[Day 1, 0100 hours] [In-progress] [Open] Call a waaaaaaaambulance
Who: Angrybot (AB), Happybot (HB), Estraven, Nii Jieni, Hojo, and Raidou (Open to anyone else who might want to wander in)
Where: Starting at Customs. Leaving quickly.
What: You have... one unconscious person, two robots trying to play nurse, and two scientists trying to play doctor. We'll be lucky if no one dies.
Rating: G
Warnings: None. Yet. Yet.
AB/HB:
There was a bit of a commotion as a third ship evidently came in to land, the roar of the engines audible even from inside the terminal. Louder still was the series of bangs and beeps as two grey shapes whizzed into view, coming from the direction of the newly arrived ship. It appeared a curious contraption - two little robot-esque things, wheeling around on coasters, carrying a stretcher between them, a prone figure already laid out on it. The one in the lead was brandishing a feather duster.
"Out of the way! Out of the way!" it shrilled, beating anyone who was slow to comply. "Medical emergency!"
"Wait!" the other cried, screeching suddenly to a stop. The first must have failed to hear it, for it continued onwards for one, disasterous moment, until, like a bicycle that braked the rear wheel but not the front, the first robot jolted forward, and promptly toppled over, crashing onto the floor. The second robot didn't seem to notice, dropping it's end of the stretcher, which fell on the first robot with a crash, patient and all. The second robot spun around, flailing at the people in the waiting area. "Is there a doctor in the house?!"
Estraven: The last Estraven had remembered was noise and commotion and suffocating heat - apt, then, that the first he remembered when shocked out of his daze was noise, commotion, suffocating heat. At least the darkness had given, Creation unfinished darkness clearing from before his eyes until light streamed in, too much after too long spent floating, flying, going insane.
God curse the Terran language and its strange consonants. Estraven awoke to his entire world falling upwards, and with a crash the ground seemed to envelop him and then spit him out again. When everything stilled, a fraction of a second of un-moving, he leaned over the edge of whatever they had put him on, and vomitted. Bile and stench burned up his nasal passages and throat, until he hacked in his own language, 'The heat.'
--
Nii:
There was a doctor in the house. Two, really. Yet neither of them were really the 'right' kind of doctor, Nii figured. But beggars could hardly be choosers, could they?
He'd gotten separated from the Professor, having disappeared discretely after the landing, intent on getting to the surface as fast as possible. uSUC knew him, didn't require him to queue with the rest of the peons as they disembarked... so it was that he'd retreated to a corner, preparing to slip through the old, unused staff lane, where Customs Four usually just gave him a cursory scan and waved him through, when the little robot's flailing caught his attention.
There was something new everytime he came back, it seemed.
Flicking eyes from the patient - oh, uSUC and its minions made such bad caretakers - he noted the flush, the sweating, the signs of fever. And yet he hung back, scanning the crowd for the sign of the other doctor, waiting to see how he'd respond.
--
Hojo:
Potential Doctor #2 had been waiting semi-patiently for an opening at customs, still a little irritable and claustrophobic from all the commotion. He was watching Kino go up ahead, paying attention to the exchanged words, to what the interests were for those odd computers. It appeared he was safe; it seemed purely interested in dealing with weaponry, and he had none to speak of, no particular concern with the removed protection of his comrades.
The third ship made a deafening sound as it arrived, shook the building; from within it, it felt somewhat like a quake, but the sound was anything like it and disturbingly familiar. It was easy to imagine what it would be, and Hojo frowned. Just how many of them would there be - and were there more from his world? He couldn't imagine that he and Zack would be the only one to be spared the destruction. After all, what of the living?
It wasn't long after when commotion broke once again, and a group came crashing through from another doorway, two little machines hauling a stretcher between them, carrying a man in plain distress. He paused, glanced around the small gathering for that other fellow - assuming he was the other kind of doctor, the right kind to deal with him - but there was no sign.
Annoying.
He wasn't a medical doctor, but he'd done his fair share of learning on the subject; it came with the biological territory. Adjusting his glasses and smoothing the coat, he stepped forward, pushing past the first robot. This whole situation felt almost dreamlike at this point, and the robots barely made him look twice. "I'll take it."
He looked down at the person on the stretcher, taking a moment to read symptoms; nausea was obvious, and he was soaked in his own sweat, shaking terribly. Brushing his hands across the man's forehead though, it was notable that his temperature felt... normal. He touched the side of his neck, where his pulse was racing.
... Strange. Even with the lack of a fever, however...
"Heatstroke; it's advanced, but reversible. You need to lower his temperature, and he needs an IV drip, saline, immediately. He's severely dehydrated and his blood pressure is low."
--
Estraven:
Curse linguistics, curse languages, curse the inability to be understood, curse disalignment, curse lack of balance, and then fight all of it. Estraven felt his vision slur in and out, like melting ice, when a warm, warm hand descended on his forehead (this entire world was made of heat, the entire world, all the universe, there was no more Winter, there was no more homeland, no more promise of the ice).
'I need,' he struggled in between sweats and shivers, 'ice. The ice. The Ice.' They did not know what the Ice was, but a man cannot excise himself from his country so easily. Estraven had tried, hadn't he, he'd tried, he'd tried.
His own raving repetitions echoed in his head, like some sort of mind-art, assassination, paranoia like Argaven and Emran and Argaven before him, and her, and him.
Estraven wrenched himself upwards and outwards of himself (praise, he thought, the discipline of the Handdarata) to see dark eyes, watching, curious.
The curiosity alarmed him, instinctively.
--
AB/HB:
Ah! A doctor! HB burst out in little sparkly yellow and pink lights as it waved cheerfully at Hojo. "Thank you!" it chirped.
AB, on the other hand, was blinking an angry red. "Moron!" it squeaked at HB. "You could have killed him! You probably killed him, dropping him like that! And now he's made a mess all over the floor! That we will have to clean up! And uSUC is going to binary us for that!"
Its words fell on deaf ears, as HB flailed at Hojo. Authority! Authority and order was good. But what were these unfamiliar words? It relayed them back to uSUC, and got the response fairly quickly -- they needed to get him to the main medical facility near the center of the city.
"We have those things nearby," HB relayed. "If you'll just follow us!" Grabbing the end of the stretcher again, it began trundling off towards Customs Fourth. And ice! Of course they had ice. Lots of ice! All the ice that the user wanted. It felt nice to be so useful.
--
Nii:
And right towards him. Nii leaned against the wall, conspicious in the white coat he had somehow obtained between the ship and customs, eyes glued on the entourage, as he waited for them to pass him by. With all the blinking lights and commotion, it seemed almost like a festival.
How exciting. He yawned, cradling the bunny plushie between his hands, and scratching between its ears. "I never pegged the good doctor for the responsible sort," he murmured, amused.
--
Hojo:
Responsible? Far from it. Mere idle interest, curiosity; it helped pass the time, and perhaps it would be a decent opportunity to learn something about what was going on, who exactly had been brought here... and what sort of facilities they had.
He met the eyes of his new patient, saw something in there that may've been shock or fear, and he smiled. It was in no way disarming.
He could only assume that the robots served someone else here by their actions, and perhaps it would lead to some much-desired answers. He could... cooperate, however briefly, if only to get himself out of here.
However, he was certainly in no great rush to follow them as they hauled up the trembling man, hurrying him towards some defunct corridor. He'd told them what to do, and he wasn't going to push his still-aching joints to match their step. Still with his slouched posture, he laced his fingers behind his back and trailed on behind them.
He brushed past the other man without a word, glancing back at him for a moment, his gaze moving to the crowd from his ship, before continuing.
"I'm still waiting for my clothes. It's terribly chilly in here."