S.S. Fawkes - CF-142AC
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Healed, but not without pain

Posted on Thursday January 16th, 2020 @ 23:31 hours by Lorpax & Mercy

Mission: Hot Couture
Location: SS Fawkes - Medical Bay

Lorpax made himself at home in the seemingly forgotten Medical Bay. Cleaning had become his first task. Not only did he despise untidiness, the current state of the place could hardly be called sterile. He huffed and puffed as he went, despising being here at all. The Orbital Facility he had just left behind might not have been the Grand marketplace, but it offered more business opportunities than he could ever hope to find here. Here he was reduced to nothing more than an employee, to be exploited. No longer was he the exploitee.

That's when the shortest crewmember on the Fawkes was about to meet the tallest. Approaching hefty footfalls announced her arrival, punctuated by a shadow cast over the small medical bay by the hulking form blocking the entrance way. "I'd heard we got a sawbones." sounded the resonant, thick, warm voice of the ship's resident werewolf. "Got a moment to look at my leg, doc? It's still bothering me." she added.

“Seems simple enough,” the doctor responded with a toothy smile, meant to be of comfort, but in accurately was more creepy. “2 strips of Latinum should fix that, as for your head, that is another story,” he negotiated, realising the full extend of his patients injuries.

Mercy quirked a brow and folded her arms over each other. "Huh. Ok. Is that how we're going to play it. Fair enough." she mused. "After all the work I put in to making this excuse for a med bay operational again." she continued, making a tour of the area. "Diagnosis scanner. Three hours spent gutting and redoing the wiring. Five strips for that, sounds about right. Dermal regenerator. Needed a software update and general cleaning. Small job. One strip. Database terminal. Malware sweep, software update, database unification, driver fix. Three strips. Set of black market stainless medical supplies, disinfectants, painkillers, bandages - " She pulled open a drawer, indicating all the supplies she'd mentioned." - fell off a transport. Five strips. Way I figure, you help me, I knock two strips off what you owe me and walk out of here with 12 strips of Latinum." Beat. "Or we can forget all this Latinum bullshit and simply help a fellow crewmember out. How's that sound." she concluded with a toothy grin of her own, with fangs the length of Lorpax' hands.

“I was not on board when any of the work was done, and I don’t own this med bay, where as you do have ownership of your damaged body,” the Ferengi retorted. “But I can see you are going to drive a hard bargain. “How about two strips and I see to your head, free of charge.”

Mercy's expression instantly dropped into a scowl. She curled up the corners of her mouth to show row of razorsharp fangs, as a deep, rumbling growl escaped her, a growl that resonated and was felt rather than heard. rested massive clawed paws on the diagnostics bed and leaned forward, making a show of tensing her muscles underneath her shirt. A pure intimidation display, honed over seventeen years on a penal colony. "Look, I'll be more than happy to rip out the wiring in your diagnostics scanner, roll back the driver updates and database reintegration on your main console and take away your supplies, if you don't want them. Meanwhile how 'bout I go talk to Mayterial and get her to stop paying you monthly wages, because you seem obviously dead set on gouging the crew you work with and whom you depend on to keep you alive, clothed and fed, for all they're worth." her voice, deep and sonorous, never raised above a low conversational monotone.

The small man took a step back, partly out of fear, and partly to take a breathe and think things over. After a pause he calmly responded; “perhaps we could be mutually beneficial?” He suggested. “You need medical treatment, and I may need certain ‘supplies.’ Seeing as you know which transports to follow in order to acquire various supplies, I might have a request or two, no questions asked. Do we have a deal?”

And just like that, her posture relaxed, she stood up straight, ears perked attentively, her smile returned and she gave a little wag of her tail. "I knew you would be reasonable. I can't promise I'll always be able to get what you request, but I can promise that I'll do my best get what you need and to keep your equipment working." she offered, sitting down on the edge of the bio bed.

“Appreciated,” the Doctor replied placing his wrists together and cupping his hands. “So, let’s look at your leg shall we?” He scurried away to a draw and fetched a Star Fleet issue Medical tricorder, that he had once aquired in a questionable business transaction. Upon returning he began his scan, hovering over a scanner with one hand and reading the tricorder itself in the other. “Rate your pain from 1 to 10,” he grunted as if it were an order.

"A constant three, with pangs of five to six, a few times a day. When I move wrong." Mercy mused. She figured a nerve had gotten pinched or something, but didn't know for sure. She knew engines. Not nerves. Except how to get on people's nerves, she knew how to do that.

Lorpax made various ‘concerned’ grunting noises as he continued in his scans. “Hmm, tsst tsst, quite a scrape you have gotten yourself into,” he remarked. “It’s treatable but with such poorly maint...such old equipment, it will take time. I will start a course of regenerative treatment today, and you will have to return to me every day for the next week, before you fully recover.”

Mercy nodded, shoulders slumping a bit. "Yeah I figured about as much." She mused. "Thanks Doc."

“Hold still,” he smirked retrieving a small device seemingly out of no where. “It’s going to hurt....”

Ships physician
SS Fawkes

SS Fawkes


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