Medic!

Who: Everyone on the Welsh planet
Where: The Welsh planet
When: Welsh
========================
<<SNIP>>
> Tara came back to reality, her
> vision blurry and filled with red, Keto and Trisees wer stood over
> her, some of the mercs fighting it out with Jay's troop. She was on
> her back. She looked up at the two peering at her.
>
> "You traitorous bast..." She coughed and was wracked
> with pain as she spit blood all over Trisees' shoes.
>
> "Not dead than Charles. I owe you £10. Cash or
> Cheque?" The scientist said.
>
> "Cash Lawrence. It's easier to deal with in the books." Said Keto,
> looking like he should belong in a Rambo movie.
>
> "I swear there is a special hell for you two." She
> said, and her head fell backwards, the world falling into
> darkness, blood beginning to pool at her sides.
<<END SNIP>>
"Yeah," murmured Trisees quietly, looking down at the now-dying
Tara.
"Uh huh," agreed Keto.
"Should we...?"
"Unfortunately, I think we're obliged to," nodded Keto, sighing
sadly. Trisees sighed himself, then knelt down and began going
through Tara's pockets.
"Only a few loose dollarpounds. Nothing major."
"Oh. Oh well, it was worth a try," shrugged Keto as Trisees
straightened up. The two of them looked down at her for another few
moments, Trisees stepping backwards slightly to avoid the blood as
it spread towards his already-stained shoes. The two of them seemed
almost oblivious to the fighting going on less than twenty metres
behind them, as Dwarfers and Welsh clashed in a mighty battle.
"Well, I guess we should probably stop her dying, too," said Keto
after a few moments had passed, "She is, after all, the most
competant member of the medical staff after myself. Not that this
is a difficult task, but I'd prefer not to have to find a
replacement. Paperwork, you know."
"Hmm. Okay, well, I guess I should probably lend you a hand,
then," said Trisees. The two of them knelt down, Keto pulling an
emergency medical kit from beneath his coat.
"Looks like she's been shot three times - right side of the chest,
left shoulder...and stomach."
"Efficient, these Welsh people. Ever think...?"
"My staff quota's full at the moment, so no, no hiring," said
Keto, bandaging the shoulder wound as best he could after a quick
examination. "This is going to be tricky. A punctured lung on its
own - a mild problem. A punctured lung and a major bleed from a
shoulder? A problem. Combined with a gut shot and major internal
bleeding? We need to get her back to the medibay, and I need at
least some of my medical staff there."
"Can I do anything to help?" asked Trisees, as Peter Marwood ran
up...well, hobbled up.
"I need medical attention!" he gasped, "I've been shot in the leg!"
"Lawrence, you're not a certified medical practitioner, are you?"
asked Keto, not looking up from Tara's prone form.
"No."
"Good. Deal with that man. Then, try and round up any of my
medical staff you can find, with the exception of that Chrysler
creature. Tell her that I want her to set up an emergency triage
down here - for Dwarfers AND Welsh. Though it pains me to say it,
she can probably cope with that. Temporarily. I'm heading back to
the Dwarf to deal with...this mess. Send the others after me. Go
now."
Trisees nodded without a word, and stood up. As he tried to hurry
past, Peter Marwood made a half-hearted grab at his arm.
"Hey, are you a doctor?"
Trisees paused and glared at him.
"Me? A doctor? Yes."
Not of medicine, he mused to himself, but he WAS a doctor.
"Oh, great! I've been shot in the leg..."
"Are you still breathing?"
"...what?"
"Breathing. Are you still doing it?"
"Well...uh, yes, but..."
"Come back when you're not," snapped Trisees, and swept away.
Behind him, Keto stifled a laugh, then shouted over at the
fighting mass.
"I NEED A STRETCHER OVER HERE! NOW!"
=====================
OOC: Tag anyone! :)