circle7 | a small price to pay

Gladsheim, buffeted by both civil unrest and foreign tension, was abuzz with information. The locals were quick to say what was on their minds, and while it took some effort to pick out the useful information from the bias and the opinions, it was a skill that all scouting members of Circle Seven were well-trained with, and the picture had quickly begun to take shape as to the state of affairs down in the military planet. As far as habitable planets went, Gladsheim was actually on the small side of the scale - its population was barely five billion, as a good portion of the surface was uninhabitable anyway, covered with strict rock and mineral deposits that made it good for raw resources, but poor for refining plants. That was why Gladsheim relied on foreign weapon supplies - it relied largely on what the earth gave them to trade for firepower, and when supply had begun to run thin from exploitation, Gladsheim's military had obviously taken affairs into their own hands.

It could be said that the reconnaissance mission had gone off without a hitch. After all, they had gone in, ascertained the situation rather quickly, and they had all managed to get out in one piece. A scratch like this, thought Evan optimistically (maybe it was the drugs making him think crazy), was really a rather small price to pay. He didn't doubt that people paid higher prices for valuable information down in the Fourth Circle, in fact. All in all, his small team had performed admirably, and it would have been virtually impossible for anyone to have noticed that Aquilo trailing their progress. The Aquilos barely wandered far from their own planet given their biological limitations - Evan hadn't been trained to listen for their sound. They were lucky to have realized when they did, losing her before they returned to the trip. Like I said, he thought, without a hitch.

The lights had blared in Evan's eyes like a rhythmic flare (was the artificial lighting always that blinding?) Vaguely, he had been aware of Viana's voice as he was carried into the First Circle ship. He had been good until then, managing on his own feet, but either the relief got to him, or the blood loss did, and as soon as he was safely inside, his knees gave out. The next thing he knew, he was staring at the ceiling. "What?" he tried to say, but his mouth wasn't cooperating, and all that got out was a confused, "Nnn?" which technically sufficed, but was considerably less graceful. This wasn't his room.

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Bentley and Viana's voices got louder as the doctor opened the door, accenting the last half of his sentence. "I know, I know - I think I've heard enough of your threats to last me a life time and more." He rolled his eyes as he stepped in, his footsteps much more languid and precise than Viana's. "Now go see your brother. And don't stress him out, he's still in a fragile state."

"Fragile," Viana snorted, around the same time her brother did the same.

"Fragile?" Evan echoed, looking affronted. He pulled himself higher on the bed, so that he could lean up as she approached. She slowed to a stop as she came to stand at the side of the medical bed, like a bird coming down to perch and rest. Rather than ask and confirm something she had already been told, Viana just gave her brother's wounded abdomen a quick glance, though the bandages blocked the wound from view. She bit her lip, and though the expression lasted only a split second, Evan was familiar enough with her mannerisms to laugh, patting her elbow.

"The mission was a success," he reassured and reported, all at once. She understood, thankfully, nodding curtly and patting his upper arm back.

"Guess you won't have to die today, doc," she added.

"Yes, fragile," Bentley confirmed, chin tilting up. "You may not think so, but I think your middle there would disagree."

The doctor quieted though, going to a corner of the room where a clipboard lay on a counter. He scribbled something, glancing over his shoulder now and then to look up at them. Viana seemed different around her brother - not that it was surprising, but something about it still resounded in the silent room. The other patient had left that morning; maybe that's why it felt more intimate in here than usual, with just the three of them, even if they weren't particularly close.

Bentley glanced at the clock, wrote something else down, and set down his pen. He turned and leaned against the counter, scoffing at Viana's comment.

"Good," he said. "Wasn't on my agenda."

"Well," she said flippantly, turning back to Evan. "I don't cause you any stress, do I?" She crossed her arms over her chest, expectant.

Evan just smiled. "Of course not," he lied easily, because even if Viana was more than capable of taking care of herself - so capable, in fact, that half the crew aboard the First Circle avoided her - that, in and of itself, was something worth worrying about. He was no heckling mother hen, though, and he supposed worry just came with the whole Being Related package, so he never fussed.

Satisfied with the answer, Viana nodded once at him, and then again in Bentley's direction, in a sort of, "See?" gesture.

"Thanks for bringing her in, doc," Evan smoothed over. "I'm good for now, so if you're busy, you can get back to your job."

It wasn't surprising that they were the time to underestimate injuries - especially Viana. Yet neither of them are doctors who are trained to know the chain effects and small things that make a difference to a hurting patient. A huge part of being a doctor is the patient. And sometimes, like now, dealing with people close to them. Sometimes it was a hassle, and other times it was nice. Despite Viana's attitude, she was one of the easier people to handle. Just show her everything's okay, and you were spared your life. Yep. Easy.

"It's my day off, actually," Bentley said. "Though I do have some things to attend to. Do you need anything, before I go?"

Evan shook his head. "I should be all right."

Oddly enough, it was Viana who asked, "How can I get a hold of you if something happens?"

It was surprising enough to make Bentley stare for a moment, before realizing what it was she was asking. He turned back to the counter, pulled out a spare piece of paper, and jotted something down.

"You can tell the nurse if you need me, but if it's urgent, just call," he explained as he handed the paper to Viana. Two unlabeled numbers were written out, almost to the point of illegibility - looked like Bentley fit that stereotype about doctors' handwriting. He smiled. "Or if you're bored enough. But you're in good hands. The staff is good at what they do."

Viana took the paper from him, and the face she made at the sight of it was evidence enough of what she thought about his handwriting. "What in the-"

"Thanks, doc," Evan cut her off, before she could literally kick that gift horse, thankfully the more amiable of the two. Sometimes, it was doubtful whether or not Viana could have gotten into even Circle Seven without her brother, or vice versa. They worked well together, and could work well alone, but it was always like a chair missing one leg - you could sit on it, but it wasn't nearly as stable. "For everything."

a small price to pay

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