☤ Golden Heart, Cold Hands ☤
851 ABY - FIV Malice
[member="Robogeber"]
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“Doctor." Aes’ona glanced up from her electronic hand of pazaak cards to the midshipman addressing her: "We’ve arrived.”
“Thank you,” she replied and nodded as she switched her datapad off, uncrossed her legs and stood. “I can see myself out.” As she walked through the transport shuttle towards the docking ramp, she zipped her datapad up in her tote, managing to squeeze it beside her medkit. With a quick, shallow sigh attempting to calm her effectively-buried-but-still-present nerves, she began her decent into the hangar.
The Sixth Fleet’s Malice: to the extent her recent understanding, the Star Destroyer lived up to its name. Its command was vested in Fleet Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber, one of few First Order officers to receive the Iron Sun. Aes’ona had taken the liberty and dedicated part of her journey to reading the publicized pieces of his military file, and she would be blatantly lying if she said she did not feel at all intimidated.
What she felt was a far cry from outright scared; more than anything, she was still rattled--and a little addled--that she had been called here. It was pitiful, maybe, for a naval doctor to have never set foot on a battleship other than a lightly-armed transport while helping offload casualties.
True, she had consulted before for various doctors on this very fleet, but it was always through holo-conferences so she did not have to leave her hospital on FMIS Mountbatten. She was a little wary that she had not received a commission from Sixth's medical chair, Hersh Thaxton, in months, but had decided she had no prerogative to contact him directly about it.
She had been left a holorecording to come as soon, sooner, than possible from Mountbatten. And here she was. Clearly, she was called in for good reason; it was doubtful the admiral wasted his precious time on frivolous ventures. She was a good doctor, there was no reason to be overly humble to the point of apprehension.
Ego aside, she was also worried (maybe also a tad guilty) about leaving her new hires alone so soon. She had simply not expected to. She had been banking on having much more time to properly onboard them, but they would most likely assimilate just fine under the capable oversight of her assistant doctor, Kiearan Launderslaug.
Her heels gently clicked against the metal ramp, and then the sound ceased once she reached the Malice’s flight deck. She came to a stop and glanced around, careful not to look to far behind her, as not to catch a glimpse of the vacuum waiting outside of the hanger.
She was a bit unsure of how she was meant to proceed. Her recall order had been unclear in its specifics: was she to wait here for the Admiral? Was she to try and find her way to the bridge? Would he even be there?
“I should’ve taken that tranquillizer,” she muttered to herself, unaware she was speaking her thoughts.
[member="Robogeber"]
†††
“Doctor." Aes’ona glanced up from her electronic hand of pazaak cards to the midshipman addressing her: "We’ve arrived.”
“Thank you,” she replied and nodded as she switched her datapad off, uncrossed her legs and stood. “I can see myself out.” As she walked through the transport shuttle towards the docking ramp, she zipped her datapad up in her tote, managing to squeeze it beside her medkit. With a quick, shallow sigh attempting to calm her effectively-buried-but-still-present nerves, she began her decent into the hangar.
The Sixth Fleet’s Malice: to the extent her recent understanding, the Star Destroyer lived up to its name. Its command was vested in Fleet Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber, one of few First Order officers to receive the Iron Sun. Aes’ona had taken the liberty and dedicated part of her journey to reading the publicized pieces of his military file, and she would be blatantly lying if she said she did not feel at all intimidated.
What she felt was a far cry from outright scared; more than anything, she was still rattled--and a little addled--that she had been called here. It was pitiful, maybe, for a naval doctor to have never set foot on a battleship other than a lightly-armed transport while helping offload casualties.
True, she had consulted before for various doctors on this very fleet, but it was always through holo-conferences so she did not have to leave her hospital on FMIS Mountbatten. She was a little wary that she had not received a commission from Sixth's medical chair, Hersh Thaxton, in months, but had decided she had no prerogative to contact him directly about it.
She had been left a holorecording to come as soon, sooner, than possible from Mountbatten. And here she was. Clearly, she was called in for good reason; it was doubtful the admiral wasted his precious time on frivolous ventures. She was a good doctor, there was no reason to be overly humble to the point of apprehension.
Ego aside, she was also worried (maybe also a tad guilty) about leaving her new hires alone so soon. She had simply not expected to. She had been banking on having much more time to properly onboard them, but they would most likely assimilate just fine under the capable oversight of her assistant doctor, Kiearan Launderslaug.
Her heels gently clicked against the metal ramp, and then the sound ceased once she reached the Malice’s flight deck. She came to a stop and glanced around, careful not to look to far behind her, as not to catch a glimpse of the vacuum waiting outside of the hanger.
She was a bit unsure of how she was meant to proceed. Her recall order had been unclear in its specifics: was she to wait here for the Admiral? Was she to try and find her way to the bridge? Would he even be there?
“I should’ve taken that tranquillizer,” she muttered to herself, unaware she was speaking her thoughts.