Brettonias suddenly turned his head quickly from the familiar voice, bursting out a bit of a laugh. "Doc Holiday you son of a.. HA!... It's great to see you on such short notice. And yes we do indeed." With little haste, he disrobed from his cloak, rolling his shoulder about before reaching up to unlock it and let bare the worn socket as Doc smooth talked with Vixen. "Many thanks Mr. Holiday. You're too kind on helping to put my husband back together with his overzealous behaviors. While her husband messed about with his arm, she looked back at the lil one tucked behind her dress, trying to hide her face. "We actually don't have a family doctor, considering who we are. We were suggested by Brett's brother Daniel in Rheinland one of their doctors. But we're not covered due to... well. We're not involve in their police. Now say hello to Doctor Holiday, Licentia"
The lil pink feline tried to cover her face with her mother's dress as she spoke, "H...hello sir. After she spoke, Brettonias pointed down at her while looking at Doc. "That lil one there is my guardian angel. Without her... I'd be dead Doc. But yes. Im pretty sure we'd love to join you for dinner tonight.
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"Vixen, if I may call you by first name, I will make sure that before you all leave that everyone gets at least a full check-up and whatever treatment that will be necessary," he re-assured. "We survive on donations out here and don't turn back anyone. It's worked rather well out here."
He then smiled as he tried making friends with Licentia. "It is children like you that got me into pediatrics. They are my life."
When Brettonias handed Doc his arm, he examined it for a moment while Dr. Richter examined the shoulder.
"John, I think you should take care of this part. I'll take the arm," stated Richter.
Doc examined the shoulder. For the most part, it was in good shape. A new Teflon coating would be in order as would some light tissue repair.
He started examining the area with a deep tissue scanner. As spoke as he looked, "the nice thing with light tissue repair is that I can do it while we speak. It's minimal but just in a place where it's annoying."
He then took out another device with a small tube on it. "This is a combination of a boroscope and surgical tool. You'll feel a prick as it enters but nothing more."
He entered just below the socket. As he worked, all could watch on a small monitor. He cut away a small piece of torn tissue, repaired it and auto-sutured it before removing the tube. The whole process took all of 10 minutes.
"Rest it for a few days," Doc ordered. "No combat, athletics or heavy lifting. It's a precaution more than anything."
"I have placed specs for a new arm," explained Richter, "our team is custom building it. For now, your old one will have to do. Just forward any special needs for it to the team and they'll include them."
Doc smiled, knowing he got his work done in a timely fashion. "So, shall we eat first or do Vixen and Licentia want to be looked over first?"
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Ship's Morgue
On one slab was a 3x3 plastic box. On the other was a still-closed body bag. Between the slabs was John Holliday. He first glanced at one and then the other. In his hand was a clip board and a pen.
"All right, let's see it," he instructed the forensic examiner.
He first opened the box. Inside were remains. A torso with the remains of a man's head from the nose down.
"Sir, I confirmed the identity with DNA and dental records even though his ID chip was still in place. Dr. Sam Watters. He was the chief resident on Freeport 11."
Doc said nothing as he motioned to the body bag.
When the zipper was pulled, inside was the body of a young woman with a large, deep gash in her head. She was young but beautiful despite the deadly wound.
"Stephanie Condor," said the somber examiner. "She was only twenty three years old and was an intern on station. I guess the only good thing is that she died instantly."
Doc just stared as his blood began to boil.
"And the Core did this?" he asked softly to his examiner.
"Yes, Sir," replied the examiner.
Doc began to pace trying to contain himself. He hated having to tell families of the deaths of loved ones. He hated more having to identify the people he placed to do peaceful work only to have them end up in harm's way. Finally, his anger came to a head as he pounded the slab with his fist and began speaking on his com.
"As of now, the Core receives no help from us, I don't care how bad or how much danger they're in. Throw them in the brig for all I care!" he raged.
The examiner stood and countered softly, "John, that's not you. You're a man of peace. Denying service isn't in your creed...."
Doc then pointed into the hallway at two crying people who were waiting to come in, "...Go tell them that. They just lost their daughter, their only child." He then stormed out right past the grieving parents.
He then went to his quarters where he quickly pounded two shots of Brandy.
"Damned Core," he muttered, "Now I know they can't be trusted."
He then looked up with anger, "My oath be damned."
What could've been another day full of il locals and cassualties of many wars raging across Omegas, seen possibly intriguing variation to routine of Doc Holiday's staff. Small group of black uniformed individuals had arrived, members of The Order that could hardly be distinguished in between each other when it comes to rank and authority. They were not the type to brandish medals, ornaments and ranks in plain sight. What could've been their leader however hesitated before entering. As he stopped and paced about taking in sights of what he had not seen for a way too long time, everyone else halted waiting for him. He sighed, looking with miles long stare somewhere behind the hill line behind the settlement... as if trying to get a bearings towards some distant place. "Allright let's come inside..."
They reluctantly disarmed themselves, the medics were keeping chances of violence to absolute minimum on a world where a deadly skirmish may be raging just kilometer outside of city walls. They, The Order, were becoming more overt when they could make their return to Omega 49. Lacking sometimes suitable amenity to adhere to their own strict medical checks, they were sometimes outsourcing to Zoner facilities. They all came in with potential cases of radiation poisoning, handing their cards one by one concerning their medical status. It was recommended for them to monitor their health more rigidly as passage from Omicrons to Omegas often featured deadly neutron star as major landmark of one's path. It would've been impossible trip if it were not for Cryer's advancment in medications self-adjusting to repair patient's genetic material and expunge nasty elements that would had otherwise lingered in one's body.
As they were not critical cases and they had taken all neccesary precautions in combination with ample supply of said anti-rads, they were pushed back in queue which they took rather well, seemingly glad their neck-breaking rush though Walker nebula had come to even if temporary halt. They were here just to ensure that their countermeasures had taken effect and no further medical care was required. The most interesting 'case' for them to see was that tall officer finding winter-season of Canaria more easy for him to stomach this break in his schedule than socializing with his fellow pilots. "It was never so cold this time of the year."
When it was his turn, the personnel may rightfully be shocked. Name of Golanski resounded negatively among some Zoners still, in particularly hardline pacifist that with varying success rate attempted to rebuild their lifes in Omicrons only to find more war. His medical record would've brought even veteran war surgeon to skip a beat, involving plethora of wounds including almost fatal crushing about ending days of 818 A.S., masterful reconstructions of tissue, even genetic manipulation and various discreet augmentations that did not stopped at just aiding in complicated healing process. Trying to break the monotony and find couple of questions he was looking for, he spoke first. "I bet not even The Doctor had seen anything like that." Indirectly trying to gather information about the most famous surgeon in Sirius sector who he had no doubts that was among the living still. Without knowing, he addressed him with "the" as if he was some legendary figure. About anyone who endured harsh realities of Colonies for so long as Holiday had certain dose of respect from the Admiral, the many years long veteran of The Order.
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The halls, offices and labs of Med Force One were busy as usual, even more so now that the Mollies were also more ever present in Omega 49. Between them, Bounty Hunters and the Corsairs, there was never a dull moment. Doc was standing at the end of a bed, studying the file of the Bounty Hunter that was on it. Doc worked his magic on him the day before as he so often did with the worst of the worst cases that came aboard his ship. Although alive, he was kept comatose to allow recovery.
He shook his head as he read the file. "Lucky for you, Hunter, I had a set of lungs on hand." Checking vitals, he gave some instruction to a nurse in the room and stepped out for the next patient. His com badge sounded.
"This is Doc. What's up?"
"Doc, you have a contingent of the Order here to see you," was the voice, "Admiral Golanski is here with some of his staff. It looks like they need some medical attention."
Doc was stunned to say the least. Golanski, a leader whom many a Zoner disliked, a man whom on many occasions he quarreled with but still had a level of respect for.
"Escort them to my office," he instructed, "I'll take care of them."
Doc wasn't far from his office. He would be going over the file of another patient when Golanski and his staff arrived. To all of them, Doc would look a little bit on the side of tired or even unhealthy. They wouldn't see the depression he suffered deep within eating at him. At work, he hid it well. A year plus of isolation on Erie also left him with shoulder length hair, albeit well groomed. Through his reading glasses he saw the members of the Order and put the file back on it's pin.
He recognized Admiral Golanski and offered his hand. "It's been a long time, Admiral. How may I help you?"
Leader of The Order did not expected that their presence would rate that much of attention from medforce staff stationed at Canaria. He greeted the Doc, seemingly surprised that he would had come out of hiding. Admiral was complete opposite of Doc in this very momenth. His very face told by-the-book example of one of the most healthy individuals that walked upon the planet yet his eyes told a different story: that of constant plotting, worries of both personnal and proffesional nature, strategems that would put strain on his mental faculties. Unlike Doc, he cared little to mask any of the shortcomings.
"Holiday... As per Order directive, every personnel of The Order that passed though high risk irradiated worlds in vessel not rated for prolonged exposure is to submit to a check up. Me and the 14th Nightblades have passed though Omega 41 on the way to Coalition homeworld. Lieutenant Cordoba is still on the observation from what I was told, his ship's shield generator malfunctioned due to navigational hazards. Should that be neccesary, I will have to leave him in your care."
He provided perhaps way too informative recollection of what they are here for, more befit of another military officer of simmilar rank. Still, he understood well enough that Doc had years, decades even worth perhaps of marksmanship skill to him which classified him as a warrior despite his avoidance of violence. It was also clear that they had no medical assistance nearby to cope and little other place to turn to, and even as 14th Squadron Cordoba's situation was not an immediate threat to his life, Admiral Golanski was person adhering to the rules to a point of madness at times. There was something more attracting Michal to this particular globe, John's hospital being opportunistic detour that satisfied his requirements.
"I did not expect to see you here, in person. Feeling's possibly mutual."
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With mutual greetings and respect shown, Doc nodded his agreement to the Admiral about check-ups after long passages in radiated systems. "We have a similar protocol here for both pilots and patients alike." He then called over a small team of medical staff.
As they arrived, Doc was scanning Lieutenant Cordoba. He then instructed one of his doctors to take him to decontamination. "Dr. Reisch, you take the Lieutenant and give him a good look over and some time in the decontamination chamber." He then spoke to the Lieutenant and the Admiral, "Your radiation levels are elevated but not life threatening. Dr. Reisch will take good care of you." He then looked to Reisch, "Call me when his treatment is complete."
Doc then scanned each member of the team himself, one by one. All checked normal but per protocol, each was sent to be checked over. The one female of the group was assigned a female doctor.
"Admiral, you're with me," Doc instructed. Together, they made a slow walk down a hallway with some offices and recovery rooms to either side of them before they went into an examination room themselves.
The Admiral laid on a glass type table. "One of my favorite additions of late," Doc bragged, "these deep tissue scans will find anything and everything on a person." As it scanned, he began conversation with the Admiral.
"I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised to see the Order here in Omega 49. I mean, there's really no Nomad presence here and it's become a warzone between the Sairs, Mollies, Coalition and the Bounty Hunters. So, what brings you through?"
He followed in, following instructions to the letter. Cancer ten years from now on. The typical question that everyone, anywhere and everywhere would give eventually to himself or one of his subordinates. What they were doing here? Are Nomads about? Inquiries noting alien threat was an option used by more aware and educated individuals that did not discounted Order as nihilistic, pure evil. Repetitivness of the question had not bored him, instead just made him smirk.
"Some parts of the planet start to look like old Toledo, Doc. Real answer though, Omega 52 is my destination. Six years ago I was shooting real, deadly projectiles at Captain that is now known as Premier of the entire Coalition. Yet that's past and Premier seems to agree with this sentiment. Last time I arrived in force over the skies of Canaria, I intimidated local Zoner militias and their enemies into working peace by my mere presence and couple of angry words. War's already happening in darker reaches of this star system. Restraint is needed if it comes to the planet."
Hinting that Gran Canaria may be under threat was a real threat that a lot of people realize. Though not even Golanski was able to tell what would happened and when. Sirius Coalition Revolutionary Army would no doubt tell him as much as they are themselves allowed and listen to his own reason. Propably ironic, given The Order in itself escalated and still participates in some conflicts that if not named 'total war' they would not get enough literal justice.
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The scans were complete. "Good news, Admiral, is that besides old wounds, you're in good shape. I could shrink up some of those old battle scars if you want but if you're like many, they are worn like awards."
"Oh, and I have some new anti-rad meds that I've been working on." He pulls out a vial from a mini refrigerator and hands it to him. "For people in long tern exposure areas, this is great. It's injected from a hypo injector, takes a fraction of the time of radiation pills and it stays in your system for sixty days. I just took what Cryer has used all along and improved it. I can hook your people up with some if you like?"
"As for Omega 41," Doc continued while Golanski sat up, "I avoid that place. Sadly, some of my routes take me through it as they do Omega 11. Why anyone lives there in places like Freeport 5 or Leon Base is beyond me and God help you if you end up in an escape pod. Those two areas of space are loaded with them and most of them have skeletal remains in them. Only once have I saved someone from that fate and she is now living on Houston with her son."
He then gave a nod about Omega 52. It had been forever since he visited, forever since he last heard from his old friend, Alvin Katz. "Premier Katz used to tell me the threat of this system. As if I didn't know." He turned to the Admiral and waved a finger, "You know I once had to demand that the Corsair ambassador leave my home? He threatened my late wife if I didn't.......see things his way. I could have shot him on the spot but.........I didn't want to create an incident with an empire."
He then sat, dejected and sighed, "Midori," he said, "Damn I miss her." He shook his head to collect himself and stood up.
"You aren't kidding about Canaria starting to look like Toledo," he stated as he turned to Golanski with a serious tone. "I remember that awful day. I remember the lives lost. I also remember the favor asked of me by you. I was reluctant but I did it. I told all of Sirius of the disaster so that your people could quietly re-settle. Do you remember the responses I got? So many were relieved that most of the terrorist group known as the Order was now gone. I was appalled by this reaction."
"That I did that for your people, that those I told acted the way they did is why I got so furious when you and I quarreled over a TAZ ship using suspected alien tech, that at the time I was labeled an enemy. Admiral, we will disagree often but dammit don't hate us over it."
He then turned, his head looking up. His side to Golanski, he calmly stated, "I don't have the knowledge of Nomads that you do but I've learned much. That is info I would share with you if you're interested.....and only you. I keep a designated lab with some samples on ship."
"Never let Cryer know." He cut in briefly. Enroaching on corporations business was a quick ticket to conflict in the Houses. "They sometimes not even realize full potential in their own products and are highly protective of them anyway..." It was friendly advice, to keep out of the harm's way.
It however hit him, that Doc assumed different view upon Toledo than his, but shockingly no less accurate. He never was attached to that planet, until he would loose it. He'd remembered ice and snowy deserts that were beatiful in itself. Spare basic lifeforms that actually managed to thrive in this world. The Order had to cope by conserving heat in their major population centres as temperatures while not lethal, were inconvenience especially if you wanted to go out. He had dreamth of Toledo as he laid unconscious, barely alive as they found him in ruins of the planet as evacuation was in full swing. White wastes giving into molten hell, damn way too prophetic in his opinion.
"No Doc. The nature itself. Look at the pictures of old Toledo... that is before Nomads... and Core came. It was never snowing here at this time of Gran Canaria's yearly cycle. Closer to the poles it is already feeling nostalgic."
Then he addressed to invitation to see his... forbidden labolatory, hidden secret of his. In a way it saddened him even more. Golanski sat on the table and moved onto his legs as he took an extra dose of more effective meds he was offered. He'd seen he thought all that could be done by bright yet irresponsible minds that jumped on most dangerous shortcut towards forbidden knowledge.
"I have thought I seen and heard it all, Holiday. Simple as weapons, to make killing other navy way too easy and efficient. Benevolent powergrids and generators capable of destabilizing Sirian balance of power just by existing, you would had thought that this alone sounds innocent... but humanity is not united to enjoy this gift without major genocide and war in the process. I even heard about such crimes as combining Nomads and humans. I hope you do not dissapoint me, John. That would be a painful sight."
His way of accepting the invitation was perhaps overly dramatic... but it was his utmost duty to at least warn him of the risks. This was among other reasons he interfered in TAZ affairs, a chaos cult that in snap of the momenth turned into complete opposition against The Order - in name, in beliefs and in association. The Order had to be maintained, chaos and anarchy had to be segmented into specific system. Even disorder could be forced to follow some hard to notice pattern leading to a higher purpose away from complete darkness and entrophy of ever-battling chaos.
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