Medical Practitioner Rose Spencer: Notes on the AOR Sectors

These logs are all publicly available in any online medical information directories.

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::Accessing [Remedium Case Files] Database::

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::Accessing folder [Rose Spencer, MP: Notes on the AOR Sectors]::

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:lay [Log 1; Pre-Arrival]::

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The video feed cuts in after a moment of static. The camera is on a desk, looking up at the right side of a woman at her console. She's facing forward, focused on an outdated console in front of her, clicking at switches and buttons, a smoldering cigarette stuck between the fingers of her right hand. Once she gets the recording started, she sighs out a cloud of smoke.

"Finally..."

She's an older, tired looking woman, closer to fifty than forty. Her salt and pepper hair is bound in a loose, lazy bun, loose strands sticking out here and there. Eyes round and a deep blue, obscured by a pair of bifocal reading glasses. With her sharp features and thin, long nose, she could've been an English Rose once upon a time. Her light grey lab coat is embroidered with simple dark teal bands, the right-side pocket a home to a variety of pens, flashlight, and other small devices. A name badge dangles from her neck, reading 'Rose Spencer, MP', a photo of her much younger, and a small red cross within a gold circle badge pinned to the ID. There's a worn-in crutch leaned on the left side of her seat, the arm and handle wrapped in duct-tape.

Her surroundings look dim, the interior of an outdated ship. The hum of FTL flight underlines her words, the flicker of the streaming red and blue shift flashes through a window out of shot. Turning and looking down at the camera, she has a kind, approachable air about her with only her expression. Flicking the ash off her cigarette, she finally begins her log entry. Her voice is calm and soothing, a slight rasp underlying it from a lifetime of smoking.

"Hello, this is the preliminary log of Remedium Medical Practitioner Rose Spencer, stardate..."

She looks back towards her console, adjusting her glasses to see. Frowning as the display flickers, she slaps the side of the technological fossil to fix it.

"Stardate 7-20-2416. I'm currently in transit to the Antares, annnd... Oriii... Orion's Edge Refugee Sectors, I'll be short-handing it as the 'AOR Sectors' from here on out... Area is known for it's rampant criminal activity, a hotbed for mercenaries and bounty hunters, planetary claim disputes, frequent Fringe piracy, supposed terrorist cells, sightings of floran war parties..."

She removes her glasses with a sigh, leaning back in her chair with a long drag on her cigarette, staring at the screen with it's expansive list of reasons not to come to this territory.

"The AOR sectors are dangerous, in so many words."

Rose summarizes with a breathy laugh, running a hand over her forehead to push back a few strands of her grey bangs. Clicking the screen of the Council reports off, she swivels her chair to face the camera in full.

"But, even basic medical care can be incredibly hard, if not impossible, to find in areas like this... So, relief aid is very important."

She flicks her wrist, pulling her sleeve back to check her watch.

"I'm guessing the majority of treatments will be for basic illnesses, nothing a bit of bed rest, some antibiotics, and a lollipop won't fix... Though, I'm also expecting plenty of injuries. Between the high risk work sites, dangerous environments, and commonplace violence, people are going to get hurt, frequently... Probably a handful of addiction therapy too, drug trafficking and non-existent taxes floods these areas with controlled substances..."

Snubbing the cigarette in the ashtray, she blows out the last plume of smoke up towards the ceiling.

"Supplying them with with treatments for persistent health issues will be very important yoo... Insulin for diabetes, high density calcium tablets for Avianoc LBD Disease, PolyMedix buffing pads for Scale Rot..."

A soft bleeping and blue light starts flashing on her console.

"Oh oh, one final side note. To keep possible targeting of any facility we're assisting as low as possible, minimize amounts and strengths of painkillers we're bringing. It'll make surgery a real bitch, but..."

She reaches over and flicks the alarm off.

"Lets not repeat the past, we know what some folks are willing to do for a few medical grade pills and needles... Alright, this is Remedium MP Rose Spencer signing off. End log."

Her arm extends across the console, a click of a switch ending the recording.

 

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::Accessing [Remedium Case Files] Database::

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::Accessing folder [Rose Spencer, MP: Notes on the AOR Sectors]::

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:lay [Log 2; Initial Reports, Patient1: Daniel Heart]::

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Following a brief moment of static, a very blurry video begins, the camera attempting to auto focus. The woman speaks while the disorientating adjustment goes on.

"Good morning.~"

The voice is familiar, but, brighter, a bit calmer. She takes a pause for a sip of coffee.

"This is the second AOR sectors log of Remedium MP Rose Spencer, stardate 7-24-2416."

She finally comes into focus, same angle shot and quality as her previous log. MP Rose Spencer is dressed down, her lab coat hung on the back of her chair, leaving her in a slimming black turtleneck. With her long hair hanging free, she seems to have more pep to her step, smiling wider and eyes a bit brighter. While she enjoys her 'breakfast' of a cup of steaming coffee and cindering nicotine stick, she continues her preface.

"Several notes and events to cover for today's log, along with my first in sector patient, how exciting..."

Putting down her white coffee mug, emblazoned with black, sloppy handwriting that reads "#bestaunt2415", she replaces the hot java with a tablet computer, about the size of a little black book. Flipping it on and swiveling herself towards the camera with a slight wince and groan, she looks down, her finger swiping across the tablet screen several times, searching for her short-hand notes. With a double-tap, she squints and skims over the sloppy words, slimly and silently mouthing along before returning to the camera, beginning her log entry in full.

"First things first, I've encountered, so far, two colonies. One being Loswake, or 'Camp Nogun' as some people were calling it, a developing community built on a prehistoric marble bridge. And then there's Mud... Yes, it's called Mud, I believe it's a Flightless avian settlement from what I can tell, surprisingly open to other races."

She has a hum of humor while she muses on Mud.

"Loswake seemed like a fairly peaceful place, very quiet, but, I only saw an entryway guard and one temporary resident, named... Ashlyn, if my memory serves me right for once. Human woman, over 200 centimeters tall, or 7 foot, if I had to guess. Thick, masculine, muscular build, very, very strange for anyone, much more so for a woman. Extreme genetic tampering? Or maybe it's an abnormal case of gigantism, compounded by testosterone and steroid injections, alongside meticulous exercise?.."

She shakes off the thought with a drag off her cigarette.

"Anyways, she pointed me in the direction of Mud when I asked about, well, if there were any other settlements in the region, duh."

She makes a goofy face at the camera for just a moment, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue.

"I found out Mud was very different from Loswake, which I'll get to in a bit. This chain of events, occurring on 7-22-2416, started with a standardized automated SOS signal, a ship crash. Obviously, I'm in no shape to go on a search and rescue, so, I didn't respond. At least, until a woman broadcasted that they had found a survivor at the crash site in need of medical attention. The rescued man had suffered moderate cryogenic burns from his stasis pod, and I'm sure being buried in the snow didn't do him any favors either... Of course I responded. However..."

Rose's eyes shift towards her notepad and skims along some more notes.

"During the exchange, I got some first hand observations through several people keying into the frequency, showcasing the sort of the pocket culture within the AOR sectors, namely the distrust of others and racial xenophobia... An 'Us versus Them' mentality can be common among displaced refugees. Several people tuned in to the frequency, most of them only interested in the race of the crash survivor, an underlying tone that that would determine whether they deserved treatment or not. Granted, one man made the obvious point that different races require different specialist, but, he also added 'for a floran, you’d need a gardener'. Anyhow..."

Her smoking hand comes up to scratch at her temple with her ring finger, a plain platinum band on the digit, trying to remember all the details.

"Getting through to the woman with the buzzing radio chatter was a bit difficult, but, thankfully I did. She sent me the telecodes to her small vessel's transporter, and with a quick little quantum leap and basic aid kit in hand, there I was."

A little finger twirl, whistle, and swipe through the air to illustrate the teleportation.

“The woman… Oh, ugh, I’ve forgotten her name… Shit… Anoeen, or, something similar… She had cosmetic surgery to fold her ears to a point, like an… Elf. Plenty of oddities in this neck of the universe… Anywho, there was the woman, standing over the rescued man on the floor.”

She pulls up the case file, reading it word for word off of her notes.

“Patient's name... Daniel Heart. Human male, Caucasian, late twenties to early thirties if I had to take a guess. A general surgeon originally from Canada, an Earth nation. Supposedly spent seven years in cryostasis, give or take, which, considering his condition, was very surprising. 'Freezer Burn' is a vicious twat, typically hitting the soft tissues first, eyes, nasal cavity, inner ear, throat... He's lucky to have gotten off with such minor injuries, just some abrasion and cellular death on the surface skin along his abdomen and extremities, I couldn’t even diagnose it as first degree, more akin to a moderate rash... God's grace shined on the boy, I suppose."

Putting down the device, she runs her hand over her head, reigning in a few locks of smokey hair before looking back to the camera.

“Basic procedure, just a bit of antiseptic spray, coated with some regrowth salve, all wrapped with PolyMedix bandages. Ran him through the usual, that the wounds would itch like a bastard for the next week or so, don’t scratch it… Also gave him my contact information in case the treatment didn’t take, but, he seemed a bit familiar with the condition, and with how minor they were, I doubt he’ll have much issue.”

She jiggles her wrist to check her watch, a few bracelets clinking as she does.

“Wow I’m droning on, that’s new and different.”

Her sarcasm is thick, said through a slit of a smile.

“Alright, let’s wrap this up… The woman suggested Mud as a place for Doctor Heart to rest, a rather popular inn at the colony. Off we zipped, dropping down planetside… After getting him settled in, I decided to have a bit of tea and review my notes at the bar, mostly to eavesdrop on the locals, heh… Annnd that’s when the gunfire started, which unphased all but a few patrons, I overheard that wasn’t a terribly uncommon thing, so… Mud’s far from peaceful or stable it seems, and that makes me think I might be getting familiar with the place.”

The dire prognosis is said with a flat smile and half-lidded eyes aimed at the camera. She finishes her coffee in a final gulp and shut eye sigh before reaching towards the console.

“Alright, finally finished, thanks for bearing with me folks. You all have a wonderful day, God bless, this is Remedium MP Rose Spencer signing off. End log."

With a soft click, the recording ends.

 

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::Accessing [Remedium Case Files] Database::

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::Accessing folder [Rose Spencer, MP: Notes on the AOR Sectors]::

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:lay [Log 3; AOR Sectors Reports, Patient2: Unknown, Patient3: Fog, Patient4: Kahlua]::

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The video cuts in with a very familiar manner of static and auto-focusing, the same angle and view of Rose. The differences from her previous logs are very apparent; desk is littered with piles of paperwork, her ashtray is overflowing with butts, and the woman is in no better condition, looking ten years older than before. Large sleep deprived purple bags under her eyes, hair undone and unwashed, cigarette dangling from her mouth, the sleeves of her turtleneck are unevenly rolled up to her elbows. She looks incredibly exhausted and annoyed. After a long exasperated sigh, she looks towards the camera with and uneven gaze.

“Christ... Okay, third AOR sectors log, Remedium MP Rose Spencer, stardate 8-14-2416."

She says dryly, her slow, droning voice is very raspy and tired. Her attention goes to a notepad in front of her, lifting it up to read off.

“Today’s logs, three new patients, updates, I’m giving it the unofficial title of ‘How Things Went to Shit’.”

There’s no humor to the words, they’re as haggard and worn thin as she looks.

“First things first, knock Loswake, or Nogun, off the list. Settlement went dark, word of mouth says dangerous amounts of radiation from their power supply chased off the colonists... I’ve also managed to find a clinic to operate from, that settlement Mud that I mentioned. The rep I met with, Ernal, real political bent, gives off the impression that he knows what he’s doing… Was downright ecstatic about the offer of Remedium aid. Nice enough guy at the end of the day, does seem to care about the people there.”

She says in a dry rush, fixing her glasses as they slowly sink down her sharp nose.

“Shortly after I got myself situated, there was a festival, Lights Over Mud, some atmospheric effect lit the sky up like it was on fire, but, not an inferno, like…”

She rolls a hand, and then her eyes, giving up on her search for a poetic term.

“- Anyways, he made the official announcement of Mud being closed off to outsiders, complicating things on my end, but, he assured me that he’ll see about making some caveats about taking in people in need of aid, even if it’s just a ‘treat ‘em and street ‘em’ policy, it’s the best I can do right now.”

Her voice only gets quieter as she approaches talking about the case files she needs to cover, dropping the notepad roughly before rustling through the haphazard piles of manila folders and thick stapled documents she needs to fill out. Finding what she was looking for, she reads off the following like bingo numbers.

“Patient Two since arrival. Name, unknown. Race, hyotl. Age, unknown. Gender, likely a male. Dark grey skin, height, over 200 centimeters… Injuries, multiple lacerations and punctures, patient mentioned a fight with a floran, remnants of what was probably a spear in the wounds, patient extremely aggressive, threw a knife at another clinician, likely due to clinician being a floran. Basic wound treatments, clean stitch salve bandage, gave him a standard dose of HypoGlycerin for his blood loss…”

Once again, she roughly drops the paper to pick up a similar one.

“Patient Three since arrival. Name, Fog. Race, avian. Age, unknown. Gender, male. Green feathers, height, roughly 160 centimeters. Injuries, complete amputation of his left leg from the knee down, cause, point blank shotgun blast. I personally heard the report of the gun firing, just after Ernal finished his speech. Treatment, standard procedure, clean stitch salve bandage, HypoGlycerin due to blood loss, passed him off to other clinician, current condition unknown... Ugh…”

She practically tosses the paper off onto a pile, causing the whole thing to topple with a quiet slide, not even paying it any mind while reading off the next one.

“Patient FOUR since arrival. Name, Kahlua. Race, Avian. Age, unknown. Gender, male. Brown feathers, height, roughly 160 fucking centimeters. Ailments, high fever, paralysis, causes unknown. Ruled out bacterial or viral origins, administered basic ‘flush out’ procedures, giving his system a good cleaning, he seems to be improving, thankfully.”

This document is put down gentler than the others. Leaning back, she takes off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose, sighing deeply.

“Good God in Heaven… Okay, I’m up to my elbows in filing supply request for packages A-12, T-67, Y-7, B-”

Another sigh, some of the ash of her long extinguished cigarette falls onto her chest. An exhausted hand brushes it off, leaving a white streak on the cloth.

“Send me everything but the kitchen sink, alright?”

Finally, a little humor and levity to her words. She starts her sign off through a long and violent yawn, almost indecipherable.

“Done, finished, God bless, this is Remedium MP Rose Spencer signing off to get some damn sleep. End log."

With a click, the video cuts to black.