06-05-2014, 02:00 PM
Torri's brows rose in surprise. Officer trained, yes, but military strategist, she was not. Yet the entire Dominance in flames made her blink her fair share of times. Had she heard right? The CoD sent mercenaries after who? Her and Michael? The commander, with his particular skillset, perhaps warranted a rescue mission, but Torri knew all too keenly how many Custody officials were in Mecca, and she was but one lowly physician. Perhaps her rescue was only by virtue of association with Michael? She doubted it, but very few individuals knew the nature of her work in The Facility. Is this mission Ascendancy-sanctions? She shuddered to wonder.
Either way, she was content to leave in the Legion's company, but the phone interrupted their departure. The voice was unrecognizable to her, however she could pin point a french accent a hundred kilometers away. By the tone his cool command alone, was certainly a powerful individual within the Legion. If he were the CEO himself, she could not guess. Surely CEO's didn't participate in strategic organization of their units?
The Dx pad in her hands was worthless for such information, assuming the insurgents had the forethought to cut public wifi access, the tech was low on battery anyway.
Whomever the voice on the phone was, he thought he could order them around like his own people? Torri exchanged glances with Michael, but she held her tongue, and only partly because it bloody hurt to open her mouth.
Still, the anonymous voice had the right idea. She'd see to anyone that needed aid, of course. No matter their allegiance. The convention of war should protect physicians, but by the edema bulging around her eye, she knew all too well what Hasan's men thought of civilized warfare.
Michael's french cut off her agreement. He speaks french? Her brows furrowed tight, confused, but she again refrained from comment.
"Commander Vellas seems to think I am a porcelain doll,"
she thought of him carrying her up here. Torri fixed him with a look that what with the bruising and ugly swelling was probably more comical than not. "I'll treat anyone that needs attention, sir."
It was what she was trained to do, after all. She wished to god her words weren't mumbled by the gauze stuffed in her jaw.
In the interim minutes before they left, Torri directed those in their presence to collect a number of medical supplies. A Med-grade Wallet would be the priority, but nothing like that was going to be laying around a nurse's desk. She'd have to do her best to triage without one.
Wound care, devices, syringes, gloves.. lots of gloves, a white coat if someone could find one, perhaps in the doctor's dictation room down the hall; she was still wearing nothing but her uniform's underclothing, which was modest in the sense of covering skin, but hugged her body tightly. Something to transport it all in. Saline, forceps, needles, scalpels, tape, quick-clot, and a number of other supplies she anticipated would be needed.
Finally, and perhaps most important, she needed someone to bust into the controlled substances dispensing station. "It'll be behind the nurses' station. Completely locked down. Its fireproof for shit's sakes. And since I'm not registered at this hospital, there's no way for me to open it."
She looked between the soldiers and Michael, "But believe me, I do not want to treat wounded men without drugs on hand. If you can get it open, I'll take what I need."
Meantime, she went to rummage around for a proper case to use as transport.
Edited by Torri, Jun 5 2014, 02:00 PM.
Either way, she was content to leave in the Legion's company, but the phone interrupted their departure. The voice was unrecognizable to her, however she could pin point a french accent a hundred kilometers away. By the tone his cool command alone, was certainly a powerful individual within the Legion. If he were the CEO himself, she could not guess. Surely CEO's didn't participate in strategic organization of their units?
The Dx pad in her hands was worthless for such information, assuming the insurgents had the forethought to cut public wifi access, the tech was low on battery anyway.
Whomever the voice on the phone was, he thought he could order them around like his own people? Torri exchanged glances with Michael, but she held her tongue, and only partly because it bloody hurt to open her mouth.
Still, the anonymous voice had the right idea. She'd see to anyone that needed aid, of course. No matter their allegiance. The convention of war should protect physicians, but by the edema bulging around her eye, she knew all too well what Hasan's men thought of civilized warfare.
Michael's french cut off her agreement. He speaks french? Her brows furrowed tight, confused, but she again refrained from comment.
"Commander Vellas seems to think I am a porcelain doll,"
she thought of him carrying her up here. Torri fixed him with a look that what with the bruising and ugly swelling was probably more comical than not. "I'll treat anyone that needs attention, sir."
It was what she was trained to do, after all. She wished to god her words weren't mumbled by the gauze stuffed in her jaw.
In the interim minutes before they left, Torri directed those in their presence to collect a number of medical supplies. A Med-grade Wallet would be the priority, but nothing like that was going to be laying around a nurse's desk. She'd have to do her best to triage without one.
Wound care, devices, syringes, gloves.. lots of gloves, a white coat if someone could find one, perhaps in the doctor's dictation room down the hall; she was still wearing nothing but her uniform's underclothing, which was modest in the sense of covering skin, but hugged her body tightly. Something to transport it all in. Saline, forceps, needles, scalpels, tape, quick-clot, and a number of other supplies she anticipated would be needed.
Finally, and perhaps most important, she needed someone to bust into the controlled substances dispensing station. "It'll be behind the nurses' station. Completely locked down. Its fireproof for shit's sakes. And since I'm not registered at this hospital, there's no way for me to open it."
She looked between the soldiers and Michael, "But believe me, I do not want to treat wounded men without drugs on hand. If you can get it open, I'll take what I need."
Meantime, she went to rummage around for a proper case to use as transport.
Edited by Torri, Jun 5 2014, 02:00 PM.