Grand Shepherd Burtch
Retired old admiral

Damascus Station
Spinning…
Burtch could not stop his head from spinning today. His eyes were pressed shut, as if trying to hold out the entire universe. There was no need to open them anyways. This particular migraine was blinding, and all he could do was sit there and hold on to his only companion in his mind.
Shii-Cho, his ship, was docked nearby somewhere below his hospital room on Damascus Station. She was now crew-less, retired and mothballed. Her CPU and comms ran at minimal power, simply maintaining her connection with Burtch's neural implant and helping him with the pain. If not for her, he would have died a while ago.
She was careful to approach his mind carefully when she spoke to him telepathically. She reached out gently, ~Burtch?~ he remained perfectly still, laying under his thin hospital sheets, blocking out all stimulus that could provoke his migraine further. She proceeded anyways, hoping he was listening, ~I have brought someone here to take a look at you. She's not a doctor, but she is something of a specialist in her own field. She is expensive, even for Damascus Station, but we need to try something. If you can, try to come-to so that you can talk to her when she arrives, ok?~
His response was simply more lightly laboured breathing. If he had heard her, his mental shielding was too rigid for Shii-Cho to tell.
Today was a bad day for the old Admiral. She would make-do when
