Niko comes in from outside.
Riley comes in from outside.
Tara can be seen once the door is shut, mainly because she's behind it. Starting to reholster a laspistol, she gives a sigh of relief. "Bout time you got..." Somebody gets a baleful look. "What the hell are you doing here, Addison?"
Riley does not look at all abashed to be trailing along behind Niko like a fluffyheaded shadow. "Not getting shot hopefully," He offers as the laspistol is holstered. "If there's trouble, you can use all the help you can get, eh?
Niko's brows arch at the weapon. "I asked him to come," he says, sounding decidedly less than amiable. "Being the type to get mugged or worse down here, after all. What's up?"
Tara snorts. "Wouldn't need y'all at all, but I never took EOD training." She folds her arms. "Short version- some idiots down the way got their hands on a bunch of illudium. Bye bye Complex if they get a chance to use it."
The semi-relaxed posture is altogether gone, Riley is all at once a rather dangerously scary guy, straightening to his full height and prepared to be in a John Wu movie. He curses, the words moving fluidly through heavily accented Standard and into Edrilac and back. Oh my, with a Denner? In a Cadillac? And a -fish-?!
Niko takes a moment to assimilate that. (Resistance is futile.) Of course, before the moment's over, Riley is swearing, and, for a moment, Niko looks utterly impressed. "What he said," he murmurs. Turning back to Tara, he inquires, "Where?" Time for the other W's and How later.
Tara gestures toward the door, shrugging into her jacket. "I'll show you." No, that's not a look of respect she shoots toward Riley. It's just your imagination.
Niko echoes the gesture, so that Tara may precede him. That could be his usual courtesy. Of course, it could also be a reticence to have her behind him.
Moving to fall in behind the others, perhaps nobody wants Riley behind them either. With a crisis at hand all the polite veneers have dropped off, and he's in 'Evil Mode (tm)
You go outside.
Dank Housing Hall
This low hall wends its way through the various underground passageways of the Underground. Tucked into niches and openings are various berths, houses, and small store fronts. Here the ceilings are lower and the lighting even dimmer. The occasional splash of color is evident as a curtain or mostly wilted plant as those who live in the Underground strive to make the best of their world. Some entrances are guarded by mercenaries, these are the havens of smugglers and traders in illegal goods. Children of various races run back and forth laughingly amongst this chaos, laughter un-dimmed by their dark environment.
<< To a closer look at some of the dwellings, type +view map >>
Obvious exits:
Causeway
You shut the door quickly behind you.
Niko comes out of a door, you can't see which one.
Riley comes out of a door, you can't see which one.
Tara leads the way down the corridor, around several twists and turns, before stopping to peer around a corner. She glances back with a nod toward the door across the way. "There."
Riley has to duck several times to follow along, the ceilings here are not exactly high enough for his taste. "What's the situation? How likely is this stuff going to go on us?"
Like subtlety is possible with two oversized Security goons trailing Tara, even if only one of them is in uniform. "Do you know if there's anybody in there?" That would be Niko, of course.
Tara shrugs. "There were a dozen of 'em in there when I saw them. They'd already started making the bomb when I left." An eyebrow arches at Riley. "They're rank amateurs, haven't a bloody clue how to handle the stuff."
Now we see it's a good thing Riley remembered his gun, he slides to the tangler from its holster. A soft buzz of a hum accompanies him powering it to full beam. He steps to one side of the door in that classic fashion of the authorities in a gajillion cheesy action movies. Preparing to kick the door open with a foot he nods to Niko.
Cora comes out of a door, you can't see which one.
Niko unholsters his tangler as well, smoothly moving to the other side of the door. His expression is seriously intent, and apparently calm. . o O ( Tara had to call -me-. Maybe I'll give her a Denner. And a watering can. ) Spotting Cora, however, his calm frays a bit. "Ma'am, you don't want to be here, just now."
Cora hrms. "This is my neighborhood, my home. Why not?"
Tara rolls her eyes, sighing, and pulls her weapon back out as well. After a moment's thought, she sets it on stun, and just gives Cora a quick look. Let the authorities handle the local folks, she will.
Riley isn't really bothering to deal with passerby, this is more than a little of an emergency. Explosives are bad. They explode. Exploding is bad. It's loud, it destorys things. We don't want that now do we? With one tennis shoed foot he kicks the door open, forcing past the weak lock. It doesn't thump neatly, cause well, he's wearing running shoes. "Security! Cease and desist!" And with that he piles through the door. Play the crescendoing music now.
Cora moves a bit closer to her door.
Niko can't exactly answer Cora's question. Seeing as how his boss is piling into the recently-kicked door and all, he's kind of obligated to follow. Maybe -he- should've done the kicking, though. Maybe those security boots have steel toes or something. In any event, Niko piles after Riley, gripping his tangler perhaps a bit too tightly.
Riley looks furtively around and unlocks the door marked I9.
Niko looks furtively around and unlocks the door marked I9.
Tara follows the men, wondering why in the /hell/ she's doing so.
You look furtively around, and unlock the door.
Room I9
All right, this is not exactly a homey sort of place. There really isn't much in the way of lighting, with the exception of one fluorescent light, way up on the high ceiling, that has the tendency to flicker. Thus, the overall effect can be rather strobe-esque at times, casting shadows in various corners, and almost masking the mass of boxes. Oddly, the labels on the outside of the box reads 'ACME Butterscotch Pudding'. Why would anybody want so much pudding in such a dingy warehouse, which, aside from various battered and long-abandoned crates, is echoingly empty?
Contents:
Niko
Riley
Obvious exits:
Out
You shut the door behind you, quickly.
Funny. The pudding doesn't desist. But then it wasn't doing much to begin with. People seem to have left the room to itself.
Niko skids to a rather startled halt, though he doesn't lower his weapon just yet. Gaze flicking towards Tara, he says, voice rather ominous and rumbling, not unlike a thunderstorm, "If this is some kind of joke..."
Okay, this is a bit anti-climactic, Riley holsters his tangler, muttering. "And I even remembered my -line-."
Tara gives Niko a withering look, and neither is her laspistol going back into its holster. "Oh yeah, like I'd call Security down here for the fun of it."
Riley edges across the floor carefully, careful of the floorbaords as he moves to investigate the towers of pudding. Oooh, wow, -more- unique words. He carefully tugs a can aside, "Very careful, this whole thing's rigged."
Niko pads closer to the nearest pudding box, taking a deep, slow breath. No, he wasn't even remotely afraid of bursting through that door, why do you ask? He starts to investigate the box, mouthing 'pudding??', then pauses at Riley's words, with an explosive curse. Pun intentional.
Tara edges her way over to get a look. "Well, ain't that just lovely. Don't touch it, Addison."
Carefully pulling back a can at a time and setting them aside, Riley would probably be looking outright terrified if it weren't for the adrenalin. His tone is dry, "Gee Tara, I was intending to kick it a few times. Timer's running."
Niko swallows slowly, Adam's apple bobbing. And, yes, there's a brief flicker of outright terror in his eyes, but he moves over to stand at Riley's elbow nonetheless, careful not to get close enough to touch him. This is not, of course, because of any bizarre regulations, but simply because he doesn't want to jog Riley's arm at a crucial moment. "That's bad." Ooh, isn't he observent?
Tara ignores the sarcasm, asking calmly as she glances around. "How long?"
Riley's brows furrow lightly as he regards the alien numbers ticking slowly away. "What a time to hafta to do math... About two and a half minutes." He murmurs in an amused tone as he shifts a can to reveal the tangled coil of jurry rigged wires, "The red or the blue?" Yes, it's a dumb old joke, and entirely innapropriately considering the literally dozens of wires.
Niko stares at Riley for a moment in shock, but, nonetheless, automatically responds, "Blue." His soda-religious indoctrination takes over even now. Peering at the wires, though, he shakes his head, murmuring mostly to himself, "I think I dreamed this once."
Tara's eyes widen slightly. "Dammit. You gotta disconnect that thing." She slides her weapon back into its shoulder holster. "This pudding's valuable."
Riley clambers onto a couple of cans to get far enough over the bomb to start looking for bits to unplug. "Tara, if this thing goes, this pudding's going to be component atoms. So are we, and the building and everybody in it."
Tara's motion reminds Niko that, yes, he's still got his sidearm out. He remedies that situation, and apparently gets a grip on himself, as his gaze focuses on the wire setup, expression vaguely analytical. He doesn't seem to hear the pudding comment, which is likely a very good thing, as it could be the anvil that broke the camel's back. Taking a position on the other side of the bomb from Riley, perched on another can, he shakes his head.
Tara nods, happy in her it'll-never-happen-to-me mindset. She mutters to Niko, "... he... me Tara one... going... smack him..."
Niko senses "Tara nods, happy in her it'll-never-happen-to-me mindset. "If he calls me Tara one more time, I'm going to smack him.""
Niko's gaze flicks briefly from the bomb to Tara, gaze narrowing. "Miss Valentine," he says, quite calmly, "If you can't control your violent impulses, perhaps it would be better if you left." He adds, with a flicker of tension, "This really isn't the time for distractions."
Tara returns both gazes just as calmly. "Obviously I can control 'em. Haven't smacked him yet, have I?" Obviously, she's not about to leave, but she does give Niko an apologetic look. "Sorry. Nerves."
"Any ideas?" Riley questions Niko quietly. Gesturing to a set of switches he questions, "Snapping these -should- power it down, each one goes from the timing mechanism to the actual fuses. I -think-." He blinks, "Violent impulses Tara?"
Tara glares over at Riley and, unthinking, smacks his shoulder. "Mind on your work, Addison."
Oh dear, see Riley's balanced on a can of pudding. Riley's also six foot eight and not exactly the worlds most ergonomically designed device. Smacking him is just that laaast bit of tipping he needs, and he most assuredly wasn't expecting it. As he begins to topple into the pile of cans he makes a swipe at the switches, trying to get them to the off position before he upends the supports of the bomb. It's not happening however, he can't reach them as he falls.
Ever have one of those moments where everything's going in slow-motion, but you still can't stop the disaster about to happen? Well, Niko's having one of those moments. His own position is not quite as precarious as Riley's, but it's still not all that super. "Nooooo," he calls. Can't you see the slow-motion? He makes a dive for the bomb, but only manages to reach two of the switches. That third switch is still most definitely on. Oh, gee. Look at that timer. 3... 2... 1...
Tara's eyes widen as she realizes... "Oh sh..." The curse is thankfully drowned out by the noise as she dives behind the mass of cans and boxes.
0. Boom. A single set of cannisters of explosive are still wired up and they trigger. There's a roar of sound and then a massive 'Glop' as hundreds upon hundreds of cans of butterscotch pudding rupture. Oh my, now -that-'s a festive mess. Dust rises from seemingly everywhere at once as the concussive force tears through the room. The lighting is gone, and pitch black reigns. Just for a moment however as flame begins to lick its way up the walls in the back of the room adding an eerie glow to this world of yellow pudding and gray dust.
Announcement: The muffled rumble of a distant explosion causes the Complex to shudder slightly.
Niko is not, thankfully, right on the site of the explosion, otherwise he'd be a darker spot in the mass of butterscotch pudding. He is, however, knocked rather forcefully to the ground, and the pudding doesn't exactly pad his fall. The cans are also fairly sharp, small bits slicing, dicing, and julianning. And there's also the fire. There's rather a lot of it that seems to be somewhere between him and the door. He remains on the ground for a moment, then slowly attempts to get to his feet. Bad idea.
Riley is shielded from dying outright by the cans, but he's thrown against one wall rather heavily. There'd probably be a bit of a crunching sound and a thump, but the deafening roar sort of covers that. Dazed a moment by having his head smack into the wall, he drops to the floor from where he's thrown. Adrenalin however is a powerful master, and coughing he pulls himself to his knees and up onto a piece of room.
Tara gets thrown against the opposite wall, a loud *POP* accompanying the hit, and is buried beneath shreds of metal, boxes, and a hill of pudding. After a long moment she digs her way out, spluttering. "I freakin' /hate/ butterscotch!"
"Well, I know -she's- alive," Riley mutters to himself, tugging himself clear of the pile. He moves to tab his comm unit, but it's in component pieces. "Nick?" There's a hint of desperation to his call, "Y'okay? Edit that, you alive?"
Niko takes a moment to consider that, taking a mental inventory. "Yes," he decides finally, voice pitched to carry. Of course, it took him a moment or seven to reply to Riley, probably not very kind of him. "I'm here, Chief. Uh. By the pudding." Helpful guy, isn't he?
Tara stumbles her way over to Niko, frowning down at him. "Uh, you don't look so good." Not that she looks much better, but at least she can walk. She glances over to eye the fire. "Hey guys? Time to evacuate."
Long pauses are cruel and evil, and Riley almost falls over again in relief. He doesn't however, instead making his way through the rubble and slime. "We've gotta get out of here folks." This is punctuated by some rather pained coughing, "Smoke's getting thick, fire's gonna be outa' hand any moment. Need to get upstairs'n call folks down."
Yes, once again, Niko looks like hell. For one thing, laundry is absolutely going to hate him, as those bits of his uniform that are not in shreds are covered in blood and mud and char-marks and... is that butterscotch pudding? Yes, he's definitely had an interesting day. He's tight-lipped and pale, and the odd angle of his left leg suggests part of the reason, as it's clearly broken below the knee. Countless--okay, no, they're countable--cuts and burns spatter various bits of skin, and he generally looks battered and ouchful.
Talk about worse for wear...Riley must be dry clean only. His clothing is probably to the point of no repair, it's torn and shredded in a dozen places where he's cut or singed. It's also coated in mud, blood, and what would appear to be copious amounts of butterscotch pudding. No really, I'm not kidding -- butterscotch pudding. Blood is leaking down his neck from a slice into the back of his head, and where his shirt's shredded, massively darkening bruises can be seen beneath the smaller cuts, mud, and pudding.
Niko tabs a moment at his comm-unit, then shakes his head. It's squished enough that it's not going to work. His tangler is still in working order, at least--or it will be, once he cleans the butterscotch pudding out of it. (Good thing, too. He's going to need it later.) He nods slowly to Tara, then calls towards Riley, "Minor problem, Chief." He sounds fairly calm, though there's definitely a tension about him that would belie his tone. "Walking is going to be problematic."
Tara kneels with a wince to look Niko over briefly, then glances up at Riley with a nod. "Busted his leg. How're you?"
Riley makes his way through the last of the rubble, kneeling down next to Niko with alacrity that's somewhat surprising considering his size and the situation. Tugging back some rubble from the younger man he hisses softly, "Ow, that's gotta hurt." He mutters to Tara, "Fine." He'd add a rider, but a flaming support dropping nearby breaks him off from snide comments. "We gotta get out of here though, much as that's gonna hurt to move." He slides up next to Niko on the bad side, moving to half heft the other man up, pulling one of Niko's arms across his shoulders. "Place is collapsing."
Niko clambers to his feet with Riley's help, though not without a hiss of pain that is very likely lost in the roaring of the flames. He doesn't make any other references to the injury, though, instead saying only, "Getting out of here sounds good. Now."
Tara nods uneasily, using one hand to lever herself to her feet. "You won't hear me disagreeing."
Picking his way through the burning rubble is not easy, especially not while supporting the bulk of Niko's weight, but Riley manages it the same way he's managed everything else. Adrenal glands are nice things to have. Over rubble, under lintel, forcing himself to keep from breaking into another coughing fit as he gets hit by more smoke he makes his way through what was once the door.
Riley goes outside.
Niko goes outside.
You go outside.
Dank Housing Hall
This low hall wends its way through the various underground passageways of the Underground. Tucked into niches and openings are various berths, houses, and small store fronts. Here the ceilings are lower and the lighting even dimmer. The occasional splash of color is evident as a curtain or mostly wilted plant as those who live in the Underground strive to make the best of their world. Some entrances are guarded by mercenaries, these are the havens of smugglers and traders in illegal goods. Children of various races run back and forth laughingly amongst this chaos, laughter un-dimmed by their dark environment.
<< To a closer look at some of the dwellings, type +view map >>
Contents:
Niko
Riley
Cora
Obvious exits:
Causeway
You shut the door quickly behind you.
Cora watches folks come out of a door, but she didn't see which one.
Niko gives Riley as much help as he can, but Riley does, as is mentioned, carry the bulk of his weight, for reasons that his desc will make apparent. He offers Cora a decidedly tight smile--well, no, it's not quite a smile. It's more a baring of teeth. But it's close to a smile. Considering the situation (again, check out various descs), it's not surprising that he's not smiling.
It's the charge of the butterscotch brigade! Riley's half carrying Niko, hunched forward so he can balance the slightly shorter man's arm across his shoulders and all but hauls Niko outright towards the causeway.
Cora icks. 'What happened to you people?"
"Don't piss off the pudding," Riley mutters, moving through.
Tara isn't even close to smiling as she follows the men. She's muttering dire threats about amateur bombers.
Riley walks towards the Underground Causeway.
Niko walks towards the Underground Causeway.
You walk towards the Underground Causeway.
Second Floor Elevator Lounge
Despite being one of the major hubs of activity in the Complex, few people linger here. While there are usually people present, usually they are on their way to someplace else. The lobby is nice enough, with broad tapestries hung on richly paneled walls, and floors of veined black marble; but it is simply too busy for most people to stop and chat in. The occasional tasteful potted plant lurks in the corners, and large mirrors are hung near the elevators for passing lobbyists to check their appearances before descending to the main level. Corridors lead to the northeast and southwest.
Contents:
Niko
Riley
Obvious exits:
Elevator General Housing Library Security Maintenance Medical
You walk here from the Poorly Lit Hallway.
There is no mail in your mailbox.
Beware of people encased in pudding, for they are probably peeved and not at all happy. Riley is pretty much carrying Niko, the younger man's arm held across his shoulders. Clean up crew is going to -love- them. Riley barks a few orders at a passing security officer, sending the other man pelting back towards security to take care of the fire. Riley heads on towards Medbay.
Tara follows along behind the men, looking more dazed than hurt, though she's got her share of injuries as well.
Niko still follows. He really can't do much else at this point, other than attempt to avoid saying 'Ow'.
Riley heads towards the Medical Bay.
Niko heads towards the Medical Bay.
You head towards the Medical Bay.
Medical Bay
Even the circulation of air can't quite keep the antiseptic smell from this room. Immaculately clean, the tiles of the floor are the same pristine white as the walls. Gadgets and gizmos abound. The highest medical technology available for all the races that might conceivably come to the station are present. A pair of beds near the door provide places for emergent cases, their bioscan devices ready for monitoring. Door lead to rooms for surgery, short-term care, and long-term care. (OOC note: To set your room doing, try 'I'm '.)
Contents:
Tara, standing by the door.
Niko, standing by the door.
Riley, part of the pudding patrol
Clara, standing by the door.
Obvious Exits:
Short Term Care Chief's Office Elevator Lounge
You arrive from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
Riley hauls Niko towards one of the biobeds. Singleminded determination is his friend. "See, made it."
Clara has her back to the door, running a stylus over a wall unit and murmuring to herself in various ominous phrases in Latin until Kramer's seat scooting back and tenor gasp brings her into an about face and producing an efficient gape. "Holy mother..." she breathes, then tosses the stylus to a desk and snaps into professional mode, stalking toward the bed as well. "What happened?"
Riley can't help but repeat the sentiment of his previous comment as he pretty much hefts Niko onto the bed. "Don't piss off pudding."
Niko is more than grateful to sink onto the biobed. He blinks a few times at Clara's question, then says slowly, "The pudding exploded." It makes sense, honest, it does... well, at least, it does in Niko's head.
Clara glances over Riley impassively for a moment, then Tara, then immediately turns back to Niko as she starts to snap various parts of the bed active, lights flashing along its side and on the large monitor on the wall behind it. Moving down to check the leg cautiously, she notes simply, "Compound break. Riley, hold him while I set it?"
Tara finds a chair to fall into, just watching dully.
Riley nods to Clara. For an Admiral he's really good at doing what he's told. Offering Niko a rather apologetic look he leans over to pin the younger man rather effectively. This is done swiftly, and with not a lot of warning.
Niko has just been attacked by a fluffy-haired man covered in butterscotch pudding--nightmare fodder for weeks. After a moment's startlement, and an entertaining squawking sound, he relaxes--or attempts to do so, as much as one can when anticipating more pain to come.
Apologetic compassion flickers in Clara's gaze for a moment up at Niko before steeling again as she braces herself and without warning hauls against the leg, a fairly depressing squelch, then popping sound filling Medbay before she lets the leg down on the bed, breathing heavily. "Kramer, prep!" she calls over.
Tara winces at that pop, her expression uncharacteristically sympathetic.
And you thought Niko was pale before. Currently, he matches the tile, and the sheets, and... okay, yeah, he's about as white as he's going to get. He bites back on the required cry of pain, though, the machismo equally required. "That was fun," he says weakly. "Let's do it again." Yes, he's kidding.
>>OOC: Niko guesses it'd be more of a pale yellow, under the pudding...
Riley edges back off Niko. This probably at least makes the situation a -little- bit better. Moving a couple of wavering steps back to allow the doctoral types space he shakes his head. "Sorry Nick, faster's better though." A security type comes running in, pulling Riley more or less to one side to give him a new comm unit and to murmur to him.
Tara kicks a chair in Riley's direction. "Sit before ya fall down."
Clara snatches a scalpel from the instrument tray and slices up Niko's pants to the knee as Kramer moves in with antiseptic to start on sterilizing the area around the break. "You just can't keep from breaking things, can you? I need to tie you down?" she asks up at the man with a wan smile, then accepts a hypo from Kramer and hisses it just below the knee.
Riley sinks down into the chair, offering Tara a grateful look despite the situation. Fumbling the new comm unit on in replacement of his shattered one he continues his murmured discussion.
Niko has a beautiful woman ripping off his clothing and offering to tie him down. Too bad he's not able to enjoy it. Blinking at Clara, he asks slowly, "You've been talking to Doctor Feintuch, haven't you? He's a sadist, don't listen to him."
Tara catches Riley's look but glances away to watch Clara, muttering, "Don't want ya falling on somebody. Squish."
Clara arches her brows innocently, still bent to her work of cleaning off the afflicted area. "Skeletal regenerator," she murmurs at Kramer, who heads off to drag a machine across the room to the bioscan area. "All doctors are sadist, Niko, hon. Just hold still, now. That anesthetic should kick in right about now."
Roland starts awake and glances around. He blinks his eyes a couple times than shakes his head. "Fell asleep again," he mutters to himself.
Niko, looking suddenly rather less tense, nods to Clara, keeping relatively still, as directed. "It did. Modern technology is a miraculous thing," he adds fervently.
Oh my, such festive phrases are being exchanged between Riley and the random flunky. Fire control, warrants, structural integrity scans, death by butterscotch. The only problem is the adrenaline is starting to wear off a hair and some of his instructions are positively riddled with unique and inventive phrases. Hey, ever wonder where the phrase 'cursing like a salior' came from?
Roland gets up and walks through the doors into short-term and blinks. "Whoa, what happened to you guys?"
Riley repeats, it's become standard now, "Don't piss off pudding."
Clara doesn't bother to grin, but starts to attach electrodes to pertinent places as Kramer runs a scanner over the break. "Compound, like you said, Doc. Six weeks cast, easy," he explains, causing a grimace from Clara, who utterly ignores Riley's tirade. "Niko, listen to me," she starts. "I can set you in a cast, or regenerate. Problem is, the generator -hurts-, anesthetic or no. But you'll be off crutches in three days."
Tara isn't listening to Riley, not at all. He can't be why she's starting to snicker a bit in a fit of silly anticlimatic relief.
Roland nods. "Right, understood." Not really, but with the condition they're in he's not gonna argue.
Niko knows exactly how much the generator hurts, from his sudden wince. He considers it a moment, then says, with a small smile, "Pain is fleeting. Casts are forever--or, at least, that's what it seems like. I really -hate- casts, Clara. They itch." Riley's words get a quick glance, and an apparent attempt to commit them to memory. "That was -great-," he murmurs, his admiration obvious.
Amongst the tirade is, "The proof of the pudding is in the 'boom'", as Riley at last satisfies the flunky with a list of answered questions and he heads out again, leaving the security chief to slump a bit in the chair and whistle softly. "I don't think," he enunciates quietly, "I ever want to see butterscotch again."
Clara regards Niko for a moment, then nods sharply and hold out a hand to Kramer, who slaps another hypo in it. "DNA prep," she explains, setting it to Niko's neck before returning to finish attaching electrodes. A final covering of heavy black non-conductive fabric goes over the entire lower leg before she looks up at Kramer somberly. "Clear. Juice it." Zzzzzap.
Tara nods in agreement with Riley, forgetting not to do so. "Pudding in general. Except chocolate."
Niko would nod emphatic agreement to Riley, except that, well, he's in a heck of a lot of pain. Hands fist, eyes squeeze shut, jaw clamps, and he basically goes rigid. A decidedly unhappy sound escapes him despite the fact that he's practically crushing his own teeth. Well... he was warned.
Riley winces at Niko's situation. He's rub at the back of his head as he often does when discomfited, but there's blood and slices and butterscotch back there, so he gives it a miss. Instead he just shakes his head slightly, "Yow..."
Tara shifts uneasily, obviously uncomfortable in the presence of that much obvious pain. "Can't you, like, knock him out or something?"
Clara shakes her head briefly at Tara, then covers Niko's hand with her own comfortingly for the few moments the generator forcibly reknits the bones at the molecular level, and then she's nodding for Kramer to start removing cloth and electrodes as she moves up to Niko's head, peering down at him carefully. "Niko? Niko, it's over. It'll ache for a few days, but then you'll be fine," she explains, starting to check the other wound. "Minor cuts and burns. Kramer? Finish up here?" She turns to the others, pushing back her hair. "Ms. Valentine? Over here, please." She pats at the other bioscan bed.
Roland justs frowns slightly. He mutters to himself, "... print..."
Tara pushes herself to her feet, reluctantly clambering onto the bed.
Niko slumps against the bioscan bed as he remembers how to breathe, looking utterly exhausted. But he's not hurting nearly as much as he was, so he's very happy with that. He murmurs a vague acknowledgement of Clara's words, adding a "Thankyou," but he keeps his eyes closed as Kramer finishes up.
Nice chair, good chair. Riley watches the goings on quietly, sprawled in the poor chair that probably doesn't like being covered in mud, blood, and pudding. "Valentine, what in Peesh's name -happened-?"
Clara unholsters her own scanner and runs it over the limp arm, on up to the shoulder, frowning until at the top joint, upon which she sighs with relief. "It's not broken. Just dislocated. You want anesthetic for this?" She glances over at Riley briefly. "She pissed off the pudding?"
"Pain is bad. Anesthetic is good." Tara gives Riley a semi-dazed but calm look. "You fell."
Niko slowly opens his eyes. "Anesthetic is good," he echoes. "But you -made- him fall." Don't use anesthetic, Clara. You know you don't want to.
"I remember all the bits I was there for Valentine," Riley's tone is forced calm, "How did the explosives get there in the first place?"
Roland raises his brows. "Explosives and pudding, interesting. Maybe I shoulda became a reporter," he muses.
Clara turns away to measure out another hypo, which finds its way to the businesswoman's shoulder with a hiss. She snaps a wall unit open to tug out a sling, setting it to one side before taking hold of Tara's arm. "It'll still hurt, but you shouldn't faint, at least," she explains reasonably. "Ready?" She ignores the bit about explosives. For now.
Tara glances toward Niko, and looks around for something to throw. "That's what he gets for allowing a civilian to stay in the room." Reluctantly she looks back at Riley, giving Clara an idle nod. "Why don't you ask the people who made the bomb?"
It's only the quick thinking--and rapid pushing--of Kramer that actually keeps Niko on the bioscan bed, as Tara's comment makes him attempt to leave, the better to inflict some sort of evil. He's had a rough day. "Don't you -dare- blame him for that," he hisses. Oh, yes. It could be said that he's definitely back to loyalty.
Riley manages to control his temper by main force, "Valentine, I'm not going to kill you. I'm -seriously- tempted, but out of respect for Clara's nice cleanish medbay, I am -not- going to go over there and strangle you. I -do- however want a straight answer before I forget my manners."
Clara hesitates while giving Tara a bland look. "You got these two hurt?" she asks calmly, then gives the arm an abrupt pull, maybe just a bit harder than necessary. Pop. She looks from Niko to Riley, going even more calm if anything. "Medbay can be cleaned."
Tara glances back at Niko, feeling like she's watching a tennis match. "Alright, I don't blame him for it. But you could be nicer. Didn't your mother tell you to never point out a lady's mistakoooowwww." That was the arm going back in. After giving Clara a startled look, it's back to answering Riley with a sigh. "I take the fifth."
Niko says very quietly, "I would not point out the mistake of a lady." Yes, there's a small emphasis on that last word. And, matter of fact, his mother likely told him just that.
It's just a -really- good thing Riley's as beat up as he is. He half clambers from the chair with a snarl before blinking a few times and dropping back into it. "FIne then, I'm holding you for questioning then until I get satisfactory answers." He murmurs into his comm unit.
Clara snags up the sling and tosses it at Tara casually before turning away to tug up the box from her office that sits on a nearby desk. She rapidly straps it to one leg and moves finally to Riley, still expressionless as she starts the scanner over the back of his head. "I have sodium pentathol," she offers without emphasis.
Tara gives Niko a hurt look, turning away a bit. Riley's words make her wake up real fast. So do Clara's. Snatching the sling from the air, she slides off the bed, her expression frantic. "Will it satisfy you to know I didn't know it was illudium under all the pudding until I saw 'em making the bomb?"
Riley glances up at Clara, offering a wry grin, "Oh the -temptation-. Sadly I have to petition the court for the right to use that." He regards Tara askance, "What I -want- to know is -who- those people were and -where- they got it."
Niko sits up slowly, the better to attempt to loom. Since he's still rather shaky-looking, however, the effect is more comical than anything else, when he folds his arms over his chest and murmurs, voice half an octave lower than usual, "Yeah."
It's a good thing Clara's both a doctor and a lady, or she'd chuck the scanner at Tara, and she has good aim. As it is, she just lifts a cold glare at the woman before coming around to bend and try to peer into Riley's eyes without interrupting, then transfers the scanner to his chest. "Damn," is her quiet mutter.
Tara hesitates, sidling a few steps toward the door. "Alright... I'll tell you what you -want- to know, if you guarantee I'm not prosecuted for any part of this whole mess." Clara's comment elicits an arched eyebrow.
Riley blinks a few times at Clara, offering her an apologetic look. Niko's actions garner the ghost of a ghost of a smile before he turns back to Tara, "You know I can't promise that. I can offer leniancy, although Peesh knows I'm tempted to stick you with the full of the law just for what you did to poor Nick. But what I really want is to get these people, and keep this crap from happening again. Not knowing your level of involvement, I can't just offer immunity."
Kramer glances up from treating Niko's various lacerations, then wordlessly gestures at a few interns who calmly shuffle towards the door to flank it. Just hangin' out, y'know.
Niko squints towards the scanner readout, but is quite obviously too far to see it. "What?" he asks Clara, Tara apparently forgotten. For now. He catches the mention of his name and glances to Riley, brows lifted a bit.
Clara gingerly extends a hand to probe at Riley's ribcage, although very definitely not in any attempt to tickle. "Riley, sit up straight," she murmurs quietly, totally focused now. "It's your ribs..."
Tara halts, staring at Riley, and protests, "I didn't do anything to Nick! Damn you, Addison, I was trying to help! I didn't /have/ to call anybody in, y'know." Gritting her teeth as she gets control of her temper, she offers, "They called themselves the Army for Planetary Escape. Anti-Alliance folks. Like I said, amateurs."
Riley shifts back in the chair, using it to prop himself straighter at Clara's request. The change of position is not his new favorite thing, that's for sure. Slumping was much nicer. His attention is still on Tara, despite the brief waver. "Playing push and shove when we were working with a bomb sure as bridges counts in my book, Tara. Anti-Alliance folks, check. Can you get me names?"
Tara turns a little red, for various reasons. "Addison... um, how do I explain this... I /can/," she stresses the word, "I'd rather not."
Clara stays crouched, snapping open the medkit on her thigh as her hands fly to prep another hypo, this getting pressed to four separate spots on the ribcage, then drops it to the floor lightly before closing her eyes in concentration and letting her hands work to edge the bones into place. "I have a cold sleep unit, too," she mutters in tones akin to falling snow.
Niko alternates between concerned glances at the Riley-and-Clara neck of the woods and less-than-pleased glances towards Tara. He also occasionally randomly abuses hyphens, just because he can. He keeps his thoughts to himself, though a bleak smile crosses his face as she catches Clara's mutter.
Riley's eyes glaze over a fair amount as Clara goes about re-aligning bones, but he manages to retain the majority of the stern 'I am an evil security officer and would enjoy shooting you as much as looking at you, or probably shooting you more actually' tone of voice. He does not abuse hyphens, but he does engage in other acts of grammatical sabotage. "I'm sure you'd rather not get fifteen to twenty either."
Tara nods her agreement with that, eyeing the distance between her and the interns guarding the door. "You're right, I wouldn't. And I won't."
"Valentine," Riley's voice is edged in steel. Steel with a nice shiny polished edge that would look very nice hanging on the wall and being decorative. "Give me an excuse to shoot you, I'm asking..."
Niko just smiles at Riley's words. He takes his tangler from the holster, ignoring the butterscotch pudding oozing from the end. Well, no, he stops ignoring it for a moment, and shakes it lightly, to facilitate pudding-oozing.
Clara pauses at one particular area, then moves to Riley's other side, by now ignoring the rest of medbay entirely as she focuses on one rib. Utterly impassive, she probes for a moment then allows a faint grimace before she looks up at the request to shoot, and stands to back up and fold her arms, watching silently.
Tara glances slowly over at Riley. "You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you." It's not a question. She shrugs. Ow. "The one who contacted me called himself Robert Goldsmith. I've no idea if that's his real name or not. Niko," she adds, without glancing toward him, "In the shape you're in, you're likely to hit these poor boys covering the door if you shoot."
Clara holds out a hand simply to Niko. "I won't miss," she offers calmly.
Riley nods once, a bare inclination of his head. "And where did the explosives come from." He pauses, "You'll note, I'm not asking -how- they got there. I want to know their point of origin, not method of transit." Even Riley can be comprimising.
Riley abuses the English language.
Niko shakes his head slowly to Clara. "Can't do it, sorry." He doesn't return the weapon to its holster, though, either, instead keeping it trained, albeit a bit waveringly, on Tara.
Niko abuses commas. Lotta abuse going on.
Clara flashes a brief, grim half smile at Niko, refolding her arms without taking the tangler. "Didn't expect you to," she murmurs, but doesn't move back towards Riley just yet.
Riley mumurs as a quiet aside upon spotting the wavering, "Nick, friend, if you shoot me, I'm going to be peeved."
Tara blinks at Clara. "Look, Doctor, I'm just trying to cover myself here." She gives Riley a slow nod, a flitting look of relief passing over her face. "Scully's Planet, of course. You can get anything there." She shifts her head slightly to watch Niko carefully.
Riley wants the real bad guys, not the middlemen. "You'll help me find this Goldsmith." That's not a question.
Niko's hand steadies at Riley's words, though not for very long. "I'm not going to shoot you, Chief," he says calmly. He slowly returns the weapon to its holster, though he looks quite ready to remove it once more.
"By hurting these two men?" Clara mutters rhetorically, hand slipping to her belt quietly. No, no bolter. She doesn't carry a weapon. Right? No, it's the medkit, which she tugs another hypo from without looking.
Tara sighs. "Trying to ruin my business rep, Addison? Keep my name out of it," she counters. "Doctor, I had no intentions of anybody getting hurt. I was trying to prevent just that. I realize you probably don't believe this, but I'm rather relieved they both survived the blast."
"I can keep your name out of it," Riley agrees quietly.
Clara doesn't respond. She just glares quietly, toying with the hypo without looking at it.
Niko flickers a brief glance at Riley, perhaps one of surprise, then nods slowly in apparent acceptance.
Tara nods once, shortly. "Deal." The word grates through clenched teeth.
Riley looks a hair relieved, slumping back into the chair again. "Don't leave town, eh?"
Clara tucks the hypo in her breast pocket at that and returns to her position crouched before Riley. "Sit back up..." she suggests softly, not clarifying any further.
Riley doesn't look entirely thrilled at this suggestion, but he does straighten up with a murmured apology to Clara.
Tara works her arm carefully into the sling, glancing askance toward Riley. "I gotta bring G'ben back here for his check-up anyhow. Anything else, o tyrant mine?"
Niko's brows lower rather ominously at the t-word, but he leaves his bepuddinged tangler where it is. For now.
Clara resumes probing, then sighs after a moment and starts to rise. "I'll thank you to watch your language in Medbay, Ms. Valentine," she notes soberly, then to Riley, "I need you on a biobed," she murmurs apologetically.
Riley gives Tara a rather annoyed glance, "Just be available." He nods to Clara, using the chair to lever himself to his feet. Ignoring Tara for the nonce he puts one foot in front of the other, heading over to, and easing down onto, an unoccupied biobed. Seeing as doing so on an occupied biobed would be tricky.
Niko appreciates Riley's use of an unoccupied biobed. Niko likes him, of course, just not that way. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.)
Tara glances toward Clara with a wry smile. "I did."
Clara would have problems figuring out which ribs to fix, too. She glances up from the side of the bioscan unit with an expressionless stare. "Then watch what you call Addison. Got it?" she snaps, a hint of whatever's going on underneath finally cracking through before she turns her back to the women and towards Riley. "Lay back? We've got a problem."
Tara grins, Clara's reaction improving her humor somewhat. "Got it." She strides through the medbay to approach Niko, her expression carefully neutral. "I'm sorry," she tells him. "I never wanted you to get hurt."
Niko nods at Tara, albeit a bit brusquely, as he's watching Clara and Riley with slowly increasing concern. "I appreciate your apology," he says, admittedly sounding rather distracted.
Kramer maintains his post at Niko's side, pushing his spectacles carefully into place, and looking about as threatening as Radar O'Reilly ever got.
Riley eases all the way back as per direction, still looking more than a bit glazed over. "Problem?"
Tara nods, something flickering in her eyes. She starts to turn, pausing at Clara's words.
Clara tugs up Riley's shirt without further ado and starts to examine the one rib further, blank faced. "One of the ribs is just this side of penetrating the lower bronchial lobe of your left lung," she explains tonelessly. "I can fix it here, or knock you out and open you up to fix it. First way's iffy. Your choice."
Set.
Riley replies with more than a hint of weariness in his tone, "You're the doctor Clara, it's your call. Whatever you think's best. I trust you." Hey, and considering this man is professionally paranoid, that's saying something.
Niko blinks quite a few times at Clara's words, markedly more worried. He casts a glance after Tara, expression rather sharp. Nah, he doesn't blame her for this at all.
Clara glances up from her examination and lays a hand on Riley's shoulder briefly. "I'll see what I can do without surgery," she offers in a quiet voice, then jerks her chin at another nurse, the pair for now effectively blocking the view of what's going on. "Niko? How's the leg?" she calls over distractedly.
Tara just blinks, murmuring half to Niko, half to herself. "He carried you all the way up here in that condition? Good heavens..."
Niko sounds just as distracted, though he glances away as the nurse moves to block the view. "Fine, Clara. Thanks for asking." At Tara's question, he nods slowly, with a marked grimace. "Yes," he agrees quietly.
Riley doesn't say a whole lot while this is going on. It's really hard to think of polite conversational topics when things like this are going on. And as for Tara's comment, well, Heinlein said that it's polite to ignore that which you don't really wish to adress after all.
Clara mutters a few choice obscenities. Lady, yes, but she's also former infantry. Finally, both doctor and nurse expell equal sighs of relief as a quick cracking sound is heard. The nurse drifts away to find bandages as Clara slips an arm under Riley. "Up we go, mister. It's fixed. We'll get you taped up, I'll resonate that cut on your head, and you'll be good as new."
Tara folds her arms, leaning back against Niko's bed quietly.
Riley's not as pale as Niko post zapping, but he's definately a bit color deprived as he sits up again. "Um, check, yeah. Thanks, Clara."
Niko quietly exhales a held breath as Riley sits up once more, the epitome of relief. He murmurs a quiet phrase in Hellenic, and, for once, he's not swearing.
Clara accepts the roll of tape from the nurse and deftly bandages Riley from midchest to diaphragm, still expressionless, while the nurse cleans out the cut. She tugs the tatters of his shirt back down and straightens to accept and run the resonator over the laceration. "Well now. I suppose days like this have a way of pudding us in our places, hmm?"
Tara was really trying to stay quiet, but she can't suppress a groan at that pun.
Niko stares at Clara for a moment, then looks around for something to throw. "Clara, -please-," he protests, with an odd noise somewhere between a snicker and a groan.
Roland chuckles softly. He wasn't involved, so...
That's a pained groan from Riley. Funny, he's managed not to make displeased noises through all of the rest of this, but than pun was =painful=. "Clara, we're going to have to kill you now. I'm very sorry, I didn't think it would come to this..."
"Kramer, if that man can groan, he's ready for crutches," Clara notes, and the nurse heads off for said crutches, ignoring the pun. He knows. She gives Riley a look of utter innocence. "Me? Yes, Chief. Very satisfactory. I'll report for tangling after you've had a shower."
Ooh, the thought of hot water at this stage in the game is nearly as wonderful as that pun was awful. Riley shakes his head slightly, "This -once- I think you can be forgiven. Shower...hot water..."
Niko adds, with a faint grin, "The absence of pudding sounds pretty good, neh?"
Tara glances down at herself, having forgotten about the mess. "God, yes." Making a mental note to step into maintenance and turn off Riley's hot water on her way out, she turns to Niko. "You going to make it home okay on your own?"
Roland shakes his head slightly and clears his throat. "Excuse me, Doctor Aleron. Do you perhaps know where Aliana went to after discharged?"
Kramer returns with the crutches, handing them out to Niko with a grin. "I hear you know how to use these, Lieutenant. Enjoy 'em for three days, then bring 'em back."
Clara glances up at Tara, about to say something probably not quite kind before she blinks at Roland. "Why yes. I ordered Lieutenant Valinson to make her dinner. Why?"
Niko carefully slides down from the bioscan bed as Kramer approaches. "Of course," he says to Tara, tone blandly polite. Kramer gets a faint, sheepish grin, and a short nod. "Just a little experience, yes. I'll take good care of them, thanks."
There is no mail in your mailbox.
Roland ohs. "That was nice of you two. Just wondering, since I obviously slept through her departure." He waves to everyone. "Later, have a nice pudding and punless day." With that he heads towards the door.
Riley slides down off the biobed, steadying himself a brief moment before letting go of it altogether. He nods to Niko, chuckling softly. "The pudding's just evil. Clean up's gonna want our hides."
Tara nods, her expression going flatly neutral. "Good." Spinning on her heel, she stalks out.
You head towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
MEDIC> Clara leans against the vacated bioscan unit, not quiet perfectly clean herself anymore. No surprise. "Interesting woman. You two need showers, though. Shoo and get clean. How many ways will you try to drown me if I toss you both off duty for the night?" she asks of both.
MEDIC> Niko settles himself on the crutches, groaning quietly at Riley's words. "Ack, you're right." He offers a faint grin to Clara, after a moment to figure out just what time it is. "Seeing as how I got off shift twelve minutes ago, I'm perfectly fine with that, Clara."
MEDIC> Riley mumbles something else about the wonders of hot water being vastly key. "Nick, I hate to say it, but you're off for three days. Not my rule, there's a standard thing about limited locomotion and all and on duty security types."
MEDIC> Clara beams at Niko, shifting over to squeeze his shoulder affably. "He's right, Niko. I really meant his Chiefness here. You get a nifty vacation." She peers over at Riley with a hint of stubbornness. "You realize you officially fall under that rule as well?"
MEDIC> Niko looks decidedly dismayed at Riley's words. "I can see your point and all, Chief... but not even for paperwork? I just got -back-..." As Clara speaks, however, he falls silent, apparently quite in favor of Riley taking some time off.
MEDIC> "I'll stay off for the night, yeah." Riley murmurs quietly. If he accedes to this, maybe he can escape further entrappedness. "I'm limited to taking off time based on Anya. Don't wanna driver her off the deep end."
MEDIC> Clara folds her arms, smile fading slightly. "I can talk to her, Riley," she notes firmly. "I'm serious. Think how long you'd be laid up if I'd had to open you up, huh?" She sighs and waves a hand. "Both of you, shower. My Medbay is going to stink like butterscotch for a week as it is."
There is no mail in your mailbox.
MEDIC> Riley offers a wave and a vague grin, "Shower, check. Less mess, better. Gotcha'."
MEDIC> Niko remains carefully silent, torn between wanting to support Clara and not wanting to incriminate himself. Thus, he says nothing. He's good at that.
MEDIC> Clara watches both me with raised brows, then jerks a chin over her shoulder and calls out, "Jones? Get in here and escort our esteemed Security types the heck out of Medbay and to their quarters?" Of course, Jones is off shift. No one needs to know that, though.
MEDIC> me=men
MEDIC> Riley erks softly, ducking his head and tucking his hands in the remains of his pockets. "Let's skeedle Nick, before she dooms us."
MEDIC> Niko blinks several times at that. "Clara, we're perfectly capable of getting to our quarters. Really." He nods to Riley, with a faint grin, and starts for the door. Obviously, he's had quite a lot of experience with crutches, as he doesn't even remotely fumble with them.
MEDIC> Riley makes his way after Niko, a but farther behind than normal to allow space for the large wooden things to be used.
MEDIC> Niko heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
MEDIC> Riley heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.
MEDIC> Clara watches both men leave with a faint grin of evil stubbornness, arms folded as she remains leaning against the bioscan, then slumping slightly as the door shuts behind them. "A bomb..." she murmurs.
Kramer sidles up behind her and squeezes her shoulder. "Schedule's clear for the night, Clara. Fresh coffee in your office. Go." he mutters, receiving a somewhat vague nod of agreement from the woman.
MEDIC> Clara walks towards the Chief Aleron's Office.
3FLOOR> Niko nods, though his own key-hunting is interesting, balance being as interesting as it is. "Oh, fine. Hot water and all. Aha... good key. C'mere." He takes a moment to extract the key, then says slowly, "Chief--Riley. What you did, getting me out of there... 'thank you' doesn't even seem even remotely enough. I need stronger words."
3FLOOR> Riley finds his own keys with somewhat less trouble, he shakes his head. "I don't leave friends behind. There's nothing to thank me for, eh?"
3FLOOR> Niko shakes his head slowly, with a faint grin. "I still appreciate what you did, even if it's kind of a natural thing for you. There are those who wouldn't have, after all, so the difference is good." He takes a moment to figure out if he's making sense, decides he isn't, and shakes his head once more.
3FLOOR> Riley just shakes his head slightly, "Um, you're welcome I guess then. Go get cleaned up and crash for a bit, eh?"
3FLOOR> Niko nods firmly at that. "Good idea. Excellent idea. Hot water and sleep, that definitely sounds good." He makes his way over to his door, carefully hanging on to his key. "Have a pleasant and pudding-free evening."
3FLOOR> Riley starts to turn to head down his own hall, chuckling rather wryly, "Never pudding again. You too Nick."
3FLOOR> Niko unlocks the door to room N13 and goes inside.
3FLOOR> Riley unlocks the door to room I16 and goes inside.
