#FirstRotationRP

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

with @jaya-dewi-emt

John Tracy, twenty three with a Harvard dual degree, a Master's and 147 days spaceflight experience with NASA under his belt, thinks, personally, that he's acing his first rotation on the brand new, exceptionally shiny, Thunderbird Five. He's overwhelmingly excited about the whole venture, and determined that everything will go perfectly. Their first few rescues went as smoothly as they could - they had some minor technical hiccups on the ground, but everyone came out of it safe at the end of the day, so they're counting that as a win.

And, sure, John's had a low-grade headache and mild fever for the last eighteen hours, but he's certain his Father is just wildly overreacting to the pained wince John made when he'd called to check in. The comm volume had just been way too loud... John swears he's not just sensitive to it, but, regardless, Jeff is forcing his spacefaring son to sit through a call with the new EMT he hired on the recommendation of the Lady Penelope, just in case.

He doesn't exactly fancy a medical checkup, but John's just glad he managed to talk his Father out of aborting mission and dragging him back down in the Space Elevator. John's not sure he'll ever get used to that thing.

"Hello?" With a flick of his fingers, John double checks that the cameras for his holographic array are running - making sure that, while he can see the young woman his Father has connected him to, she can see him too. He clears his dry throat. "Hi." ...He'll have to get used to introducing himself better too. "Thunderbird Five to EMT Jaya Dewi, acting physician?"

The ginger on her screen is tall and thin and his face is, if not quite conventionally perfect, something very close. He has the typical Tracy sharp jawline and handsome eyes, but his version is somehow thinner - perhaps more delicate. It makes him seem a little alien. A little... impenetrable.

Or maybe he just takes more after their mysterious Mom.

“Father says I have to report in. I’ve been feeling…” John rolls his shoulders, as if half shrugging, half testing out his body in the new, low G environment of the Gravity Ring. “A little odd.” He decides, “Not much more than can be expected. Getting to orbit was a rough one and I was wobbly for a couple of hours, but I've been fine since. It's just a bit of a headache, so I'm pretty sure Dad is overreac-"

He's suddenly very aware of a pressure in his sinuses. John sniffs a little, then goes to wipe his nose with, in lieu of anything better, the back of his wrist.

The International Rescue blues come away with their first stain: a smear of crimson.

"Oh." John's cheeks go almost as red as the blood leaking from his nose - two fever-bright spots on his otherwise pale face. "That's uh, probably just something to do with atmospheric pressure, right?"

[jaya-dewi-emt]

Jaya glances at the now wide awake astronaut as she washes her hands for about the fifth time this evening. Thank goodness he only needed an hour or so in the decompression chamber - the bleeding had been bad and couldn't wait too long for treatment. However, now, most everything is fine. He’s even woken up. How amazing.

“Your brothers?” She guesses that the brief word was that. It was the most obvious possibility, of course. “They’re on the island. Would you like me to call them?”

Seeing John’s hand grasping for purchase on his chest, Jaya blinks. Was there something wrong? She’d checked for everything. There weren’t any bubbles (anymore), but there could have been internal damage done? Would she need to call a hospital? 

“Hey. If you do that you may have some trouble with the IV cord. Be careful,” Jaya says instinctively, still trying to figure out what on earth could be going wrong.

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

Jaya lets out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding as she sees the clamps lock onto the space elevator and hears the unit depressurize. The kid is back at normal earth air pressure, and she can finally help him. Good. That's good. She can’t relax yet. Because the kid is still in the elevator. Slamming open the door and hopefully not damaging the hinges - who cared if she damaged the hinges, Hiram could fix them in probably less than a minute on a bad day - she runs in, damn near slipping on a slippery spot of floor - ah, that's John’s blood- wait, how much blood did he actually lose? - That doesn’t matter right now, what matters is getting him out of this darn thing. Digging the porta-stretcher out of her bag, she lays it on the floor as it unfolds itself. The transfer is surprisingly easy (thank Hiram for his genius), and soon Jaya has maneuvered the stretcher over to the medbay. Finally, as she connects one of the spare blood supplies, she allows her shoulders to untense. The kid had lost consciousness just as the elevator had landed, and she can’t fathom what would’ve happened if he’d collapsed before he’d even got into the thing. No one at the Island at the time was able to safely pilot 3, which meant John would’ve probably succumbed to something up there before anyone would’ve been able to get to him. Ah well. He's safe now and that's all that matters. He’ll have a massive headache when he wakes up, though, but that can be dealt with.

Speaking of awake, the limp, bloodied figure in International Rescue blues rolls his head to one side, neck as wobbly as a newborn colts. Golden-ginger lashes flutter, then his eyes open to slits: pupils blown wide and their blue-green focus hazy and distant.

John's fingers curl, then jerk toward his chest, heedless of the IV needle in his arm. Abruptly conscious to it, the pain is searing a white hot hole, burrowing right through his ribs. One grappling hand blindly tries to find the source, but that's pretty much impossible when it's something inside him.

"Wh-r?" He half-manages, confused, but he can't breathe. "M' br-?" His extremities feel distant and tingly. The nosebleed seems to have stopped, at least, but the dried blood caked over his grey face does nothing to help the impression that he's in a really bad way.

Pulmonary barotrauma can be a serious complication from the sudden pressure loss on a space station. Gas bubbles released into the arterial circulation get distributed to the rest of the body's tissues. Anything with narrow arteries, or that receives the highest proportion of blood flow, is in danger. The heart, the lungs... the brain.

And John Tracy isn't exactly firing on all cylinders right now.

[jaya-dewi-emt]

Jaya lets out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding as she sees the clamps lock onto the space elevator and hears the unit depressurize. The kid is back at normal earth air pressure, and she can finally help him. Good. That's good. She can’t relax yet. Because the kid is still in the elevator.

Slamming open the door and hopefully not damaging the hinges- who cared if she damaged the hinges, Hiram could fix them in probably less than a minute on a bad day- she runs in, damn near slipping on a slippery spot of floor- ah, that's John’s blood- wait, how much blood did he actually lose?- That doen’t matter right now, what matters is getting him out of this darn thing. Digging the porta-stretcher out of her bag, she lays it on the floor as it unfolds itself. 

The transfer is surprisingly easy (thank Hiram for his genius), and soon Jaya has maneuvered the stretcher over to the medbay. Finally, as she connects one of the spare blood supplies, she allows her shoulders to untense. The kid had lost consciousness just as the elevator had landed, and she can’t fathom what would’ve happened if he’d collapsed before he’d even got into the thing. No one at the Island at the time was able to safely pilot 3, which meant John would’ve probably succumbed to something up there before anyone would’ve been able to get to him. Ah well. He's safe now and that's all that matters. He’ll have a massive headache when he wakes up, though, but that can be dealt with.

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“Naming them for your siblings? That’s a great idea,” Jaya smiles, trying her best to keep the sheer amount of stress out of her voice. “Five minutes. You can hold out for five more minutes. Just keep talking. Your ideas are interesting.” In reality, Jaya has no interest in quasars or anything of the sort. However, keeping John talking is the best way of keeping him awake until he’s safely at home. “Don’t overthink things, just focus on what you’re talking about,” she says, and she’s quite frankly not sure whether she’s telling that to John or herself.

"The star-" John gasps, wetly, "Is the LucilleX10-37." His fingers twitch absently at nothing. "She's t'w'rds the- the centre of the accretion disc-"

The gravity, the pressure, is increasing tenfold inside his head. He can't concentrate, he can't-

"-was d'c'vered so late i-into my study b-because the degree of obsc'ur'ation by the gas and dust within the host galaxy."

Words John knows by heart become so badly slurred, it's impossible to tell what he's trying to say. The focus of his eyes hazy and distant, angled up toward nothing on the hologram. His head has tipped to one side, and he doesn't even raise a hand to contain the blood dribbling slowly over his cheek, seeping into the thin layer of padding on the Space Elevator's headrest.

"J-ya." He manages, "C'n... y' tell my... bvrs..." But the rest of his trailing sentence is lost under the loud thunk of the Elevator clamps locking into place. John Tracy's home.

[jaya-dewi-emt]

“Naming them for your siblings? That’s a great idea,” Jaya smiles, trying her best to keep the sheer amount of stress out of her voice. “Five minutes. You can hold out for five more minutes. Just keep talking. Your ideas are interesting.”

In reality, Jaya has no interest in quasars or anything of the sort. However, keeping John talking is the best way of keeping him awake until he’s safely at home.

“Don’t overthink things, just focus on what you’re talking about,” she says, and she’s quite frankly not sure whether she’s telling that to John or herself.

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

Jaya’s heart almost stops. “What? What’s wrong?” It could be anything really. Jaya truly hopes that it was just the headache it’d been for all this time. Her fist tightens around her medkit. Seventeen minutes has never felt so long. She’s been in situations where she’s had to do CPR, for cripes sake, yet this feels somehow worse. Maybe it’s because it’s her employer's son. If she makes a mistake, it could all be over. No, she isn’t going to think of that. “I’ve got painkillers and a stretcher here. You just need to hold out for a bit longer until you get down here. Stay awake.” Jaya thinks for a second. “Tell me about what you’re interested in right now. Take your mind off of the headache.”

"Feels like it's splitting... sorry." John slurs the word a little, doing nothing for anyone's confidence. At least everything inside the Space Elevator is automated, and the pilot has to do very little work to guide the tiny capsule down on it's dangling cable. John leans back into the seat, pushing his skull as hard as he can into the headrest to try and relive some of the pressure. "My- My head's just so fuzzy, I can't-" His lashes have gone all fluttery, "W-What did you want to know?"

He's young and has an otherwise sparklingly clean bill of health, so John knows the likelihood of this being anything pre-existing is very low. And he knows full well that sudden onset injuries in the line of duty have ended the careers of greater astronauts than John Tracy.

He knows this might well be the last time he takes the Space Elevator down from his brand new Thunderbird.

"I- I've been working on an update to my quasar thesis." He manages, eyes closed and the hold on his bloody nose abandoned. "The yellow dwarf star that it's black hole created, it's got- nngh- six exoplanets in it's rotation... I-I was going to name them for m-my siblings." John has no idea if she either knows or cares about quasars, but talking is helping to keep him awake.

His head hurts, his joints, his fingers, and the damn dizziness, even taking into account the fact he's hurtling through the atmosphere, it's unbearable. Barotrauma, he worries at 17,500 mph, hemopneumothorax, decompression sickness... None of his ideas for what's wrong are favourable.

[jaya-dewi-emt]

Jaya’s heart almost stops. “What? What’s wrong?”

It could be anything really. Jaya truly hopes that it was just the headache it’d been for all this time. Her fist tightens around her medkit. Seventeen minutes has never felt so long. She’s been in situations where she’s had to do CPR, for cripes sake, yet this feels somehow worse. Maybe it’s because it’s her employer's son. If she makes a mistake, it could all be over. No, she isn’t going to think of that.

“I’ve got painkillers and a stretcher here. You just need to hold out for a bit longer until you get down here. Stay awake.” Jaya thinks for a second. “Tell me about what you’re interested in right now. Take your mind off of the headache.”

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“I’m still here, don’t worry,” Jaya says, breathing a sigh of relief that the man was somehow still conscious and lucid enough to notice she'd stopped talking. “Unfortunately I can’t think of any way to stop the nausea, but it’s only going to be there for a short while. How long does the space elevator usually take to get down here?” This is now how she expected her first check-in with him to go. Ah well. No one could control malfunctioning equipment. Really, she’d’ve thought Hiram would’ve checked for this sort of thing. No going back now, though. It was time for her to actually do her job. It wasn’t long before she found herself at the empty port for the space elevator. Now, it was time to wait and hope that John didn’t go unconscious from the G forces of the descending vehicle.

"S-Seventeen minutes," He gasps, "If I push it." John all but crumples into the central chair of the Space Elevator, his heart pounding in his ears as the airlock slides closed behind him. He takes a long series of deep breaths, trying to fill his lungs with fresh atmosphere and oxygen. He's shaking like a leaf in a storm.

That had been... a little too close. Certainly the closest any of his experiences with space travel have come so far. NASA and his Father had done their best to prepare him for every eventuality, but John-

John licks blood off his lips.

He hadn't realised it was going to terrify him quite so much.

He buries his pounding head in his hands and groans, almost forgetting that he's supposed to be taking this ride back home. His brain full of white, fuzzy static, John spares a thought to wonder what, exactly, had gone so very wrong.

Brains overengineers everything. Safety and excellence first. But practical testing can only get you so far, and it would only take the slightest perforation for his atmosphere to begin to leak. A shudders runs itself through his shoulders.

"J-Jaya?" His mouth shapes her name, "I- my head..."

[jaya-dewi-emt]

“I’m still here, don’t worry,” Jaya says, breathing a sigh of relief that the man was somehow still conscious and lucid enough to notice she'd stopped talking. “Unfortunately I can’t think of any way to stop the nausea, but it’s only going to be there for a short while. How long does the space elevator usually take to get down here?”

This is now how she expected her first check-in with him to go. Ah well. No one could control malfunctioning equipment. Really, she’d’ve thought Hiram would’ve checked for this sort of thing. No going back now, though. It was time for her to actually do her job.

It wasn’t long before she found herself at the empty port for the space elevator. Now, it was time to wait and hope that John didn’t go unconscious from the G forces of the descending vehicle.

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“John. Get out of there. Do I need to come up to get you? Are you feeling nauseous?” Stupid question. That’s a stupid question. He looks sick. He has the possibility of paralysis if he stays up in TB5 until she gets there and for cripe’s sake, Jaya has dealt with enough of that for a lifetime. Jaya stands up, transferring the call to her HoloWrist as she collects her things together.  “I’m going to meet you at the Space Elevator port. Make sure you get to it, okay?” Picking up the porta-stretcher (seriously, who named the thing, it sounds like some sort of toilet), she shuffles through the medication cabinet, shoving some anti-nausea pills, sick-bags and painkillers into the bag. She’s going to need to be fast. The frankly useless oxygen supply tank isn’t portable like the one at her old hospital, so it’s going to be a rush from the Space Elevator to the medbay.  Checking the HoloWrist, John’s still conscious. Good. Hopefully, he stays that way. “You’re doing a great job, just keep yourself together until you get to the elevator. Can you do that?”

"That is the plan." The abrupt flip in the medic's attitude is like whiplash, but John takes it in stride. Keeping his fingers pinched to his nose cartridge does his voice no favours, but it's better than nothing against the river of blood coating his mouth and chin. "N-not sick, but... do you know a-any way to make this stop?" He's not begging, of course not, but there is a definite edge of something unusual to his voice. He coughs as he breathes wrong, and blood hits the back of his throat.

Stumbling with the lightheaddedness, John does almost trip on the small ridge that is the step up to the airlock. He saves himself by slapping his palm down hard against the nearest wall, leaving a smudgy, red handprint on the pristine white panel - like a damn horror movie. It feels like a horror movie, as it takes three tries to get the Elevator's access panel to even recognise the shape of his palm.

They need to redesign that.

"Jaya?" John gaps on air that's too thin, too light, too full of nitrogen, and almost falls through the door as it slides open. "J-Jaya, you still there?"

[jaya-dewi-emt]

“John. Get out of there. Do I need to come up to get you? Are you feeling nauseous?”

Stupid question. That’s a stupid question. He looks sick. He has the possibility of paralysis if he stays up in TB5 until she gets there and for cripe’s sake, Jaya has dealt with enough of that for a lifetime. Jaya stands up, transferring the call to her HoloWrist as she collects her things together. 

“I’m going to meet you at the Space Elevator port. Make sure you get to it, okay?”

Picking up the porta-stretcher (seriously, who named the thing, it sounds like some sort of toilet), she shuffles through the medication cabinet, shoving some anti-nausea pills, sick-bags and painkillers into the bag. She’s going to need to be fast. The frankly useless oxygen supply tank isn’t portable like the one at her old hospital, so it’s going to be a rush from the Space Elevator to the medbay. 

Checking the HoloWrist, John’s still conscious. Good. Hopefully he stays that way. “You’re doing a great job, just keep yourself together until you get to the elevator. Can you do that?”

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

Jaya, surprisingly, simply nods, rather than any other more profound reaction. “You can just send the space elevator to where you are, yes? It’s obviously rather dangerous to stay put, given your current state. For the fever- I work in Celsius, by the way, for the moment, I’d suggest staying cool. Do you have any medication for it?” Jaya’s about to finish her sentence when she remembered the look on John’s face when she referred to Hiram by his proper name. “Don’t make up any fallacies, by the way, John Tracy. I am not attracted to your family scientist. I, for one, am a lesbian. I just prefer to refer to people by something that isn’t some trivial pet name. For instance, I for one will never refer to you as ‘the Space Case’, unlike the rest of your family. So, no ideas. Continuing as per before, I will inform Hiram about your situation and the urgent need for repairs. Please put on your helmet, and be better than your brothers. It really is the least you could do to prevent further compromise of your bodily functions.” Jaya sighs, leaning back in her desk chair as she makes some notes, mostly along the lines of “individual is suffering from a mild case of pressure sickness. Prescribe bed rest upon return.” Ah well, at least this liability was actually bothering to open up to her about his medical information instead of effectively running away screaming.

"S-Space Elevator?" John sounds a little hazy, and the urgency is probably lacking for someone who's just been told to abandon ship. "I- yeah, of course..." He swallows, then has to cough hard against the sensation of blood hitting his throat, "Yeah I can-" In lieu of explaining what he's going to do, John reaches out and flicks his reddened fingers over one of his holographic panels, initiating emergency procedures. With the Space Elevator priming all he has to do now is get to it. Standing is a horribly slow process, given the fact his head goes white-light and everything turns static.

"There's a first aid kit in the Elevator." He blinks her hologram back into focus. There's one installed by every bulkhead, in fact, but with the air inside Thunderbird Five becoming less breathable by the moment, John is risking some major decompression sickness by lingering, let alone the danger of nitrogen bubbles. "I think 102.6 Fahrenheit is something around 39 Celcius." His head hurts too much for the decimals.

"Is- why isn't this stopping?" He questions, blearily, still holding onto his face, as he finger-finds his way through the Gravity Ring. "I c-can't use my helmet while it's still bleeding, can I?" As a not-much-younger astronaut, John learned the hard way that liquids and helmets don't mix. "And I wasn't suggesting anything," He blinks, a little insulted, "I've just n-never heard anyone call him that, is all."

John takes another long breath of air that has far too little atmosphere and curls his free hand around his ribs. Just a little further...

[jaya-dewi-emt]

Jaya, surprisingly, simply nods, rather than any other more profound reaction. “You can just send the space elevator to where you are, yes? It’s obviously rather dangerous to stay put, given your current state. For the fever- I work in Celsius, by the way, for the moment, I’d suggest staying cool. Do you have any medication for it?”

Jaya’s about to finish her sentence when she remembered the look on John’s face when she referred to Hiram by his proper name. “Don’t make up any fallacies, by the way, John Tracy. I am not attracted to your family scientist. I, for one, am a lesbian. I just prefer to refer to people by something that isn’t some trivial pet name. For instance, I for one will never refer to you as ‘the Space Case’, unlike the rest of your family. So, no ideas. Continuing as per before, I will inform Hiram about your situation and the urgent need for repairs. Please put on your helmet, and be better than your brothers. It really is the least you could do to prevent further compromise of your bodily functions.”

Jaya sighs, leaning back in her desk chair as she makes some notes, mostly along the lines of “individual is suffering from a mild case of pressure sickness. Prescribe bed rest upon return.” Ah well, at least this liability was actually bothering to open up to her about his medical information instead of effectively running away screaming.

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“If it were just a headache, I’d pass it off as just an effect of going into Zero G, but the bloody nose is… quite concerning.” Jaya adjusted her glasses, before writing something down. “Have you checked the atmospheric pressure on Thunderbird Five lately?” Having been an EMT for a number of years prior to this current job, Jaya knows what causes epistaxis. She’s seen it many times: on kids who dived too deep into the sea, people who thought they were having some sort of medical emergency on a flight when their mucus membranes were in reality simply not too great. However, seeing it on her employer’s child was concerning. Especially since he wasn’t even on earth. He already wasn't prone to nosebleeds. If he was, she'd have noticed a while ago. Either way, she wasn’t even going to ask about his blood pressure or anything along those lines. It didn’t take a doctorate to know that those were probably through the floor, as was normal in low G. “I’m suspecting that something might be up with your station. Unfortunately, I’m not Hiram, so I wouldn’t know entirely, but I know what causes a nosebleed. So, I’ll tell Hiram about it. Anything else to report?”

"I- I can get a reading." John manages, from where he's immediately crumpled into one of Five's fold-out seats, and shoved his head between his knees. He's very glad not to be in the completely Zero G environment of the Comm Sphere right now. Liquid does... dangerous things in space. "But, I- the oxygen has been fine." Unless it's leaking so slowly John hasn't managed to notice... Suddenly, John worries that it's not just the anxiety that's making it harder to breathe... or... it could just be the fact he's trying very hard not to inhale his own blood.

John's lashes go a bit fluttery, as if he's feeling lightheaded. Low blood pressure and blood loss aren't exactly an ideal combination.

"Hiram?" He laughs, wetly, through the fingers trying to pinch his nose to stop the blood flow. "No one calls Brains Hiram." John doesn't think he's heard the name since Gordon managed to wheedle it out of their Father. He wonders what it means that she's using it: he'd bet they're either closer than he'd expected, or she's unaware of his preference. "Just a headache and a bit of a fever." He reports. "Dad made me take a thermometer reading and it's at 102.6 Fahrenheit... uh... do you need that in Celsius?" Her British accent has thrown him off, but John's not quite sure he can do the math right now. His head feels... a bit, sort of, scrambled. His mouth tastes like rusted pennies.

He lays his free arm across his knees so that he doesn't have to move while booting up his wrist comm's holographic array, and checking the linkup to his new space station. The reading should be around 14.7 psi, but there's a red, glowing warning that it's dipping toward seven.

Oh. Oh no.

The only time John should be encountering a psi anywhere near that low, is outside of his Thunderbird. He's been trained to breathe 100% oxygen before performing a spacewalk, to remove excess nitrogen from his bloodstream and prevent the formation of bubbles in the low-pressure environment of his spacesuit.

"I think-" John manages around the pounding at his temples, "I think we've got a leak..."

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

Jaya lets out a breath that she didn’t know she was holding as she sees the clamps lock onto the space elevator and hears the unit depressurize. The kid is back at normal earth air pressure, and she can finally help him. Good. That's good. She can’t relax yet. Because the kid is still in the elevator. Slamming open the door and hopefully not damaging the hinges - who cared if she damaged the hinges, Hiram could fix them in probably less than a minute on a bad day - she runs in, damn near slipping on a slippery spot of floor - ah, that's John’s blood- wait, how much blood did he actually lose? - That doesn’t matter right now, what matters is getting him out of this darn thing. Digging the porta-stretcher out of her bag, she lays it on the floor as it unfolds itself. The transfer is surprisingly easy (thank Hiram for his genius), and soon Jaya has maneuvered the stretcher over to the medbay. Finally, as she connects one of the spare blood supplies, she allows her shoulders to untense. The kid had lost consciousness just as the elevator had landed, and she can’t fathom what would’ve happened if he’d collapsed before he’d even got into the thing. No one at the Island at the time was able to safely pilot 3, which meant John would’ve probably succumbed to something up there before anyone would’ve been able to get to him. Ah well. He's safe now and that's all that matters. He’ll have a massive headache when he wakes up, though, but that can be dealt with.

Speaking of awake, the limp, bloodied figure in International Rescue blues rolls his head to one side, neck as wobbly as a newborn colts. Golden-ginger lashes flutter, then his eyes open to slits: pupils blown wide and their blue-green focus hazy and distant.

John's fingers curl, then jerk toward his chest, heedless of the IV needle in his arm. Abruptly conscious to it, the pain is searing a white hot hole, burrowing right through his ribs. One grappling hand blindly tries to find the source, but that's pretty much impossible when it's something inside him.

"Wh-r?" He half-manages, confused, but he can't breathe. "M' br-?" His extremities feel distant and tingly. The nosebleed seems to have stopped, at least, but the dried blood caked over his grey face does nothing to help the impression that he's in a really bad way.

Pulmonary barotrauma can be a serious complication from the sudden pressure loss on a space station. Gas bubbles released into the arterial circulation get distributed to the rest of the body's tissues. Anything with narrow arteries, or that receives the highest proportion of blood flow, is in danger. The heart, the lungs... the brain.

And John Tracy isn't exactly firing on all cylinders right now.

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“Naming them for your siblings? That’s a great idea,” Jaya smiles, trying her best to keep the sheer amount of stress out of her voice. “Five minutes. You can hold out for five more minutes. Just keep talking. Your ideas are interesting.” In reality, Jaya has no interest in quasars or anything of the sort. However, keeping John talking is the best way of keeping him awake until he’s safely at home. “Don’t overthink things, just focus on what you’re talking about,” she says, and she’s quite frankly not sure whether she’s telling that to John or herself.

"The star-" John gasps, wetly, "Is the LucilleX10-37." His fingers twitch absently at nothing. "She's t'w'rds the- the centre of the accretion disc-"

The gravity, the pressure, is increasing tenfold inside his head. He can't concentrate, he can't-

"-was d'c'vered so late i-into my study b-because the degree of obsc'ur'ation by the gas and dust within the host galaxy."

Words John knows by heart become so badly slurred, it's impossible to tell what he's trying to say. The focus of his eyes hazy and distant, angled up toward nothing on the hologram. His head has tipped to one side, and he doesn't even raise a hand to contain the blood dribbling slowly over his cheek, seeping into the thin layer of padding on the Space Elevator's headrest.

"J-ya." He manages, "C'n... y' tell my... bvrs..." But the rest of his trailing sentence is lost under the loud thunk of the Elevator clamps locking into place. John Tracy's home.

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

Jaya’s heart almost stops. “What? What’s wrong?” It could be anything really. Jaya truly hopes that it was just the headache it’d been for all this time. Her fist tightens around her medkit. Seventeen minutes has never felt so long. She’s been in situations where she’s had to do CPR, for cripes sake, yet this feels somehow worse. Maybe it’s because it’s her employer's son. If she makes a mistake, it could all be over. No, she isn’t going to think of that. “I’ve got painkillers and a stretcher here. You just need to hold out for a bit longer until you get down here. Stay awake.” Jaya thinks for a second. “Tell me about what you’re interested in right now. Take your mind off of the headache.”

"Feels like it's splitting... sorry." John slurs the word a little, doing nothing for anyone's confidence. At least everything inside the Space Elevator is automated, and the pilot has to do very little work to guide the tiny capsule down on it's dangling cable. John leans back into the seat, pushing his skull as hard as he can into the headrest to try and relive some of the pressure. "My- My head's just so fuzzy, I can't-" His lashes have gone all fluttery, "W-What did you want to know?"

He's young and has an otherwise sparklingly clean bill of health, so John knows the likelihood of this being anything pre-existing is very low. And he knows full well that sudden onset injuries in the line of duty have ended the careers of greater astronauts than John Tracy.

He knows this might well be the last time he takes the Space Elevator down from his brand new Thunderbird.

"I- I've been working on an update to my quasar thesis." He manages, eyes closed and the hold on his bloody nose abandoned. "The yellow dwarf star that it's black hole created, it's got- nngh- six exoplanets in it's rotation... I-I was going to name them for m-my siblings." John has no idea if she either knows or cares about quasars, but talking is helping to keep him awake.

His head hurts, his joints, his fingers, and the damn dizziness, even taking into account the fact he's hurtling through the atmosphere, it's unbearable. Barotrauma, he worries at 17,500 mph, hemopneumothorax, decompression sickness... None of his ideas for what's wrong are favourable.

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“I’m still here, don’t worry,” Jaya says, breathing a sigh of relief that the man was somehow still conscious and lucid enough to notice she'd stopped talking. “Unfortunately I can’t think of any way to stop the nausea, but it’s only going to be there for a short while. How long does the space elevator usually take to get down here?” This is now how she expected her first check-in with him to go. Ah well. No one could control malfunctioning equipment. Really, she’d’ve thought Hiram would’ve checked for this sort of thing. No going back now, though. It was time for her to actually do her job. It wasn’t long before she found herself at the empty port for the space elevator. Now, it was time to wait and hope that John didn’t go unconscious from the G forces of the descending vehicle.

"S-Seventeen minutes," He gasps, "If I push it." John all but crumples into the central chair of the Space Elevator, his heart pounding in his ears as the airlock slides closed behind him. He takes a long series of deep breaths, trying to fill his lungs with fresh atmosphere and oxygen. He's shaking like a leaf in a storm.

That had been... a little too close. Certainly the closest any of his experiences with space travel have come so far. NASA and his Father had done their best to prepare him for every eventuality, but John-

John licks blood off his lips.

He hadn't realised it was going to terrify him quite so much.

He buries his pounding head in his hands and groans, almost forgetting that he's supposed to be taking this ride back home. His brain full of white, fuzzy static, John spares a thought to wonder what, exactly, had gone so very wrong.

Brains overengineers everything. Safety and excellence first. But practical testing can only get you so far, and it would only take the slightest perforation for his atmosphere to begin to leak. A shudders runs itself through his shoulders.

"J-Jaya?" His mouth shapes her name, "I- my head..."

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“John. Get out of there. Do I need to come up to get you? Are you feeling nauseous?” Stupid question. That’s a stupid question. He looks sick. He has the possibility of paralysis if he stays up in TB5 until she gets there and for cripe’s sake, Jaya has dealt with enough of that for a lifetime. Jaya stands up, transferring the call to her HoloWrist as she collects her things together.  “I’m going to meet you at the Space Elevator port. Make sure you get to it, okay?” Picking up the porta-stretcher (seriously, who named the thing, it sounds like some sort of toilet), she shuffles through the medication cabinet, shoving some anti-nausea pills, sick-bags and painkillers into the bag. She’s going to need to be fast. The frankly useless oxygen supply tank isn’t portable like the one at her old hospital, so it’s going to be a rush from the Space Elevator to the medbay.  Checking the HoloWrist, John’s still conscious. Good. Hopefully, he stays that way. “You’re doing a great job, just keep yourself together until you get to the elevator. Can you do that?”

"That is the plan." The abrupt flip in the medic's attitude is like whiplash, but John takes it in stride. Keeping his fingers pinched to his nose cartridge does his voice no favours, but it's better than nothing against the river of blood coating his mouth and chin. "N-not sick, but... do you know a-any way to make this stop?" He's not begging, of course not, but there is a definite edge of something unusual to his voice. He coughs as he breathes wrong, and blood hits the back of his throat.

Stumbling with the lightheaddedness, John does almost trip on the small ridge that is the step up to the airlock. He saves himself by slapping his palm down hard against the nearest wall, leaving a smudgy, red handprint on the pristine white panel - like a damn horror movie. It feels like a horror movie, as it takes three tries to get the Elevator's access panel to even recognise the shape of his palm.

They need to redesign that.

"Jaya?" John gaps on air that's too thin, too light, too full of nitrogen, and almost falls through the door as it slides open. "J-Jaya, you still there?"

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

Jaya, surprisingly, simply nods, rather than any other more profound reaction. “You can just send the space elevator to where you are, yes? It’s obviously rather dangerous to stay put, given your current state. For the fever- I work in Celsius, by the way, for the moment, I’d suggest staying cool. Do you have any medication for it?” Jaya’s about to finish her sentence when she remembered the look on John’s face when she referred to Hiram by his proper name. “Don’t make up any fallacies, by the way, John Tracy. I am not attracted to your family scientist. I, for one, am a lesbian. I just prefer to refer to people by something that isn’t some trivial pet name. For instance, I for one will never refer to you as ‘the Space Case’, unlike the rest of your family. So, no ideas. Continuing as per before, I will inform Hiram about your situation and the urgent need for repairs. Please put on your helmet, and be better than your brothers. It really is the least you could do to prevent further compromise of your bodily functions.” Jaya sighs, leaning back in her desk chair as she makes some notes, mostly along the lines of “individual is suffering from a mild case of pressure sickness. Prescribe bed rest upon return.” Ah well, at least this liability was actually bothering to open up to her about his medical information instead of effectively running away screaming.

"S-Space Elevator?" John sounds a little hazy, and the urgency is probably lacking for someone who's just been told to abandon ship. "I- yeah, of course..." He swallows, then has to cough hard against the sensation of blood hitting his throat, "Yeah I can-" In lieu of explaining what he's going to do, John reaches out and flicks his reddened fingers over one of his holographic panels, initiating emergency procedures. With the Space Elevator priming all he has to do now is get to it. Standing is a horribly slow process, given the fact his head goes white-light and everything turns static.

"There's a first aid kit in the Elevator." He blinks her hologram back into focus. There's one installed by every bulkhead, in fact, but with the air inside Thunderbird Five becoming less breathable by the moment, John is risking some major decompression sickness by lingering, let alone the danger of nitrogen bubbles. "I think 102.6 Fahrenheit is something around 39 Celcius." His head hurts too much for the decimals.

"Is- why isn't this stopping?" He questions, blearily, still holding onto his face, as he finger-finds his way through the Gravity Ring. "I c-can't use my helmet while it's still bleeding, can I?" As a not-much-younger astronaut, John learned the hard way that liquids and helmets don't mix. "And I wasn't suggesting anything," He blinks, a little insulted, "I've just n-never heard anyone call him that, is all."

John takes another long breath of air that has far too little atmosphere and curls his free hand around his ribs. Just a little further...

[starman-john-tracy]

First Rotation [RP]

@jaya-dewi-emt:

“If it were just a headache, I’d pass it off as just an effect of going into Zero G, but the bloody nose is… quite concerning.” Jaya adjusted her glasses, before writing something down. “Have you checked the atmospheric pressure on Thunderbird Five lately?” Having been an EMT for a number of years prior to this current job, Jaya knows what causes epistaxis. She’s seen it many times: on kids who dived too deep into the sea, people who thought they were having some sort of medical emergency on a flight when their mucus membranes were in reality simply not too great. However, seeing it on her employer’s child was concerning. Especially since he wasn’t even on earth. He already wasn't prone to nosebleeds. If he was, she'd have noticed a while ago. Either way, she wasn’t even going to ask about his blood pressure or anything along those lines. It didn’t take a doctorate to know that those were probably through the floor, as was normal in low G. “I’m suspecting that something might be up with your station. Unfortunately, I’m not Hiram, so I wouldn’t know entirely, but I know what causes a nosebleed. So, I’ll tell Hiram about it. Anything else to report?”

"I- I can get a reading." John manages, from where he's immediately crumpled into one of Five's fold-out seats, and shoved his head between his knees. He's very glad not to be in the completely Zero G environment of the Comm Sphere right now. Liquid does... dangerous things in space. "But, I- the oxygen has been fine." Unless it's leaking so slowly John hasn't managed to notice... Suddenly, John worries that it's not just the anxiety that's making it harder to breathe... or... it could just be the fact he's trying very hard not to inhale his own blood.

John's lashes go a bit fluttery, as if he's feeling lightheaded. Low blood pressure and blood loss aren't exactly an ideal combination.

"Hiram?" He laughs, wetly, through the fingers trying to pinch his nose to stop the blood flow. "No one calls Brains Hiram." John doesn't think he's heard the name since Gordon managed to wheedle it out of their Father. He wonders what it means that she's using it: he'd bet they're either closer than he'd expected, or she's unaware of his preference. "Just a headache and a bit of a fever." He reports. "Dad made me take a thermometer reading and it's at 102.6 Fahrenheit... uh... do you need that in Celsius?" Her British accent has thrown him off, but John's not quite sure he can do the math right now. His head feels... a bit, sort of, scrambled. His mouth tastes like rusted pennies.

He lays his free arm across his knees so that he doesn't have to move while booting up his wrist comm's holographic array, and checking the linkup to his new space station. The reading should be around 14.7 psi, but there's a red, glowing warning that it's dipping toward seven.

Oh. Oh no.

The only time John should be encountering a psi anywhere near that low, is outside of his Thunderbird. He's been trained to breathe 100% oxygen before performing a spacewalk, to remove excess nitrogen from his bloodstream and prevent the formation of bubbles in the low-pressure environment of his spacesuit.

"I think-" John manages around the pounding at his temples, "I think we've got a leak..."