no matter how many times you tell him not to."

Trillian stifles a giggle and then shrugs at Tarion before returning back to her own workbench. "Well, Tarion... I haven't raced in a long time... not since I was on the Corellian Flight Academy Racing Club team.... But if you ever want to do a few runs... let me know... I'd be down for that," says Trillian off-handedly. "I'd love to see the greatest swoop racer alive at work."

"I have the lined gloves," Sapphira says, setting the caf down. "And the chestplate and mask, too. That's what you absolutely have to wear," she informs him, plucking up some folded items from beside her own work table. It's a hazmat looking mask and a heavy lead smock in addition to the gloves. Sapphira will move to help put them on Tarion if he'll allow. "There's a chizzle over next to the box, so once we get the box open just start trying to force those burnt coils off."

Trillian looks up at alarm as it sinks in what the Tavers' are planning to do. "Oh... that looks... dangerous. We should be... um... safe from the fallout though, right Sapph? Or should we retire to the control room while Tarion is chipping away at the coils?"

"There's probably shielding on the cells, the leaking can't be that dangerous," Tarion assures Trillian with the practiced expertise of someone who knows nothing about their topic but bullshits their way through anyway. He doesn't even have to try to lie; it's almost like he just really believes he knows everything that anyone could possibly need to know. Ignorance does not exist in the mind of Tarion Tavers, just in other people, who are collectively lumped together as 'stupid morons'. "It'll be fine."

"He's actually not wrong," Sapphira says in reference to Tarion's statement. "Assuming he doesn't pierce the outside of the cell, and assuming this takes only a few minutes, we should be fine." She drapes the smock around Tarion, reaching around his middle to tie it at the back. And then she gives him a bright smile. "And //you'll// be fine," she assures the man as well, leaning up on her toes to try to peck him on the mouth before pulling the mask over his face. "You're all set. When you're ready, take off the lid of the box and start working. There's three coils melded onto the cell."

Trillian still sidles over to another workbench and subtly picks up a geiger counter and puts it on her bench. Then, thinking of it again, sidles over to one of the panels on the wall of the bay and lugs a large fire extinguisher back with her.

Tarion Tavers tests his Strength skill at a 100 difficulty.

 +SUCCESS+ (56).

"Sure I will," Tarion replies, before adding "But this is a dangerous operation and I want everyone to remember that." What? He just said it was perfectly safe. But money! "Alright, stand back a little, ladies," the hunter announces, with a wry grin and a confident stride, taking up the big chisel-bar in his hands and jamming it between the cell and its housing. Then again. And again. "How many times do-" and BAM, finally it sticks. "Ha! I knew it wouldn't take long."

Sapphira stands nearby ... not too nearby but nearby enough to stand on her tip-toes and watch a little. Her arms are folded beneath her bust, and her face is clearly interested and engaged. "Two more to go," she says. "Nice job." Yes, it's praise for Tarion! He'll eat that up. She rolls up to her toes again, peering. "Make sure you pull the melted coils out when you're done too, or else we'll be back in the same ship."

Trillian is behind Sapphira, also peeking curiously. But still close to the fire extinguisher... just in case. "So what happens after you get the coils out? I mean, if it's still leeching, it might be a housing problem as well as a coil issue, right?" Trillian ponders that as she watches Tarion chip away at the coils. "Do you need a disposal container for the old coils?"

Tarion Tavers tests his Strength skill at a 100 difficulty.

 +SUCCESS+ (34).

"What?" Tarion calls, confused by all this talk of disposal containers. "Answer the woman, Sapphira, tell her what the plan is." He knows the plan, he just is busy with other things, clearly. "We're gonna sell anything we can't fix, obviously." Maybe. His chisel thumps into the gap of the next housing, prying and prising and eventually dragging it out, setting it next to the first.

"Oh, you're right. We probably should." Sapphira grins at Trillian and then turns to head to the back of the room. Shortly, she'll return bearing a small box labelled with all sorts of "DANGER!" symbols all over it; the sort of thing to store and dispose of radioactive materials. She sets it on the table with little fear. "Once I get the casing cleaned up I'll just do a scan and a visual examination to find out where it's all coming from. The contact readings would have been much better, much less time consuming, but..." she shrugs lightly. "What're you going to do?" Put your husband into a nuclear box to poke at shit, naturally.

Trillian looks puzzled at the two Tavers... Shaking her head, she shrugs and the moves back to her own workbench, seeing that the two had things well under control. She watches the two of them for a while from behind her bench, and then pulls another part from the green liquid-filled container, and scrubs at it with a small brush. "Ahh. Well, let me know if you need my help with anything."

Tarion Tavers tests his Strength skill at a 100 difficulty.

 +SUCCESS+ (73).

"This one looks easier," Tarion announces, latching onto it with his gloved fingers and hauling it straight out without the assistance of the chisel. His face is turning red, under the helmet, but no one else can see that, all they see is him being awesome and powerful and shit. Until something goes wrong, which it might.

It's the sound of the brush that makes Sapphira turn toward Trillian, leaving Tarion looking sexy af by himself in that mask and apron. "Oh, I'm sorry dear. You asked me to look at something, and I got totally sidetracked." Also, she left her caf over there. Walking easily over to pick it up, Sapphira tilts her head at what is laid out before the other woman. "What have we got here?"

"Oh... right. Well, it's the subspace fuel manifold from Crawler. I noticed that I was getting progressively less efficient performance out of the subspace engines. So I thought I'd clean up the nozzles and then maybe just tweak the fuel mixture ratios. Try to eke a little bit more performance, y'know? Taking it apart wasn't too bad... but I didn't realize how much crud was holding the assembly together... I'm just not sure if I'm putting it back together correctly or not," Trillian muses and then looks at the schematic again, commparing the piece she's just cleaned to it. "I think it's going back together correctly. Starfighters are much easier because literally there's like one way to reassemble those parts... Shuttles seem to have much more generically modular pieces."

Tarion Tavers tests his Strength skill at a 100 difficulty.

 -Failed- (-13).

The moment Sapphira turns her back, Tarion gets cocky. The women are over there doing their thing, they're looking pretty or whatever it is women do, gossiping, probably, and not paying him any attention. Like, none, they stopped watching him. The only remedy for this Tarion can see is to throw caution to the wind and do the next one with his bare hands (gloved whatever) again despite the fact that it probably needs chiseling. He snatches it between his fingers, and pulls. And pulls. And pulls. Finally, with a grunt and an almighty pop in his back, the cell comes way, unexpectedly, and drops immediately to the floor, at which point alarm things start going off. The meter Trillian had, it goes crazy. "Well that can't be good," the hunter mutters, holding his back.

Sapphira Tavers tests her Acrobatics skill at a 100 difficulty.

 -Failed- (-39).

"Well that's not surprising, shuttles and the like aren't meant for such high performance so their construction isn't usually as exact-" Sapphira begins. The pop occurs somewhere in the background, but it's the alarms that make her turn quickly on her heel to see Tarion and the box and the coil. So she turns and begins running toward him, her caf cup falling to the ground. Well, not toward him--toward the box. "Trillian, if you're pregnant get out of here," she calls to the woman behind her, but as she tries to turn forward again she trips on some machinery left out, causing a clang as she falls to her knees and skids until she can grab the table. And just like that she's staring directly at the box while sitting on her knees, her face only a few inches from it. "Tarion, cover the box and pick up the coil!"

Trillian looks up in alarm as as all sorts of flashing lights, klaxons and warnings that Hex and Kasia had probably installed FOR THIS VERY FORSEEABLE SCENARIO start to blare. A mechanical voice politely informs everybody not to panic in Basic, and then Ryl, and then again in Basic, but mentioning Tarion's name particularly. And then suddenly Sapphira is asking if she's pregnant. But before she can even sputter out a question of how that would even be possible, she's ge and running towards Tarion. And tripping... and falling. Trillian's inner voice screams at her to run, but she takes a shaky step towards Sapphira... and then another... and then she's running towards the fallen engineer as well.

Tarion Tavers tests his Dexterity skill at a 100 difficulty.

 -Failed- (-3).

We don't know your sex life, girl. Tarion yells "This is fine!" over the sound of the alarms, flailing at the box in front of Sapphira's face with the cover, but the beeping is still going, so he flings himself on it like a man on a grenade, and finally the gieger starts to relax. It's far from a perfect solution, though. "WHAT DO I DO NOW?" he demands of the two engineers. -(OOC)- Trillian Taim says, "I wish I could +nom every single one of your guys posts. They are amazing."

Trillian tests her Dexterity skill at a 100 difficulty.

 +SUCCESS+ (68).

Tarion, throwing himself on the alter of sacrifice? Some things you just don't see every day ... or expect to see ever. Sapphira pushes herself up to her feet, one of her knees making a little cracking, groaning sound at the effort. "Sit still," she tells Tarion, in response to his question. Her bare fingers begin to move deftly around his lead apron, undoing it from behind. Heh. From behind. "Trillian, find something we can put the box in that'll contain this," she says as she works. "Tare, I'm going to pull this off over your head so we can wrap the box in it. Okay?"

Trillian skids to a stop next to Sapphira as she starts to get up, and then immediately pivots and runs back to to a pile of crates. Chucking the top ones to the side, she dives into the pile and starts pulling on a larger container. She manages to extricate a lead-lined transport crate from the pile, and then quickly keys in a code on the outer box. Immediately the hum of repulsorlifts fills the air, and Trillian half-rides, half-pushes the crate over to where the Tavers are writhing around on top of each other, and a radioactive box. As she rounds her workbench, she manages to snag another pair of lead-lined gloves.

"No, that is not okay," Tarion replies immediately, because everyone should realize that this is not Tarion throwing himself on the altar of sacrifice, this is him thinking that the stuff he's wearing has him 100% protected. "You will not take my suit off, you will dispose of this properly, and you will pay me for my SERIOUS RISK," he demands, clutching tightly to the thing.

"Tarion, I can't pick it up without some protection. If you let me take the smock off, you can run upstairs right now." Like a gentleman. Sapphira hears the hum of the crate and turns to see Trillian coming over like hi-ho silver, and then she turns back to Tarion. "New plan. Pick up the box and set it //gently// into this other box. Then we close it and we all go take a shower."

Trillian tests her Strength skill at a 100 difficulty.

 -Failed- (-14).

Trillian skids to a stop next to the prone pair and struggles, getting her hands into the large, clumsy gloves. She claps both hands together, with a dull thud and then moves to help Tarion heft the box. She grabs one end, and pulls inccredibly ineffectively at it... not just because she's a weakling and shouldn't be even attempting this... but also because both Sapphira and Tarion are still holding the box down.

Tarion Tavers tests his Strength skill at a 100 difficulty.

 -Failed- (-18).

"No, you will not take it off," Tarion objects bluntly, and then there is a new plan. The man starts trying to lift it, but without properly grounding himself, and his back is killing him. "WHY ARE WE DOING THIS."

Sapphira groans. "Because it needs to be in the box, Tare!" They're all shouting at each other now, no doubt it's related to the stress of the situation. Trillian's here now, with lead gloves, and so Sapphira straightens the smock out and steps back, flinging herself off of them. Hopefully now the two can put it in the box together. That's where she'll stand, ready to close and seal it once they're done.

"No no no... wait... we need to do this together!" pants Trillian. She slaps her hand on the top of the box to get Tarion's attention. "OK, ready? On three. "One... two..."

"Three!" Tarion heaves, and again his back makes a terrible sound, but that doesn't stop him lifting. This time the thing goes up, up, up, and he starts maneuvering it into the container with Trillian's help. He's not leaving bed for weeks after this.

Don't worry, Tarion. Sapphira will get you to Valko straight away! She's waiting there to recieve the package, hand on the lead-lined lid ready to slam it shut. "Gentle, make sure it doens't slosh." Because the last thing anyone wants is sloshed nuclear goop. "Don't forget the coil on the floor, throw that in the smaller one," she encourages. And when they've settled the box in safely? Slam and lock!

Trillian slumps to the floor, next to the now closed crate. She pulls off the gloves and laughs as the klaxons start shutting down. "Well... that was invigorating..." she laughs weakly and shakes her head before looking at Tarion. "Tarion, you ok? You're... holding your back kind of funny..."

Tarion limps over to the coil and tosses it into the smaller box as well, hobbling around and getting the lid shut before he lays down on the floor, groaning wordlessly. "...worker's compensation..."

"We've all got to go to the clinic," Sapphira decides, once the box is securely locked with a passcode as well as just being, you know, closed. "Trillian, are you alright enough to help me get him onto a cart?" Even as she's asking, Sapphira is moving to activate a levitating push cart, normally used for carrying cargo, and to bring it over toward Tarion. "He might have thrown out his back. Old man that he is."

Trillian looks at Tarion sympathetically, and pats him on the back gently. "Aw... Poor guy," she says and helps Sapphira hoist the broken bounty hunter onto the cart. "Well, the least I can do is help get him to the clinic. I'll go grab the speeder and bring it around. Making sure that Tarion was comfortably draped on the cart, she tosses a bunch of equipment straps to Sapphira and then runs off for the elevator.

Fade out on the Defiance Engineering Bay. Star wipe to... The Wayside Medical Clinic...

And so, in they come. Two women who might set off Geiger counters pushing a levitating cart, the kind usually used for cargo. On it is Tarion Tavers in some state of obnoxious or other. That's up to him to pose.

One of the women pushing that cart though is his wife, Sapphira Tavers. She's wearing a ruffled drop-waist brown skirt, a blue tank top, and a hand-knitted grey cowl that serves as a hood against the rain, along with hand-knitted grey fingerless gloves that slink up to her elbows. Boots finish the look, as well as that slight tinge of radioactivity. "Dr. Tosha?" Sapphira's voice calls with a tint of urgency. One hand comes up to pull back her cowl, revealing bright red hair pinned up in a subtle twisted crown. "Dr. Tosha, it's Sapphira!"

Rather than there being a Dr. Tosha, there is instead a purple Twi'lek behind the front desk, looking up with some alarm. Not at the state of the pain in the ass on the hovercart, but rather at the yelling. "You need to stop your yelling, there are patients here," along with people in the waiting room looking startled over the yelling as well. "And Valko isn't here," Nima refuses to refer to him as Dr. Tosha. "You need to fill this out," a datapad is pushed through the partition or field or whatever it is that protects the receptionist from the crazies on Nar. "The actual Doctor will see you when she can."

"Stop shifting around so much, Tarion, I'm going to tip the cart!" calls out a small voice from behind the cart. Trillian Taim is throwing her whole body weight into the cart, pushing it along in a slightly wobbly path. The cart's repulsorlifts whine mightily as they cross the threshold, bumping over the raised doorway. "Sapph, do you see the doctor? Oh.. Nima! Hello!" says Trillian cheerfully, bobbing her head in greeting and politely taking the clipboard.

"I knew he wasn't an actual doctor," Tarion mutters from the cart, lying on the cart. "And I'm telling you it'll be fine on its own within like, I don't know, a few days." The bounty hunter has his arms crossed over his chest, and he's not wearing his armor; it's his dirty greasy tank top with some kind of heavy apron overtop. "You're all going to cost Hex money for nothing."

"Dr. Tosha //is// a doctor; he's kept you alive enough times," Sapphira retorts. And then there's paperwork being passed around. Sapphira looks a touch concerned. "Dr. Tosha's never given us any of this paperwork," she objects. "He's Tarion Tavers. I promise you, he's already in your system." With a lot of alerts associated, no doubt. The redhead appears slightly confused by all this. "We've all been exposed to radiation, and he," she gestures to Tarion with a nod of her head. "Messed up his back. Probably terribly, knowing him."

"You have to fill it out every time," Nima replies to Sapphira, passing the datapad off to Trillian to fill out. "If Valko didn't have you fill it out, he broke procedure and we probably didn't bill you correctly. Dr. Kal won't be happy about that." Which means that of course she's going to tell the aforementioned doctor ALL about it later. "Have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly." She points to the chairs, and the few people who are in here have moved away, all gathered in whatever cluster of chairs is the furthest from the recently arrived group. Thankfully there aren't many in here.

"Thank you, Nima," says Trillian to the stern Twi'lek. She learned on her last visit the immportance of being nice to the most important person in the reception area. Taking the pad over to Tarion, she starts askinng him all sorts of questions. "What's your galactic ID number? And your blood type? And your height... and weight... Are you on any medication right now? Do you use, or have you ever used industrial solvents recreataionally?"

"Don't tell them that!" Tarion hisses, objecting from the cart. "I'm Gigg Madna, and I... oh, forget it. It's all true. What's the point, this is a waste of time. We're probably going to get genetic splits that fragment through our bodies on a one-way collision course for the mitochondria of the cells." What is he ranting about? "Nimo!" The hunter pushes himself upright with some difficulty, wincing visibly. "Don't watch the latest season of All My Quarren. They cut the budget." Then he collapses back onto the cart again. Then Trillian is asking him twenty questions. "...Trillion. I can't even remember people's names. My ID is 1234567. Blood type, red. Height, 9 feet. Yes, yes, N/A."

"You're not even wearing your fake goggles this time," Sapphira hisses back at her husband, looking back to Nima for a moment. "I'm sure he must've filled them all out then when he was here without my knowing. It's my own fault for not paying attention." And then she turns to float Tarion near a chair, settling down in a seat. She listens to Trillian read off the list, and her high cheekbones become rich with color. "Trillian, why don't you let me look at that and see which of these I can answer for him?"

Nima gives Sapphira a dubious sort of look and a twitch of her lekku, clearly not buying that the forms were filled out as she expects them to be. This is probably due to their ongoing war about a variety of procedures here in the clinic office, so she's still totally tattling. With that juicy nugget of tattle-fodder, the Twi'lek turns back to the screen on her desk, which is angled so no one in the waiting room can see that she's watching Twi'lek soaps on it while she's supposed to be working.

It's a little while before anyone is called back, after what probably feels like an eternity, the door to the side of the desk opens and Eevy looks out, gaze sweeping the waiting room before it lands on the ladies gathered around the hover cart, and the man atop it. Her lips purse in annoyance, and she points at them. "You, bring that back here so we can take a look at him."

Trillian reluctantly hands over the datapad to Sapphira. So far, she had managed to fill out most of the first 3 pages of the form... but during Tarion's ranting, had to make up some of the information based on what she assumed was correcct for the grouchy bounty hunter. So, by Trillian's reckoning, he was normally prone to hallucination and hearing phantom sounds, was paranoid, and suffered from stomach ulcers... probably brought on by his dietary consumption of charred protein strips. He also may have had his tonsils out, or possibly an appendectomy... at least ONE of his limbs was mechanical, and possibly he needed to see the Doctor about getting a heart. A real one that would let him feel feelings again. Oh, and under allergies, she guessed... and put down mushrooms, strawberries, and Teek fur.

"Listen, /you two/ dragged me here without the time to prepare properly," Tarion retorts, before Eevy arrives precisely one eternity later. "Dr. Kal," he greets, prone on the cart. "You're looking ravishing today. I think it's the constant and intense disapproval, it does wonders for your face. I really ought to try it, it might set these early-onset smirk-lines straight."

Sapphira takes the data-pad-clipboard, and begins to flip through it, brows furrowed in confusion and focus. But then Dr. Kal is there, and Sapphira is rising, listening to Tarion hit on the woman with a roll of her eyes. "He threw out his back," she reports to the doctor. "And we've all been exposed to radiation." That reported, with the data-pad under her arm to fill out later, she puts her hands on the cart and looks to Trillian so the pair of them can shove Tarion into the back behind the good doctor. "Dr. Tosha's not in today?" she asks of Eevy as they push.

"Tavers," Eevy greets Tarion in a bland tone, stepping back so they can push the man and his cart through the wide doorway. "It's like you don't want to be treated, with the way you go on." She ushers the group as a whole into one of the private exam rooms, rather than the open area where others are and might be exposed to Tarion. Also the radiation. "You get the doctor that you get when you come in, Valko's whereabouts aren't the concern of anyone except who he chooses to tell. In what way were you exposed to radiation and for how long?" An instrument is taken from the cabinet which she then uses to scan Tarion.

Trillian is mildly intimidated by the stern, no-nonsense Dr. Eevy Kal. She's more used to the easy-going manner of Dr. Valko. So she stays quietly behind the cart as she helps Sapphira move it into the examination room. Then she just kind of huddles behind it, watching with wide eyes.

"I'm not sure about the specifics," Tarion replies, deferring to the engineer-y ladies on this particular topic. "But it was bad-ass, and hopefully not in the 'grow a third arm' way." He's quiet for a moment, oddly, although he's still grinning vaguely through the occasional wince, especially now that Dr. Kal is directly over him and she can see his charming face. "How's life treating you these days, doctor doctor?"

"He was working on a power cell for me," Sapphira explains, resting one hand on the cart and standing beside it in the private exam room, which is likely cramped with all of them in it. "And he pierced the case. All the alarms went off. It was a small cell from a larger core. When I glanced at the sensors, it was putting out about 500 millisieverts before it was pierced, so maybe ... a thousand? More at the height?" She looks over to Trillian to see if the woman has any opinions on the matter, or extra knowledge to contribute.

It's not uncommon for people to go into a slightly frightened silence around Eevy, she's just like that, which is both handy, and hindering when it comes to being a doctor. Hindering in that she's got basically zero in the way of bedside manner, but she makes up for that by being a very competent doctor. The scan completes, and she looks at the results as they pop up on the display. "Alright, your back will be able to heal on it's own, or I can give you something to speed the process, but that will cost more. The radiation levels are high enough that I can give you all something to take to mitigate the exposure so you don't take any damage from it. It shoudn't be high enough to cause any permanent damage yet."

Trillian had been sitting on one of the available chairs trying to convert millisieverts to rads in her head. She nods slowly at Sapphira. "That's about right... anywhere from 50-100 rads... I think that's what the gieger counter was reading. May have gotten a bit more when we were manhandling it into the crate though." Trillian was about to go on, but realized that the doctor had already come to a diagnosis. "Oh... we should probably warn Hex and Kasia that they might need to decontaminate the bay... um.. if you'll excuse me, I'll go give them a quick call." Standing, she bows politely to the doctor and then nods at Tarion and Sapphira before scurrying out the door to make a quick call.

"DON'T TELL KASIA," Tarion shouts after her. "Sorry," he continues, leaning back on the cart with a wince. "Anyway, uh. I'm fine, I think, I'll just take the pill. Thanks, Dr. Kal, you're the best doctor ever. Valko would have shoved some torture machine up my spine." He's quiet now. It's almost like a pose out.

"It's almost like you'd deserve it," Sapphira says to Tarion, nodding to the doctor. "Thank you, Doctor. I'll take the paperwork up front and we can get everything squared away." With that, she moves to push Tarion out of the room behind Trillian, the trio of misfits living another day to do misfit shit.