851 ABY - First Order Medical Station, FIMS Mountbatten
The Sanctity Physic Dormitories, one of the dozens of medical groups on FIMS station Mountbatten, is, for some reason, in a lull today. Its staff collectively hold their breath; the absence, specifically, of casualties from the front does not make much sense to them--what, with the Order currently pushing into Alliance territory.
Maybe, they all think synchronously, the Order is simply doing well today, and there will be no shortage of new casework tomorrow. Still, the situation seems quite strange, but they hold onto such hope quietly, for maybe they would jinx any streak of military success by the discussion of their theories.
Head Doctor of the Dormitories, Doctor Aes'ona Terrani, is not excepted from the concerns of her staff, but she is currently trying to pretend she is by burying herself in the momentous backlog of half-fished reports.
She sits at the long, meeting table in SPD's back, on-call room. Nursing her caf mug with one hand and absently picking at the food tray that a steward droid recently dropped off for her with a fork in the other, Aes'ona tries yet again to focus on her datapad's screen.
She barely registers the sound of a door swishing open.
"Oh, by every God, Terrani!" It is the voice of one of her coworkers, Nori Calore, but Aes'ona doesn't have time to realize that before the other doctor has closed the space between door and table, and snatched her datapad away.
Aes'ona stands up and takes her pad back. "I'm still on the floor," she argues.
Nori shakes her head. "Nothing's happening right now and those reports can wait another day. Now, pour that stuff out and go to bed."
Aes'ona does as she is told--going over to the lounge kitchenette and pouring her caf down the drain--but mumbles as she does, "Is this how you've always treated your head doctors?"
There is a hint of a smile in Nori's voice when she replies, "Only the ones I care about."
Her name pulls her out of her nap immediately--she had become conditioned over the years to sleep lightly.
She sits up and gets out of bed, straightening her white-and-leather uniform, to face another one of her doctors, radiologist Meriet Hass. Upon seeing her, combing out her bed-hair with her fingers, he frowns slightly, apologetic. "Sorry."
"It's your job," she dismisses as she approaches him. "What do we have?"
Mariet hands her a durasheet sensor-image. "Fresh off the press," he says as they walk out into the treatment bullpen. "I can't tell what it is. Thought you might. This way."
He leads her off into one of the private rooms. A human man lays in the bed, apparently sleeping.
Edited by Dr. Aes'ona Terrani, 28 December 2017 - 09:58 PM.