"Deep breath in."
Turns out being an everyday colonist was hard. Not because of the scorching temperature at best on Eos, the certain lack of water resources (they'd been required to implement water restrictions until they could produce the stuff themselves instead of having to pray that it rains and stealing from whatever puddle they could find within reason, so "haha no shower longer then three minutes"), the endless dirt. Did he mention the heat?
When they'd first landed, he vaguely remembered someone (it might have even been him, or Liam) saying "new galaxy, new ways to die". Somebody conveniently forgot to mention that random strains of viruses could be included in the "death by new galaxy" category.
Scott Ryder . . . was sick. And it sucks , he thought vaguely as he turned away from Lexi to cough into his elbow. It was wet, phlegm at the back of his throat thoroughly disgusting, and it had persisted for a little over a week now. At first, he'd been convinced it was an upper respiratory tract infection - sure, he was no real doctor, could hardly claim excellence in the field of field medicine, but humidity plus 300+ year old popsicle equaled not-quite-immune-to-everything. At least, that was until the asari checked up on him.
"It's a virus," Lexi had stated every so calmly. "I'll have Doctor Ramirez drop by with something for the undesirables, but ultimately, you'll just have to ride this one out. Should have gotten your flu shot."
Four days later . . .
"It's a virus, Ryder."
"And it's doing a pretty convincing job of trying to kill me any time I take a breath in," Scott pointed out rather harshly. His voice was shot, his nose was stuffy, lips chapped, head killing him, you could hear him wheeze if he took a deep enough breath, he'd kept waking up at three hour intervals in the night to cough chunks much to Cora's dismay – yes, he'd been sick before, but those times his body was like clockwork. Four days was all it had usually taken, back in the Milky Way galaxy. Four days sick, fifth day back on the clock and working without too much of a hitch.
Lexi was doing her best to keep her cool. "I can't very well cut out a virus."
"Honestly, I'd rather you cut out and replace my sinuses. That'd probably do the job."
"What do you expect me to do?" She asked seriously.
"Give me something to take to make all this go away."
"Ramirez has already done that-"
"Ramirez isn't my doctor, Lexi, you are. Please, I'm begging you, as the godmother of my unborn child, I will order you to give me antibiotics if I have to - I swear to the Maker, I will do it."
The look the asari gave him in return was cold. "I hate to remind you, Pathfinder, but you're on leave, and not my commanding officer."
Probably a good thing she hadn't taken it as a serious threat. "Lexi-"
She was already moving to her desk across the room, putting together what ended up being a needle that went directly into his arm – and she wasn't hiding the lack of bedside manner, Scott having well irritated her. "Tempest isn't leaving for another two days," Lexi finally said, forcefully pressing a cotton bud onto the new hole in his arm regardless of his protests. "If you haven't improved, I'll request that we take you back to the Nexus so Harry can deal with you. Go to Ramirez, and get some damn paracetamol."
"How's Scott?"
The question didn't catch Cora off-guard, having expected this to come up on their leisurely walk after his visit to the Tempest earlier yesterday.
Lexi had fully intended on checking up on him and making good on her word to drag him back to the Nexus if he hadn't improved, but she'd had her suspicions.
"He's busy reading up on reports he missed out on over the last couple of days, but in higher spirits. He can't stop ringing out praises for you either," Cora grinned. "What'd you give him? It's not a miracle cure, but he slept better last night."
"Saline. Tell him he needs to drink more water."