Log:Limbo
Limbo
Location: Medical Lab, Resistance Base, D'Qar
Participants: Ambrosia Greystorm, Leia Organa, Hex, Gerratt, Kasia Ciph, Sesti Gath, Jax Greystorm(as Kort)
Medical Lab - Resistance Base, D'Qar
This medical facility is an averaged sized room with a total of twelve medical beds that can be retracted into the dark metal walls when they're use is not needed. Each medical bed has a station beside it for the doctors to monitor their patients and tend to the wounds that they may be suffering from.
The floor of the room is a dark hard polished stone that is in fairly good shape as the base itself isn't that old. Small circular spotlights are the primary source of lighting in the room as they shine down over each med bed station and can be adjusted in brightness levels by the console aside each bed.
On the wall opposite of the room's entrance there is a large glass wall that has a doorway leading into a room with two Bacta Tanks
It's the day after hell, and Major Greystorm isn't making her rounds to check on her troops. It's a courtesy she won't likely be committing anytime soon.
Maybe there was some umph behind Nym's well-wishing as she swooped in for air strikes. Maybe the Force was influencing the events turning a routine recon into nightmare, beyond the obvious scope of insidious Ren's reach, that is. Because by some touch of miracle, two bodies that should've been reduced to smoldering ash are still firing electrical impulses today. One of them lays surrounded by friends, company to fill the void left by missing limbs. The other?
It lays supine on a surgical bed, surrounded by vigilant beeps, whirs, and an ever-ticking monitor. Several hours ago, that chest cavity had been split wide open with surgical precision, blood flood suctioned out, and arteries stitched. Alk without a doubt gleaned /some/ pleasure from the procedure, wielding a fine, thread-like drill bit to pierce her thick skull and drain some of that building fluid as well. So far, Ambrosia clings to life. Or maybe life clings to her, in the form of the many wires and tubes that do her body's work for her. The bacta tank is being cleaned, preparing for her next phase of treatment.
Hex apparently isn't drugged enough that Kasia's non-answer gets quite past him, but he apparently decides to take matters into his own hands... hand... and figure out reality for himself. His left hand makes a fumbling grab for the sheet covering him and he pulls it up. There's one foot! Tug tug. There's some burned, charred, broken right leg. Tug? There's a stump of a left leg. Just a stump. His gaze follows sharply then to his right arm, where, also a stump. All Hex can think to do is to beseech his local deity, "Gerratt?!" His breathing is sort of fast and shallow and the machines connected to him don't seem to like it, based on their beeping. He seems afraid to give Kasia his name, as though applying his name to this mess will make him own it, but the world is growing more solid, harder to escape, and he concedes very quietly, "Heksash'kuri."
Coming to his feet once more, Gerratt takes Hex's remaining hand and squeezes it enough to get the Twilek's attention not beingn able to type, he remains silent for the moment, but he's there for the corporal at least. Watching the man as he take long slow breaths, trying to get the corporal to follow suit.
Kasia knew this moment was coming, it's not like this is something he'll not notice is missing. Limbs are the sort of thing one notices when some of them go astray. "Yes," she confirms his name softly, as though he needed her to. It's something to say, something that isn't uncertain promises of everything being better in time. She parts her lips to ask another question, to press for more answers, but the words just don't quite make it, and instead she remains quiet, hand on Hex's shoulder as she watches both he and Gerratt.
Okay. Okay. Breathing! Hex and Master Sergeant do many things together, such as training, obstacle courses, missions... getting caught in bombs... leaving someone behind... rescues... maiming.... No! No, focus! One of the things they do is breathe! Breathing. In and out. Hex makes an effort to breathe slowly, just breathe, before awaiting more difficult questions from Kasia.
One of the many tones chiming within the medical bay begins to bleep faster, as a small spike in neural activity kicks across the monitor. The thumb of Ambrosia's left hand spasms so hard it almost turns her wrist over. But gravity wins this round. Fingers on her right hand begin to flex, tightening into a slow, contorted claw around air and sheet. The monitor alarms twice, signaling its administration of a re-dose of...something yellowish. With a hiss, the automated plunger dispenses the serum into the IV catheter and it gets sucked into her greedy circulatory system.
The claw relaxes, stirring brain subdued into thinking it's sleeping once more. It's for the best, probably, like when her vacant stare at the ceiling with sealed closed with a little sticky. Because here comes the robotic team to relocate her slab into the sterile bacta chamber.
Watching Hex calm down, Gerratt steps back ant lightly taps the Corporal on the forehead between the eyes before he goes to check on the alarms from the Major. Still looking and moving like the spectre of death, he looks over the Major for a moment before squeezing her hand firmly. Stepping back once more to let the bots take the major back to the Bacta.
While the two focus on breathing, Kasia takes a moment to eeeeever so carefully fix Hex's blankets, because it's one way that she can fuss, and sometimes fussing just needs an outlet. When it's settled, her hand goes back to Hex's shoulder. It's not until Gerratt steps away to go see to the Major that she looks back to him with a slightly more resolute smile. "Okay. So," she says, clearing her throat a little bit. "You've got your name down. Can you tell me where we are now?" Her gaze tracks after Gerratt for a moment, watching he and Amber, but her attention is quick to return to Hex, awaiting his answer.
Hex gets tapped on the forehead and closes his eyes. Facing it all visually is just a little much right now. There's no protest to Kasia's fussing, but again, he doesn't seem like he wants to answer her questions. There's a worried glance over toward Bacta Buddy there nearby, then he looks helplessly at Kasia. One last time - one last try. "I'm not going to wake up?"
Ambrosia's hand is cold. But at least it's flesh toned again, if only just. Needless to say, it does not squeeze back. The monitors remain as expressionless as before. Pumps pump, machines churn, the sheet draped over her hastily reassembled breast rises and falls stiffly with short, metered breaths. Courtesy of technology. If the Major's in there, she's doing a damn fine job of hiding out.
And now it's time for the main event. The cyber team works around DeLong as though he's not there, either, disjointing her 'bed' from its frame and pushing it on into the bacta room. Sealed off from the outside world now by a wall of glass, they work efficiently to disconnect hoses and wires accordingly before refitting them to a submersible version linked to the tanks. The sheet is folded back neatly, exposing the Major's patchwork skin. Some old, some new, some still burned. Certainly not comparable to the severity of the flesh-rendering fire Hex succumbed to. Bands of sterile white have been strapped over feminine bits for modesty's sake, allowing the not-dead to retain /some/ ounce of dignity.
A crane-like mechanism drops for an assist and lifts the lifeless woman into the tank. Plop! Despite the magnifying curvature of the glass, she seems smaller in there. Fragile without her weaponized glare or starch uniform. Just somebody's mom, who probably spends excessive time at the gym.
You are floating inside a bacta tank, with a breathing mask over your nose and mouth. It is difficult to see outside, except for the glowing eyes of the medical droid monitoring your condition.
Watching the Major get dropped into bacta like a prize in a crane game, Gerratt returns to his chair and watches Hex, typing once more. "You are awake Corporal."
Kasia doesn't push him for an answer, letting Hex try and grapple with this new reality in his own time. She simply remains there, at his side, waiting. "He's right. You're awake now, ka're," she answers him softly, glancing up at Gerratt again.
This is not comforting news. This is not comforting news at all, stated plainly by dataGarrett and gently by Kasia, because if you're already awake, then you're stuck with the nightmare. Maybe the drugs have worn off a little, maybe he's just growing more resigned to his fate, either way Hex draws a breath and speaks in Basic this time, finally, leaving the little translator droid with no job now. It's Ryloth-accented Basic, which is atypical, but it's Basic. "We are on D'Qar," he manages. "We are at the Resistance base. The year is 1108. I was - hurt, I was hurt by --" There, he stalls out, but to be fair Kylo is kind of a mind-breaking person when you didn't previously know anything about the Force. Hex skips this part and moves on to what's important. "Gerratt DeLong is alive and we brought him home."
Timely, the female orderly from before reappears, and asks Gerratt and Kasia rather than Hex himself, "How're his brains?" This one doesn't have very good bedside manner. She looks around for her soup bowl. "Did you eat?"
The night and day have been long, Kasia hasn't slept, and every little bitty bit of patience that she has left is saved for Hex. The correct answers get a nod, but the smile is gone now. "That's right." It's right. As much as she might want some of this to be different. The hand on his shoulder rubs a little, gently, gaze turning toward the door as that orderly returns. On most days, a question like this wouldn't ruffle her, she would be polite, kind even, regardless of whether or not it's deserved. Now, though? Now that question inspires the iciest of ice cold looks. Truly, if looks could kill-- well, the order probably wouldn't be dead, but it's entirely possible that if looks could shove someone right back out the door, that's exactly what would happen. "Where are y--" Nope. No. She shuts her mouth mid-word and turns he focus back to Hex.
Hex would perhaps normally have a snappy comeback for the orderly, or at least a self deprecating one, but it doesn't seem to be in the cards today. He's got nothing, and just looks away. Unphased by everything - it's a war, Orderly has maybe had to scrape a couple brains off floors by now - the orderly makes a shooing motion. "Visiting hours are over!" she declares. "Back into the bacta with you, Tails, or you're gonna look like hell when you scar up. And I still dunno about that other leg, but, we'll do our best!"
This is truly testing Kasia's control on her temper, which is presently tenuous at best. She draws a deep breath and exhales it through her nose. "How long will he be in the bacta?" she asks, waiting for an answer, then looking back to Hex. "I will be here when you get back out, alright?" She leans in oh so carefully, aiming to brush a light kiss against his forehead, then turn her head to whisper a few hushed words into his ear.
Orderly is blind to the way Kasia is about to dismember her, and wheels Hex into the same sterile area Amber was in, where diligent medical droids and personnel sedate him and go through the same process she went through. The tanks are even near each other, so they can hang out there together, each in their own little worlds, like specimens in jars. Strange and vulnerable, patchwork creatures held together by science and grit (and a deep and abiding love for Gerratt), they soak, and hopefully heal.
As for Kasia's question, the orderly begins cleaning up the visiting room, and shrugs. "I don't know. Ask a real doctor," she suggests. "It's gonna be a long time before either of those two is feeling real perky again though, I can tell you that much. We had him half way in a body bag before we realized he /wasn't/ dead. The Major, there'd be no getting her into a bag no matter what. somebody woulda got speared through the heart by her boy."
Like mother, like son.
This tough old bird is still evading the body bag, for now. The bacta cycle has nearly run its course, stimulating the skin to fill in the gaps beneath blisters and sutures alike. It's not an 'all better' moment, but it's a start.
The soft words are exchanged and Kasia manages a small smile for him before Hex is wheeled away, her gaze following him through this procedure to get him ready, and then into the tank. She is only half listening to the orderly though much of it, but at the mention of the body bag. That's it. That's just it. The very idea of Hex even being part way into a bodybag is enough to make her break, and though she tries to contain it, she begins to cry. Not pretty, delicate crying, but ugly, scrunched and red faced crying that makes her turn and hurry from the medbay before too many people can witness it.
Orderly is gonna get fired, but for the sake of satisfying Kasia's curiosity, responds to those tears with a philosophical shrug. "If you don't want a dead boyfriend, civvie," how rude! Kas is an operative! "Maybe don't date the infantry." Then she goes back to cleaning, an orderly's work is never done!
It's a good thing that Kasia is gone, because this might be the first time in her life that she started a brawl. In the Medical Lab. Not that it wouldn't be the ideal place to be if you end up hurt, but not the best place to /start/ fights.
Hex doesn't have a neighbor for long. Several minutes after the Twi'lek gets dunked, the same crane that dipped the Major reanimates and draws her up and out. The attending droids maneuver her limbs into proper position atop the slab - aka 'bed' - before reconnecting her original life lines to the mobile monitors and buzzing their way back to her 'non' sterile machines on the main showroom floor. Aside from being coated in a translucent oil slick, she seems to have acquired a healthier color.
Hex hangs out in his bacta tank too cool for Amber, whatever Amber, and tries really hard to heal so that they don't amputate his OTHER leg. Which I still might. I still might. Better watch out Hexy.
Ambrosia is once again linked to her mechanical saviors. Still unconscious.
Kasia is now off in some dark corner crying and plotting the death of a very mean orderly. SO MEAN.
LATER THAT EVENING
Round one of bacta treatment is at an end for Greystorm Sr, following a complicated surgery to knit her aorta and other odd bits back together again. Her stability is still being maintained under a drug-induced coma, given her colorful history of refuting doctors' orders...also the brief stint as a corpse.
Lying in state (of healing), Ambrosia resembles much less the heartless old bird. The meticulously combed hair, draped peacefully over her shoulders (so soft!), the 'peaceful' closure of her eyelids under the influence of adhesive, and the rhythmically fogging tube shoved into her trachea. She looks human. Daresay, more like the mother she was. At least one can hope she resembles /that/ person, as two, young blonde adults are presently hovering over her bedside, around the machinery. The daughter can't be more than twenty and son (also bearing striking resemblance to his mother) around the same age, maybe less. Aora stands, as silent and stoic as her mother habitually is. Was. Wedge, on the other hand, is kneeling and is resting his chin on her forearm, struggling to maintain composure.
Leia had been...concerned. They'd recovered a person, but they'd nearly lost others for it. Intelligence gathered was spotty at best and the clearest piece of all, the presence of Kylo Ren, brought her no sense of comfort in its knowing. Only more turmoil to brew beneath the surface of the ever-composed former Princess turned senator and now general of the resistance. She'd had briefings with Poe, meetings with others and there were some tactics in the wake of the last operation that needed serious review and adaptation...but for now? Leia steps into the medical bay. There's soliders injured to check in on and one of them is an old friend.
Stepping through the door she wordlessly approaches Ambrosia's bedside, a face conveying sympathy and warmth to the young pair holding their vigil.
The eldest son is nowhere to be around, the door opens behind Leia and in steps a man with chocolate brown hair greying at the temples, a handle bar mustache. He was wearing a green tunic and brown pants. He steps around Leia, "Your highness." His accent was Alderaanian but muddied and mixed from too many years on Corellia. He moves to take his wife's hand squeezing it gently.
Up...down. Up...down. Ambrosia's chest heaves beneath the sheets to the rhythmic puff-hiss of the mechanical assist. Another monitor displays neural activity. Seems low, but steady. At least she's no longer blue or clammy. Just sleeping, against her will.
Wedge sniffs noisily but briefly and snubs away a tear with the back of his wrist while standing. It lands upon the Major's hand. "General," the young Academy-bound marine bobs his head stiffly and steps back to join his sister, laying a hand on her shoulder. Aora just stares at Leia. So many stories...legends. She isn't sure what to make of the real life version standing before them now. So she turns her look to her dad, instead.
Beneath the weight of that tear, a nerve ending stirs. Then three. Then a tiny twitch of the skin.
A medic enters almost on the heels of the retired Major Greystorm, the dark hair tied back without the usual braids. The zabrak pauses when she sees the rest of the family gathered around. Quietly, she moves around them to check Ambrosia's vitals. "General," she greets quietly with a nod of her head, then her eyes look up her boyfriend's father. "Kort," she greets just as quietly, but with a little more warmth and sympathy. Wedge and Aora are given a nod before she centers her concentration on the patient for a few minutes.
Leia doesn't ask how Ambrosia is holding up, there's a medical readout quite clearly in front of her. While she's not medic herself, there's enough for her to know that the woman isn't exactly giving up yet. Questions aren't what the family needs anyway. Leia returns the nod with a bow of her own her before her eyes slip to Jax and the medic as he enters the medical bay behind her, another nod of her head given to the pilot. "Ambrosia is one of the strongest people I've ever met in the galaxy. A ferocious fighter, a determined leader and a good friend of mine. Even if she did not have medics as skilled and dedicated caring for her as she does now, I have no doubt that she will pull through."
The little twitches of movement from Amber so far go either unnoticed or uncommented on by Leia, at least for the moment.
"Hey, Sesti..." Aora offers the doc. Wedge likewise meets her look with a shy glance of his own before the creep factor of all the equipment gets under his skin and he takes another step back. Leia's words about their mother are threatening to crumble away his brave face and that just simply wouldn't do. Doesn't take much to imagine Ambrosia's hand cuffing his ear in quiet admonishment. Doesn't take much more to remember her softer years either, the rare moments when she'd let them pile on until they fell asleep. One big happy pile...
"I need a drink, you need one? Anything, anyone?" Clearing his throat, Wedge cocks a golden brow in offering. Maybe pleading.
Aora nods and nudges his hand with her own. "Yeah. Let's go to the mess."
A soft beep from the neural monitor indicates a little spike in activity. Under the thin veil of skin, her eyeballs roll in their sockets. That hand begins to shiver.
Kort looks up at Leia for a moment. He knew her and spoken to her in his Republic Days more than once. He reaches down patting his wife's hand. "She's done it before. I'm quite sure she'll do it again. I heard there was a young Twi'lek soldier nearly killed too. Any word on him?" His eyes falling to his wife. Hoping she'll find comfort in hearing that he young man is alive. He looks to Sesti, "Hey. I heard the best was working on it. If you need anything tell me. Jax asleep finally?"
"He will probably not thank me for it," Sesti tells Kort with a little grimace in answer to the question of Jax. She pauses, her hand hovering over her pad, her eyes on the recumbent Major as she speaks. "Hex is doing as well as can be expected. I have started working on cybernetic replacements for his missing limbs." She lets out a breath and leans a little closer to Amber. "It appears her brain is functioning normally... hopefully she is dreaming something more pleasant than what we just went through."
Kort nods and watches the kids go. Then he moves over to hug Sesti. "I'm glad to hear it. She'll wake up. This isn't the first time I've been here and done this. I'm still trying to decide if I should bring her flowers or not. She wasn't happy to get them the first time around." He says give his daughter in law a hug. He looks back at Amber sleeping. "She's probably kicking my ass at cards." He says reaching down to squeeze her hand. "Ambrosia, anytime you'd like to wake up. We'd be more than happy to be graced by your presence."
Waking up isn't something Ambrosia is going to be doing quite yet, much less kicking ass at cards. The drugs continue to course through her veins, keeping her quiet. At least on the outside. If the patient remains as stable tomorrow, she'll be allowed to regain some awareness - enough to breathe on her own. Alk would probably prefer the Major be kept under heavy sedation and/or restraints until well enough to get the hell out of his med bay...but one must be frugal with resources!
On the inside though, things aren't sunshine and roses. The voices are back, hovering around. Voices of the dead, masquerading as her own loved ones. Accusing voices. Scary voices. Because she isn't a 56 year old veteran anymore. She's 17, doing her best to remain unseen in a room full of arguing, Imperial bigwigs. And she's just spilled the tea.
The brain monitor beeps again and her upper body tenses suddenly. Stiff as a board. Her lower half, on the other hand, doesn't react at all to whatever her subconscious is imagining.
A man close to Amber's age but still younger, better looking, smarter, and just around better than Dash in every way was leaned over Amber. He squeezes Ambrosia's hand. His head dropping down to whisper, "Ambrosia. What ever they're saying don't listen. You're a good soldier, a good mother, and best damn wife in the galaxy." Would he say this when she's awake no. But he figure it what she needs to hear.
The spasm ends, and Ambrosia's shoulders go limp once more. Her head lists to the left on the pillow and the glob of drool caught behind the tube rolls free. Some response! Yeah, right. The monitors beep steadily on, finding their rhythm again.
Ambrosia stares at her muted reflection in the boot that's planted an inch from her face. Her spine shivers anew, foot twitches, nerves still recoiling from the jolt of electricity. She imagines taking a shard of the broken pottery and stabbing it through his hamstring. But it's just a thought. And she's just nothing.
But decades pass. Defiance is something she's made a career of. Hence the voices. All souls she'd sent to hell. All souls she's due to visit. Just not yet. But the drool - that's happening.
Kort reaches down picking up the handkerchief they had been using to clean up the drool. He reaches down to wipe his wife face clean gently. Then whisper. "You're fine Ambrosia. You're safe. The kids are safe." Then he squeezes her hand and goes to the chair one of the kids was at. He falls into it and picking up a datapad. He starts to reading it. He sighs, "Wedge, what are you reading?"
