Damn Damnatias

[Asherah]

An actual open thread? What? With like, a story and everything? And I can join for reals without PMing you or anything? Yeah mate. I've a path I intend Asherah to follow because this is literally a thread that explains how my character winds up where she does, but there's lots of wiggle room in there, and besides, does a body good to meet others hey? ​

​

Terra Damnatias​

Finalizer Canyon, Sometime after sunset...​

​

Asherah wiped sweat from her brow. At least with the setting of the sun the temperature had dropped somewhat, which meant that here in the shadows it was almost survivable. What she wanted more than anything was to immerse herself in cool, clean water, but here where water was so scarce, where people made a living selling other people just enough water to get by, that was a luxury she couldn't justify asking for. Besides, there was no time. It seemed like every time she stopped to close her eyes for fifteen minutes or to scarf whatever food was offered to her without even tasting it one of her patients died. She was just barely keeping abreast of this disease, whatever it was, and until more help arrived 'Soon please, soon' she couldn't afford to stop. Still, she could feel her reserves running low, could feel the fatigue creeping up on her, and the heat, the damnable arid heat. Her mind wandered back to the call that had summoned her to a world she would otherwise never have stepped foot on even as she moved to the another patient, summoned by a panicked family member, scratching absently at her collar...

She'd been on a traders freighter. He'd been willing to take her free of charge for the goodwill dropping a healer off at whatever settlement he stopped at next would garner him. Perhaps a new connection, or a reduction in the price he bought goods at. Either would have been a more than fair trade for the resources she'd use. He'd been bound for Neo-Polis, which she'd never heard of, but then she'd never really heard of anywhere other than home, and he'd assured her there would be people there who would need her skills, and that it had not one but two moons. They'd been nearing their destination when a general wavelength broadcast came in. Crackled and broken, likely not aimed their way at all, but it was understandable enough all the same.

"kkrsh-peat, this is Carce Schofield of Finalizer Cany- ---questing immediate medical aid. This is an outbreak situation, I repea- ----reak situation. We do not have the equipment of person-- -ndle this situation."

The message repeated itself, obviously recorded and then set on a loop. The desperation in the mans tone was evident. To Asherah, there was no question about the correct response. If she heard it, it was meant to be heard, and so she was meant to respond to it. The trader felt otherwise, and yet somehow, miraculously (or so it seemed to her, who would never intentionally use persuasion on another sentient) he agreed. Still it was days to isolate and track the signal, to reach the planet and find Finalizer Canyon. And no amount of persuasion would see the Trader setting down somewhere with a plague outbreak, so Asherah had to walk in from the outskirts where he'd felt it safe to land. Almost immediately she'd started to itch, the unrelenting sun pounding down upon her. She was young and healthy though, and luck held enough to keep predators at bay, and so she reached the colony with no real damage done.

The story was worryingly simple. Miners had broken into an old cavern, they'd had high hopes of relics to sell. Instead they started to fall ill. Those still able helped bring them back to Finalizer Canyon, which had it's own Doctor, and a steady supply of water to slake the fevered pleas for it by those infected. It was hoped that it was simply the cavern which was the problem. That it could be resealed and that would be the end of it. Hopefully those afflicted would recover. This was not to be. The illness proved to be horrendously infectious, with those who tried to help and the medical staff being the first to fall ill. Still, the people had tried to come together and help. After all, the danger hadn't been known at first. Precautions hadn't been taken. Personal protection equipment had been minimal at best. So they equipped rebreathers, used to mine where the air was bad and continued to help. And continued to sicken.

By the time Asherah had arrived, the sick had been largely quarantined in one of the excavated underground halls. And been largely abandoned. Who would risk caring for them when it wasn't even known how the sickness was transmitted? Tragic though it was, who could blame those who were left for wanting to live? Besides, by then there were no trained medical personnel, and so the sick were left in their own waste, to die or recover as their individual physiology demanded, and up to that point, no one had recovered.

The hall she entered stank of bodily fluids and death. Even worse, it stank of despair, for who could be in these conditions, feel their body failing, look over to see a corpse laid out next to them and believe they would recover? There were about forty people, mostly human, still alive at this point. First she fetched water for those. To go without was even more worrying to the amphibious healer than the average person. Then she removed the dead. Or at least, she removed them as best as she was able. There was another large-ish room, deeper and further down that connected to nothing other than the passage that eventually led to the sick hall. It would have to do. She was only one woman after all. Those two acts done, she began the long and one might argue hopeless task of tending to those who remained. At the beginning she had some success. In the first day, eleven people were moved to a room closer to the surface. They seemed to be whole and hearty once more, but she'd stressed upon them that it might not be permanent. That they might still be infectious. And against the naturally selfish inclinations of most beings, they stayed put. Seeing this, some of those who'd never been sick crept back to help. Those with loved ones who now had some hope for their recovery, and this eased the demands on the young healer somewhat.

But not enough. There was very little useful medical tech available. Much of it Asherah did not recognise or understand. Nor did she understand the nature of the illness she was fighting, only that it had to be fought. To the untrained eye she did little. Sitting with the ill, whispering words of comfort, laying a hand on a fevered head. The truth of course was that she was pouring all of herself into them through the force. Healing, detoxifying and revitilizing.

Here however was a truth. Selfless though she was, Asherah was no hero with untapped stores of strength. Again her hand rose to wipe the sweat from her head. With the setting of the sun, these caverns cooled quickly, and no one present who was not sick was sweating. Though she had so little to give at this point, she once more laid her hands upon a teenaged girl, pouring energy into her. Willing the fever to cool, her heart to slow, trying to find and heal the multiple hemorrhagic sites within her body. And perhaps she succeeded, for the girl sighed and lay more peacefully, but Asherah did not see this. This final expenditure of strength was too much, and she fell into darkness, consumed by the illness that only the force had kept at bay.

[member="Declan Ross"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

It was almost over, but the plague on Damnatias had reached medical journals for its virulence. Declan shambled into his studio hab up thirteen floors, a death 'stick hanging from his lips and a flask in his hand. Carry-out boxes from some joint claiming that their chef made traditional Atrisian food were in the other hand in flimsi bags proudly proclaiming the "Best Jar'kai Style Beef in the 'Verse" ... He didn't know what style the beef was supposed to be in. Nor whether it was even a good example of the said style. But it was cheap, spicy, and on the way home from the hospital. Funds had been low, so he had walked into a local trauma center, flashed his credentials, and when the reports came back they were offering him a ridiculously lucrative bit of pay to practice medicine.

Plan was to stay a year or two, build up a nest-egg and get a better ship. Already he had secured the services of a brilliant custom droid maker, and the pair were setting out to make a medical assistant droid that parsed in some of his favorite tools and analytics. Far too expensive for any mass production, but for a midas-touched surgeon it was just the thing. The itch for the heavier narcs still hovered in his mind, but he had been doing an alright job keeping them at bay. Just the death-sticks and booze so far. Times had changed a bit, so as he sat and opened the box and began eating with plastic chop-sticks designed to look like wood, he perused an immunology and virology journal, seeking to brush up on his general practice.

Cool eyes stopped cold and widened as he read the reports. Weeping legions. Hemorrhagic sores. Fevers that ran into the ranges that no species body could sustain. So far no firm transmission route. They were simply calling it, in local tongues, 'Lacrimae Muerte' - the sad death. The paper was put down, and a data-slate pulled up. Research began in earnest, eyes narrowing in focus. At first, it was curiosity. Then ego - he would find the cure, swoop in and save the day and likely pull in a small fortune. But then in his research... He saw pictures of the afflicted. Laying next to corpses, healers reduced to cool rags and herbal drinks. Walled off in a cavern all their own, waiting for the plague to simply burn out and kill the sufferers. And the 'slate was put down, and he rose, a hard clench to his jaw as he went over to his bedside.

Clothes were slung in a sea-bag, several changes, spare boots, a vacuum sealed haz-mat suit. A few personal items, and an old battered journal and the data-slate. A good bottle - unopened - of Corellian whiskey. Almost a metric Force-ton of bandages and other such things. A small tool roll of personal surgical items, and various medical kits both home-brewed and "store bought" were placed in a separate sling-bag. With a whistle from his lips, a hovering droid rose from a stand and floated over, iris lens eye opening and closing in what passed for the unit nodding its head he had learned. The droid had taken it's personality from his owners working style, and that suited Declan fine. A finely manicured hand with traces of old callouses ground out the stub of 'stick in an ashtray, and he patted the pack in his chest pocket of his shirt.

Little low, but I can pick up more on the way.

A credit chit was thrown on the door with a hastily scrawled note of a forwarding address, even if just a town and planet coordinates. It would be close enough. And the chit would settle his rent and provide for packing and shipping. Essentials were on him. Pampered might be his preferred mode, but he could still keep a whole platoon alive with just his two kit-bags and bandages. And with his droid trailing at eye level behind him, he hailed a speeder-cab and made to his dock for his ship. The cabby smelt of radishes and garlic, and was a bizarrely obese rodian, but was funny enough, so Declan tipped him adequately before turning to board the ZH-25 questor class he called his home amongst the stars.

Setting a snap course, he settled into the pilots chair and kept pouring over files and data as the time passed, researching all he could with a look of frustration in his eyes. When he landed, he was shown to the cavern, and [member="Asherah"] 's ailing form. Given climate, he winced and told them to carry her back to his ship, which he had landed damn near on top of the afflicted. There was a water purifier which would give the lass some relief if he guessed her bio-mechanics right. Confused locals found a former Captain of the Republic Special Forces giving orders as he would to grunts, but all with the promise of credits now and later. So confused or not, they set up lab tables and equipment, and a few of the older men were asked to find the dead bodies, collect minor samples of tissue and fluid, and then dispose of them by burning the corpses.

And that was almost seventy two hours ago he had landed, and he had not yet slept, fueled by caff and cigarras - the deathsticks clouded his thinking too much, even if the waves of empathic pain and misery were almost as distracting.

 

[Asherah]

By the time Declan had arrived Asherah was in dire straits. A force-user focused on healing from another species would likely have healed themselves by then. Unfortunately, with her weakened immune system, the best that could be said for Asherah was that she was still alive, if continually declining. He did more than he knew when he had her moved to his purification tank. The water was a balm to her spirit, comforting and relaxing her, but more importantly, she was no longer being continually exposed to whatever means the illness was using to propagate. Now when she made incremental improvements to her health they stayed, rather than being lost as the illness kept battering away at her and renewing itself despite her bodies best efforts. By the second day in the tank she was in and out of consciousness. Never fully present, but no longer utterly dead to the world and lost in a darkness only one small step removed from death.

On the third day she opened her eyes. For a few minutes she floated blissfully, skin no longer parched and itching, gills fluttering lazily. The water would have been nicer were it salt, but it was clean and it was cool and it was life. And then she remembered what she'd been doing. And while wondering where she was would have been the usual next step, instead she wondered about her patients. Her wards. Her responsibilities. So she hauled herself out of the tank, giving herself a moment to adjust to not using her gills, judging her physical state. Healthy.

Healthy but starving.

Still, she remembered the cavern as she'd first arrived. The people left with no food or water, no basic care, and unable, far too sick, to provide it for themselves. If she was hungry, they would be hungrier. This is what she told herself as she looked around, one hand still gripping the side of the tank, trying to ascertain the direction that would bring her back to her wards. Though she didn't have much experience, her time on the traders freighter left her fairly confident that this was a ship, and after a few moments, she found a hatch that did indeed let her out. Much closer than the first time she'd stepped off a ship on this planet, which was nice as she wasn't really feeling up to a hike.

The first thing she noticed as she drew close to her destination was a marked increase in activity. Some people had come back to help when she had been there it was true, but it was in a timid, halting way. This was partially her fault as she'd never been in charge of anyone and had utterly failed to give instructions except when asked specific questions. These people were moving hurriedly, with purpose. They still looked grim, but also determined. Perhaps they were coming out the other side of the illness? She could certainly hope. This would be far better than the alternative where everyone had died because she'd been too weak to keep going.

The cavern, when she entered it was transformed. When she'd been there it had been people on pallets and very little more than that. Now there was equipment everywhere, with things beeping quietly all over the place. This was almost certainly for the best. She had no idea what most of these things did, but she did understand the wonders technology was capable of, or had at least heard of some of them. In fairness, she knew the situation had been mean before. Had they been on Morje and these people been her fellow Kraljica there were plants they'd have been placed in the embrace of that would have acted as life support. Small creatures that could have symbiotically helped manage specific symptoms. But those things were not available to her here, so she'd done what she could with what she had, which had largely been herself.

There were not quite as many patients. Whether this was because of recovery, death or both Asherah was not certain, but those who remained seemed if not comfortable, then at least stable. Again, an improvement from when any one of them might begin to suddenly fade away at any moment, requiring her to watch all of them as closely as she could and run constantly from one to the next.

Even as her eyes took all this in, she registered a voice used to issuing commands barking something at one of the locals who hurried off. Turning, she took in the form of one [member="Declan Ross"] who she supposed must be the author of the welcome changes around her. It still seemed surprising to her, all these men bustling about and being in charge of things. Male Kraljica were rare, so not only was the male form still odd to her, but the idea that they were just running about doing whatever rather than being looked after was odd. Still, she'd known when she left her planet that things would be different with different species, so she tried to take it in stride.

She approached him from the side, making sure she was at least in his peripheral vision. "Thank you." The words were simple, and as she did not know what exactly he'd done, could have meant all sorts of things. Assuming however that he was the source of most if not all of this, the meaning was straightforward. Thank you for saving me, and for saving these people who I could not.

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Shallow breathing...

Groan...

How did it come to this? Why am I lying here? Triam Akovin the Relentless, Kark, I feel like crap... barely conscious, trying to open her eyes, but could hardly see, everything a hazy blur, Why is it so hot, oh frack... she was finally dying. It was most certainly not a warriors death however, not like most would think she would go out. I need...

"Water..." Triam whispered with a dry tongue, barely able to breathe let alone speak. She didn't know it but she had been stripped of her armor... not because of looters, but because she would have died from overheating a long time ago if they hadn't been smart enough to remove it.

She felt naked, exposed, and deathly weak. She tried to remember... it was hard to think straight. At any moment her eyes would close and she be lost for a time again. There was pain... pain everywhere. This sucks. Was about all she could think as her body shivered. She saw the face of her son next to her briefly.

"Ca...?" She tried to say Cassus's name... but the boy wasn't there. He was with his "nanny", Crol H'hurut, an old Zeltron she had come to trust with her life despite each other's misgivings. A life, she was now losing. How did she even get here? While she couldn't think straight enough to remember, the aging woman definitely came to the planet for a reason. She was a treasure huntress, and there were few treasures as large or as missing as the Ninth Cache. Normally, Triam kept her self secluded and didn't engage with the galaxy any more. Too dangerous with her child being so young...

... and this is exactly one of the reasons why. Unexpected variables kill everyday, and those pop up wherever the Relentless roamed. It was never her intention to leave her son alone with Crol... it wouldn't be fair to either of them. Intentions aside... Triam had gotten used to the sense that she was invincible. That she could crush anything, and survive anything she couldn't crush. She had done it so many times before... she forgot what it was like to be an ordinary person.

Well, she was well antiquated with the idea now, and wished very much for it to leave her body.

[member="Declan Ross"], [member="Asherah"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

"Thank you."

The words were soft, and he nodded. It was likely a townsperson who saw their family member still "alive" for a few hours or days extra and regarded it as a miracle of the Force. Truth was, he was barely stalling this disease. At least the various containment fields the patients were in combined with harsh haz-mat protocols and barrier/de-con for work areas in or out of the hot zone, were keeping everything from spreading. None of the team he had formed had gotten sick working on the thing. The transmission was droplet-based, which was a bear to keep from spreading even with tech because it could feasibly mutate to airborne or such, and technically already was with a sneeze or cough. Scrubbers had been barely behind PPE and barriers and shields, and it seemed to be doing the trick.

His moderately modified Bolts medical droid floated behind him, streaming data to a goggle-like visor strapped to his forehead and covering one eye with an array of scans and field settings, looking like a high tech version of an antique jewelers monocle, or if anyone had seen the old holovids of Maz Kanata, her eyewear would be almost similar. Data streamed between the two as the other eye perused a beeping dataslate from his old hab. It might be nauseating to some, but he had begun such habits in the Republic SF, and only perfected it as a Surgeon and Doctor. Truth be told, he was out of his depth here, and worried. Virology wasn't his expertise, and he felt all he was doing was containing the fire until it burnt out. Regardless, even that was better, as originally it had the potential to waste the whole planet.

Sighing, he turned to the voice, a lit stimstick perched in the left corner of his mouth and a steaming cup of caff in his right hand, 'slate held in the left. Clothes were rumpled, but clean. Every 12 hours he changed them religiously, and each set was washed and deconned immediately. But he still caught odd looks for working in what others assumed were bizzare positions. Whatever helped his mind work was what he did, even if that meant laying upside down under the perfectly good couch. Lines of fatigue and worry were beginning at the corner of his darkly circled eyes, but shock registered in them at the sight of her. She should be worse off than some here, with how weak her immuno response appeared to be, the 'stick fell slack from the corner of his mouth and flopped to the floor.

"You weren't even supposed to live. Every model showed you dying in a few days... How..."

Suddenly a feverish inspiration bloomed in his eyes, and he turned towards the voice that called for water. Someone was speaking. That was a new improvement. He looked her up and down for a moment and nodded to a 'nurse' at his side already gowned in haz-mat but not in the 'fields working yet.

"Get that patient water. I want full labs and screen and vitals. Every test you can get. EEG, EKG, anything we can run, throw at them. Run them through analytics and send the data to my 'slate. Send the raw before and after, give me 30 minutes and then send the analytic programs results. We'll compare mine to it. Oh, and get them a full round of anti-virals, the usual regimen, but up dosage by half to max clinical dose. At the very least if this is a pre-mortem improvement we can ease their passing... On the double please, this has potential."

Turning to the mer-like-woman he reached out with a clinical hand and felt a pulse, looking at eyes and nose with a hesitancy only to show her his palms in a non-threat. Questions fired off in a short, but warm staccato. Despite her allure and exotic notion, and his fascination with her apparent amphibian nature, there was a task at hand.

"How long have you been awake and how dd you manage this healing? Your species has minimal notations even in my files, is this a native healing factor your people have?"

@Asherah | [member="Triam Akovin"]

 

[Asherah]

"Hmm, not yet, moons yet to see." Was the semi-amused reply when he commented on her estimated life expectancy. Not the she doubted for a moment the severity of her case when he'd arrived. But, that was yesterday, and this was today, and there were things still to do. Best to accept the gift that was given and carry on. Besides, she was fighting the urge to prod at the intriguing thing covering his eye.

When one of the women felled with the illness spoke, her voice weak, Asherah almost went immediately to her side, but [member="Declan Ross"] had things well in hand, sending a nurse to tend to [member="Triam Akovin"] . She had no experience giving orders, but Asherah obeyed them well enough when she felt it prudent. She'd been trained in no true hospitals or the like, instead when her proclivities had surfaced she'd been apprenticed to others to learn their craft. Herbalism, tending physical wounds, and finally to harness the energy that flowed through her. She was still learning and knew this, and so was willing to step down when one who knew more stepped up.

She bore his checks with patience. After all, she'd been one of his wards, and had there situations been reversed she would certainly make sure of his state before just letting him wander off.

"Fully cognisant perhaps an hour. I woke before that but only in and out. I am not surprised, we do not often leave Morje, and few come below the waves to see us. No native healing factor, the opposite I am told when off-world. Healing is relatively standard, but slowed by any infection, weakened immune system from non-exposure." Many of her mentors had not been pleased about her decision to leave the planet, and they'd made very sure she knew of the dangers she walked into. New Moon came for everyone, hiding away from what life had to offer wouldn't change that.

"I am healed through the Force." No boast this, simple statement, said with a small shrug.

Once more her attentions turned inwards as she estimated once again just how much of her energy was returned to her. Enough to help? How could she not. Enough for one at least surely. Just start with one. And then one more. This was the way of it. Give as you could. She was however, fairly certain she could eat most of a sunfish by herself. After, after.

His questions answered, the ones he'd asked so far at least, she turned to approach the woman who'd spoken. This one had lived, though it had not been easy. The proof of it littered her body. One such as this, Asherah felt, should not have survived all that she had to die here in a parched cave so far from water. Ignoring the nurse and all else around her, she reached out, her right hand coming to rest on the womans breast bone. There was nothing but her own steady breathing and the body beneath her hand, racked with illness and misery.

Reserves still dangerously low, the Kraljica pushed ahead regardless. She would do as she was meant to do. With no glow or any other outward sign, she pushed her own essence, the force that flowed through her veins down and into the other woman. Burn away and filter out the illness, heal that which was too damaged and sending strength she hardly had into the other so the woman could do the rest of the healing herself. Those healed by Asherah rarely jumped up and ran marathons. She healed what they could not and gave them the ability to heal what they could, this was all.

To her it was years. Eons. To others, minutes. Ice blue eyes blinked, and her hand withdrew, put to better use supporting herself, keeping her from swaying.

 

[Cassus Akovin]

There was movement, and Triam barely registered anything. The whole world was movement, a swirling, dizzying movement.

It was hard to keep up any more. She wasn't talking about the dizziness in her eyes, but the dizziness in the galaxy; the chaotic mess that started the moment everyone realized the plague... this terrible plague, had been lifted. Then it wasn't disease that troubled people... it was a different pestilence altogether - war.

Triam was forged in war, adapted to war, profited from it, and suffered for it. Her life was very much like the way she felt now... hot and unbearable, thirsting always for recognition, bleeding for her trade, her mind hemorrhaging with thoughts. There was never any reprieve, there was only burning, bleeding, haunting thirst.

And I brought Cassus into all of it... Triam thought mournfully with regret and sorrow, eyes closed shut. Her body failing her, her mind was left to wander if ever so briefly between the waves of heat that coursed through her body. She would have shed a tear if sweat wasn't already rolling down her cheek.

All of a sudden, as Triam wallowed in misery, a cool touch graced her breast bone... and the dizziness slowed down, she took a breathe that felt like her first, and the heat - it was warm. Yet at the same time, the waves of warmth that coursed through her body, they burned and boiled... but it was relief, not pain that graced her aching muscles. The pounding in her skull became light taps, and as the touch left her body, she traded her unconsciousness, for sleep - real sleep - and it was as peaceful as it was dreamless.

The force was with her today.

[member="Declan Ross"], [member="Asherah"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

He wasn't the type to doubt the Force. His mother had used it. Told him that he could as well, and taught him some minor tricks. But he was hardly one to rely on such a tempermental and unpredictable ""ally" that was apparently both tool and divine direction. Science said the woman should be dead. She was worse off than this Akovin woman he had ordered all the scans on. But then she turned, ignoring all protocols, and walked to the ailing woman. His hand fell from outstretched to his side. That instinct, that voice that had let him know right where to be in war? It was ticking in the back of his brain. Telling him to let her go, to let her walk into what she should not have survived in the first place.

And she did, and like some faith healer laid her hand on the afflicted. Vitals reading onto his viewer fluxed wildly. Alarms blared in the paired earbud, and his brow furrowed as even he strained to stay on top of the constant stream of data. Then it all stopped. Other than a mild temperature, the readouts began to normalize. The woman had cured what his notes were slowly coming to regard as incurable. And done it easily. There was still some readouts out of range. White count, iron was low, the minor things. But the quick glance said on the mend. And Declan was moving before he could think.

Each patient was in their own minor barrier personally, so he was ok. But they had the protocols they did because he was paranoid about the disease and it's virulence. He knelt next to the healer, and vials came out of his bag that seemed always slung to his side. Nurses flocked to check other patients, and he began hooking sample vials to the IV in her. It would be simpler than constant monitoring to have a moment frozen in time to analyze. Who knew how Force Healing worked medically anyway? Or if it even played by the same rules? But maybe this, and the data recorded during, could point to something they could latch onto for a cure.

The movements second nature, he looked to his counterpart and though his eyes held a bit of irritation, the thanks he voiced was sincere.

"Thank you... You may have just ended this all if I'm as smart as I think I am."

[member="Asherah"] | [member="Triam Akovin"]

 

[Asherah]

"Then hopefully you are that smart, I was perhaps.. Over-zealous..." Asherah missed the annoyance. Easily done since it didn't make it to his voice and she didn't look up at him. She was busy not fainting. Too much to do. What was she capable of? One more? One more was not so much. It was easy, move to the next person and just- oh, no, nope. Maybe not.

From her new position on the floor, looking up at the ceiling, she smiled, laughing silently at herself. Not nearly as capable as she'd like. Ah well, one day. "I think I will have to leave it to you for a little while. At least until I've eaten. Not to be a bother, I know how busy you all are, if someone could perhaps just direct me..."

When they weren't being grateful for the help, most true doctors were likely frustrated at Force healers. They didn't spend years and uncounted credits at universities. They didn't have to operate within the confines of their equipment. And worst of all they didn't have to make sense, there didn't have to be science and reasoning behind what they did. An upshot however, to Asherahs fairly minimal training, for there were so few of her people with this gift, and likewise minimal healing, helping the patient do what their body was trying to do anyway rather than just instantly undoing all the damage done, was that the resulting healed patient was likely precisely was [member="Declan Ross"] was hoping for. [member="Triam Akovin"] had still done much of her healing herself, only bolstered by the force, her blood would indeed contain the antibody the good Doctor was likely hoping to isolate.

Which was certainly for the best since even once fed Asherah was run too ragged to be able to heal those left with any speed. Eventually yes, given the support and barriers now in place, but not with any speed. Besides, an illness once found could be found again, and there was no saying a force healer would just happen by next time. Best for a true medical solution to be found.

Asherah was not thinking of all this. She did not in fact know what an antibody was or how they worked. Having been helped up, she was focused solely on food thank you, body finally overcoming damn fool mind and insisting on what was necessary for survival.

And so time passed, food was eaten, results were analysed and healing sleep was slept...

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Shallow breathing.

A quite sigh.

Small movements behind the lids of her eyes.

With a dim but pleasant light on her eyes, Triam had woken from a dreamless sleep. Her whole body ached like she had just been through a warzone and back again, and she still thirsted... but there was no desert in her mouth as it used to be. Triam could feel every bandage on her body, and there was a lot. She had an IV stuck in her arm, with monitors and scanners around her, she was sure. She kept her eyes closed, not because she wasn't well rested... but because she had enjoyed the much needed rest so much, and the relief washing over her without pain, she almost wanted to keep sleeping. Maybe even dream of her son, safe and sound on the ship.

Home.

After a few minutes of wakefulness, thinking about her little six year old, Triam resolved to (with some hesitance) open her eyes and take in everything around her. She wondered briefly how long she had been out, and out of the corner of her eye she found some movement. There was a lot of noise outside, but it was mostly murmurs of people talking, occasional groaning... but what had at once sounded hellish, sounded more muted this time around. People must have started to begin recovery.

Feeling bold, Triam tried to test her muscles, pushing herself into an upright position. After a few minutes of quite struggle, she had managed to prop her head up with her elbows pushing her body up. It wasn't exactly upright, and she relied fairly heavily on her mechancial arm, but she was up and her head was groggily scanning her little medical... cubicle? Triam gave a small parched cough, and the movement Triam had saw earlier turned out to be an attending nurse, who had turned her head and saw Triam. Quickly going to her side, she told her lay back down and not to exert herself.

"No it's-" Triam swallowed to wet her throat to get the scratchiness out of her voice, "No it's fine, really. How long was I out?" The Nurse continued to insist on her lying down, and having little strength of her own yet, the nurse's gentle hands laid her back down. "How long?" Triam repeated insistent. The Nurse didn't seem to acknowledge her very much, or answer her question. She got onto a communicator, and spoke briefly, indicating to [member="Declan Ross"] that Triam was waking up speaking and trying to move. She sounded rather excited... so Triam decided to let her be and not get upset.

She was curious what the doc had to say about her condition now. Other than feeling fairly tired and fatigued, Triam felt pretty normal now. A few more hours, and she'd toss the bed sheets and give whoever saved her damn life a huge kiss... which was rather unusual for her, she was not typically very forward with any kind of affection, even her own son at times.

Triam's brow furrowed briefly as she realized she basically naked.

"Wait... where's my armor?" She asked the nurse, who continued to be politely evasive and more absorbed by her vitals. Triam frowned a little bit, and tried to pull the gown a little tighter around her, uncharacteristically meek.

[member="Asherah"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

There had been a couple of hours sleep in the past few days. Not intentionally. He had mostly fallen asleep at the workbenches, and Nurses had woken him when they thought he had rested enough. Hair unkempt where normally it was at least rakishly combed. Wadded and discarded packs of stimsticks and several ashtrays full of ash or on their way to being so, chaos littered the normally clean workspace. But on the slate brimmed a formula mostly complete. The disease wasn't magically wiped out, he was learning that wasn't really how the force worked. At least in the woman named Triam's case, the healer had merely boosted latent immune systems and healing processes to intense levels. And they had the process caught in a number of ways, including blood work and active bio-scanning.

From that, Declan was able to see how the disease was cured. Now, of course, without the Force at such a precise command, Declan couldn't just replicate the miracle she had. But what he could do was reverse the healing process, and combine that with earlier progression and evolution notations. This led to a pretty good understanding of how the infection took place, and what mutations may or may not be capable. At least it did once fed through several dozen analytics models he hand-checked and read. The data processing had, sadly, burnt out the main droid brain of his modified med-droid, and it sat deactivated in a slump nearby.

Grinding out a stimstick, he rose and swallowed a half-cup of bitter black caff, and grimaced. It was damn near congealed it was so cold, but the stimulant in it perked him up a bit, and he picked up the slate as it chimed. The last results were in, and an effective counter had been synthesized. Even with a quick scan, he could tell it would work. There were a few differences in several areas, and this formula was succeeding in areas of the test model. Not only inoculating - they had come up with that early, but a cure that effectively combatted and cured a current infection. At least in simulations that was. A nurse rose to come to him, cautioning him to sit, and he waved her off and pressed the 'slate to her, stating only "We have it." and walking away. She'd get it to the few chemists who he had called for. A cure would be being synthesized in a few hours and then on it's way to being distributed.

Walking over to Triam, he sat down, arching an eyebrow at her and shaking his head.

"You really should lay back and rest. You got healed the harder way honestly. Your body will be weak as a kitten for a few days, maybe a week. We took the armor off to have it sterilized, in case infection had sat in. There's a few things an old paratrooper can do for his patients more than a standard doc. So once the paint dries, you'll be good. Now...."

He lit a 'stick and took a long drag, exhaling. Then he spoke again, eyes closing as if trying to will the stimulants into his bloodstream faster.

"How do you feel?"

[member="Asherah"] | [member="Triam Akovin"]

 

[Asherah]

As a general rule Asherah tried not to be too hard on other peoples resources. This was one of the exceptions that made it a 'general' rule. One of the nurses had watched in what bordered on awe as the Kraljica consumed a staggering amount of food with little regard for table manners. Forks weren't much in use under the waves. Protein ruled, with some high vitamin and sugar fruits and vegetables thrown in. It was interesting but all tasted slightly off the Asherah, who'd lived the majority of her life on a strictly aquatic diet. At this point however, she wasn't going to complain, focused as she was on filling the sarlacc pit her stomach had become. She almost paused to smile at that visual, horrifying as it was to imagine ones stomach coming out of ones mouth to wave itself angrily about when empty, but hers had probably been nearly at that point.

This done, she'd immediately curled up in a corner on the floor and taken a power nap that would put a koala to shame, and lord knew Damnatias probably had them if they'd not all be eaten by the million predators or poisoned to death yet.

Eventually, she opened her eyes, having gone from fully asleep to properly awake immediately. Levering herself up, and feeling much better and far less likely to tip over in a strong breeze, she re-entered the sick room.

The doctor and the woman she'd last healed seemed to be speaking, and social creature as she was and seeing that for once no one seemed to be dropping dead at the exact moment, she drifted over. She reached them just in time to hear [member="Declan Ross"] ask how [member="Triam Akovin"] was feeling and light his stimstick.

That was.. interesting. Smoking in any form was, as one might imagine, not really a common Kraljica past time, it being rather hard to keep things lit under the sea. She wasn't sure how she felt about little self contained fire sticks so close to a person face and the smoke being brought intentionally into the lungs. Questionable. Couldn't be good for you. Or at least not for any normal race. Maybe these terrestrials were even more different than she'd thought.

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Of course she got healed the hard way around, she wouldn't be Triam Akovin if it were any other way, it'd be too easy otherwise. She was glad to know the whereabouts of her armor, which of course kept to her personality perfectly, more concerned about her armor than her own damn skin. It was good to hear her doc was a fellow soldier, made it easier to relate to him, and she appreciated the favor. She thought briefly for a moment that if she died, this man would probably get pretty rich selling her armor, if not as a novelty item than as scrap, for all the rare materials and advanced tech that went into making it. Dispelling this thought, she tried to focus on [member="Declan Ross"]'s question.

"Well, I feel like I got hit by... Mikhail Shorn, in the stomach... and I survived that, so I've got that going for me." Triam recounted the similar situation, how she was defeated and expected to die, yet somehow lived to tell the tale of how she got her ass beat. Not her best moment, but neither was this. Triam's eyes gravitated over to [member="Asherah"], whose exotic beauty put her out of place on this desert world. Triam felt a warmth in her chest, and couldn't help feeling a little smile fit itself on to her face. She felt familiar, but had never seen this creature in her life before.

"Who is she? Your wife?" Triam looked over to Declan, indicating that is who she was refer to in her question. "You're lucky." She let her smile show some teeth, letting them know it was a compliment.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The lady had a way about her, a certain movement. It reminded Declan of the sea she was obviously comfortable in, given the gills and limbs. But more importantly, she didn't paw and demand an explanation. He had told her when he set her up in his quarters that he would be busy, and that he needed her rested and fully able to back up his cures if they failed or made the disease worse. Introduce a vaccine, and sometimes it mutated the original disease without killing it and the contagion was made even stronger. She had rested, ate, rested and waited. Like a good patient and a competent doctor or healer should. Granted, he was violating that rule... But he had no one else to relinquish command to. So he ran ragged until the cure was found.

Then Triam spoke, and interrupted his musing and his nod as she came up and his attention focused on her, and suddenly he coughed and sputtered, the 'stick falling from his lips as he looked at Triam with a slack jawed awe. His jaw worked up and down and then he spoke.

"You're fever sick... Do I look like the marrying type? No one wants an old medic and soldier for a husband. Much less one that can't wake up without a half pack of 'sticks and a pot of caff to move them. She's a friend and the one who healed you. Without her talents, I'd not have the data I needed for the vaccine and cure. She was brilliant, and one of the few Forcers I let work on my patients without loosing it. She knows how to heal, and well. That alone makes me swoon, forget the romance."

Then he knelt, picked up the 'stick, tucked it behind his ear and sighed.

"No getting punched in the gut. My orders. You're not sick, but unlike a science based cure, you still carry markers. You could be infected still. It's why I made sure I had a vaccine prototyped, and her rested up, before I came to speak to you. You might not be dying, but you could still be carrying the disease at an infectious level. Jury is out."

[member="Triam Akovin"] | [member="Asherah"]

 

[Asherah]

Wife? Ah, right, the woman asked if they were mated. Well this made sense, it was polite of her to phrase it as though Asherah was the object of her intentions. A gesture that was appreciated by the aquatic healer. One had to keep in mind, when following Asherahs line of thought, that her people had very few males. This made any of them the object of great interest from the females who came into contact with them. Even the most useless male was to be prized as the source of children, one who was very gifted at his craft would be in high demand. It was comforting to her in a way, that this culture was turning out to be not so far from her own.

Declans subsequent denials were a bit confusing, but maybe he was the sort who just wanted more praise, she'd met a few of those in both genders. He was to her eye not particularly old, and both trades he named were more than respectable. If he had troubles waking up in the morning, well perhaps someone ought to look at his diet and the hours he kept. In any case, if these two wanted to start the precarious first steps of the mating dance and see if they wanted to claim each other she'd certainly not get in their way.

"My name is Asherah, it was my honour to heal you. You should not be infectious but," she offered a small half-shrug "I have not helped stop many plagues so, best to defer to the expert."

A brief hand on his back, one finger touching the skin of his neck before it was removed. Not to lay claim, her thoughts on his diet and raised a curtain she was ashamed she'd let fall. She had been allowing him to do the same things she'd done to herself. Namely neglecting himself and his own health. While she was allowed to do it when the moment demanded, she'd not tolerate it in others, and brief surge of energy and revitalisation was sent pumping through his veins. Would it make up for the days without sleep or proper nutrients? No, but it was certainly more effective than a stimstick.

[member="Declan Ross"] [member="Triam Akovin"]

 

[Cassus Akovin]

"Fever's gone doc," Triam smiled, amused by the Doc's evasive overtones. "And I'll try to avoid any gut punches." She looked over to [member="Asherah"], who introduced herself warmly, and then reached over to touch [member="Declan Ross"]'s neck in what seemed fairly tender for friends in her point of view. She wouldn't pretend to know what their relationship was, but it was hard to ignore how they seemed to look at each other was at least some form of interest.

"Thanks for the save Ash, Doc... that was one of my less pleasant ways to almost go out. I owe y'all one, at least. I don't suppose any of you have any mechanical issues around here, since you all don't appear to be the type to need weapons or armor?" Triam looked around, though there wasn't much she could see in the means of assisting them in that way. There was always credits of course, but she preferred a more personal touch. Regardless, she would suggest that as well, failing her ability to do that in her present condition.

"I guess if not, I am modestly wealthy, I'm sure you wouldn't mind the extra credits." Triam laid back into her bed, feeling good about being able to be alive enough to brag, not an activity she was often able to do these days.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

A shiver went down his spine at the touch and the odd rush of energy from it. Hair lifted on the back of his arm and a hiss of breath. Was he fresh as if he had slept right the past few days? No. Not hardly. Force Healing like that was a bit more spendy it would seem. However, the ache in his lower bad had lessened and almost vanished. Eyes were no longer so dark and heavy and didn't burn and feel dry as the dust bowl outside. Collective groups of muscles no longer felt like over tense piano wire, nor burned as if live electricity were being run through them. Overall it felt like he had a good nights sleep or so added into the deficit, and as if it were just the night past. Turning, he regarded the woman with a flash of irritation before understanding clicked into his mind.

In her mind? He had no one he could rely on for help. So she had healed Triam at risk to herself, and then shored up his well-being because she saw an avenue and used all of her ability to benefit a ward. One of the first lessons as a medic for his old squad that he had learned was a multi-part one she just exemplified. Know your limits and abilities, and work as well within them as you can. And always push them when it came to your charges. And if part of a team, every link had to be strong - and the medic was the check on the chain in that team. Gratefulness flooded his expression then, and he nodded. Sadly, whatever she had done seemed to wash the pretty constant layer of narcs he had concocted off, and the imulses of emotion in the room made him squeeze his eyes, lost for a moment as Triam talked, before he nodded.

"I actually am abysmal at tech... I've a need for help getting my droid back up... I tend to require a lot on the analytics side, and they burn out fast. Could use some help reviving and upgrading that, when you're cleared. And just some kit advice in general. I know medicine, but if I can rig some devices and a droid to take the brunt work off, I might could do better... And you'll be a week before you're ready for hyperspace, your internals are pretty fragged."

Turning to Asherah, he nodded. No sense in mincing words or pulling punches. Declan was who he was, and though he could be flowery when he wanted to, this was business.

"And you... I'd not mind discussing your abilities. And your current employment. A good doctor has a good team around him. Your instincts are sharp, your abilities with the Force are good. I could teach you the medicine you need to be great. But we'll need an agreement because frankly, I have trust issues when it comes to the Force."

[member="Asherah"] | [member="Triam Akovin"]

 

[Asherah]

Asherah let Declan reply in regards to what he wanted from Triam. She couldn't really think of anything she wanted or needed. A ride eventually when all this was done. It was good and right that she should have come here at this time to help these people, but quite frankly this was not a planet she had any interest in staying on long term. Far too dry. A planet needn't be entirely aquatic, but it should have a respectable amount. Folks oughtn't to have to buy or ration it.

She was brought back to the moment when he tried to.. hire her? This was interesting. In her part of the ocean at least, healing wasn't precisely a job. It was a calling. There was no set pay or price, but it was understood that any decent community would see their healers well taken care of, and those tended to them almost always expressed their gratitude in physical forms as well as flowered words. This wasn't driven wholly by the community being a good, moral group though this was largely true. It was also driven by the fact that a healer not taken care of, or feeling underappreciated could always swim off and set-up elsewhere.

She considered this, speaking slowly as she worked out her answers in the moment.

"Discussing abilities certainly, I cannot explain all things as I've not the knowledge to do so, but what I know I am happy to share. I would not be displeased to learn beside you for awhile, but.. you live here, on this planet?"

Her nose wrinkled slightly at this, making clear what she was too polite to say. Namely that she was giving a big ol' no thank you to the idea of immigrating to Terra Damnatias. And really she wasn't sure she wanted to stop her travels so recently started. There were certainly things to be learned from him. Look at what he'd been able to accomplish that she could not. But were these things worth living in a hellhole of a desert and not fulfilling her nearly religious decision to see many different moons? Could they not be learned elsewhere?

At the very least, she would be glad enough to have whatever conversations he wanted. His trust issues she left alone, as it seemed a moot point if she didn't stay, and if she did it would be only one on a list of things that people working together would have to come to an agreement about. Understandings had to be reached whenever waters were shared.

She did wonder briefly if she'd accidentally committed a social gaffe by invigorating him. No one had ever complained before.

[member="Declan Ross"] [member="Triam Akovin"]

 

[Cassus Akovin]

Triam lit up with the thought of working for a customer again, when [member="Declan Ross"] mentioned his droid needed some work. It would do her good to work on something again, and it felt especially good knowing it was intended to help people. She wasn't sure why her intelligence so often lead her to war, and the protection of the assets of wars - soldiers. Maybe it was a psychological need to protect people who were like her father, like herself. A need to protect a family that was always broken. This would be good though, a droid that could help anyone, regardless if they were in the fields of war or not.

"Speaking of abilities, while my innards might not be ready for hyperspace, if you need something repaired I got a handy lil' piece of cybernetics in my head I designed that'll boost my healing up quick. Let me get to the nuts and bolts of your problem before I pass out roughly a half hour later. It's usually intended for combat revitalization when you're in a tight bind, but it should work here too... although I will need a 12 hour nap after I pass out, as you can imagine it is a little taxing on the mind and body." Triam suggested it, eager to get out of bed, user her hands, clear her mind... even if doing so will make her pass out in exhaustion. All she had to do was look at his face to know it would never fly with the Doc. She tried didn't she?

"Buuuut, if you're uncomfortable doc I can try and be patient, let you have some time distributing that vaccine out without dotting over me while I fumble with electronics. You better at least bring some of that scrap heap here though, I'll go nuts staring at the inside of this tent for too long. I'll take apart a defibrillator, that's a threat." Triam pointing humorously at them both, laughed lightly in what felt like a century. It was good to be clear headed, and comfortable with the aches of her body. [member="Asherah"] looked rather uncomfortable with the idea of living here, and Triam didn't blame her. Triam hadn't been here but a day or two and it already tried to kill her! And that wasn't even to speak of the wildlife...

It also occurred to Triam that she was clearly aquatic, quickly scanning her body. This was probably the least ideal place for her kind to be, and she found that rather admirable. However she came to be here, Triam was thankful to her. Triam would have to make it up to her too, though she wasn't sure how.

"And Ash, is there anything I can help you with? Need a lift, perhaps? Don't take it the wrong way, but it looks like you're a bit out of familiar waters I take it?" Triam smiled softly to the other woman.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Both spoke, and he listened, quietly. A small throbbing headache was building in his temples, likely withdrawal from the cleanse and restoration. Stims caused fatigue and body stress, so maybe such substances were removed by her technique. It was a fascinating thing, really, seeing and even experiencing first hand how Force Healing work. For a moment he considered his own stunted gift, almost with regret. What could he accomplish if he hadn't buried and blocked it so? But study he did on it said by now it was likely withered and beyond the empathy and instinct, he'd never grow much at all in the ways of the Force. Like a plant, neglect withered the root, stem, and fruit.

Finally, he turned to Asherah and spoke, softly smiling.

"I live currently on Denon, where my practice is. But, as you can see, I commonly travel where my skill is needed or I am called. Frequently I will go to where war wages, during or after, to treat those affected by it most. Or plagues and odd diseases. And I have a ship I am supposed to be trying to commission soon to make my practice more mobile, and I could be persuaded to add a few touches to make you more comfortable. I do like the ocean. There'd be a salary paid to you, of course. And whatever I know, I would teach you, in exchange for the same of you and your aid with my cases."

Letting her digest that, he turned to Triam and smiled, signaling a nurse.

"Bring me Henry, if you will. Ms. Akovin would like a look at him. "

The nurse shuffled off to retrieve the defunct droid, grabbing a local volunteer to help.

"I can let you look over him, see what you have to work with. Slowly, and without use of cybernetics. Then we can discuss what I might like to upgrade or add. It will be good rehab. If you work with ships, I can take you with us when we leave, get you to my office on Denon. You appear to be fine, but still showing disease markers, so i'd like you close anyhow. And this way, you won't go stir crazy...."

[member="Triam Akovin"] | [member="Asherah"]