Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft - Glamping, This is Not
Carter Schimpff
(( Inside the Cliffs – Callis I ))
Bancroft: ::half shrug:: Unless the three of you are a particularly vivid hallucination, by the powers vested in me by Starfleet Medical, I hereby pronounce this fluid both ‘water’ and ‘safe to drink.’
Jovenan: That’s good enough for me. We’ll stay here for a while. Doctor, Mister Bergmen, find a dry and shielded spot in here for us to rest. Check your injuries, keep yourselves hydrated, start putting up a camp if you find it suitable, check the inventories. Me and Lieutenant K’Wara will check the entrances of these other tunnels for dangers and will return to you. ::beat:: We won’t go deep into them, promise.
Bancroft: Aye, Commander. ::grinning slightly:: Y’all want the turn-down service when you get back? We’ve got some little chocolates here somewhere, I’m sure.
Bergmen: Response
Jovenan and K’Wara departed, disappearing through a wide opening, their chemlights drifting off into the distance.
(OOC: Removing the conversation between Jovenan and K’Wara, as neither Bancroft nor Bergmen would be able to hear it most likely.)
Ollie looked even better than he had earlier – color improved, posture steadier – but ‘better’ wasn’t the same thing as ‘cleared.’ Gideon physiology was a marvel, but it wasn’t magic, and Roy had no intention of learning where the limits were the hard way.
His gaze drifted instead to the cave itself.
A flat stretch of stone sat far enough from the waterfall to escape the worst of the spray, tucked into a shallow recess bordered on three sides by solid rock. Defensible, dry, and quiet enoguh that they might actually hear something coming.
Or, at least, hear themselves think.
Roy jerked his chin toward it, then started walking.
(( Campsite – Inside the Cliffs – Callis I ))
Bancroft: Ollie, I’ll handle assembling our tents. Will you work on inventorying the supplies and rations? ::brief pause:: Maybe see if there’s anything around here that looks like it might burn without killing us?
Bergmen: Response
Roy got to work without ceremony, hand falling into practiced rhythms as he unpacked and assembled the compact survival tents. The motions were familiar, grounding – fabric, clasps, tension lines – simple problems with solvable answers.
As the shelters took shape, his thoughts wandered despite his efforts.
The absence of voices pressed in.
Bancroft: ::softly, not looking up:: You think we were the only ones who made it? Or do you think there are others out there somewhere?
Bergmen: Response
Roy nodded slowly, fingers tightening a final brace before releasing it.
Bancroft: ::nodding:: I hope you’re right. ::a beat, gentler:: How you holding up, by the way? Not just the injuries – I know about those. ::tapping the side of his head:: How’s it going up here?
Bergmen: Response
TAG/TBC!
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Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1