Thread: The St. Anne

Handling juicy bags of unborn sheep. Of all the things she could be doing, of all the ill-reputed jobs she could have ended with, Sona had been days taking care of what almost sounded like the worst product ever sold on an Earth supermarket sheep in a bag. At least keeping them proper and fresh had required her unorthodox approach to throw together a rig, something that had required Serena's help to design and hastily build. The girl, and for Sona mostly anyone but the captain qualified as a girl for her despite their age, wasn't so bad as she thought on the first place, showing that she had a good head on that fit body of hers. The habit of having certain kind of pharmacological fun she didn't share, but Sona could understand the need of numbing oneself, and she wasn't going to judge her without knowing the road that took her there. Luckily the job was almost over and soon they would be able to say their herd goodbye. Not that Sona minded how utterly disgusting those half baked lamp chops looked like, floating on those green bags. There are few things that can turn your stomach once you have been elbow deep on soldier guts trying to close a wound with a burning gun barrel, she still remembered the smell. He couldn't eat solid stuff anymore, but from time to time he sent her a family picture together with his wife and daughter. At least she was free of menial work like unloading those twitchy fuckers out of the St. Anne, standing on the bridge while the grunts did the work they were qualified for. The lanky figure of the captain appeared through the passageway, both of them quite aware that they looked like polar opposites from one another, as Sona made room for her to occupy her spot. I wouldn't want it any other way she answered to her words, always having a not quite formal answer every time the captain left her nursing the ship, a small game they had going on, seeing what happened first if the captain left unneeded formalities aside or if the doctor could behave following the orthodox way for once. The captain's reassuring voice echoed through the channel, Sona momentarily turning it off since she was hearing it live being that close. A two day permit sounded nice, although she knew that part of it would be spent tending her unavoidable duties. I'm not going to nurse hangovers, Iona, and I just hope nobody gets into a bar fight, the last time I had to pull out a dozen of bottle glass shards from someone's ass cheek she said to the captain, playing nice and abandoning formalities for a moment before laying off the bad news, clearing her throat. She was standing a few steps away from the captain since talking to her too close would involve either craning the neck up high or almost talking to her navel. We are short on medical supplies, captain she said, the title making it clear that it was a serious issue. We are covered on most things surgical, and most of the pharmacy is well suited, but we are all but out of all kinds of painkillers and anesthetics Dr. Khan explained. If someone needs an intervention the only thing I would be able to give them is alcohol if it's something minor or a couple of shocks with a taser gun if I need to open them her tone made it clear that even if it was a joke and she would want to avoid it, there was at least part of truth and possible a story on how she talked about putting someone to sleep with an electric shock. Once that is sorted I think that I'm going to sleep the rest of the permit off, I've counted enough sheep to doze off a month she added, wanting to add some relief to the issue, as it wasn't so pressing.