driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Beverly Crusher, Wrath, The Vision, Jennifer Keller… and maybe you?
Broadcast: No
Action: Iskaulit, Surgical Suite
When: Today!

There’s a new room on the Iskaulit, though it’s not obvious where it is, if you don’t know about it already, as it is inconspicuously tucked away in one of the unused corridors of the ship. More importantly, it’s equipped with biometric security systems, so only a select few can enter without being accompanied by one of the room’s designers. Under Dr. Crusher and Captain Vision’s guidance, various engineers and doctors in the fleet have come together to build a surgical suite with one specific goal in mind: fixing Wrath’s back and removing the ports put there by Compliance. For over a year, Wrath and Beverly have been pursuing this goal and now it’s finally happening.

In the operating room itself, there are only three people, besides Wrath: Dr. Crusher, Dr. Keller, and the Vision, in case they run into any issues with Wrath’s cybernetic implants. However, for those who wish to watch the surgery, there is a small observation lounge looking down into the OR, where you are welcome to stay and watch. The two doctors and Vision are all covered head to toe in scrubs, masks, and gloves, while Wrath lies prone on the operating table, with cushions supporting her neck and hips, and her limbs securely strapped in to keep her safely in position. An IV delivers her pain meds and anesthesia. Gently, Beverly kneels in front of an already fading Wrath and places a respirator over her face. “All right, Wrath, ready? I’m going to count backwards from ten. 10, 9, 8…”

Hours later, Beverly has successfully removed the shattered ports, working from her experience with Borg implants. It’s delicate, tedious work, but she never falters, her hands steady throughout. If there was any doubt as to her surgical skills before, there can be none now. Afterwards, Wrath is back in traction in the recovery room. She may still be a little drowsy, but no doubt she will welcome visitors.

((ooc: this is a catch-all post for anything relating to Wrath's surgery, especially post-op, for anyone who is involved either as a friend or as another healer))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I wonder if there's a way to appeal to sponsors. Chantry sisters go door to door or leave up fliers for tithes to the church, and this is a worthier cause. Maybe get others to appeal to Atroma all together? It might be something the sponsors would go for."

Jennifer nodded.

"We've considered it," she admitted. "Trouble is, whenever the sponsors send gifts, they tend to not be anything useful. Like, everyone once got a crate of bottled drinks that had their names on them, except every name was misspelled. Or the drink had a strange flavor."

"That's... pointless." He looks deadpan into the middle distance at this revelation. "I'm not sure how to fix it, then. It would be better if we could at least make requests."

"It would," she agreed. "But I think this is part of how Atroma controls us, too. No giving us useful tools, and the supplies we get are just enough to get by. And they can claim they have no control over what the sponsors send us."

"Maybe they don't considering some of what's gotten through, but I still find it hard to believe." He sighs. "Still, I guess the first aid kits stashed everywhere convenient is the next best option."

"Mmhmm- nobody's really sure how much of what Atroma tells us about the show and the audience and the sponsors is real and how much of it is a lie." She rubbed tiredly at her eyes. "So yeah, you're right- it's all we can do for now. Make sure supplies are at hand and that people know how to use them."

"If that's the best we can do, then we should do it as best we can." He puts a hand on her shoulder then offers a smile, standing up a little unsteadily.

"For now, we can't help anyone else until we've gotten some rest."

Jennifer grinned back, rising up as well.

"This is true. I think I need a shower and about... a day or so of sleep should do it."

Adalwolfe laughs in agreement. "You've got that right. We've earned it."

With a yawn and a saunter, Hawke waves and turns heel to head to his own ship and his own bed.