"Not exactly sure, but he was holding onto this." Mike explained as he walked back a few steps to get a dusty, but obviously well made old fashioned leather doctors bag. "What is he loaded down with, rocks?" Zed might be getting older, but he did not expect his newest patient to be that heavy. "Alley-oomph." The lift was not perfectly coordinated and the 'patient' was flopped onto the table. "Just another things I will have to put into the paperwork that was foisted onto me, what with there being no mayor anymore and all that." Zed grabbed on and nodded to the younger male so they could coordinate the lift onto the table. "Well, isn't that just great." Zed harrumphed and moved to help lift the poor traveler up. "Caused the station to start sending smoke signals afterwards though." The progress moving the unresponsive form was easier on the flat floor and was soon near the one 'work' table there. "But he came out, and in a crazy way too." The younger male dragged the unconscious form into the marginally cleaner then the dust outside clinic. "I thought that was a exit only station." Zed rubbed his medical mask covered chin. "I was just about to leave when this fellow popped out of the system and fried it good." "Naw Doc." Mike gave a heave and dragged the person he found into sight. "You didn't get shot trying to get to the fast travel did you?" "What seems to be the trouble Mike." Zed asked as he walked into the working part of his home/office/clinic. "Hey Doc!" the sound of the voice wanting to get his attention broke Zed out of his reminiscing and drew him out of his office. He might not be a REAL doctor, like his twin down in Jakobs cove, but he had learned to relax every now and again, to enjoy the little things in life. At least it kept him from getting bored, something the not quite a doctor with the greying patched of hair at his temples found some comfort in. Weather it was getting their foolish foot shot off with their own guns, or shot by the various psychos and bandits, or getting chewed on by skags, there was always something or other to deal with. Practicing what could only arguably be called medicine in the dust choked boonies that was the little settlement of Fyrestone meant that every now and again someone got injured and needed treatment. Zed looked up from his paperwork when he heard someone being drug into his tiny clinic, as much as you could call the open room with the one surgery table next to his vending machine a clinic.
0 kommentar(er)
