Shots Rang Out
Here bygynneth the Book of the tales of The Geryon. Find within the first story involving the crew of The Geryon, an airship in a steampunk universe.
Amy Daverner was walking down the hall to breakfast when an almighty clatter sounded from the mess room. There was a great deal of vociferous, extremely well-educated swearing and what sounded suspiciously like German-tinged giggles.
She placed a hand on the door, tucking her book under her left arm. No sense in risking its safety. Amy carefully stuck her head into the room.
Jules was staying low, crouched at one end of the table, with startled, suspicious eyes and clenched teeth. Dr. Solomon was at the other, a syringe held aloft in one hand. Both women were panting heavily. The doctor made a feint to the right and Jules broke her stance, feinting left. Stalemated, they stared at each other.
Amy couldn't make out the doctor's expression from where she stood, but she could hear in her voice easily enough that she was enjoying herself enormously.
"Come now," cooed the doctor, a little snort of laughter just barely held at bay. "Don't be a silly girl! Come take your shot like a brave little sniper!"
"Bloody quack!" Jules exclaimed. "Who know what you've got in that needle of yours?!"
"Just a little flu vaccine, nothing fancy. I injected myself earlier-harmless!" The doctor raced to the other side of the table, and now Amy could see her face. Her grin gleamed with a maniacal edge, and both eyes were wide with excitement.
"Nobody grins like that over a flu vaccine!" Amy was inclined to agree.
The doctor caught sight of her then, and sobered slightly. "Ah, Miss Daverner. Good morning." She performed the small, stiff bow she greeted the librarian with every morning. Jules' head snapped around, distracted by her appearance.
Amy was just about to smile slightly at the other women when the doctor struck. Syringe in one hand, Dr. Solomon jumped over the table. She landed on her hip and slid for about three-foot's worth of table, limbs out to seize the sniper. Jules barked and tried to dodge.
Dr. Solomon wrapped both legs around the struggling sniper, carrying them both to the floor. Amy tutted at the impropriety of wrestling before breakfast as the doctor pinned one of the sniper's shoulders under her knee, her spare hand holding down the other shoulder. Jules struggled and swore and yelled, and the doctor murmured encouragements in German.
"Batshit bugger! Get the hell off of-damn!" The needle went into her arm and the doctor depressed the plunger. When the shot was finished, Dr. Solomon removed the needle and, holding her patient down, seized from her belt a small adhesive bandage. She slid it over the needle-mark and all-but sprang off of Jules, extending a hand down to her supine patient.
"There, see? Very easy." Dr. Solomon's lips pursed in an annoyed little moue as Jules ignored her hand and scrambled up, dusting herself off and scowling. "Uck. No need to be rude."
"If I turn green and crave human flesh, I'm blaming you."
"Crediting me," the doctor corrected. "A new disease. Scientific progress." She ran a hand over the side of her head, brushing back a few stray strands of red hair. She stuffed the syringe carelessly into a pocket and turned to Amy. "Miss Daverner. Will you take your shot with more grace than your comrade?"
Amy frowned, uncomfortable. "I…do I have to? I'm terribly afraid of shots."
Dr. Solomon took Amy by the elbow and gently led her to a seat. "Repose yourself, Miss Daverner. Let us perform the procedure now and you shall be so comfortable when you have breakfasted."
Amy tried not to smile, amused by the doctor's somewhat bizarre reasoning and catching the dirty looks Jules was giving her and the suddenly-chivalrous woman. Sitting down with a thump, Jules returned her tea-a miraculous survivor of the doctor's leap-and took a gulp. "Damn oolong," she muttered.
"Must we, at the table?" Amy asked, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid the situation.
"The laboratory is a mess," Dr. Solomon said blithely. "I have been so very negligent lately. Please, lift your sleeve and we shall inoculate you."
"Are there many cases of flu in the air?" Jules asked, looking askance at the mark on her arm. Dr. Solomon grew a little pale-it was rather sharp of Jules to bring up the doctor's fear of flight-but recovered herself quickly and cleared her throat.
"Better safe than sorry, ja?" She looked at Amy, who had reluctantly pushed up her sleeve. Dr. Solomon smiled at her and reached under the table, pulling out a worn leather medic's bag. From within, she produced an antiseptic wipe, with which she quickly swabbed Amy's arm. She also withdrew a fresh syringe and a bottle of vaccine. Tossing her used syringe-with the aforementioned great negligence, Amy noted-back into the bag, she filled the new needle and tapped it gently for bubbles.
"Ready?" the doctor asked, smiling. Baring her teeth, really. Amy swallowed and nodded. Oh, how she hated needles!
Dr. Solomon didn't waste much time. The needle was under her skin and expelling its contents within a second of the other woman's sing-songed question. Amy shivered as the syringe was removed. The doctor smoothed a bandage over the hole, and smiled brightly.
"There you are! All done. So easy, yes?" With a casual flick of the wrist, the syringe was in the bag. Jules shoved the teapot's little wheeled tray over to Amy, giving her a commiserating look.
The doctor picked up her bag and made to leave, obviously having not interest in breakfasting herself. Jules was picking off the bandage, disinclined to any type of coddling, particularly of the adhesive variety.
Dr. Solomon paused at the doorway. She suddenly sounded weary. "Oh. I forget. Tch, I hate this part…" She pulled a metallic object out of the bag. "You were both very good patients."
Amy had time sufficient to stare at the doctor, who had pulled out what appeared to be an extremely odd-shaped blunderbuss and was pointing it at Jules. The sniper exploded into action, diving under the table and swearing, one hand tugging on Amy's skirt. Dr. Solomon aimed it at her chair and fired, turning it on Amy next.
Amy felt a small twinge of aggravating impact, and looked down at her lap, expecting the appearance of betrayal's blood. This was entirely too much to deal with before breakfast.
In her lap there was a small red lollipop, wrapped in cellophane. She glanced over at Jules' chair. There was a purple lolly resting by one of the feet.
The doctor was already out the door.
--
Klara smiled to herself. She'd always hated bedside manner…it was one of the few parts of medicine that she could never quite wrap her head around. And rewarding people for going to a doctor, who would help them live more efficiently? Ridiculous! They should be flocking to her!
But it was traditional, the lollipop for a good patient, and she abided in tradition. Happily, the Lollipop Distributor made that silliest of practices quick and painless.
Three down. Only captain, cook, passenger, and mechanic to go.
Amy Daverner was walking down the hall to breakfast when an almighty clatter sounded from the mess room. There was a great deal of vociferous, extremely well-educated swearing and what sounded suspiciously like German-tinged giggles.
She placed a hand on the door, tucking her book under her left arm. No sense in risking its safety. Amy carefully stuck her head into the room.
Jules was staying low, crouched at one end of the table, with startled, suspicious eyes and clenched teeth. Dr. Solomon was at the other, a syringe held aloft in one hand. Both women were panting heavily. The doctor made a feint to the right and Jules broke her stance, feinting left. Stalemated, they stared at each other.
Amy couldn't make out the doctor's expression from where she stood, but she could hear in her voice easily enough that she was enjoying herself enormously.
"Come now," cooed the doctor, a little snort of laughter just barely held at bay. "Don't be a silly girl! Come take your shot like a brave little sniper!"
"Bloody quack!" Jules exclaimed. "Who know what you've got in that needle of yours?!"
"Just a little flu vaccine, nothing fancy. I injected myself earlier-harmless!" The doctor raced to the other side of the table, and now Amy could see her face. Her grin gleamed with a maniacal edge, and both eyes were wide with excitement.
"Nobody grins like that over a flu vaccine!" Amy was inclined to agree.
The doctor caught sight of her then, and sobered slightly. "Ah, Miss Daverner. Good morning." She performed the small, stiff bow she greeted the librarian with every morning. Jules' head snapped around, distracted by her appearance.
Amy was just about to smile slightly at the other women when the doctor struck. Syringe in one hand, Dr. Solomon jumped over the table. She landed on her hip and slid for about three-foot's worth of table, limbs out to seize the sniper. Jules barked and tried to dodge.
Dr. Solomon wrapped both legs around the struggling sniper, carrying them both to the floor. Amy tutted at the impropriety of wrestling before breakfast as the doctor pinned one of the sniper's shoulders under her knee, her spare hand holding down the other shoulder. Jules struggled and swore and yelled, and the doctor murmured encouragements in German.
"Batshit bugger! Get the hell off of-damn!" The needle went into her arm and the doctor depressed the plunger. When the shot was finished, Dr. Solomon removed the needle and, holding her patient down, seized from her belt a small adhesive bandage. She slid it over the needle-mark and all-but sprang off of Jules, extending a hand down to her supine patient.
"There, see? Very easy." Dr. Solomon's lips pursed in an annoyed little moue as Jules ignored her hand and scrambled up, dusting herself off and scowling. "Uck. No need to be rude."
"If I turn green and crave human flesh, I'm blaming you."
"Crediting me," the doctor corrected. "A new disease. Scientific progress." She ran a hand over the side of her head, brushing back a few stray strands of red hair. She stuffed the syringe carelessly into a pocket and turned to Amy. "Miss Daverner. Will you take your shot with more grace than your comrade?"
Amy frowned, uncomfortable. "I…do I have to? I'm terribly afraid of shots."
Dr. Solomon took Amy by the elbow and gently led her to a seat. "Repose yourself, Miss Daverner. Let us perform the procedure now and you shall be so comfortable when you have breakfasted."
Amy tried not to smile, amused by the doctor's somewhat bizarre reasoning and catching the dirty looks Jules was giving her and the suddenly-chivalrous woman. Sitting down with a thump, Jules returned her tea-a miraculous survivor of the doctor's leap-and took a gulp. "Damn oolong," she muttered.
"Must we, at the table?" Amy asked, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid the situation.
"The laboratory is a mess," Dr. Solomon said blithely. "I have been so very negligent lately. Please, lift your sleeve and we shall inoculate you."
"Are there many cases of flu in the air?" Jules asked, looking askance at the mark on her arm. Dr. Solomon grew a little pale-it was rather sharp of Jules to bring up the doctor's fear of flight-but recovered herself quickly and cleared her throat.
"Better safe than sorry, ja?" She looked at Amy, who had reluctantly pushed up her sleeve. Dr. Solomon smiled at her and reached under the table, pulling out a worn leather medic's bag. From within, she produced an antiseptic wipe, with which she quickly swabbed Amy's arm. She also withdrew a fresh syringe and a bottle of vaccine. Tossing her used syringe-with the aforementioned great negligence, Amy noted-back into the bag, she filled the new needle and tapped it gently for bubbles.
"Ready?" the doctor asked, smiling. Baring her teeth, really. Amy swallowed and nodded. Oh, how she hated needles!
Dr. Solomon didn't waste much time. The needle was under her skin and expelling its contents within a second of the other woman's sing-songed question. Amy shivered as the syringe was removed. The doctor smoothed a bandage over the hole, and smiled brightly.
"There you are! All done. So easy, yes?" With a casual flick of the wrist, the syringe was in the bag. Jules shoved the teapot's little wheeled tray over to Amy, giving her a commiserating look.
The doctor picked up her bag and made to leave, obviously having not interest in breakfasting herself. Jules was picking off the bandage, disinclined to any type of coddling, particularly of the adhesive variety.
Dr. Solomon paused at the doorway. She suddenly sounded weary. "Oh. I forget. Tch, I hate this part…" She pulled a metallic object out of the bag. "You were both very good patients."
Amy had time sufficient to stare at the doctor, who had pulled out what appeared to be an extremely odd-shaped blunderbuss and was pointing it at Jules. The sniper exploded into action, diving under the table and swearing, one hand tugging on Amy's skirt. Dr. Solomon aimed it at her chair and fired, turning it on Amy next.
Amy felt a small twinge of aggravating impact, and looked down at her lap, expecting the appearance of betrayal's blood. This was entirely too much to deal with before breakfast.
In her lap there was a small red lollipop, wrapped in cellophane. She glanced over at Jules' chair. There was a purple lolly resting by one of the feet.
The doctor was already out the door.
--
Klara smiled to herself. She'd always hated bedside manner…it was one of the few parts of medicine that she could never quite wrap her head around. And rewarding people for going to a doctor, who would help them live more efficiently? Ridiculous! They should be flocking to her!
But it was traditional, the lollipop for a good patient, and she abided in tradition. Happily, the Lollipop Distributor made that silliest of practices quick and painless.
Three down. Only captain, cook, passenger, and mechanic to go.