PHD #261: The Walking Wounded
The Walking Wounded
Summary: After the attack at Ewe Aerilon, the wounded Marines, ground crew, and civilians flood the Sickbay
Date: 14 Nov 2041 AE
Related Logs: Not Out of the Woods - Ground
Cameron Constin Crowe Richards Vandenberg NPC 
Sickbay - Deck 10 - Battlestar Cerberus
Being able to accommodate combat casualties requires room, and the Sickbay has it. Beds line each side of the room with privacy curtains strung up and readily available. Large vaulted lockers hold access to the supplies at the far end of the area. Nearer the front, a Petty Officer sits ready to dispense simple items like ibuprofen and aspirin. Further to the rear is an area prepped twenty-four hours a day for emergency surgery. To the side are a set of double doors that lead to the Recovery Ward where patients can recuperate.
Post-Holocaust Day: #261

Sickbay has become a place of controlled chaos, with patients and wounded laid out in what would ordinarily be the recovery area, but which has been transformed into a triage camp, determining which injuries are the most crucial and dealing with them first, the lesser wounded people getting first aid and interns caring for them. Still in his bloody clothes from down on Aerilon, a bandage roughly plastered to his chest and another around his arm, Cameron works quickly and efficiently. He was the most concerned about Crowe, the Sergeant drooping and swaying once on board the Raptor. A quick examination of his eyes had Cameron rushing him off for a CT-scan, explaining to the nurse in charge, "Severe concussion, likely a fracture to the skull, right frontal. I want full x-rays and to see if there is any significant bleeding into the brain or serious swelling of the brain. This takes priority over all other cases," he insists. Glancing down at the soldier, Cameron rests a hand on his shoulder and notes, "You have a hard head there, Sergeant. Try not to hit on the nurse during the x-rays though. Don't want to increase your blood pressure any more than strictly necessary. The man's other injuries are less crucial in comparison to his head, but they've been bandaged at least and will hold till there's time to do a more careful inspection and stitching up. Turning back to the masses, Cameron runs a hand over his face before turning to the next patient in the cue. Constin.

Constin is in a familiar position: on a sickbay cot, bared above the belt, with bloody patches of gauze all over. Two in the chest, two in the gut, a bloody but non critical graze to the neck, and the afterthought- his right hand. The trio of dog tags rest on his chest as Constin lies cooperatively still and focuses on breathing. "Lo again," he mutters in dry greeting.

Vandenberg is just finishing up writing out the AAR when the nurse patching her up walks off to get more supplies. The bullet to her chest only penetrated her body armor enough to cause a little scratch and a heavy bruise. Her neck, which looked worse than it was, is still seeping a little bit of blood onto the bandage but its nothing serious. Her left pant leg was cut down to shorts so they could get at her calf, which is about the same as her neck. Setting her clipboard down, the woman sits back in the chair, waiting for drugs. Doobie doobie doo. She taps her good boot on the deck plating, looking around for the moment at everyone rushing around.

Crowe for his part has been in and out of it the entire ride back. The bullet hole in his arm, while nasty, will heal up well enough in time. The other two bullet wounds were less serious, even if they were to the torso. And so he's wheeled off to get x-rayed and ct scanned as ordered by the Doctor. The Marine is still partly himself, smirking just a bit towards the Doc, "Hell doc, takes more 'n a little flirtin ta get me riled up." and then he looks to the nurse, "So, you, me and a sponge bath later on, eh?"

Richards comes in after a while, not so hurt that he had to be brought up on a stretcher, the patient ambulatory. Those at the front of the area are nodded hello to but he's pushing his way towards the back of the triage area, trying to find out where Vandenberg and the others are.

Taking a seat next to Constin, Cameron nods and gives him a crooked sort of harried smile, replying, "Greetings. Did a fine job getting yourself busted up, Sergeant. I'm happy to report though that it doesn't look like there's any severe internal bleeding or organ damage. But you got a few bullets lodged in you that need to come out. I think we can do this with just a local though…" Donning a pair of gloves Cameron starts to undo the pressure bandages that were strapped to his belly and chest while the nurse next to him prepares several syringes of anesthetic. His gaze lifts for a moment, catching sight of Vandenberg, a slight scowl forming before he shakes his head and clears his expression calling out, "You doing alright there, Lieutenant?" Pulling over a pan and an instrument that looks like a very long and very shiny kind of angled needle nose pliers. "This shouldn't take too long," he murmurs, as the first injection is administered, working fast to numb the injured area. Cameron waits before lightly touching the sluggishly bleeding wound, watching Constin's face for reaction. Once assured that the anesthetic has taken effect he leans in, the nurse holding a small light for him and wiping away the excess blood as he starts to dig for the bullet. It isn't long before he withdraws the bloodied instrument, dropping the bullet into the pan with a soft clatter. The next injection is given while Cameron places a few small stitches into the opening and then a fresh bandage atop that.

"Yeah, well. We all got our talents," Constin drawls back to Cameron's greeting. The marine grunts wordlessly to acknowledge the doctor's summary and judgment, before nodding once and leaning his head back against the pillow, fixing his narrow blue regard on the ceiling above. Another couple wordless grunts take place throughout the procedure, mostly resulting from the curious sensations of feeling pressure of the surgery at the edges of the numbing rather than any pain from the procedure itself. The clank draws his eye and provokes the word, "Huh."

When Cameron calls out her name, the Marine officer turns her attention towards the Doctor and gives him an icy stare. There's no mistaking that look. There's no love there. She looks away after a few seconds and spots Richards meandering around. "Sergeant. Ready to get your boo-boo's kissed all better?" Vandenberg looks tired but alert. If she's had any powerful drugs yet, they haven't hit her brain - maybe. This could be debatable.

And Crowe is off trying to con a nurse into giving him a sponge bath if he doesn't have any internal bleeding around his brain. It sounds like a fair trade to him.

The LT's looked at and then she's approached, Richards looking tired like he did before the combat happened. World weary, too. "Next time," he starts, his voice mild despite how he wishes he could yell at her, "You're getting on the frakking bird first, sir." If he noticed the look Cameron received from her or the fact that Crowe's off being Crowe and that Constin's laid up not too far away there is nothing to give away the fact that he has. "You're alright, yeah?"

"I see you're a man of many words," Cameron quips in response to that barely interested 'huh', his eyes intent upon his work. Since Vandenberg is still clearly pissed off at him with making the mistake of trying to do his job while she was trying to do hers, he doesn't bother wasting his time meeting that frosty glare. Seems to be a pattern with them. He should make a quilt. Another muffled clank sounds as the second bullet is removed. "Two down, two to go," he offers mock cheerfully as he sutures and bandages the second hole in the Sergeant with a soft sigh.

Meanwhile, back in the x-ray room, the nurse is assuring Crowe that is he would just lie still she'll give him that sponge bath. Sometimes a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do. And she didn't say anything about him being awake for said bath. Though she is curious as she asks, "And if you do have internal bleeding around your brain? Then what? No sponge bath for fear your head might," and at that moment she glances decidedly further down his body before finishing, "explode?"

Well if all it takes is laying still, Crowe lays still so he can have the scans done. Of course, when asked what he thinks might exactly happen, he just sort of stares blankly at her and responds with a simple, "I aint a doctor, got no idea what could happen." He just figures bleeding around the brain would be bad, right?

A man of many words? "Yep," Constin deadpans in reply. At Cameron's 'two down, two to go' line, the big man mutters, "Get used to it, after awhile," in explanation for his less than agitated nature. A look aside at the ongoing comedy that is Crowe (as much a look aside as can be managed without moving his head). A short sniff, and it is commented, "Shit, if the Cylons wanted to kill him, they aimed for the wrong head."

"No, Sergeant. Next time you're going to follow your orders the first time you get them or I'll make damned sure you understand why. If that's not one hundred percent clear then let me know now so I can get first squad a new Sergeant." Dicky may be mild but Vandenberg isn't. Something has her riled. Bad. "Yeah, I'm fine. Cut myself worse shaving my legs. Adair is back with Constin at the moment. I was about to go check on Crowe. Want to join?" Natalie rises from her chair, not bothering to wait for the nurse to return and motions towards the Staff Sergeant, a gentle limp touching her left leg as she makes her way over. "Trouble magnet," she greets.

The rest goes fairly quickly and smoothly, Cameron retrieving the additional bullets and stitching up the Sergeant peaceably, one last clatter of the pan before he hands it off to the nurse and finishes with the bandages. "So, as I said before the good news? No severe internal bleeding or perforated organs. And you're damn lucky. I'm amazed you didn't manage to knick your intestines with these two lower hits. The bad news? There's a lot of muscle damage that's going to need to heal, and when I mean heal, I mean with you flat on your back resting in bed here in Sickbay for at least a week to ten days." Reaching over he takes up Constin's hand next, examining the damage done there.

At Crowe's very sober reply, the nurse murmurs, "Doctor Cameron is new, but he's very good. A neurologist, so no matter what is wrong, he'll know how to set it right again." She can't promise him there won't be bleeding in the brain. It's not an uncommon condition for an injury of this sort. But she puts on her best calm face and assuring tone for the massive Marine. Her head turns slightly as Vandenberg and Richards enter the room, one brow lifting but rather than shooing them out she announces, "It looks like you have company. If you two wouldn't mind staying with the Sergeant for a moment, I'll just go get these developed and see if I need any additionals before bringing him out…"

"Sunovabitch," is Constin's ever-eloquent response to the notion of spending a week solid on his back. The predictable cycle of marines complaining at inactivity begins anew. A terse few moments of silence follow as Elf considers the best vector of attack for his next offensive. "So any kinda work I can get done on my back is fair game, yeah? If you're gonna try and keep me here, then I can bring some of the work in, yeah?" The bargaining begins as Cameron is inspecting his hand.

Stepping over to Natalie, Chris looks around before leaning close enough to whisper, hoping no one else can hear him. "I'm not trying to be insubordinate, sir. Seriously. I just…I care, okay? That's the only reason I did what I did." Shaking his head causes the wound on his neck to start bleeding again which gets him to groan in annoyance and his already bloodied hand goes to press against it. "Say hi to the asshole hole for me. Tell 'im I'll come around later."

"Aint my fault trouble finds me, El-Tee." Crowe states flatly, his affect somewhat off from usual. His inflection isn't normal, "Kinda all happened at once. I took that hit to the head, and got shot a few more times." Crowe sighs a bit. This isn't the first time he's been shot after all. It won't be the last. This is however the closest he's been to dying in a while, since that bullet to the head would have killed him without the helmet on. "How many did I get?" Sort of an odd question really.

This injury is far more straightforward. Straight through and through. "Nice clean wound this," Cameron notes, injecting the anesthetic himself this time as the nurse has wandered off." No broken bones, just right through the fleshy part of your thumb. You'll need some physical therapy after it's all healed up, but I don't see why you should get a full recovery…" He stitches up the wound with quiet ease before re-bandaging it and laying it to Constin's side. The nurse, who took Crowe's x-rays, returns, murmuring softly in Cameron's ear. Nodding to her, Cameron turns back to Constin and notes, "Right! Well, you're pretty much all set for now. A nurse will be along shortly to set you up with an IV and a catheter." Oh rapture, oh bliss. Smiling at the man, Cameron offers, "Thank you Sergeant. You saved a lot of lives today, including my own." And with the doctor is off once more to see to Crowe's x-rays.

The Lieutenant nods to Richards but the stern look still holds. She means what she is saying. Natalie glances at the nurse's request and looks back at Crowe. She doesn't seem in the mood to be told to do anything. "One day I'm going to remember to bring corks so I can give you a proper field dressing. One day. Course that'll probably be about the same time you stop trying to chase ass all over the colonies." She shrugs at the question. "Oh, I dunno, Crowe. One, tops. I killed, like, ten. All by myself. You shoulda been there. It was a wonderful dream." She finally cracks a smirk at the edge. "Not sure. You got a few of them, I'm sure. And no, you can't notch rifles here with your kills. They are community guns, damnit."

"Who's that I hear trying to count kills like some damned Airy Fairy?" Constin drawls dryly, loud enough to carry to the pair of Vandenberg and Crowe. "What's the word, El-Tee?" he adds after turning his head to take a direct look.

The nurse returns and starts to wheel Crowe back out to the treatment area near where Constin is currently situated, moving at a slow enough pace so Vandenberg can keep up. Crowe smirks just a bit at Natalie, "Riiiiiiiight. You kill more tincans 'n me, and I'll…um…y'know." People with head injuries don't always make sense. This is likely the start of one of those times.

Vandenberg looks over to Constin as her and Crowe approach and she finally is forced to crack a smile. "Funny. I was just thinkin the same thing." She glances at Crowe and chucks him on the shoulder. "Kick-start your brain, Uriel. You're stuck again. Or do I need a newspaper to thwap you?" Her gaze lifts once more to Constin. "Usual shit. Marines get shot, they save civilians who can't or won't listen, Air Wing does a dance. Figure that could have been a lot worse than lost supplies." A loooong breath leaves her. "So, while I've got two senior enlisted gracing me with their presence..anyone want to guess at what this all means to us?"

Constin lets out a slow breath, through flared nostrils at the prompt from Vandenberg. "Tough to say without knowing how many loads the Cylons put down on the World," he begins. "No frakking way was the camp their primary objective on the ground, sir. No way."

"Yeah, and given the potentially small number of fighters that jumped in? Plus only one load of Centurions?" Vandenberg shakes her head and sits on Constin's bed, gesturing. "You mind if I sit here? Keep some weight off m'leg if its alright with you?" She waits for an answer before continuing. "That seemed kind of like a spoiler attack. Something to cause a reaction from us. They had to know we'd evacuate as soon as we got the hits on DRADIS. So why not hit us with a nuke on the ground or something? You guys go through anything like this when you left Sag?"

"Zactly," is Constin muttered response to Vandenberg. A dismissive motion with his left hand is the only answer he gives the notion of whether he minds where the Lieutenant sits. "Nah. Cylons didn't turn up so much as a Dray-dis shadow on Sag. Far as I know, this is the first positive Cylon contact since July. Frakking bizarre excuse for a first strike," he states, dryly.

The nurse returns, smiling to everyone before explaining, "We just need to take a few more X-rays of Sergeant Crowe… if you'll excuse us for a moment?" Along with an orderly, Crowe is wheeled away and back into the x-ray room, the door shut behind them. Not much later on, Cameron comes by, holding x-rays, reports, and files in his hand, sitting down on a bed not far from where Constin and Van are, eyes flickering over the data. The bandage over his chest has started to spot red, but he seems oblivious, studying the various reports before him, trying to ascertain what fires need to be put out first, as it were.

"If they didn't show, you can bet they knew you all were there. If the skinjobs on board weren't reporting the position, I'd bet one or two on the ground spotted you and informed their fleet." Vandenberg turns her leg once, rubbing at the bandage. "They probably wanted us to move on for some reason. Might be cause to exercise more caution on our next stop. If we hit Sag and Aerilon and they've abandoned Tauron, too.." She lets it hang, the implication easy to pick up. The Cylons may be waiting. The woman waggles her fingers to Crowe as he's wheeled away.

"Still ain't confirmed there's an agent left on the Cerb," Constin points out flatly. "Sure, we gotta presume the boat's position is known, but.." a small shake of his head, which doesn’t last long. "Now don't mistake- I'm sure the Cylons had a way of knowing we were on Sag- at least after awhile. Still. Figured the Cylons were either hanging back, letting us get lazy, or they were hanging back putting together something big. This shit today?" A frown. "Puts us back on guard, AND don't do anything by way of major damage."

"Ain't confirmed because if we knew chances are pretty good we would be doing something about it. Can't assume there aren't any. I wouldn't be surprised if you all picked some up before or after we got rescued. Hell, one of the Doc's party could be one." Natalie chucks a thumb towards Cameron but stays focused on Constin. "My bet is that they have their own distractions but were also working on something. They wanted us to move for a reason. All they had to do was drop off a nuke on Aerilon and be done with us. Or commit about four times as many Centurions. We could've have gotten wiped easy. You known the Cylons to set traps like this? Like what I'm getting at?"

Though his attention is taken up by the reports and test results before him, Cameron can't help but overhear what Van and Constin are discussing. He's missing the introduction, but it doesn't take a brain surgeon to realize that they're talking about the attack and the fact that there might be a Cylon secret agent amongst them. His head lifts, a worried frown creasing his brow, his mouth opening before shutting once more. One who knows nothing should not speak. Instead he remains where he is, eyes avid on the information at hand while his ears are perked to the conversation to his flank.

Though his attention is taken up by the reports and test results before him, Cameron can't help but overhear what Van and Constin are discussing. He's missing the introduction, but it doesn't take a brain surgeon to realize that they're talking about the attack and the fact that there might be a Cylon secret agent amongst them. His head lifts, a worried frown creasing his brow, his mouth opening before shutting once more. One who knows nothing should not speak. Instead he remains where he is, eyes avid on the information at hand while his ears are perked to the conversation to his flank. At the suggestion, however, that one of the people in his group could be responsible, his head shoots up, eyes narrowed as he counters, "If that were the case, why wait this long to attack?"

"Chatter like that is why dumb folks get paranoid, sir," Constin points out flatly. "Not saying the boat's impregnable, just saying that since July we ain't had a single incident crop up. As for that last-" discussing the possibility of a trap is cut off by Cameron's interjection. "Doc, do us all a favor and settle, will you?" Then back to Vandenberg. "I ain't convinced they want to wipe us out anymore. There's easier ways to do that. They want the Colonies- least a couple of them, and they want us. The more Colonies we hit looking up survivors, the fewer choices they have to load up something big at one of the Colonies we've got left."

"Dumb folks get paranoid anyway, Sergeant." Vandenberg shrugs. "You know this thing better than I do, though, so I'll take your word for it." She looks back towards Cameron then, but doesn't say anything. Her attention comes back to Constin with his thoughts and she stays quiet for a couple seconds, letting that sink in. "Okay, you've got me interested. Why do you think this to be true?" Its not mocking or jeering. She's the S-Three. Its her job to think about operations.

One brow lifts, frankly shocked that he's been shut down when he was not the least bit unsettled in the first place. Sensing that his presence is not in the least bit welcome, Cameron simply gathers the files before him together and moves. There will be someone here that will be grateful for his attention, that much he knows.

"Few reasons," Constin drawls back. "One, how much reading you done into the Audumbla boarding op?" He cites that one specifically among the documented chop-shops. "Two, what you just said: application of force. Now even before we jumped away from the World, how long you figure that action lasted? Five minutes on the ground at LEAST? How much longer in flight up to the Cerb? Which means that Cylon birds jumped in, tangled a bit, put down a landing party and either got wiped out or ran. And we get no Dray-dis hits, no basestars, no sabotage, no nukes."

"Very little, admittedly. Most of my reading has been focused on combat operations. Reviewing what the Cylons have done as far as direct action. I glossed the stuff from there but nothing in detail." There's Constin's answer. Vandenberg looks away from him and stares absently at her still-clothed leg, deep in thought. "Okay, I get the part about them wanting us at least partially alive. What about this anchorage leads you to believe the rest of what you're saying?" Those green eyes finally look back to him.

Narrow blue eyes stare back. A short look passes around the personnel in the sickbay- civilian and military alike. "Look up the Audumbla boarding action, sir. Cross reference Colonial Airman Tibakas. That'll put the combat operation reading on a little bit of a different level."

Vandenberg gets the meaning. "Copy that, Sergeant." She takes a breath and touches the bandage on her neck gingerly, trying to itch at something beneath it without causing too much pain. "Anything else you think I should look at specifically? I'm open to suggestion. I've got my own opinions but yours is a little harder to discount than most. Your reputation precedes you."

"I ain't going anywhere for a few days, El-Tee," Constin states ruefully. "Come on back after you've had a look at those files, and we'll have another chat. There's a frak-ton of shit to read through, but none of it's all too.. concise. Cept for those files I just mentioned."

Natalie nods a few times. "Fair enough, Sergeant. I'll go school myself now. Word is I won't be on my patrol in the morning due to these little nicks I picked up on our jaunt this afternoon." She sighs and pats his ankle. "I'll be back in a bit. If you're awake, we'll talk. If not, well whatever. Glad to be fighting with a Marine of your caliber, Sergeant." She taps her temple with two fingers and slides off the bed, ready to move off for the hatch.

"Semper fi, Lieutenant," Constin returns to the compliment, affecting a similarly informal salute with his intact left hand.

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