PHD #395: Falling Ill
Falling Ill
Summary: Khloe gets sick. Help comes in many forms. Not all of it welcome.
Date: 28 March 2042
Related Logs: Other plague lawgs.
Khloe Vandenberg Ryder Circe 
Marine Officer Berths
Almost an afterthought, this is the smallest berthing on the ship. A few short rows of bunks are set one over-top of the other. The lockers here are a bit larger than most elsewhere on the ship so as to accommodate the bulky combat gear associated with the security details of the officers that live here. A single table sits in the center of the room with chairs arranged around it loosely; more available than there are bunks in the room.
Post-Holocaust Day: #395

Having just been released from sickbay the day before, the left side of Vandenberg's face and the back of her head is still heavily bandaged. Taking a hit like she did just laid her out into a sleeping or drugged-out mess in recovery. The Doctors said the pain would have been extraordinary. Being on Light Duty for now, though, has her sitting on the edge of her second-story bunk with her legs dangling off in her off-duty duds. She's working on something in a notebook that doesn't look personal. Even blown up, Natalie still finds time to work - probably when she shouldn't be.

Traffic in and out of the berths is fairly common at most hours of the day, although rarely do the Airy Fairies down here for any reason. A marine by the hatch does a double-take and actually creeps backwards as Khloe shuffles in. At a glance, you might think she had radiation poisoning: pale skin, sweating through her clothes - she's wearing what appears to be sweats over her fatigue greens - and incessantly scratching at the inside of her left arm. Her eyes are heavy-lidded and bloodshot, and she looks like she just crawled out of Hell's ass. Rather methodically, she begins inspecting bunks, mumbling to herself. "No, no, not this one, no," and she's becoming increasingly frustrated as she goes. There are a number of marines who just have no clue how to handle this, exchanging worried glances. After all, this is no regular Airy Fairy. Poppy's bad attitude is legendary, even in the Corps.

Its a double-take from Vandenberg before she notices the Captain wandering in. She blinks a few times at the appearance of the other woman and sets the notebook aside. Natalie watches for a few seconds until the Viper Captain comes near. Its then that the Marine Officer swings down the ladder and down to the ground in front of Khloe. "Hey Captain?" she offers, unsure. "You need help with somethin?" She keeps her voice quiet, not looking to upset or embarrass anyone. Eyes drift over the pilot's complexion and her face looks a little more serious.

"Nope, no, not this one, frak," the obviously sick Captain mumbles, checking row after row, occasionally flipping over pillows or tugging free blankets and sheets. At Vandenberg's confrontation, she pauses, almost dramatically, and turns to look at the other woman; so slouched and hunched over in her posture, she's almost looking Natalie in the eyes. "…warm?" She asks cryptically, and then tugs up her sweats on her left arm to scratch some more - this illicits a few groans or gasps from those looking-on as she's got a nasty rash all along the crook of her arm where her track scars are. Mumbling, "Where'sur'bunk? Need't'sleep."

"Warm?" Natalie repeats easily. She's in Volunteer Nurse mode instantly at getting a closer look at the woman. Then she looks at the arm and her eyes flash. There's something muttered under her breath that might have been a quick shout-out to the Gods. She reaches up to her bunk and rips off the wool blanket and moves to drape it around the Viper Captain. "Hey, Khloe?" she whispers to the other woman, trying to be as calm and cool as she can. Friendly, even. She's obviously concerned, though. "You don't look so hot. Can I walk you down to sickbay, please? Looks like you got a spot of the flu, aye? Maybe make you some soup while you're down there? Warm up that chilly spot, yeah?" That accent slides out as if she never left Canceron.

"Nuh'uh," Khloe protests mumbly. "Theywillgroundmeandihavetaflycapandstuff." She stops itching, and instead rests her arm almost drunkenly on Natalie's shoulder. "Bodyheat'lldo. Just like old times. C'mon, wherezurbunk?" Wobbly-sick Khloe is wobbly-sick, never mind delirious, but she manages to hold her balance from the arm on the wee marine.

Vandenberg tries to give the woman a smile but her whole body freezes as that arm rests on her shoulder. Oh - shit! After a moment's hesitation she resigns herself to it and recovers, lifting the arm off her shoulder gently as she leans in to put her hands on the woman's arms to rub, trying to warm her up. "Khloe, darlin? You're in the Marine Berths. They're not going to let you in a Viper if you sleep here." She tries to be easy with it, slowly trying to lead her towards the hatch. "I'll let the Major know and she can fill your place on the roster." One hand lifts to feel her forehead with the back of her palm.

Clammy, and burning up, are two adjectives to describe Khloe's skin. She's in a vicious flu cycle of icy-cold sweating-hot, and right now, she's shivering despite her high fever. "I know, can't… y'know, cuddlewit'anyone dere…" Some of her carefully groomed-out Canceron accent bleeds through, betraying her common and destitute upbringing. "Yerwarm," she mumbles with a faint smile, cupping the side of Vandenberg's face with her other hand, open palm. "Jus'need't'sleepitoff. I…" And that's when the Captain's pallor suddenly shifts towards the green. "Uhoh."

"Hon, we can cuddle in sickbay. I'll stay with ya and keep ya warm down there. You're burnin up though, love. We can't let you stay here. You're sick. We need to tuck you into bed, aye?" The touch to her face and Van stops breathing again. FRAK. Bad. Very bad. "C'mon. We're going now. I'll stay with you the whole time. I promise. I won't leave your side, doll. Canceran sisters, yeah?" She's about to turn and start leading the woman out a little more forcibly when Khloe's complexion drops more. Vandenberg signals for a "Trashcan! Stat!" as she slides an arm around the blanketed woman's body to try and hold her up and keep her from collapsing.

Nobody moves. Most are too horrified or too amused to act quickly enough. Fortunately for Khloe she launches herself at the nearest receptacle, which happens to be… someone's bunk. Major Willows-Cavanaugh's, in fact. And there is a horrible retching sound as Khloe loses whatever she had in her. In the Major's bunk. Square center, too.

Vandenberg watches, trying to steady the woman as she loses her stomach contents into the bunk. One arm holds her to support as much as possible while her other hand tries to gather up the woman's hair and keep it out of the path of unsightly discharge. She looks towards one of the Sergeants standing around and punches out her command voice. "I want medical alerted that they have another flu victim, plus one potentially exposed, and then I want this room sealed until further notice." Turning her attention back to the pilot, Vandenberg keeps the same tone. "Captain. I am taking you to sickbay. I will stay with you, alright? But you are going. Right now. This is not a question."

Once she finishes retching, she straightens back up, almost in a snap-to-attention posture. There's a little bit of wobble, but she's standing straight up. The green is gone, replaced by the former pale, clammy gray. "I feel much better now," she manages to enunciate without slurring her words. Then, blink blink, she more or less collapses onto Vandenberg, either half-fainting or succumbing to dizziness. There's a half-hearted flail as she does so, sending a chair skittering.

Vandenberg stares right up at Khloe as the woman teeters at attention, her hands moving to her shoulders. "Good, Captain. We're going to wa-" Apparently not. When Khloe collapses, Van does her best to catch her and sticks her hands out under her armpits to catch and slowly lays her to the ground. "Good frakkin Gods," she breathes, turning Khloe onto her side with her arm out in front of her. "Captain! Don't move!" She wheels pointing a finger at the Sergeant. "NOW, ASSHOLE! NOT YESTERDAY!"

[Intercom] Vandenberg says, "Medical Emergency, Marine Officer Berths! Away Medical Team!"

Goofy grin vanishing from his face, and stuttering into action, said sergeant almost craps himself at Vandenberg's barked orders. People are less likely to stand around snickering or sneering at the sick woman now that Dog Platoon Commander has put her thing down, so to speak. Khloe allows herself to be laid down, although she looks like after her purge and fainting, she's not likely able to protest.

The marine berths is a sudden flurry of activity. Captain Khloe Vakos is lying on her side, wearing sweats and looking like she's soaked through them with sweat. Her skin is an awful light pallor with stray strands of hair plastered to the side of her face. The berths smells faintly of vomit; a quick inspection yields that a bunk nearby to the prone Captain was closer than the trash can. And, naturally, Lieutenant Vandenberg is barking orders, taking charge of the situation.

Vandenberg is kneeling beside the Viper Captain, having rolled her into the 'rescue position' on her side. She tugs at the blanket loosely tossed to the ground and moves to wrap it around Khloe, trying to keep the woman warm. Two fingers move to her neck to check her pulse, the woman clearly intent and horribly worried about what's just happened. The bunk right beside them has a fairly wonderful puddle of puke soaking through the sheets and bedding.

Ryder walks quickly into the room, medbag in hand as he looks around. "Ok, Medical's here, could someone give me a… oh." Spotting Vandenberg beside Captain Vakos, he walks over quickly. "Lieutenant, report, please."

Not far behind Ryder, Circe has drawn herself out of her off duty routine to answer the call. Bag in hand, she has only her medpack that is usually on her. She looks about and then steps over towards the two officers and Ryder as well. She stays quiet, but she is quickly drawing out anything they would need as she goes to a knee.

Vandenberg looks up to Ryder quickly. "Elevated temperature. Rapid pulse. Presenting flu-like symptoms like I've heard about a few havin." Moonlight in Sickbay or spending time there recently is a good way to hear. "She walked in looking for her bunk, touching a lot of the berths, complaining of being cold. I tried to get her to Sickbay and she vomited in the Major's bunk and then passed out." She pauses, looking pale herself but probably more with her own concern for herself. "I may have been exposed three minutes ago."

Seemingly catching her breath and only semi-conscious, Khloe remains where she is for the time being. She only weakly swats at Vandenberg's taking of her pulse, and really doesn't have much in the way of energy to crawl away at the moment. She does manage to mumble, "Not… sick…" Although not very convincingly.

Ryder nods as he takes in the report, and glances at Circe. There have been a lot of these cases, indeed. He turns to Circe. "Crewman, we're gonna go full biohazard on this one. We'll get Captain Vakos to Sickbay immediately." He moves forward to start checking Vakos vitals himself, then glances up at Vandenberg. "Other than incidental contact tending to her, what was the nature of your exposure, eltee?" Vakos' words are ignored, perhaps giving some indication of Ryder's opinion of her self diagnosis.

"Understood." Circe intones to Ryder before she stands to allow him room and get the area cleared and those contained. "alright, I need any all who were near the Captain to stay here. The rest of you go clear out. I suggest you hit the head and begin scrubbing." The Crewman looks back to take in the scene as she starts to organize those here before moving to aid Ryder as need be. She looks to the eltee a moment, then to the bed. "We will need to get a crew down here to clean this up before anyone else gets near…"

"Khloe, love? You ain't convincin' anyone. Just relax and take some deep breathes, okay?" she says gently after her hand is swatted away. Vandenberg then lifts her eyes back to Ryder. "She has a bad rash on her arm that she rested on my shoulder." Van is wearing tanktops - bare shoulders. "The hand she was using to scratch with touched the right side of my face. I also held her hair while she was runnin through her chunderin'." Puking. "Not sure if I got any on me there." She looks back to Circe and then towards Ryder. "I want to stay with her if I can. Please, Captain. If I get sick you'll know how long it takes. Treat me now or try things? I told her I'd stay with her." A woman of her word.

The cold metal of the deck is obviously not doing wonders for Khloe, who was complaining about being cold before. Now her teeth are starting to chatter and she's slowly curling up into the fetal position. "Godsihurtsomuch," she mumble-slurs, eyes clenching shut. It's clear that she's delirious and well into the advanced stages of the sickness - probably tried to power through it and not tell anyone.

Ryder looks up at Vandenberg, considering. "It'll take us a little while to get a stretcher here to get her to sickbay. I want you to go and take the hottest, most abrasive shower you can stand, right now. Your burns make you highly vulnerable to infection and I'm not taking that risk for the benefit of a science experiment. After that, you can stay with her." He nods to Circe. Make the call. Blankets, sheets, mattress, everything gets sent to biohazard cleanup, and I want a full team down here for that." He feels Khloe's fever and winces, opening his bag. "Gonna give you something for the fever, Captain." He glances at the bed, and shakes his head. "You're not gonna like this."

"Yes, of course." SHe is already moving for the com, calling over the system to alert biohazard status and clean up crew to the Marine Officer Berths. That being said, she turns off the comsys and moves back to pull on gloves that she drags out of her pocket. Sliding them on, she moves to her pack. Masks are drawn out and she separates two, offering one to Ryder before putting her own on, hooking the strings behind her ears. "Lieutenant, we can take care of the Captain from here. Promise. You know where sickbay is." She nods to the marine in understanding.

With the chattering teeth, Natalie does her best to tuck the blanket under the Captain. "I'm sorry, love," she whispers. "I'm here. With Doc Ryder and a Corpsman. We're gonna fix you right up. Take good care of you. I promise." She rests a hand on Khloe's hair, running over it with her palm as if trying to soothe her from the pain. Her eyes then lift to Ryder and she listens, only giving him a nod at the end. "Thank you, sir." Then back to Khloe in a whisper: "Leave no man behind. I'll be with ya as soon as I can, hon. Gonna follow Doc's orders." She gives one last run through the woman's hair before rises from her kneel and pointing towards the hatch and looking to the other Marines around. "Showers! Now! Non-frakking-negotiable! Everyone out of here and take nothing with you except your ass! MOVE IT!!!" Angry S-Three is ..apparently Angry. They don't waste time heeding the words and begin double-timing it out. She looks back to Circe and narrows her eyes. "This isn't about taking care of someone. Its about being there when I said I would, damnit." With that she marches off for the door, shoving stragglers.

Recovery Ward
A much quieter area of Sickbay, this long rectangular room is lined with more than two hundred narrow beds. Each is outfitted with privacy curtains and a seasonal affective disorder lamp to provide patients with maximum comfort, and the bulkheads have been painted a pale canary yellow in an attempt to lift spirits further. Plastic folding chairs are readily available so guests can pull one up to talk to the patients during their convalescence. Near the entrance, visiting hours have been posted next to a very conspicuous 'No Smoking' sign.
Post-Holocaust Day: #395

Ryder is doing what he does, checking various readings, and drawing blood for testing, while others do the work of getting the captain all gowned up and scrubbed down in the quarantine area. He shakes his head as he does so. Whatever this bug is, it is nasty as hell, and he's trauma, not internal. At least, not before the apocalypse made it impossible to specialize.

Being one of those getting Khloe cleaned up, pulling the gown about her and fastening it closed. "Okay Captain." Circe says and takes her arm to help her should she need it. "Do you need some water?" She offers. Nothing like puking and having the flavor stay close and present. From behind her mask, hazel eyes study the pilot with an accessing manner.

Completely limp and complacent now, Captain Vakos had a surge of fight and adrenaline when the good doctor gave her a quick "treatment" - and that seems to have sapped the remaining energy out of her. At all opportunities, she avoids eye contact at all times, either keeping her eyes shut or looking away when someone is trying to address her. Seems with fatigue comes a good amount of shame as well.

After her shower and scrubbing, Van returned for the stretcher down to Sickbay with Khloe. Her skin is still red from the heat of the shower, the remainder of hair left a little wet and tossed behind her head. She's in unpinned duty greens she probably had to grab on the fly, a facemask taken and gloves taken up. She's been dictating a note to a nurse before stepping over to Ryder. "That's going to notify Major Hahn. Can I..?" She glances towards Khloe, wanting to go over. She volunteers. Van's no professional.

Ryder looks at Van, and nods. "Yes, but be sure your mask and gloves stay in place. She isn't going to want to see me for awhile, but at least her fever is going down." He pulls out his stethoscope. "Time to check the heartrate. Crewman, check her pulse? Anything erratic, let me know."

A nod is given to Ryder and turning Khloe's arm over, she presses to thumbs to her wrist and looks to the watch settled to her wrist. She counts, keeping the heartrate counted. Her gaze remains on her task, though the arrival of Vandenberg is not lost on her. Her gaze slides over Khloe and the way she remains unresponsive to her question of the need for water.

"Aye, sir. Mask and gloves in place. Am I to be staying in Medical for monitoring?" Not that she will probably leave much, anyway. Vandenberg asks it over her shoulder as she moves back over to Khloe. Her words are soft, the right side of her face the only part that can really smile for now. "'Ey, love. Hear that? Fever is already goin' down. Gonna have you back fitter'n a fiddle in no time. Get our normal Vakos back. Balls n bluster, yeah?" One hand moves to take Khloe's free hand while the other lifts to rest on her head.

"For now, you're still on regular duty," Ryder answers as he moves to Khloe's bedside. "Pay close attention, though. If a rash starts to form I want you in here double time, and then we'll start formal observation. And hot showers before and after you come in here, everytime, no exceptions. I don't care if there are toasters marching down the hallways." Putting the stethescope in his ears, he bends over the bed. "Breathe deep for me, Captain. I'm gonna give your lungs a listen."

"Just leave me alone," Khloe breathes, trying to worm her hand out of Natalie's, likely to no effect. "I just want to… to die. Never been… so… frakking… embarrassed…" Her face is a mixture of fatigue, her usual hard mask, and damp cheeks from the occasinal tear. "And if Ryder so much as… touches me… again… I will… hand in… my wings just so… I can… rip him in half…" At least she's not delirious any longer.

"Copy all, Captain." That's to Ryder. "If I so much as feel a chill I'll be in here. I'll try to look for them in the showers." The rashes. Vandenberg then looks down to Khloe and shakes her head, still holding her hand. "Don't worry, hon. No reason anyone outside of that room needs to ever know. I wouldn't spread that around about my worst enemy. Ain't nothin funny 'bout it. If it makes you feel any better, though, I still hate you?" A little attempt at humor but it passes quickly. "Tch. Enough. You'll do no such thing. Just relax, okay? Please?"

Ryder nods, then hands the stethoscope to a nurse to check the breathing. He then sits down at the bedside. Watching readouts, examining charts as they come in. "I'm sorry it came to that, Captain Vakos, but we needed to get your fever down in a hurry, or you wouldn't have been any good to anyone. Fevers like that can kill, or cause brain damage."

Khloe flails ineffectually, with her intent to lash out at Ryder,of course. "Don't you frakking… t… touch…" Her eyes roll back in her head and she fades out again - not quite unconscious, but definitely overexerting herself.

Giving the pulse a double check, Circe shakes her head, "All seems alright, just a bit faster than normal." She tells Ryder before moving off to go get that water despite the answer that never came.

"If she doesn't take the water, get her on an IV." Ryder watches Khloe patiently. "Captain, I'm not touching you. If you prefer, I can transfer you to another doctor's care and you'll only see me on emergencies when I'm on call. But when that IS me, I am going to be the one to care for you. Now I need you to think… did any of your pilots have similar symptoms? If we get them treated early, maybe we can avoid them going through what you went through."

Khloe takes a moment to gather her strength again, catching her shallow breath. "Not… that I can recall," she states weakly. "I was… holed up… in my bunk… started feeling like… like… itchy, then achy, like I was… underwater… tried to… fight through it." She is not averse to water, and when Circe returns with it, she'll try to sit up weakly to take some sips.

Bringing the water back, she has inserted a straw for the Captain and as she tries to sit up, a guiding hand moves to help her to do so. "Easy there, just take slow sips." She offers. "Don't need to upset that stomach again, should you feel the need. I will get you a bedpan." She states. With no refusal, it means she won't need an iv. But that remains to be seen entirely.

"Between pilots and marines, we probably have a whole ton of people trying to 'fight through it'. We may need to order compulsory exams, and boy, can't I just wait for how popular medical will be after that one." Joe leans back. "Thinking clearer, now? Your fever has dropped, and if you hold the water down, the meds can be taken by mouth from now on."

Vandenberg seems to be listening closely to how Khloe describes what she went through with initial symptoms. "Sir," she addresses, looking to Ryder. "You want me to have everyone in those berths come down for exams in the next two days?"

"Mmh," Khloe utters after taking a few sips of water. "Compulsory… exams… are just going to… decrease efficiency," she manages to mutter as she settles back. "Much simpler to… wait for pilots… to keel… over…" It's not evident if she's actually making a joke or if she's serious. She eyes Ryder disapprovingly. "No more medicine… from you… sir."

"I will put this within arms reach…I am going to get you a bedpan, sir." Circe says to Khloe before taking a step back and turning. Once more disappearing to gather what is needed.

"As I said, I'll transfer your care." Ryder doesn't seem to care one way or another. "I wish to the Gods you'd just come and asked for help before it became necessary to do what I did. I'm sorry you had to go through that, but on my solemn vow, if I have to do it again, I will. So lets get those pilots of yours treated before it becomes necessary." He looks to Vandenberg. "I'll speak to Major Hahn about it. When you have some downtime, go and talk to your Marines. This sort of thing is embarrassing as it is, best to keep it in the family, I think."

Vandenberg gives a short smile at the line about efficiency. "You're just looking for a reason to yell at people for keeling over, aren't you?" She then looks to Ryder and shakes her head. "Nobody knows what happened outside of the Captain becoming ill. It dies there. If anyone wants to fight about her getting ill, they can step up. I'll brief them on what they need to know and what to look for."

"I'm right here, you know," Khloe grumbles, eyeing the both of them dubiously. "But, you're right, I'd appreciate treatment… kept to yourself. It's bad enough… I… was delirious in the… marine berths."

Ryder smiles. "Patient confidentiality, Captain. I follow my regulations, have no worries." He stands. "Rest, Captain. The same exact second I can have you back on the line and away from where you'll ever have to see me, I promise that I will."

Natalie nods to Khloe. "Damned right, Captain. But I wouldn't worry about being in there. I'm pretty sure they gave you a good scrubbing down. I don't think the stink transferred anyplace." She winks. There's a glance to Ryder as he stands but she says nothing to him for the moment.

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