Man I'm Just Trying To Shop For My Kid Here

[therewerefifty]

Who: Otono-somethingsomething Makie and you
Broadcast: fleetwide audio.
Action: Junkstation
When: Soon after the events of this post.

[Audio]

There are slavers aboard the waystation who are actively seeking cargo.  [The mildly courteous tone Makie is known for is absent, though she doesn't sound angry.  Inflectionless.  Possibly a little strained, if anyone knows her well enough.] 

This is the second time I know of they've attempted to take someone, and this time they've succeeded.  His name is... Max.  He's a crew member of the Starstruck.

We know where he is.  [Thanks to polite inquiries made of a survivor.  Very polite inquiries.]  We need assistance to retrieve him. 

...and a doctor, also.  Thank you.

[...totally asking for Tempest on that last one, okay.]

Comments

[poisoninmypocket]

[Dr. Monty is an entirely ridiculous thing to call him. The fact that she's being so level-headed about all of this does something to calm him, if only moderately. He wants to close his eyes as he holds up the machine a short distance away from her skin, but that wouldn't quite work.

Monty bites his lip and forces himself to look. It's but the work of the moment to scan over the wound, calibrate his instrument, and then set it to regenerate the cells. The fact that he knows how to do all of this is still troubling. Monty doesn't care to have knowledge in his head that he didn't put there himself. It feels unnatural, like when Loki had forced the knowledge of how to pick locks into his mind.]

P-please let me know if there's any pain, miss.

[There shouldn't be, but it seems like the sort of thing he ought to say. The augment is rather useless on the nature of bedside manners. It will take a few minutes, but the active bleeding stops quickly, at least.].

Um... you're not planning on going in for the rescue, yourself, are you? It's probably best to rest and rehydrate after this is done.

[therewerefifty]

[What an odd little instrument. She shifts under its attention, eyeing it curiously, but glances back at the question.]

I was intending to, yes. [While she's perfectly fine with not attacking the slavers again, she's not so great with leaving Max there. But she's had more offers of help than she expected.] I don't intend on providing more than support to the others, if that would reassure you.