gosh we're always saving your hide, james

[aphelionix]

Bentley didn't go on missions. It just wasn't something he did. The anxiety and intensity of such a situation was unsavory to begin with, and dangerous, and Bentley didn't like dangerous.

But seeing as he had no field experience, and yet was one of the most qualified doctors in Circle 7, it set him up to be set out eventually. Apparently it was some sort of requirement, for experience's sake; to know you could act in the middle of action, or in dire situations. Bentley knew he could. Inside of a hospital, that was. Outside? It was hard to say. He had his pack which was fully equipped with what he needed, but what if an emergency arose?

At the very least, he was assigned with another, more field-experienced medic and Evan, who was more than familiar with these sorts of missions. Not to mention, one of the few people Bentley would call his friend. There was a small comfort in that - but it was very small.

"S-so, what's the situation? How bad are the commander's injuries?" he asked, trying to get a grip of the situation. They had ten minutes until they landed.

Comments

[tactician]

"Oh boy, POW's," mumbled Evan, taking over the Captain's job of steering Bentley for a moment, though he let go after a few paces, trusting the doctor to be able to regain his bearings quickly enough. The group fell into relative silence as they walked, Evan keeping an eye out for more attacks (though the chances of that were close to null, considering this was a path the reinforcements had cleared to get to them) and Dr. Cambria retreating into his own thoughts.

When Evan subsequently broke the still by asking, "How're you holding up?" to Bentley, it almost seemed abnormally loud, but at least his tone had lost that business-like edge.

[aphelionix]

It was as silent as when they first arrived, minus Evan's eerie humming. Bentley was watching for ambushes himself, but everything was, for the most part, still. The occasional gust of wind would kick up minute amounts of dust; just enough to erase the footprints they left.

"I'm fine," Bentley answered, a bit too fast. "Better, I mean."

[tactician]

If Evan directed one of his slanted looks at him, it was impossible to see with the visor fixed firmly over his face, the dim sun glancing off another moon to provide Eurydice with her lighting casting a hazy glaze over everything. "Good," said Evan after a beat.

"I'm lovely too, if anyone wants to know," piped up Dr. Cambria, to Bentley's left.

Evan laughed then, the sound filling the intercom for a moment - even the other soldiers accompanying them chuckled, the woman raising an instinctive hand to cover her mouth, though the gloved limb only raised halfway before falling again. The moment's reprieve, if it could be considered as such, however, was short-lived. Not a minute later, one of their escorts waved a hand and motioned for them to turn the corner around a cluster of empty containers, finally bringing them to their objective in the flesh.

"Oh, good," said another soldier, one who had stayed behind to watch over the Captain half-sprawled on the floor, half-propped up by a nearby wall. "You're here."

[aphelionix]

Bentley could see the blood even from their distance. There was also a tarp a short distance to their left, covering what seemed to be a human form - the medic that had been killed in action. (Bentley wondered briefly if they had met.) Much like Evan earlier, he gained a professional voice, speaking steadily.

"Tell me what happened," he said to the soldier, rushing over to the captain. Dr. Cambria was close behind him, beginning to assess the damage on the Captain, idly but calmly talking to him, checking his consciousness - asking his name, where he was; small details that helped in the long run.

[tactician]

The Captain, whose breathing seemed labored, seemed perfectly content to let the attending officer answer for him, which also seemed perfectly understandable as he seemed to have enough trouble fighting for consciousness, eyes half-lidded when they weren't scrunched up in pain. Evan stood back and let the doctors brush past him, shuffling instead to where the other waiting soldiers stood guard. They had relaxed just the slightest bit, the unit breathing a collective if unheard sigh of relief now that they had aid. It made the air of Eurydice just a little less suffocating.

Of course, it didn't look good - an entire chunk of the man's left leg was missing, the smell of charred flesh hanging in the air, making its way even through the filter of their masks - but considering the expertise of the attending medics, it was salvageable. At the very least, whatever explosion the unlucky Captain had stepped into had cursorily cauterized enough of the wound that blood loss hadn't taken him yet.

As the doctors attended their patient (Evan watched as Cambria even lifted the tarp to take a perfunctory look at the dead medic before lowering the corner back down with a dour frown), the soldiers held fast to their weapons and filled Evan in. "There's an operation being conducted down here - more large scale than any federation laws on scavenging planets would allow. The attack on you just now confirmed that it was Gladsheim behind it. Troublesome bastards, every one of them," one of them told him, his thick accent placing the masked soldier as a native of a far-off planet Evan was unfamiliar with. "They been lurin' their labor over here and then blowin' them up to cover their tracks."

[aphelionix]

Bentley was swiftly digging through his medical pack for the needed supplies, setting them out on a plastic sheet he had prepared. It was important, even in emergencies, to keep sanitary.

Despite working on the Captain's leg, Bentley had one ear honed in on the conversation about Gladsheim. He wondered if his brother had a part in all of this. Their moves in general had been very suspicious in the past few years. It was best to prepare for the worst - but Bentley wasn't even sure what it could be.

"Captain, I'm going to inject some painkiller into your leg," he said, prepping a needle. "Might feel a pinch."

Of course, it was an understatement - the Captain let out a few slurred swears, almost kicking his leg out in reflex. Cambria had thankfully returned to Bentley's side, holding his leg still. After five second, the tension eased from the Captain, but he was gasping harder.

"Ya' tryin' ta kill me, doc? Shit," he groaned, the back of his head thumping against the wall with a tinny sound.

[tactician]

"Doctor Foster is the one that doesn't inject poison into our members, don't worry," Evan called out, a few yards away, before turning back to the soldier at his side.

"What's left on Eurydice that they'd go large-scale just to get it?" he asked, waving a hand at the barren landscape. "Even with us here, there isn't much competition."

"Probably somethin' they can shoot at someone," answered the soldier, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "That's all Gladsheim is after nowadays anyway." He nudged Evan gently on the upper arm, canting his head. "You should know. Recon unit, ain't ya?"

Evan shook his head, waving a hand in the air near his head. "I hear...things."

Meanwhile, the attending soldier leaned forward a little to inspect the sorry sight of his Captain's leg, attention flitting between the bloody wound and the superior officer's face, making sure he didn't drop off into shock or unconsciousness. "How's it looking?" he asked, slight anxiousness bleeding into his voice.

headcanon: cambria and james go way back

[aphelionix]

Bentley frowned subconsciously at the mention of Calibri. Good thing it was hidden, or the poor Captain might've thought something had gone wrong.

Cambria snapped his fingers at Bentley to pay attention to their patient when he was starting to move too slowly. The doctor didn't apologize for his pace, as not to worry the Captain or the others. Luckily, the chatter about Gladsheim tapered off into vague assumptions, and Bentley lost interest in listening.

It was rather gruesome, getting rid of the dead and scorched flesh from his leg. Luckily, James had barely reacted, thoroughly numbed by the shot and thoroughly delirious from the previous pain and blood loss. Bentley started to put an ointment on the wound, readying his gauze once he was done.

"He's going to be fine," Cambria assured. "He'll have about seven-eighths of a leg, but it'll work."

"Ugh, couldn't ya have saved that news for later? Ga'damn," Captain James growled. Cambria just smiled, even though it was only visible in the creases by his eyes.

ttly ok with this

[tactician]

"Better than no leg at all, sir," quipped the attending officer, earning a few answering chuckles from his comrades.

Other than the surprise attack they suffered at the hands of Gladsheim, the front remained thankfully silent, save for the occasional shuffling of feet in the dust and the sounds of the doctors making quick work of the Captain's injury. As the Captain's breathing evened out, slowing down from the shallow breaths he had been taking, Evan finally chanced clapping a hand on the broad of Bentley's back, confident that the doctor wouldn't be quite as susceptible to flipping out now. "All good on the bloody front, boys?"

"Hardest part's over, if that's what you're asking," answered Cambria, as Evan looked to Bentley for confirmation.

[aphelionix]

Bentley managed not to jump - quite a feat - but at this point it was true; the hardest part was over. Even the doctor had tension that was gradually easing. He tied off the bandages, beginning to wrap the wound in a protective casing.

"Just about done here," he announced.

"I'll give you a heavy sedative for the trip back, James," Cambria said, smiling. "Knock you right out."

"Oh, shut up," he responded, light in voice, humoring Cambria now that everything was winding down. "I'll give you a heavy sedative. My fist."

Cambria laughed, patting his friend on the shoulder.

[tactician]

"So we can move 'im?" said one of the soldiers, clearly not very inclined to stay in not-necessarily-friendly territory when one of their own was injured.

"We should get back and report your findings to Boss. He'll be interested to know that there's more Gladsheim activity happening 'round these parts," Evan agreed, ever reconnaissance-minded.

More?

[aphelionix]

"Yes. Carefully," Bentley said, starting to pack his supplies up again.

Captain James was hoisted up by two of the soldiers, arms slung over their shoulders. They began to walk back once both the medics were ready, and their had their deceased medic covered and on a portable stretcher. Mafia or not, there was a lot of respect among comrades.

"Yeah. I'll do it first thing when we're back," said James, his voice still hoarse, head lulling from side to side. "I don't like it one bit, personally. Who knows what those fuckers are up to."

[tactician]

"We've a vague idea. Don't worry, Boss'll get it sorted out," Evan said reassuringly, saluting James with a two-fingered sign of respect, rather than clapping a hand on his arm, to avoid jolting his injury. He and the doctors stood back as the small company made their way towards their waiting shuttle, which had hopefully held its own and had suffered better luck than they had, meaning no surprise attacks or sudden breakdowns.

As the soldiers shuffled off, Evan nudged Bentley with his shoulder. "Good job today, doc."

[aphelionix]

Bentley ran a hand through his hair, eyes cast down at the heavy dust.

"Thanks," he said. He had since calmed down, judging by his voice; it was back to being steady and, well, coherent. "Just doing my job."