Lost but Soon to be Found

by FrogHandler

2338, humanity has had a grasp of the stars since the 22nd century and has expanded vastly, having sent countless colony ships and lost just as many. One such vessel is named the Remnant of Asgard; she and her two sister ships disappeared 41 years ago without a trace. However, despite being regarded as old news, a ship still looks for any evidence. Her name is the Evelyn's Vain.

6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Yendo De La Cama Al Living

July 5, 2338

DesertStar Planetary Research Facility, Planet Aridia

Sergeant Isabella Blaisdell U.L.M.C. Mechanized Recon Element

A steady beeping filled Blaisdell's ears; any thought she would have had went largely forgotten with every sharp tone reverberating inside her skull. Everything ached, and her eyes were dry as she struggled to crack them open, only to close them again as a harsh white light battered them. She tries to move her right arm to shield her sensitive eyes in an attempt to open them again, only to hiss in pain and lay the appendage back down. Gradually, her eyes become used to the light, but she can't seem to gauge her surroundings; everything is blurry. She manages to catch the outline of what she assumes is a person between squinted eyes who proceeds to lean towards her.

A faintly recognizable female voice fills her ears. "Miss Blaisdell, please try not to move too much. You are badly injured." She felt like she should panic at that fact; a moment ago, she was fighting pirates, and now she's lying in some unknown place away from her Platoon.

"Who the hell are you?" She manages with a dry-throated croak.

An amused chuckle is all she hears in response. Everything sounds distant to her, like she's underwater, and the lights are so bright she has to close her eyes. "It appears your a little loopy from the painkillers we put you on; just go back to sleep, Miss Blaisdell; we'll get some more fluids-" Her world goes dark again, only vaguely hearing the woman speaking to her as she drifts off again.

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July 5, 2338

DesertStar Planetary Research Facility, Planet Aridia

Doctor Veronica Belmonte, Head of Medical Research

"Are you sure this is the best option, ?" Richardson asks her, running a hand through his trimmed graying facial hair.

Veronica looked back at the man with a hesitant gaze; he was probably thirty or so years her senior; she had never thought to ask him his age, fearing it to be impolite; his presence alone exuded an oppressive aura over her not only from the seniority perspective but also due to the fact that he is the Director over the entire DesertStar Facility. She almost wilts in his gaze for a second but steels her resolve and looks at him fully.

"Im sure, Director Richardson. We have to allow the colonists in; we can restrict them to the nonclassified sections only if that's the issue; in fact, I can promise they won't go into anything of the sort, and im not going to let them get killed or turned over into human trafficking because a couple of pirates want to crash and burn our Facility for whatever reason, besides this is the only place that can protect them those, tin huts they call habitat pods certainly won't do anything for them."

"Veronica, you're risking your job doing this, and you and I both know this isn't about colonists getting into Classified sections of the Facility; while its important that personal assets of any level of importance remain secure, that's not the only problem with letting them in; it's a much bigger issue than that it breaks our contract agreement that I remind you, you had read over about eight times and chose to sign with your own hands. You can't just pick and choose what parts of your Contract to follow - a breach is still a breach no matter how you look at it." She pauses briefly, a would-be fiery response on her tongue. He interrupts her before she can word it.

"No, you can't use your cybernetics as an excuse that they are not technically your real hands; it is a creative excuse, I'll admit, but neither the Company nor I will acknowledge it as valid."

She stares through him, her blue eyes giving a distressed look briefly as she thinks over the consequences of breaching the Contract before speaking again, her voice rising in anger.

"I know what im doing, Director, and im well aware of the consequences of my actions." She stomps her feet in indignation, frustrated at him for caring about job security over lives but more so at herself for doubting herself ever so briefly.

turns away from her, looking through the spacious window of his office at the growing crowd of colonists in the distance stopped at the gate by the armed corporate security officers. They look like blobs at the distance he's at; with a sigh, he turns back to the young woman.

"Very well, , but this falls on your shoulders if and when the shareholders want to guillotine someone for this blatant breach of contract." He looks directly at her and continues. "However, they will be restricted to the medical facility and the Medical Facility alone and like you promised," He emphasizes the promised part making it clear that it was the young woman's choice before continuing, "they will be locked to the Declassified sections, which if I am correct is mostly just that expansive lobby of yours. I won't have this fall onto the other researchers or me; I want it clear that this is your idea, and that's final." He pauses again for a second, his eyes momentarily turning soft, "Are you sure your alright with this, even knowing of the likelihood of losing your career and knowing that there is an entire contingent of soldiers coming soon that will very likely handle the problem before the pirates cause more trouble?"

Veronica takes a deep breath, "Im sure, Director, I can always find another Corporation if the worst happens."

"Not if your blacklisted, Veronica. Understand that that is a possibility."

Richardson steps towards his desk and goes to press the intercom but hesitates, choosing to dismiss the young Head of Research before issuing the order. " , you should prepare your medical staff to expect company."

"Yes, sir, and thank you, sir. This is important to me, more than you realize." She spins on her heel and leaves the office in a rush, her shoes giving loud clicks along the black linoleum flooring of the office.

With a quiet hiss, the door to the Director's office is shut; his voice rings out in the silence, "I just hope it doesn't ruin the career of someone as brilliant as you, ." He sighs and presses the intercom to the security gates. DesertStar was going to rain hell on them, that was for sure, but it would rain mostly on her.

"Open the gates, Chief Williams."

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"We are running out of options to treat these wounds, Doctor. We have minimal local anesthetic left and far too many shrapnel injuries to deal with, and we cannot operate without it."

The surgeon had stated it very matter of factly for a person whose scrubs were coated in blood; he had just stopped a severe arterial bleed on one of the colonist's legs, who had only remained conscious because another colonist had the foresight to tourniquet the poor man's leg before he bled out. The second he removed the tourniquet, the blood had squirted like a pressure washer out all over him, coating the surgeon in bright red.

Belmonte doesn't even look at the surgeon, instead staring at the crowd of injured colonists awaiting treatment; this was more than she expected; the lobby, while very large, wasn't big enough for this intensive medical care. They were just a small research group, sure they had all been trained to do the regular doctorly duties, but they needed the medical supplies for this many people. She clicks her fingers together in a moment of thought, the rhythmic tapping of metal on metal clearing her brain of the surroundings as she enters her own world to find a solution.

"Doctor, we need a solution now, or these people will die."

Her eyes snap to the surgeon with such a sudden intensity that he momentarily takes a step back, surprised at the sudden steel-melting gaze aimed at him from the usually calm young woman. Seeing this, she takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself down before saying any poorly chosen words she would regret due to the rough shake from her thoughts. Instead, she orders robotically in a forced neutral tone, still annoyed despite it all.

"We have to make do with what we have, give palliative care to the ones that aren't going to survive, then focus on stabilizing the priority patients. The less severe wounds can wait; I'll talk to the Soldiers when they get here, im sure they will have medical supplies or at least staff to spare, and I will beg on my hands and knees if it's needed."

The surgeon nods to her before rushing off as a vitals monitor beeps loudly in the distance amidst the chaos of colonists, both injured and not.

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"We actually aren't technically Marines either; we're actually Navy. We just are embedded within Marine units because the jarheads wouldn't be able to hold a pair of tissue forceps if they combined the entire Division. But yeah, I wouldn't call the Marines 'Soldiers'; they're a bit stiff about it." A corpsman off in the distance barks a laugh at the Corpsman who said the joke nodding in agreement. The surgeon he was talking to, currently removing necrotic tissue from a sedated colonist's arm, nodded slowly in understanding and gives a short "I see."

A serene calm had overtaken the lobby turned Triage Center of the Medical Facility before the Marines- no Navy Corpsmen, if Belmonte had understood the dialogue correctly, had arrived. It was a forced calm to keep their patients calm despite the growing tension of lack of proper supplies. It was now a natural one that felt almost office-like. The Corpsmen had brought more than enough supplies, having seemingly been provided the foresight that they would be dealing with a large amount of the wounded populace; their presence alone had done wonders to calm the crowd of colonists, that and her separating them from the surgery sites.

"Doctor, can you bring me one of our saline bags from over there" One of the Corpsmen speaks to Belmonte shaking her out of her thoughts. He throws a lazy gesture toward the location of the saline, and Belmonte's eyes follow it to a large pile of U.L.N.-marked containers filled with various medical supplies.

"Right, of course." She darts off to grab one, and as she draws near, can't help but overhear the radio chatter of one of the Corpsmen; she listens in curiosity as she squats down to open a large container with 'Saline' hastily marked on the side of it.

"Triage Center, this is Charlie 6-3; we have a casualty en route to your position. E.T.A. eleven minutes; how copy."

"Charlie 6-3, this is Triage. Can you provide further details as to the status of the casualty over?"

"Affirmative Triage, the casualty has a gunshot wound in his right leg, vitals are stable, and bleeding is controlled with a tourniquet, over."

"Understood 6-3 awaiting receiving of the patient, out."

Belmonte felt a small rush of adrenaline course through her body at the thought of more patients, they had already received a few Marines with similar wounds, and it was starting to get cramped and unorganized with heavily wounded patients next to practically uninjured ones; her fingers started clicking together absently again as she thought of where they will need to be placed for the best treatment but was shaken out of her zone again, this time by the Corpsmen from earlier.

"Anyday now, Doc; it's not like the saline is needed or anything!" Oh, right; with a chagrined expression, she quickly grabs a saline bag and runs it over to him with a muttered apology.

She takes a look around the lobby. As soon as it's clear, he won't ask anything more of her and begins noting the various spots that can be cleared for more room and darts of in a flash with a sudden burst of energy with a sudden even better idea, one that will both make space and organize the patients. The staff and the Corpsmen that notice stare at her with a look of bewilderment before one of the staff not currently attending to someone and instead talking to one of the Corpsmen, rushes over to help her move an awkwardly long bench out of the way; he responds to the bewildered Corpsmen with a shrug and answers his unsaid question with,

" gets like this sometimes; it's usually for a good reason, though, so it's best just to help do what she wants to be done."

The bench is set down in the middle of the room with a loud clang, Belmonte having dropped her end on the ground in favor of grabbing another bench. One of the Corpsmen decides to help her this time, and she gestures with a finger and says, "Put this one here."

It takes a while, but gradually, more and more staff begin to help as she stops moving things entirely and tells them where to put things instead. The staff at first are confused but begin to understand what she's doing, and with a noise of understanding, a surgeon speaks up, "We're setting up a proper Triage area, aren't we, Belmonte." More than a couple of drawn-out "oh's" fill the room as the understanding dawns on them. Belmonte looks confused at them for a second,

"I thought you all knew what I was doing" She pauses and gestures at the arranged benches and tables separating the lobby into sections. "if we separate them like this, we know at a glance who the most hurt, so we're not wasting time."

"That's a really good idea, especially since we ran out of triage tags." One of the Corpsmen says. The others nodded in agreement; they often only brought enough for their fire teams.

Belmonte's skin flushes red at the number of compliments and attention she's suddenly getting, and she starts meekly tapping her fingers together again in nervousness before suddenly saying to a pair of staff putting down a bench, "No, not there, that's going to block the path."

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"We're lucky the Sergeant didn't catch any of it to the face; I didn't want to have to clear an airway."

"Burns are still nasty on her right side; she probably got lung damage from whatever caught her uniform on fire."

"Probably one of those nasty homemade incendiary rockets they used back on Katar."

The two Corpsmen were assessing the wounds of the unconscious Marine Belmonte had recognized her as the Marine from earlier that she first talked to in order to get supplies; she remembered her name as Blaisdell as she set up the iv to maintain her fluid levels. Blaisdell was hurt pretty severely, it wasn't the worst of the wounded she'd seen so far, but it was the highest priority of the ones within the lobby.

"Belmonte?" One of the Corpsmen asked her; he had only learned her name minutes beforehand.

Inserting the IV, she looked towards him and gave a simple "Yes."

"Once she's stabilized, we're gonna leave it to you and your surgeons, we don't have the proper equipment to debride the wounds properly, and you have the facilities to do so, I assume."

Belmonte looked back to Blaisdell her eyes wandering over the long burn across her entire right side and arm; it had even spread to her stomach and climbed up towards her chest, tapering off just below her breasts, leaving the area a nasty pink instead of the normal brown state of her skin; it would scar for sure. Chewing on her bottom lip, she thought about it; she had explicitly promised the Director that no one besides the staff was allowed access to the Classified areas; the problem was most of the Facility was Classified. With that being said, she couldn't just let the Marine at the table suffer; she let out a heavy sigh- this was going to cost her her job, but she had to do it.

"We do have the facilities; I'll have some of my surgeons prep the room; she'll be in good care with us."

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July 5, 2338

DesertStar Planetary Research Facility, Planet Aridia

Sergeant Isabella Blaisdell U.L.M.C. Mechanized Recon Element

A shuddering gasp escaped her lungs as she tried to sit up from the bed she found herself lying in. Disoriented, she looks around, breathing heavily; at the edge of her vision is a vitals monitor that is beginning to beep rapidly. Her eyes dilating in fear, dart around the room looking for her rifle, a knife, anything; there's nothing for her to grab in the sterile room. Swallowing the saliva building in her mouth, she realizes she doesn't feel as weak as she did the last time she woke up. The vitals monitor in the corner of her eye starts beeping slower at the sudden realization that she realistically wasn't captured by pirates; they wouldn't have shoved her in a clean room like this, and if the bandages on her right side were anything too go off of, treat her injuries; it just isn't part of the pirate M.O. to care for others like this.

It was coming together in her head as to what was going on. All she remember is being thrown from the Sentinel Striker; she thinks she was the first one in her squad injured, which while unfortunate, meant that the defensive position was probably still secure. With that being said, she figures she has to be in the Medical Facility; letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding, she sinks back into the bed, that brief panic took a lot out of her, and she relaxes into her pillow. Her body didn't hurt like last time, but that was probably because she was pumped full of drugs to stop the pain from whatever injuries she got. With an idly raised right hand, she looks at the dressings covering it,

'Probably not shrapnel given how covered I am, burns maybe?' She thinks in her head

"That's precisely it, , or do you prefer sergeant?"

Apparently, she had said it out loud as she looked towards the source of the voice; it was that one girl from earlier; she hadn't seen her come in, but now that her vision wasn't all messed up could tell who it was, mostly.

"Oh, your, that girl that almost died of heat stroke while walking to our digout, what's your name again? Victoria?"

"It's Veronica; you know im actually surprised your awake- " She hesitates, and Blaisdell realizes she didn't answer her question and proceeds to do so.

"Miss is fine; it's not like im in uniform anyways." She shakes her left hand in the air a bit to emphasize the hospital gown draped over her form.

"Yeah, your uniform was pretty much destroyed by the rocket, but anyways, you woke up sooner than most patients who undergo these types of surgeries. You must be fairly resistant to anesthetic; we even went over the recommended dosage."

Blaisdell smiles. She knows why, "It's probably from the peanut butter shot and the like that they give us in basic; it's why the corpsmen carry the combat stims, that cocktail of chemicals is pretty much the only thing that works on us."

Veronica smiles back in understanding; Blaisdell's eyes wander down to the clipboard in her hands. Veronica sees the shift in gaze and understands that the woman probably wants to know what happened.

"Would you like to know exactly what happened? You probably suffer some form of short-term memory loss, and It's all in here- the surgeries performed and what to expect afterward. Well, pretty much everything we couldn't get the consent forms because, well, you know why."

Blaisdell waves her hand dismissively, "I probably would have died without whatever you did; it's not a big deal. I would like to see what happened, though."

Veronica hands over the clipboard to Blaisdell as she sits up to read it better. "I'll leave you alone so you can read it," she hesitates again, thinking, "The painkillers will probably wear off in the next hour or so, so just press the button on the bed when you start hurting again."

Blaisdell nods to her and mutters a quick "Thanks, Doc." before she digs into the clipboard before her. Reading it aloud, the report says the following.

Patient Information:

Name: Isabella Blaisdell

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Occupation: Military Service Personnel

Present Illness: Ms. Issabella Blaisdell presents with second-degree burns affecting the right side of her body, extending onto her stomach. The burns were sustained during a recent conflict caused by a nearby detonation of an incendiary device. Upon examination, the burns are found to cover approximately 30% of the total body surface area, including the right arm, right leg, right side of the torso, and abdomen.

Treatment:

Initial Assessment and Stabilization: Upon arrival at the medical Facility, the patient's vital signs were assessed and made stable. Immediate measures are taken to prevent further injury and promote wound healing. The burns are covered with sterile dressings to minimize the risk of infection and maintain a moist wound environment. Intravenous access is established to administer fluids for hydration and pain management.

Wound Care and Debridement: Wound care was performed using aseptic techniques and should be continued by future Medical experts. The burns on the right side of the body and the affected area on the stomach were gently cleansed with a mild antiseptic solution, and any loose or devitalized tissue was carefully removed. The wounds were then dressed with sterile dressings and appropriate topical antimicrobial agents to facilitate healing.

Pain Management: Due to the severity of the burns, the patient is experiencing significant pain. Analgesic medications, including opioids, are administered as needed to alleviate pain and improve the patient's comfort level. Pain assessment and reassessment should be performed regularly to ensure adequate pain control.

Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation: To promote mobility and prevent joint stiffness, the patient will undergo regular physical therapy sessions. Range of motion exercises will be performed on the unaffected side of the body, and as tolerated, gentle exercises will be initiated on the affected side. The physical therapist will closely monitor the patient's progress and adjust the therapy regimen accordingly.

Recommendation: Based on the extensive burns across the right side of her body, including the stomach area, and the potential for long-term mobility loss, it is recommended that Ms. Issabella Blaisdell be considered for discharge from Military service. The burns sustained may result in permanent impairment, limiting her ability to perform physical tasks and potentially compromising her safety and that of her fellow service members. A thorough assessment of her functional capacity, including consultation with physical rehabilitation specialists, should be conducted by Military Medical Experts to determine the level of disability and eligibility for appropriate benefits and support programs.

Follow-up: Ms. Issabella Blaisdell will be scheduled for regular follow-up appointments by the Military assigned personnel to monitor wound healing progress, manage pain, and continue physical therapy sessions. Referrals will be made to appropriate specialists to further evaluate her functional capacity and potential vocational rehabilitation opportunities.

She sets the clipboard aside; if she gets discharged, she's screwed, and she knows it; the Corps is, at this point, all she knows, and there are really only a few options for someone whose only skill is shooting a gun, that is other then Private Security, or one of those big Contracting Agencies. "That might work." She tells herself, grabbing the clipboard again. She reads it over once more and reminds herself to research it if they decide to discharge her, but for the time being, she was trapped here with nothing to do. She leans back into the bed with a sigh noting idly that her arms are starting to tingle, but maybe she's not as screwed as she thought initially.

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November 28, 2338

Planet Hanjuro

Veronica Belmonte

Given her incredibly stellar credentials, Veronica didn't think finding another job would be this hard. The Director had unfortunately been right to warn her about being blacklisted. Thankfully her parents had let her stay in her old room back in Hanjuro and live with them when her limited savings were depleted; they had warned her to stick with the cyberware she had, but she, of course, didn't listen and was suffering the consequences as a direct result. Still, she didn't think the blacklist would have affected her this badly. Her parents had been disappointed, of course, they would be after she essentially got a job that someone thirty years her senior would be struggling to get, but they understood why she did it. They had always instilled the value of doing the right thing no matter the consequences; it was sort of the consequence of being Spanish.

"Veronica! Get down here, im not letting you skip lunch too!" Her Father's voice rang out from downstairs. She had fallen into the habit of sleeping until noon again since losing the job. Her stomach grumbled - she was hungry, and lunch smelled like paella; she really liked paella. She doesn't bother to comb her hair as she rolls out of bed and darts down the stairs; her entire family is down there eating; her grandmother, little brother, and mother.

"Honey, before you sit down, can you check the mail, I think I heard it get dropped off." Her mother's voice sing-songed towards her.

"Of course, mother." She didn't want to get the mail, she wasn't very strong, and her Dad was always buying something heavy, but she did so anyways; stepping out of the small house with a sigh, she didn't see any packages. She almost stepped back inside to tell her mother she was mistaken when she was urged to check the mailbox. Physical mail was a rarity practically everywhere, but something got delivered in an antiquated way every once in a while. She opens the latch, and in there is a single letter. Surprised, she takes it and looks at the front.

"It's for me?" Her eyebrow quirks, and she hurriedly tears it open, excited at the idea of receiving something. Her eyebrows nearly shoot off her head when she realizes it's from Stellar Industries. Bouncing on her feet, she unfolds the letter only to get distracted by a black card glued to it on the inside. She quickly peels it off and reads the large gold letters written over the backdrop of a picture of three enormous ships lazily floating in space. She turns back to the letter and quickly skims it; it's a job offer. She nearly melts in happiness; she can't wait to tell her parents she found another high-paying Corporation job and wouldn't be moving from living room to bedroom all day, more importantly, being assigned to a project as interesting as the "Lost but Soon to be Found Program."

Author Notes:

So I lied; it's another Thursday update. Well, it just turned Thursday for me, I guess; I have terrible time management and decided I would get all the editing and rereading down tonight before I have to go to work in the morning; it's an ok chapter, or at least I think it's ok based on my lackluster writing abilities (Im a lot better at reading fanfiction then writing it lol) but still im happy with it and hope you are too.

Something too, as im sure everyone who actually made it this far has noticed by now, where the hell's the R.W.B.Y. in the R.W.B.Y. fanfic? I have an answer for you. First, I noticed that practically every fanfiction in existence with this rough concept (not just R.W.B.Y. but other ones as well) would instantly put the characters in the universe of the show/novel/whatever but wouldn't really give the characters a personality - at least initially, and I don't like that. This fanfiction genre is my favorite to read because of the exciting dichotomy of nature and cultural differences. Despite being a mediocre writer, I want to try and show that with this fanfic. But, even so, I spent a little too long trying to characterize these guys and gal's without anything.

I have good news about that, though; I know precisely when R.W.B.Y. is going to show up, and it's soon, real soon, the next chapter soon.

Last little bit here; thanks again to everyone whos reading this. Y'all are badasses, and I hope you keep enjoying the story. Peace.