05-12-2015, 04:28 AM
Han-jae saluted the Commander. "...Sir."
In accordance with the medical officer's directive, he half-supported, half-carried Piras on his way back to decontamination. He felt guilty, for not knowing the first thing about the dead man (he tried to recall Briggs' face, and failed), for not really being able to help Piras given the situation. He realized that he didn't really know the first thing about the breeder either; since his transfer in from Shanghai, he'd been skimming the surfaces of people's lives here, concentrating on the parts of their stories that would be entertaining.
He had to explain again, to the guys in charge of decon, explaining the why-aren't-you-at-your-post and the-breeder-went-WHERE topics agilely and with a minimum of visible frustration. "...just make sure he's all right and his payload is okay." The Specialist endured being sprayed down with the "magic goo" the decon room was so secretive about, hosed himself off, got back in uniform, and was given a clean bill of health.
The decon specialist was too busy to tell him about Piras, so Han-jae returned to his post and continued to check things in, mark for salvage, mark for refurbishment. Before he was supposed to go to the galley to meet Carter for a drink (an attractive prospect on this particular day), he spent a while standing in front of the PX's shelves before rejecting the idea of sending the new widow something like a sympathy card- he'd likely get one soon from the military, anyway, and it was a hollow gesture at best.
-In case you need a distraction,- he wrote in a brief message to Piras' personal tablet, attaching a novel he'd read once, although he'd never been able to understand what he thought were subtle jokes and puzzles. Something about a man willing all his possessions to whichever one of his "heirs" could figure out the meaning of clues passed out at the reading of the will.
In accordance with the medical officer's directive, he half-supported, half-carried Piras on his way back to decontamination. He felt guilty, for not knowing the first thing about the dead man (he tried to recall Briggs' face, and failed), for not really being able to help Piras given the situation. He realized that he didn't really know the first thing about the breeder either; since his transfer in from Shanghai, he'd been skimming the surfaces of people's lives here, concentrating on the parts of their stories that would be entertaining.
He had to explain again, to the guys in charge of decon, explaining the why-aren't-you-at-your-post and the-breeder-went-WHERE topics agilely and with a minimum of visible frustration. "...just make sure he's all right and his payload is okay." The Specialist endured being sprayed down with the "magic goo" the decon room was so secretive about, hosed himself off, got back in uniform, and was given a clean bill of health.
The decon specialist was too busy to tell him about Piras, so Han-jae returned to his post and continued to check things in, mark for salvage, mark for refurbishment. Before he was supposed to go to the galley to meet Carter for a drink (an attractive prospect on this particular day), he spent a while standing in front of the PX's shelves before rejecting the idea of sending the new widow something like a sympathy card- he'd likely get one soon from the military, anyway, and it was a hollow gesture at best.
-In case you need a distraction,- he wrote in a brief message to Piras' personal tablet, attaching a novel he'd read once, although he'd never been able to understand what he thought were subtle jokes and puzzles. Something about a man willing all his possessions to whichever one of his "heirs" could figure out the meaning of clues passed out at the reading of the will.