[color=f6989d][b]Sister Marta[/b][/color]

[color=f6989d][i]Aboard the[/i] HMS Supply[/color]

Sister Marta Rocha thought much could be said about the theological implications of mystical teleportation, especially when it involves being converted into data and transported via radio waves. The sheer disconnect between being there one moment and here the next left her stomach and equilibrium a bit out of sync. She thought this was probably what other people felt when they got seasickness - well, nothing that faith and antacids can't resolve. At least that suspicious Myron guy took her to her destination instead of dumping her in the middle of the ocean or locking her in a USB.

She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. No use being negative about things - she was finally done providing what help she could to the injured behind the lines, and she'd now been called in to assist - firstly by providing care to a boatload of POWs who had been incapacitated mostly peacefully. Sleeping gas was involved, but there were a few injuries since many crewmembers had been in active combat stations - running up and down, holding dangerous objects, the works. Mostly nothing more than scrapes and bruises, but a handful of concussions, broken bones, and internal fractures were also reported. And, enemies or not, Marta thought it would be downright shameful to let them be further injured while imprisoned!

"Ms. Rocha? Ms. Rocha, it's down this way."

She started for a moment as the crewman who was leading her to the brig caught her attention. She flushed slightly, almost tripping over herself as she corrected her path. How embarrassing! She got so lost in her thoughts she missed a turn. Despite the strange circumstances, the crew members were very professional, and she didn't want to make a clumsy impression on her first outing.

[color=f6989d]"Ah, sorry about that! Bit distracted is all."[/color]

Some military and even civilian authorities find her presence odd - a young nun wandering around battlegrounds and disaster zones. In a place where Arms Masters congregated in large numbers, her few eccentricities barely made an impact and only more so as Noble Arms continued to proliferate. It was gratifying - it meant that they could get down to business. Thankfully, the remainder of the trek through the ship's claustrophobic interiors was brief; soon enough, the seaman stood aside to let her into the brig area.

"Here we are, Ms. Rocha."

She stepped in gingerly and began to analyze the cells - not precisely intended to hold this many people.

[color=f6989d]"The brig is a bit overcrowded. Isn't there any more room?"[/color]

"Sorry, Ms., but we hadn't expected this many POWs. She's already full to bursting as is..."

[color=f6989d]"Nothing for it, I suppose... all the more reason for me to get started."[/color]

She calmly walks to a more central position, observing the prisoners. Many of them are still unconscious and doing fine. Some are awake but still out of it. And a few are awakened by injury, one case even showing an external fracture. Steeling herself, she raises her right hand skyward. After a few seconds, light coalesces around her right arm, plates of gilt silver appearing in flashes until the final piece, marked with a Chi-Rho, completes the gauntlet over her right hand.

[color=f49ac2][b]"Behold, for I bring to thee Health and Healing..."[/b][/color]

A pulse of light emanates from the Noble Arm, permeating steel and lead. Scrapes and cuts vanish, bruises dissipate, Flesh and bone reknit, and even invisible concussions are brought back into shape. The light passes even through walls, past the brig. Some sailors in the area of effect are also relieved- back pain is assuaged, migraines temporarily suppressed, and one man is suddenly and rudely sobered. That done, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a hardened radio—time to report in.

[color=f6989d]"Hey? Hey, yeah, it's Marta speaking. I managed to get here within the three-minute limit, thank goodness. What's next on the agenda?"[/color]