[center][b]Aftermath[/b][/center][center][i]The Med Bay to the Food Supply Stores[/i][/center]
The ear-splitting wail of metal bending under extreme pressure filled the med bay as Sigrun careened towards the injector table, though the stormborn was more concerned about Bronson. While she planned to do everything in her power to survive this nightmare, Sigi felt a sense of responsibility for the heavyset sailor. After all, he was her patient. With a loud clattering sound, Bronson's cot toppled over, though the mariner somehow braced himself against the floor with his uninjured arm. Sigrun could see the sweat dripping down Bronson's round face as he gingerly rolled onto his back, and she wondered if the fadeleaf seeds were still keeping the pain of his broken arm at bay. Considering how pale he was, she doubted it. The fear and anxiety he was feeling would be more than enough to overpower the seeds' numbing properties. 

Bronson seemed to sense Sigrun was worried about him, because he peered over the mound of his gut and gave her a weak thumbs up. Despite the man's size, he started to slowly slide in the direction of Sigi's other patient, a terrified moan escaping his lips. The bearded man, whose name nobody seemed to know, moved to help Bronson, but he tripped over the chair he'd set his rifle on and fell to the floor. "Plummet!" Bronson snarled as he bumped against his cot, though he managed to wedge his body against the obstruction in such a way that he stopped moving.

"Nicely done," Sigi said, a smile flickering across her angular features, as she reached out and took hold of the thin metal railing surrounding the injector table. The cold, unbending iron felt incredibly reassuring. Of course, that's when the jar of Dr. Morrison's Clotting Paste toppled over and spilled grayish pink sludge everywhere. The overpowering scent of oranges and lemons spread throughout the med bay like some kind of noxious gas. Cursing under her breath, the Ysmirod field medic watched in helpless anger as two dozen of her linen pouches toppled off the counter and hit the floor. While most of them were securely tied, no less than six of them came open and spilled their contents, adding various plant cuttings and seeds to the mess spreading across the floor. Sigrun's pile of supplies, including the partially full wash basin and the bottle of corn whiskey, hit the ground with a dull thud before following suit. As she watched in mute frustration, a small voice in the back of Sigrun's head told her she'd need to find another place to accept incoming patients. This room would need a thorough cleaning before anyone could be treated in here again.

Sigrun had always used little things to distract her from life's more daunting moments. Like cresting the top of a hundred foot wave. Or watching your father prepare to brand you as a [i]vrykul[/i] for the rest of your life.

Abruptly, everything stopped skidding around and Bronson looked at Sigrun. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sigi held out her hand and said, "This has to be the top of the wave. We're not safe yet. Brace yourselves!" Shooting a caustic glare at the bearded man, who was using one of the med bay's chairs as an anchor, Sigrun wondered what would happen if they both survived this. The wave had hit before he'd been able to answer her questions, but he obviously knew how to use the rifle clutched in his trembling hands. Would he allow her to bring her concerns to Captain Conway? The thought sent a shiver of irritation rattling down Sigrun's spine, and she promised herself she'd deal with this filthy [i]buca[/i] herself if it came to that. She was stormborn, and no stormborn would willingly ask a [i]helgus[/i] for help.

On the other hand, none of that would matter if the [i]UIS Garrloch[/i] was destroyed as it plunged down the other side of the wave. Sigrun's face turned the color of spoiled milk as she saw all the rubbish on the med bay floor starting to roll the other way, and she hopped onto the injector table as the entire ship began to tilt forward. The shriek of buckling metal cut through the air once again and Sigrun roared, "[i]Kos an fenran, buca[/i]!" as the angle of their descent intensified. Bronson let out a wordless howl of terror and threw his unbroken arm across his face as though hiding from what was happening would keep him safe.

Stupid [i]helgus[/i].

A sound like a massive boulder tumbling into a lake reverberated through the Garrloch. Everything shuddered once, twice, three times. And then it was over. A quiet, almost surprised, voice crackled over the PA and said, "Cap'n Conway. We're clear of the Ring of Thunder. Barrin' that hellish storm, it's actually quite a nice day out. Also, Supply Officer Gante wants a word with you at your earliest convenience."

Bronson struggled to his feet, his injured arm held close to his body, and asked, "Do you think...do you think it's over, doctor?" Sigrun nodded once before vaulting off the injector table and hurrying over to the counter. Miraculously, the pouches containing the dalamud leaves and the fadeleaf seeds hadn't moved an inch. Grabbing both bags, and shoving the dalamud leaves into one of her pockets, Sigi opened the fadeleaf seed pouch and handed Bronson four seeds. That should be enough to numb him again while also calming his nerves. Letting out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, the stormborn turned one of the cots back over as her patient gulped down the foul-tasting seeds. Sigrun led Bronson over to the cot, and he squeezed her arm gratefully before settling down. In moments, he'd fallen asleep despite the revolting stench of spilled blood clotting paste, chemicals, and corn whiskey hanging in the air. Looking around at the devastated med bay, the Ysmirod ran a hand through her short hair and sighed. No time like the present. She turned to confront the bearded man only to be interrupted by the arrival of yet another stranger.

A young woman, perhaps only a few years older than Sigrun, with dark green eyes and black hair rushed into the med-bay. Her clothes were soaked, and she had a few minor injuries as well, but Sigrun remembered her. She'd been one of the people that gathered on the upper deck before the Garrloch left the Doherty Outreach Center. Moving past the injured warrior hunched over by the door, the intruder walked over to Sigi and said, "Hi. Sorry it took me so long to get here, there was a fire, and then the wave...well, anyway, I'm here now! I'm one of the medical staff, a nurse." The [i]helgus[/i] woman held a hand out to Sigrun and said, "Wow, you really had a time down here too, huh? A broken bone already? Although that's not surprising. Everyone seems to be okay, though, which is amazing considering everything."

Sigrun looked at the offered hand and then slowly moved her gaze up to the woman's smiling face. Why was she so happy? Was it just relief that she hadn't died or was she some kind of moron? Did she not see the state of the med bay? "Your name is...Lulu or Luna or something, yes?" Sigrun asked as she got up without touching the [i]helgus[/i]' hand. "Whatever, it doesn't matter now. If you really are a nurse then start cleaning this mess up. I'll be back to help you once I've talked to the captain about using another room down here as a temporary med bay." Without another word, she stalked towards the med bay's exit. As she drew level with the blonde-haired warrior, she paused briefly and said, "And get this [i]buca[/i] something to make him sleep for awhile. I'll deal with him later."

Sigrun stepped into the twisting corridors of the ship, wishing she'd paid more attention when Valdez had led her to the med bay. The Garrloch wasn't huge, but everything was crammed into an extremely small space. This made finding a specific part of the vessel difficult for someone that wasn't familiar with the layout of the stark white corridors. Pursing her lips, the stormborn field medic noticed the cold, ankle-deep water sloshing around in the corridors and wondered how badly the ship had been damaged. Would the mission be put on hold until the engineers could ensure the Garrloch was fit to continue? What if they decided the best option was to try to return to the DOC for repairs? Would the ship survive another pass through the Ring? Frowning at the thought, Sigi set off in what she hoped was the direction of the main deck. Somebody up there would know where to find Captain Conway. 

As she turned a corner, the Ysmirod nearly collided with Danzig and Rast. The two men looked down at her in obvious surprise for a moment before Danzig smiled, showing off an impressive array of yellow teeth, and said, "You never know what you'll find on these Canthican boats, am I right, Rast? Outta the way, little girl. We've got business to attend to." The red-haired thug shoved past Sigi and sloshed down the hallway. Rast, his beady brown eyes wide, rubbed a nasty bruise on his cheek and mumbled something that sounded like an apology before scurrying after his friend. 

Sigrun briefly considered following the two men, but she knew her current errand was more important. Perhaps, once she'd gauged how many crewmen needed her attention, she'd tell Conway about the threat Danzig and Rast represented. But where was the blasted man? The stormborn squeezed past a portion of the wall that had caved in and kept walking, her damp boots making obnoxious squelching noises as she moved. 

Sigi was so fixated on finding the captain that she almost missed him as she stomped past what appeared to be a large storage room. Conway was standing inside with two other men Sigrun didn't recognize. The taller of the duo was a gaunt, shifty-eyed mariner with a drooping red mustache and a wrinkled navy blue uniform. His companion had grayish blonde hair and a shaggy beard, though Sigrun wouldn't have cared if he'd been wearing high heels and a dress. "This would be a great time to get that reporter to take a bird's eye shot the ship, you know? Mark the occasion and all now that were finally, truly underway," the second man was saying as the Ysmirod field medic walked into the room and loudly cleared her throat. The skinny man with the long mustache blinked at her and folded his arms across his narrow chest, a disapproving look spreading across his swarthy face.

"Captain," Sigrun said, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Conway. "I need to know what room I can use as a temporary med bay until we can clean up the actual one. It's a mess, and I cannot treat patients in such conditions."