[ Someone sounds slightly irritated. ]

I just love getting cough in the morning. Three people already have greeted me in such a great way.

Seriously I didn't know people forgot about napkins in the future. Dreadful business.

[At first there is only a light tapping of claws against a tabletop, then a slightly labored, agitated breath.]

Dialysis.

[Well that was an awkward thing to just blurt out. There is another pause then he speaks again, his rusty voice carrying a note of mingled embarrassment and anger. It's the voice of someone publicly confessing to something he'd rather keep secret.]

Who here can perform dialysis? Mr. Stark... Anyone...

[More tapping then he snaps with a bit more nastiness than is probably necessary.]

And if you're gonna lecture me then just shut up, 'cause I don't wanna hear it.

[Jesse's reporting in from the lab, for once, which probably looks a little strange for anyone seeing him in hazmat coveralls for the first time. Look at him. Professional-like. Behind him is a peek at the Initiative's futuristic chemistry equipment, but the focus is on a vial of clear liquid pinched between Jesse's fingers.]

Yo. Remember how I said like a month ago I was working on something? I finished it.

Wait - Um, backing this up a little in case you missed it. We got word a few months back that the U.E.'s been drugging their people with something called verstatsi. A lotta the Exiles that turned up here ended up sick 'cause they couldn't get their fix. A lotta them were dying from the withdrawal. It was pretty bad.

Anyways, I was developing an anti-addictive drug. We tested it this week.

[He taps the vial he's holding, looking pretty proud of himself.]

It's working. Everybody we gave it to stabilized in like under two hours. Cravings totally gone, symptoms gone. And the dose is only once a day, which - if you've ever been on methadone - that is huge, okay.

I know a lotta you are probably like, "Who cares? I'm not a junkie anyway." No, seriously, this shit? This could save your life if the U.E. ever captures you. This is big. We're gonna keep testing it, but I'm making sure the clinic gets stocked A.S.A.P., yo. All my research notes'll be there along with it so I don't gotta sit here explaining science to you for three hours. Everything about dosage... Recipe, too, in case anything happens to me.

So... Yeah. And thanks to Vanadi and Rin for helping me out with getting chemicals. We totally did it, you guys.

Well, isn't this just peachy. As if we didn't have enough fucking work to do without an actual disaster situation coming down on our heads.

[Adrasteius glares into the feed, his pale, thin face looking a bit haggard.]

Folks, my name's Adrasteius, and I'm the guy in charge of our clinic. Emphasis on ours, mind you. If you were injured in the crash and you need medical attention, please let me know immediately. I can come to you, or I can send you someone else.

[He huffs, runs a hand through his hair. He's already been running around ever since the spaceship crashed, tending mostly to the natives caught in the blast. Sweat beads his throat and forehead.

His voice is a little hesitant when he goes on.]

On another note, for the safe and waiting and bored... Due to my work here, and bullshit like this, I haven't really gotten a chance to explore the surrounding areas. I'm not asking for the weather report out there or something, I just need to know--have any of you with the skill sensed any natural magic in this land?

[It might be a long shot. It probably is a long shot. But he's at least got to ask.]

[ Gwen is sewing.

There is so much time to fill these days that she takes these projects, uses them to pass her hours and keep her mind occupied with simple things rather than her worries and lord knows she has plenty.

In her lap, a dress is laid, more of a gown of silks in shades of royal blue and lighter blue. It is an impressive piece, one she is working on for many weeks on from the look of her fingers, she had poked herself with the needle more than once.

Still she works, sewing what looks like a golden embodiment on the edges.

Beside her is a cup of tea and actually, it's not the gown she wants to talk about. ]

It's rather brilliant.

[ she takes the cup, sips her tea. ]

Are they really tea-leaves? I have never heard of any leaves that can make something so wonderful. In Camelot we only have water and if you're fortunate you have milk.

[ and ale and mead and wine, but Gwen never tried those. ]

N-not that I mind the milk and the water. Or Camelot, really, I miss it quite often but -

[ she's doing it again isn't she? the babbling. She stops, smiles. ]

It is rather brilliant. Where can one find those...tea leaves? Where do they grow?

[Because this little class act of a birthday message deserves to make a few rounds before landing in the hand of its intended recipient, if you ask her:]
( Cut for ridiculousness  )

( The problem here was, so far as Ellie could see it, was that there were people. Too many people, a claustrophobic press of Transports jammed in so that she felt like she suddenly had some idea what it was like for cattle to be run through the crush. Whether or not they were all destined for an abattoir was another matter entirely.
Not just that, but they weren't the right people. Some of them seemed decent enough, but they weren't her human safety blanket or the guy that kept them all going, or the one that she could always feel superior to. (To be honest, it was a relief none of them were Lee.)

This might be why she is addressing the network from one of the bombed out buildings rather than her place, which she hasnt visited for a few days. Ellie's just surrounded by debris, dirt and water damaged walls, though some of the prior are concealed by some pretty massive piles of paper. She's propping herself up on her elbows, not looking right at the device. )

I was wondering what there is around here in the way of record keeping. I mean, these things have got a lot on them, but something other than that. Pens, paper - the tangible stuff. In case the network fails, or something.

There's probably already something, but I haven't had time to figure all that out yet. And maybe if there isn't, we should make one. Record the people who have been here, what they know, experiences and stuff. Not just stuff that happens here, but before. Or, um, elsewhere, I guess. Wherever home is.

( Despite this being a video broadcast, and deliberately so, she has to yet glanced at the camera. She does now, very briefly, but there is a definite guilty expression to it. Ellie opens her mouth again, but thinks better of it. )

[McCoy is at the clinic, and when he turns on the tablet, he steps away to the far side of a table that is in between the camera and him. On it is one of those CPR dummies. He crosses his arms, giving the camera a serious look.]

All right, listen up. I haven't been on one of these missions yet, but I hear they can be dangerous, so as a doctor, I'm going to train you all in basic first aid. Now I don't know if you've heard all this before, but I really don't care. This won't take long.

The goal here is: you've got to assess the injury, prevent it from getting worse, and keep the patient alive. That should be obvious to anyone who isn't a complete idiot, so let's move on. If you're one of those with powers that can fix a person up, you don't have to go to all the trouble of rescue breathing or making splints, but pay attention anyway. You might learn something.

First thing you've gotta do is make sure the patient is still breathing. If they aren't? You do this.

[He demonstrates rescue breathing on the dummy, then points out what he did -- pinching the nostrils shut, tilting the head back, etc. He goes on to explain how to do chest compressions too.]

Do that until a trained medic gets to you, or the patient is breathing again. Once the patient's breathing, you can look to their injuries. If they're bleeding heavily, put pressure on the wound. If they smacked their head, they probably have a concussion, so if they're conscious, ask them simple questions to keep them alert.

[And we'll fast forward through this, but he goes on to explain things that can be used as makeshift tourniquets and splints, when a patient should be moved and when you should wait for a professional medic (or make a stretcher to carry the patient on), etc.]

Right, I think that covers the basics. The ideal is to get the patient to a professional as soon as possible, long as it's safe to do so, but if you can't, then follow those tips. Don't play the hero, just worry about keeping the patient alive and you'll have done enough.

[And with that said, he moves back over to the tablet.]

Any questions, just ask. I won't be answering the stupid ones, though.

[End feed.]

By way of some odd notes about feet, it's come to my attention that yesterday was some sort of a sex holiday. That is, a holiday about sex, not a holiday from sex.

This morning, then, would be the morning after.

In a week or two, you should know whether you've picked up any unpleasant souvenirs of the holiday. Please see the attached document for some information on the subject, unless you are a small child.

[ ATTACHMENT: HELPFULINFORMATION. It's a comic entitled "Capt. Veedee-o and Ms. Wanda Lust in VD CLAPTRAP." Anders doesn't know to mark it not-safe-for-work. This is his work! ]

If you are a small child, you don't know what I'm talking about, and that's as it should be. You ought to go do something fun that doesn't involve listening to grown-ups discuss boring things on the network. Run around! Do you know how wonderful it is that you've got the freedom to run around outdoors whenever you like? I'm telling you, you really ought to take advantage of that. Don't take those freedoms for granted.

If you're a healer or a doctor of any sort, and you are not a small child, the transport clinic could probably use your help. The coming month may bring an explosion of nasty rashes or worse. Contact me, or our co-director Ashraf Salib, or Adrasteius who doesn't want to have a title. We'll put you to work, whatever it is you do.

Oh, and since Merrill's gone home ... [he won't admit he misses her, but: ] I suppose we could also use a receptionist. That's what it's called, yes? We didn't need receptionists at my clinic in Kirkwall. People would just come right in shouting about their wounds, and I'd see to them eventually, when I wasn't hands-deep in something else. Apparently having more than one healer in this Transport clinic means we need to be better-organized, therefore having someone in the front room is nice and useful.

A question to you all that has been weighing on my mind for some time.

We've already inadvertently changed history to our own detriment before. What happens if we accidentally change history so that one who invented our time machine was never born. If there was no one from the present to open the time portal back up, would we just get trapped in the past?

Do any of you know how to build a time machine from scratch? I do have some hope of eventually returning to my homeworld, and being stuck in the seventh century would make that significantly more difficult.