PHD #000: Going Under
Going Under
Summary: Chaos in the Sickbay.
Date: 02.26.2041 AE
Related Logs: Warday &c.
Quinn Evandreus Hawke Stavrian Alessandra Kulko Margaret Tisiphone Laskaris 

Quinn helps the medical team wheel Evandreus straight into sickbay, but she's not actually a medic or a 'driver' of the stretcher, so if he permits, she keeps her hand down around his. Her fingertips hold tight gaainst his own, trying to keep his hand warm just incase all of his skin has gone cold with shock. "It's over now, Evan…just take a breath. Go to sleep if you like… we ain't goin' anywhere…" Her Caprican accent isn't being kept up nearly so well as usual, something lazy and lilting coming into all her words.

Evandreus is more scared than hurt. Stiffy, on the other hand, is decidedly more hurt than scared. Sadly, it's hard to tell the difference between the two, just looking at them, there, all flightsuited up on their stretchermajigs. He lifts his hands again, trying to work the seals on his helmet to get it the rest of the way off.

Alessandra has already been wheeled to a triage area where her wounds and mental status has been assessed, putting her in the red category as far as level of trauma. Her flightsuit lays in rags by the floor, that having been cut off, leaving her in her underwear and tanktops, and her helmet and the metal collar's been put aside.

Tisiphone is one half of Lasher's stretcher team, trailing in near the end of the caravan. No mishaps along the way, though the Ensign's attention keeps flickering from her path to her charge and back again. Wrong, somehow, for the Ensign to be helping the Squad Leader along.

Hawke walks into the room, taking charge of it. "Nurses, I want these two…" he points to Alessandra and Evan, "Prepped for surgery immediately. Him first. Massive internal bleeding possible. Have blood ready as soon as we open and get him on morpha immediately. I will be back as soon as we've scrubbed." His eyes turn to Quinn. "Everyone else to the waiting area, please." He doesn't wait, he just moves.

Quinn reaches down, her gentle fingertips grasping at the clips of his helmet. She shoos his hands away gently, letting her do it, and pops his helmet open a heartbeat later. "Head up, Bunny… Let me get this off." Once his head is lifted enough she can slip the thing off, she rests the helmet to the side… frowning deeply. She -doesn't- want to leave him…"…Evan… it'll be okay, you hear? Just… just hang in there. It'll be okay." She leans over to briefly, warmly, kiss his forehead.

Kulko strides purposefully through the hatch, avoiding being too badly in anyone's way, and trying to discern rank and purpose as best he can. His first visit to sickbay could have been under better circumstances, for sure. Taking a cue from Hawke's demeanor, he approaches the man. "You in charge here, sir?"

Evandreus takes a deeper breath than before as he's freed from his helmet, letting free a smell of sweat and minty cologne. As the doctor points to him and tells his minions to start cutting, though, he pushes up onto an elbow, ready to protest, if he could find any words to do so.

Spattered with blood and still wearing his nice shirt and formal-gray dress pants, Stavrian's one of the people crushing their way into Sickbay, ID still clipped haphazardly on his belt. His jacket's been lost somewhere, and the shirt's got a nasty tear across the shoulder. Braced for the noise and crowd, he calls over to the swamped duty nurse and receives a pair of scrubs thrown in his face.

As one of the non-critical cases(he's only got a few cuts and bumps on the head), Lasher's stretcher is left out in the waiting area. Despite his overall good condition compared to some of the otehr unfortunates in here, though, he looks clearly drained. He sees Tisiphone for the first time as his stretcher is placed down. "Hey… Money Shot," he manages in a raspy whisper as he's unstrapped and allowed to try and pull himself up to a sitting position.

Quinn is then being pushed away by medics. She swears deeply, shaking he rhead. SHe doesn't want to go. Either way, she has to. Giving Evan's hair one last bit of a muss, the Captain steps back towards the waiting area, a shakey breath crossing her lips. "…Frak us…" she breathes out, more muttered than anything, before she heads out. She'll be back soon, but they won't let her in and she has people to check on…

Someone finally comes to, screaming in pain when she does. "Gods…." Lucky cries out before a sob racks her already injured body, causing a ripple to cascade up and down her limbs. It looks almost seizure-like for how her legs and arms twitch, causing the medical team some concern until they see she's fine.

Hawke's eyes are drawn to the Ensign calling for his attention, and he makes a cutting move with his hand. "It can wait, Ensign, until after two life saving surgeries are completed." And with that he disappears behind the screen to scrub up. When he emerges, it's straight to the surgery.

Kulko opens his mouth to reply, and then the doctor is gone. He looks to the hatch, as if considering departure, then back to the screen. Then to the hatch. The ensign is momentarily paralyzed with indecision, and so stands in the middle of Sickbay in his dress grays, getting nothing much accomplished.

The shirt's useless, and off it goes, straight into a trash bin. Stavrian yanks on the scrubs top over his head, leaving black hair sticking up all over, and doesn't bother with the bottoms right now. Grabbing a bottle of disinfectant off the nurse's desk, he slathers his hands in a glob of it. He's already being shoved towards the next person in the triage list, barely able to get his bearings and turn mind back where it needs to be.

Tisiphone's pale eyes fly upward when Hawke connects 'massive internal bleeding', 'cut', and a gesture at Evandreus and Alessandra. A mute, sickened look is shot toward the Raptor pilot and her winglead. She's several stretchers back, though; all she can do is sink bonelessly into the chair she's crammed against, and pull her eyes away. Laskaris. He's whole. Relatively. "S-sir," she murmurs. "I think we all made it."

"She's next…" Hawke calls to Stavrian, pointing to Alessandra as he prepares to work on Evan. "She needs minor surgery but right now I need for her NOT to wrench anything. Morpha for the pain and if that doesn't work, sedate her. Put her under, but only if absolutely necessary. We don't know how bad the head trauma is yet." And like that, he applies the anesthetic to Evan. "Easy there, son. You did good. Just breathe deep and let us take care of you, now…"

Evandreus gets it together enough to lift an arm and ward off the orderlies coming to sedate him, calling out as he sees Jesse there, "Jess! It's not, it's not me," he begins, tripping over words, "It's my backseater," he looks to the woman beside him, "It's, he… she's the one who can't wake up, I'm the one who's okay," he tries to explain the mix-up in doctor's orders. Then Hawke's at him with the thing, and he full-out panics, jumping off of the stretcher.

Mostly whole, anyway. The wounded Lasher winces as he sits up, but doesn't seem too badly off. "Was… just about to ask," he grunts. "Frakking hell," he sighs a moment later, watching dully as the medical personnel work frantically on his wounded comrades. Then, slate-colored eyes focus on Tisiphone herself. "You all right?"

Kulko decides to stop standing around, and heads back the way he came, stopping near Stavrian long enough to deliver his message, instead of asking. "Sir. CIC requests a casualty count of /Medical personnel/ only. ASAP. We're getting the other numbers from their department heads. I know y'all are busy, but Cap needs to know what he's working with." Having spoken his piece, Kulko moves towards the waiting area.

Quinn looks back as she hears the mix up between Evan and Stiffy, swearing lightly. "Evan, get back to the stretcher. You're hurt too, but yes, Stiffy there is hurt more. If you could get her attention, Doctor." Maggie was told to leave, but she's not going to do it until -all- of her squadron is being properly cared for. She lingers a bit closer to Stiffy's stretcher now, brow tightly drawn.

The medics who are working on Allie look over to Jesse, looking at him for help. They're dealing with a particularly feisty patient who has an IV in her arm only because they managed to get the line in before she woke up. Combative, she is snarling ferally while thrashing about, the needle about to pop out if someone doesn't get her calmed.

"Okay." There's a subtle measure of relief in Stavrian's tone at that. Inappropriate, maybe, considering what the faceless backseater is going through, but there nonetheless. He goes past Evan in quickstep, tapping his hand against the guy's gurney. "Behave, doc'll take care of you. I'll see you soon, alright?" No time to stop, getting up to Alessandra now. "Lucky?" Shit, not so much. "Hey. It's Jesse. Need you to /calm down/." Amazing how controlled his own voice is, but it is. Very, very controlled. He calls over his shoulder at Kulko, "We don't have a count yet, Ensign! We'll send it up ASAP, okay?"

Callista steps into medical followed by a team carrying a stretcher with Margaret on it, she seems to be keeping close to the marine, her tone soothing, "Don't worry, you're gonna be ok." Her dress uniform is covered in blood from jacket to boots, if any of the blood is hers; she doesn't say. For now, she's worried about the others and Margaret is where her attention is. Calling out to the nearest nurse, she gives instructions to the medical staff, "Get this woman on a bed with an IV, I want that wound checked out properly, all I did was stop the bleeding. She's got several bullets in her chest, she may need to be taken to the OR. Let's get moving." She claps her hands and smiles back at Margaret, asking, "You ok? DO you need somehting for the pain?"

Alessandra eventually hears the medic but it takes a while for her to calm, by the time she does so it's too late; a dilute of red starts to back up into the IV tubing, all the fighting and flailing causing the vein it had been inserted into blown. "Gods, Jesse," she hoarsely stumbles about verbally. "Wh…dream…" She's under the impression that she actually crashed during her first landing and that everything else was a hallucination.

"I saw…" Tisiphone closes her eyes for a moment. "Daphne and Temperance. Shiv. Halo. Toast. All the Harriers I know, I heard them on-deck." She hesitates a moment, that sickened expression coming back. Glancing forward, she says, "Lucky and Bunny are. Um. Up ahead. I'm…" She shakes her head at Laskaris, looking almost…guilty? "I'm fine, Sir."

"Right, thanks," Kulko calls back Stavrian's way. He emerges into the waiting area, looks around, and takes two steps towards the door before pausing. In a moment of complete perfection, he melts into a chair, opening his uniform jacket and letting his head loll back. "Frak me…"

Hawke is having absolutely none of it. A hand reaches out and grabs the eltee Jaygee by the arm. "Lay the frak DOWN, Lt., you have massive internal…" Or, he doesn't. Frak. "If you do not calm down right now you will have it." Turning to Stiffy. "I'll get that bleeding stopped. I also want someone checking Alessandra for internal bleeding, but odds are we are primarily dealing with a concussion."

Margaret is very much not letting go of her rifle, her knuckles are white around the grip. Luckily she has hit before she had time to reload so there is no magazine in it. She has on standard issue armor over her dress greys, although it seems she did not do it up properly and a bullet caught her in the side of the chest "Just frakkin lemee go" she rumbles, her accent so thick that it is hard to under. Tears streak her cheeks, although they seem to be old and drying, not because of the gunshot.

Quinn relaxes a bit as the medics seem to, finally, get it worked out who is injured as who. And there are more wounded coming through the door. As much as she wants to stay, and finally some pained emotion is breaking through her icy exterior, Margaret Quinn forces herself to be professional. Not in the way of the doctors. She has to go. She turns on the ball of her foot and heads out…

Evandreus is not a fighter, and gets shoved down easy, especially when his muscletweaked arm gets grabbed. Again. Ow. But he calms down as the threat of being cut open abates, happily letting people take him back -out- of surgery and let the docs take care of Stiffy, instead. He'll be quiet, now. Promise.

Callista nods and motions to the same nurse, "Give her something to ease the pain.." She doesn't mean just the gunshot wound either, "She's been through a lot, don't be stingy." Relieving herself of Margaret for now, she rushes off to get a coat on over her bloodstained uniform.

Noise. So much noise. Stavrian's ears have it all chimed out except for Alessandra at the moment. The tag on her bed is triage-red and that's all that's important for the next few minutes. "Shhh. Just calm down for me. You're going to be okay. Lay your head back. Kostis," he calls over his shoulder to one of the nurses. "Get this IV redone, please. And I need a blood pressure taken." His dark head turns back down to Alessandra and he starts pulling away whatever it is she's wearing, to get to her abdomen. His bare hands settle atop her skin, palms down and gently feeling for tension. "I need you to tell me if this hurts, Alessandra."

"Good," is Lasher's throaty reply to Tisiphone, before he suddenly has to reach up to stifle another racking cough. He breathes heavily, a concerned glance flicking around the room as the other pilot mentions Allie's injuries. "Took it on the chin, didn't we?" he muses darkly as he sees Stavrian working over the wounded lieutenant. "Godsdamnit, I wish I had a smoke," Laskaris mutters a moment later. He doesn't look for one, though, as he doesn't have a pack in his flightsuit, and the doctors would give him holy hell if he tried anyway.

The prodding's met with a lot of resistance, Allie's belly very taut, tender as is proven by how she whimpers. She'd probably do more than whimper but she's utterly drained right now. "Frak. Don't." She looks over as she's given a new IV and then when her blood pressure is taken, that being a bit lower than it should be, her attention drifting a bit as she struggles to focus.

Margaret glares at the nurse as she approaches with an IV full of painkillers "Go frak yerself" the big marine growls, although weakly as more of her blood runs out from under her armor. Her face contorts as a wave of pain floods through her "Just let me frakkin…I can see all their bleedin faces still…"

Evandreus lays a hand in the middle of his chest. If there was any chance of his nodding off before, they're quite gone, now. He's going to keep his eyes open in case anyone else tries to cut at him. Shuffled eventually back to the back of the line as the mix-up gets fixed up, he looks to Lasher, then to Tisiphone, and back to Lasher again, dark green eyes just sort of helplessly full of questions.

"Good… bleeding stopped. Nothing more to do until internal pressure normalizes, but I will take care of…" sounds from outside lead him to grimace. "Oh frak this. Watch her until I come back." Hawke storms out of the room and up to Margaret. "I am going to say this simply, Marine. You will do what you are told by medical staff in here as if it was a Sergeant speaking to you from on high with the full authority of the Commander in Chief behind him, or I swear to the Gods I will have you on sick room duty for a year. Drop the big bad marine act. NOW." He then turns to Alessandra. "What the frak is with all the tough little girls who won't take their frakking medicine?"

"Okay, okay." Stavrian's hands lighten the pressure slowly, rather than pulling up suddenly. "It's alright. Just relax, we've got you now." As the nurse returns with the pressure cuff to take Aless' readings, he leans over, looking around the side of the wounded pilot's ribs. "Get a hemoglobin level please, Kostis. Elevate her legs, I don't want her going into shock." His back twists painfully at the sound of Hawke's voice. "Lieutenant. Intra-abdominal bleeding. Confirming with a hemoglobin, but she's going to need you right now."

Callista returns from her office freshly changed and in her doctor's whites but she just walks straight out of the sickbay. There isn't a word said, no instructions given to anyone, she just walks out and leaves the rest of the doctors to their jobs.

"I think they'd gut me if I gave you one of my smokes, Sir," says Tisiphone to Laskaris, voice lowered. When he looks forward to Alessandra, she adds, "She came in upside down. Doctors got to her quick, though." The tone is dull and bleak, but the words are reassuring. Kinda. She turns her ashen-faced stare to Kulko, sitting nearby, then to Evandreus. There, a tiny flicker of good news — she calls to him, "You're okay?" Wonderingly. "I thought- They said surgery."

Margaret's gunmetal grey eyes seem to stare right through Hawke for several long moments before she speaks "I just frakkin gunned down a half dozen bloody -unarmed- frakkin civilians who were trying to frakkin save other peoples lives. Go treat them" she sits up to hiss at him before collapsing back down with a grunt of pain.

Unfortunately, Evan, Lasher's got no answers. Blue-gray eyes meet green with a look of helplessness before darting back to Tisiphone. "Don't worry about it, Ensign," he rasps, before he leans back with a long sigh. The report on Allie gets a silent nod, and then Lasher closes his eyes, leaning back onto the stretcher and trying — and failing — to clear his mind while he waits for the doctors to get to him.

Hawke nods to Stavrian. "Good work, I'm here." He reaches out and touches Alessandra's arm. "Keep it to local anesthetic for now. Get two units of blood ready, as well as synthflesh. And keep her head stabilized."

Alessandra isn't fighting to be bad. She's just not in her head, fully. "Just make me p-pretty for him," she implores the medics gently, groggily. Godsdamned meds. "Put a cleft…in chin?" Gods, there she is, thinking she's getting a face lift!

"They, uh," Evan begins, swallowing again, "They thought I was my backseater," he explains. He doesn't sound bitter, or even like he blames them, knowing firsthand how batshit crazy it is up there, where his eyebeams travel next, into the mess of people shouting and rushing about in their work. "She's pretty bad off, but— they've got her in now." And not him, which is kind of key. He looks back up to her, "I'm okay," he assures her, before his eyes widen, spotting Lasher's having closed his eyes, "Is he… does he need, um…?"

"No ecchymosis. One palpable mass, upper right quadrant, and diminished femoral pulse. Systolic blood pressure's slightly below normal, may be compensated shock." Stavrian ticks these off under his breath to Hawke, keeping voice down rather than blaring it across the room. There's a slight brow lift as the doctor only calls for a local anaesthetic, but he motions Kostis away with his head to grab the needed supplies. The chaos behind them and the noise level is resounding in his head, beating time against the backs of his eyes with sickening thumps. "He's okay," he calls out to Evan, as reassuringly as possible.

Kulko hauls himself upright. He looks towards the two pilots closeby, then back to the hatch. He folds his arms across his chest, defiant, then slackens. "Ti— er, Ms. Apostolos?" Stephen is nothing but pure country gentleman. "I couldn't help but overhear, and, well… I wondered if y'might be so kind as to let me trouble you for one of your smokes?" It seems so trivial, once the request is vocalized.

"Damn." Hawke mutters as his hands work. "We need full anesthesia. Local not gonna cut it. I was hoping we were only dealing with a minor bleed. Mark her down for a full neural exam after. Clamps, please."

Tisiphone's reply to Evandreus echoes Stavrian's call. "He's okay." How much a chalk-faced Ensign should be trusted to give medical assessments at a time like this is anyone's guess. "They checked him over in the hangar. Low priority." Lower than, say, the growling Marine over yonder, stolidly bleeding out while others in even more dire shape are worked on. She starts patting down her flight suit — ye gods, she's still in her flight suit?! — and fumbles the front of it open. Somewhere in there is a sweaty, crumpled pack of cigarettes. One is fished out as she finally looks to Kulko, offering it to him. "Any better news where you were?" she asks. She looks like she knows the answer already.

Margaret has one hand on her empty rifle, knuckles white under a coating of sticky drying blood. The other has at last reached down to her wound, cluching against it as she glares weakly towards the nurse with the syringe.

Alessandra's put under easily, the trauma and shock making her an easy patient there.

Evandreus looks up toward Jess again, gratitude registering, then looks back toward Tisiphone to nod to her. He believes her. Especially since Stavrian believes her. Then, mouth dry, he turns his head to watch the Marine come closer, looking to him searchingly in silent reiteration of the question.

Kostis, the very harried nurse, gets back with the things Hawke needed and gets in place for the assist. Clamps, etc. No gum tonight for him. Stavrian lets them get to work, after making sure everything's secure with Kostis for Hawke to take over. "Need to get to the others, sir," he mutters to the Lieutenant, and eeks away past Aless' gurney. "Be good," he says to the pilot, much more quietly.

Kulko accepts the tobacco with a grateful and weary smile. "Put it this way… I don't smoke. Least, I ain't in a long while." Eyes fixate on the ceiling for a few moments, before locking with Tisiphone's. "I'll, ah. I'll tell you later. What happened, that is. I'm going to go try to clear my head." He rises from the seat, takes a step, then turns back. "Thank you. Take care of yourselves." He makes for the hatch.

It is never really quiet in a surgery, what with the beeping and Hawke's persistent instructions, but it all falls into a sort of rhythm as he works. When he finally emerges, there is a small smile on his face.

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