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.

Threaded | Flat

"Try not to move," a voice said, a blurry silhouette to the right of the bright artificial lighting. If Evan's senses weren't too hazy, he'd recognize that messy hair and formal voice. (Though it sounded a little more stern; less boasting and more professional.) "This might hurt a bit."

This wasn't a difficult situation for Bentley, by any means - quite easy, really, but precise, or it might hurt a lot. They already gave him the drugs to numb the pain, and though a lot of blood was already loss, they quickly got it under control. Everything was going smoothly - apart from Viana being so close to the operating room's glass window that you could see her breath fogging it. But, first and foremost, Bentley was a doctor, not her rival. Her presence didn't hinder the precision in which he pulled the piece of metal out, caught between the tweezers, covered in blood. With a metal clang, he set the bullet and tweezers down, picking up the suture. This was the easy part. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, Bentley was sure this was nothing rare for the two siblings - especially considering all their scars. They've seen worse.)

"Good as new, Mikey," Bentley said after a few minutes. One of the nurses was already cleaning up the tools as Bentley patched him up with gauze and bandages. "That doesn't mean you can leave, though. Still gonna be a bit dizzy there."

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