4/9/99

Corian, for a miracle, doesn't have a small child in her lap. Also odd, she's not engrossed in work. Her terminal doesn't like that, and beeps at her every few moments. (Her terminal is very posessive, doesn't like to be ignored. Kind of like small Sectassians.) She looks decidedly tired, and maybe a bit pale, as well. Spotting you as you go past 'her' chair, however, she offers a smile and a murmured, "Good afternoon."

Clara lets herself out of the doors to the AF offices, a datareader clutched in one hand and a look on her face that plainly says she isn't sure whether to laugh or scream in irriation. She stalks through the hall, then pauses at the greeting from a familiar voice and does a rather neat 'to the rear - halt' and smiling warmly. "Corian, good afternoon. How...are you today?" Her tone swings up, concern filtering into her gaze.

Corian's smile turns faintly amused. "Ah, it is that obvious? I believe I have picked up something. I thought it would go away, but it seems it has other plans." She shakes her head, murmuring, "Most inconvenient."

Clara tucks the datareader into one of the voluminous pockets of her labcoat and nods with a rueful smile. "I'm afraid it is to me at least, although I'll admit it's my job to notice when people don't feel well. Tell you what...come on up to Medbay with me, I'll give you a checkup. Maybe we can grab lunch afterwards."

Corian nods agreeably to that. She starts to shut down her portable terminal, complete with a multitude of protesting chimes. "You have too much personality," she informs the machine quietly. Getting to her feet, she says, "I would be most glad to take you up on the first offer, though I do not believe I would like lunch, thank you." And, if anything the prospect of food makes her look a bit ill.

Clara smirks vaguely at the computer, shaking her head. "Aren't they obnoxious? I tell the computer in my office what I think of it on a regular basis. Keeps it humble." Her brows furrow in sudden worry as she reaches her fingertips towards your arm. "Intermittant nausea? Come on...let's go check you out. Maybe just some tea, then."

Corian, with a wan smile, says, "It is my own fault that my computer is this obnoxious. I had him programmed to be so, though I did not know he would take on such personality." She nods at the question, with a grateful smile. "Tea sounds better, yes, and finding out what the problem is. I do hope the Sectassians don't catch it. That would not be pleasant."

Clara chuckles, waving a hand dismissively. "I -do- have one Sectassian patient who's not feeling all that well at the moment, but I sincerely doubt you've the same problem she does," she decides, heading towards the atrium.

Corian manages a more sincere smile as she follows, graceful even now. "Ah, yes. Ximena had mentioned that. I'm most happy for her, though her youngest is less than pleased."

[Travelspam to Medbay deleted.]

Clara chuckles, shaking her head as she taps the call button. "This doesn't surprise me. Still, I'm sure it'll be a joyous addition when the time comes."

Corian nods her agreement to that, expression quite pleased. "Xalin will like his new sibling, I believe, once he is used to the idea of having one."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara tugs the datareader from her pocket and slides it onto a counter, then waves at a bioscan unit, grinning. "Hop on up there. Little ones are blast, yeah. There's a human urchin running about here now...G'ben. Have you met him? Adorable little fellow. Sharp as a tack, for that he's not had it easy."

Corian puts down her terminal, which, of course, came with her, and climbs lightly onto the bioscan. "I have not met him, no, though I believe I may have heard the name mentioned."

Clara opens a cabinet and pulls down a scanner before making her way back to the bioscan and pulling the curtain closed modestly. "He's a doll and a half. Rough around the edges, but it's to be expected." She taps the bioscan unit on as well to begin its own unobtrusive readings.

Tarrant arrives from the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Tarrant has arrived.

Enter Tarrant, moving very carefully, and paying strict attention to where he is going. The effect of his balance guarding is that he is moving rather quietly, and is somewhat unobtrusive. Making his way to the waiting area he goes about the complicated process of actually sitting down in a chair without jarring anything. Looking rather absorbed in thought, and altogether out of it, he prepares to wait.

Corian inclines her head to that. "Is he one of the children from the Underground?" she inquires. There's a faint shake of her head, likely for the presence of children in such an environment, but she doesn't comment further on it.

Clara nods slowly, a faintly grim tightening of her lips at the affirmation. "He is, yes. A sad situation. I've done what I can by spending time in their clinics, but there's only...so...much..." She stops abusing ellipses and peers at the bioscan's readout, then brings her scanner into play. "Corian, I may need a blood sample," she says thoughtfully.

Familiar voices are one thing, but a familiar name? A terribly achingly familiar name? Tarrant's ears all but prick up, and he glances at the curtain, brows lifting in a faintly wisftul expression.

Corian observes quietly, "It is a deplorable situation, but, unfortunately, this is not the only place it exists. Perhaps..." She cuts off her musings to nod, with a faint smile. "Of course. Please do whatever is necessary."

Clara's brows remain furrowed as she works, prepping a hypo to withdraw the sample, then feeding it into the computer. "Describe your symptoms to me as best you can, please? Nausea...what else? Fatigue? Lower back pain perhaps?" She tugs a flat instrument from a drawer and holds it up. "Put your hand on this, please."

Corian nods quizzically as she puts her hand on the indicated instrument. "Yes, those are the symptoms. Is it going around, perhaps? I do hope the children don't catch it; it's somewhat unpleasant."

Tarrant looks rather decidedly concerned, and remains un-moving in the plastic scoop chair, crutches held lightly in one hand. His own difficulties forgotten, he waits.

Clara shakes her head in uncertainty, tapping at the controls, then frowning at the result. "Thank you," she murmurs, returning the instrument to from whence it came, the heading over to the computer again. Peering over the results, she's quiet for a very long moment, then chuckles. "I can safely say I doubt the children will come down with this."

Corian looks rather relieved. "It is not contagious, then? That's very good. I would feel rather guilty if I passed it on to Ximena's younglings. She certainly has enough to do as it is without dealing with ill children."

Clara turns back, eyes dancing with a cross of good cheer and relief as she nods. "Not a concern at all. For that matter, you and Ximena can start comparing notes, I'd imagine." She gestures back at the moniter and explains matter-of-factly, "We'll need to get you started on pre-natal care, though. Congratulations, my friend. You're pregnant."

Crash, thump, scatter. That would be the sound of Tarrant's world crashing into teeny tiny incomprehensible bits. Pregnant? She's pregnant? That must mean there's someone else and he was altogether too late. Patience has obviously mis-served him this once. Goodness, it only yakes a single word to break a man's heart it seems. He levers himself up onto the crutches, although it takes some pretty serious balancing to remain upright, and exits the room post-haste.

Tarrant heads towards the Second Floor Elevator Lounge.

Tarrant has left.

Shock, startlement, surprise, beflooredness... all these can very easily describe Corian's expression. "But... are you certain?" Her voice is very quiet, and a bit confused. "Clara, is something wrong with the instruments, perhaps?" (This pose is brought to you courtesy of honking big river.)

Clara blinks at the response, obviously faintly surprised, but dutifully leans to double check a few of the instruments, then peers back over her shoulder at the monitor. "The instruments are fine, Corian. You just don't get these kind of enzyme levels in the bloodstream or the release of hormones without being pregnant." Her expression turns compassionate, voice soft. "I take it this wasn't planned, then?"

Corian shakes her head firmly. "It was not planned... Clara, it is not -possible-. It cannot be, not unless I greatly misremember how these things work." She's still altogether stunned.

Clara gestures lightly by sweeping her hand in a small panoramic, shaking her head with sympathy. "Corian, it really doesn't take much, though. Just one night...saints, not even that." She reaches forward to try to rest a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "It's going to be fine. I know just how you're feeling."

Corian shakes her head once more, with a faint smile. "Clara... no, you misunderstand. It was not one night, it was not -ever-. I haven't... I never... this really is not -possible-." With another headshake, she adds, "Well, not without starting a major religion, it isn't."

Clara stops stock still, eyes widening at this news. "Not...-ever-?" Hello, and welcome to flooring the doctor. "Well, it isn't...-required-, but it certainly is the easiest way," she notes, rather astonished. "You," she drops her voice to a low, comforting murmur, "weren't forced, by any chance? By whomever left the bruises? Or perhaps an artificial insemination?"

Corian shakes her head once more. "I was not, no," she says, trying to come up with any sort of explanation for this situation. "Never. There was nothing like that. Nothing at all." With a shaky laugh, she says, "There must be another explanation. I no longer follow my own religion, so it seems most absurd for me to create a new one." Yes, she's joking.

Clara can't help but echo the laugh, if a bit sadly. "Wouldn't it, though? I'm afraid I'd have to be terribly scandelized and go spend the rest of the day lighting candles. Now..." she says, changing tactics to complete reassurance. "You don't have to be embarrassed with me, Corian. I'm a doctor and a friend...I'm here to help you. We all make mistakes, you don't have to hide it. It only takes one time..."

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Corian shakes her head. Tone no longer joking, she says quietly, "It is a somewhat distressing situation, but I am being honest with you, Clara. I have never done anything that would cause this result. There simply must be another explanation."

Clara's brow furrows heavily, alarm starting to creep into greenish eyes. "You're certain? Mr. Czolgosz..." she suggests quietly, gesturing at the curtain vaguely. "Not even an incomplete, ah..." She cuts off here. Doctor yes, professional setting, yes. But this is more than enough to make Clara turn neon in most circumstances.

Corian repeats, slowly and patiently, "I have never done anything that would cause this result. I am quite certain. Mr. Czolgosz... Tarrant... is a friend only. His conduct towards me has been beyond reproach."

Clara has to lean against the counter, blinking owlishly in shock, distracted enough to note, "That's not reproachful behavior, though..." before folding her arms, one fist up for her to rest her chin on as she puzzles. "These things do -not- happen spontaneously." She sighs heavily and shakes her head. "I don't know what to tell you, Corian. Except that in ten months, you'll be a mother."

Corian shakes her head very slowly. "This is... most unsettling," she says slowly. "Can you offer any possible explanation? Anything at all?" She looks really quite confused. "I -am- recalling correctly, yes? This should not be possible?"

Clara exhales a vastly puzzled sigh, shaking her head and counting off on her fingers. "I only know of a few ways to get pregnant. One, the old fashioned way. Two, artificial insemination. Three, in-vitro, like they do for initial genetic hybridization of some races. Four, subsidary transplantation. Was there ever a time you were unconsious in the last month?"

Corian considers for a moment, then shakes her head. "There was not, no. I have not done any of these things... how can this situation exist?" Quick, someone call Geraldo!

Inquiring minds want to know!

Clara just shakes her head slowly, all sympathetic concern. "I just don't know, Corian. I just don't know. I wish I could tell you." She exhales a troubled sigh, then frowns back at the monitor. "I do have your blood sample though. I'll start working on it right away and see if I can't find some answers. When you're farther along, I can get a genetic sample from the fetus and test for paternity, if you like?"

Do you want to know? Tell us, King!

Corian nods slowly to that. "Yes, I would like that. I would appreciate that very much." She takes a deep breath, then inquires, with a faint smile, "What do I need to do next?"

Clara reaches high into a cabinet to pull down a bottle and offer it over with a wistful smile. "Pre-natal vitamins. Start with one a day for now, and try to eat and sleep right. Avoid alcohol and caffeine. Maybe find a friend to spend some time with so you're not alone for a while."

Corian takes the bottle with a murmured thankyou, clearly an automatic response. It's starting to sink in, now, and she looks just a bit lost. "I will attempt to do so, yes," she says quietly, rather subdued. "Thank you very much for your assistance." With that, she starts to get up from the bioscan bed.

"Corian," Clara notes, reaching to help you up from the bed with one hand and pushing the curtain back, "you're not alone in this. You've family and friends here that will support you and any decisions you make. Just keep this in mind, all right?"

Corian nods, though for a moment she's looking like she's doing some sort of mental arithmetic. "I will remember that," she says, with a faint smile. "Thank you. I just need a moment to accustom myself to this."

Clara accompanies Corian to the doorway, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder gently and nods. "Take all the time you need. And come see me whenever you need to. Even if it's just to talk." She hesitates, then asks, "Would you rather this be kept quiet for a while? May I tell Riley?"

Corian hesitates for a long moment over her answer. "I would prefer that it be kept quiet, yes, but of course you may tell Riley. He will know soon enough, after all." Smile warming briefly, though the expression doesn't quite reach her eyes, she says, "And I will very likely take you up on that offer. Thank you, Clara." With that, she slips out of the room, computer tucked under one arm.

[Travelspam to Corian's quarters deleted.]

You say "*quietly* Van'chela? Did you wish to work on that file this afternoon? I... find myself with a bit of free time." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "*scruffle, random odd noises, a stick breaking?* Um, that's okay. It's not important. Maybe you should take advantage of the free time? Rest?" He's fighting to keep the anguished tone from his reply." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "*pause* Where are you, Tarrant? And I believe it is important... are you all right? You do not sound quite... yourself." Of course, the same could be said about her." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "The park. I'm fine. Are you all right?" in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I... yes, I suppose I am." She doesn't really sound all right, though. "Should you be out in the park? The hill, and the crutches, and... you didn't climb a tree with that cast, did you?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "No, I didn't climb the tree with a cast." Hello and welcome to the world of selective reply. "Is there anything I can help with?" He doesn't want to admit he knows, but even heartbroken, this is still Corian, and he wants to make things right for her." in Tarrant's voice.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

You say "*long pause* I... I don't suppose I could trouble you for some of your time? I find myself in need of a bit of company, you see. The teddy bear is a very sympathetic listener, but he is not so good about responding." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Of course. Where shall I meet you?" His answer is immediate if pained. Right now he doesn't trust himself within a mile of you, let alone to have a discussion. But he cannot turn down such a request." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I am in my quarters. I could go somewhere else, if that would be more convenient?" See, there, she's gotten a bit of herself back. That almost sounds pleasant, though she's taking refuge in politeness." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "No, uh, that'll do fine. I'll meet you there in a few minutes." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Thank you, van'chela. I do appreciate it, very much." into the communit.

Someone's knocking on the door. Maybe it's Tarrant. (If you like, you can 'reply <words>'.)

Corian calls, "Come in."

Tarrant enters from the Elevator Lounge.

Tarrant has arrived.

Corian is curled up in her corner of the couch, teddy bear tucked against her side. Her stunnedness is badly masked by her smile; anybody with half an eye would be able to tell that she's upset. "Thank you for coming, van'chela," she says quietly, with a graceful gesture towards the couch. "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Tarrant enters, devoid of crutches or cast, trying to control the heavy limp off his left leg. He simply nods to your gesture, making his way to the other end of the couch and sinking onto it rather gracelessly. "Anything for a friend."

Corian tracks your passage, noting the limp. "Should you be off crutches yet?" she inquires, with a hint of concern. "That doesn't look especially comfortable, if I can say so."

"They outlived their usefulness," Tarrant says, carefully shifting the left boot into a somewhat less painful position. "But that's neither here nor there."

Corian watches you for a few moments, then decides not to comment. Instead, she inquires, "Are you hungry? Or thirsty?" When in doubt, offer foodstuffs.

There's the pause of half a beat as Tarrant starts to reply, then something kicks in and he hurriedly covers with, "No, no, no, you shouldn't be getting up."

Corian blinks at that, expression a bit puzzled. "I shouldn't? But, Tarrant, you are the one who has been injured. I'm perfectly capable of going to the kitchen. It's not far."

Uh-oh, comment based on information the individual is not supposed to possess. Tarrant shakes his head however, instead saying, "It's okay, I'm fine, everything's fine." Of course everything isn't, every time he so much as looks at you his expression takes on that look, although now it is far more lost than wistful. "Anyhow, none of this is what you wanted to talk about I'd guess, huh?"

Corian peers at you for a moment, then shakes her head. "I do not know that I wanted to talk about it," she says slowly. "But maybe not to talk about it... not to think about it. This is very odd."

Tarrant ahhs softly. It may be odd, but at least this much he understands. Despite the fact that it takes a war within himself to do it, he reaches out a gentle hand to rest it against your shoulder. "Just remember, anything I can do for you, you have but to ask."

Oh, dear. Despite her facade, Corian's at the point where it will take very little to push her over the edge, and your kind words, your hand on her shoulder, was just what it took. Her lips compress in an effort to keep back what she knows is going to happen, but in vain. "Thank you," she says quietly, voice holding those unshed tears. "I will remember that." It may be noted, though, that it is -towards- you that she turns, though, rather than away from you, though she's still fighting fiercely not to cry.

Oh dear, this is -right- out of the book. But whoever this other guy is, he is -not- here, and Tarrant is, and obviously Corian needs a shoulder. It's a good thing this guy doesn't exist, or Tarrant would turn him into puree for this. Instead he simply shifts closer, attempting to shift the hand from your shoulder to an arm around them both, offering silent comfort, and of course, a shoulder.

Corian is fairly quiet about it, but does make good use of your shoulder, dampening it quite nicely before she's through. She stops eventually, though it takes a moment longer for her to lift her head. "I... thank you. I did not intend for that to happen, I..." She flounders for a moment, then says, "I am going to have a baby, it seems. But I did not... this really should not be possible."

Funny, Tarrant doesn't seem at all surprised to hear that, but a brief shiver of a controlled wince, and a slightly pained wince at hearing the news re-iterated accompanies his nod. "Sometimes things happen that one does not expect."

Corian nods at that, rummaging in her pocket for a handkerchief. "I most definitely did not expect this," she agrees quietly. "Clara was surprised as well." With a laugh that somehow falls flat, she says, "I suppose I will have to decide what to call the baby. Wonderful, Counselor... it's such a difficult decision, naming that which will be the start of a new religion."

Okay, now Tarrant is confused, although he tries not to be too obvious. Instead the hand wrapped around your shoulders begins gently rubbing your back in a vageu soothing manner. "New religion?" He echoes.

Corian nods to that. After a moment, she leans lightly against you, apparently taking comfort in your presence, though she doesn't look like she's going to start crying again any time soon. "You, see, I did not..." Okay, telling Clara is one thing, she's a doctor, and a woman. Telling you is quite another. "I did not do what one usually does to get a child. It's a puzzlement."

A puzzlement to Tarrant as well, although one that sparks the tiniest hint of hope in an otherwise wrecked heart. He can't help but blurt out, innapropriate as it is, "You mean there wasn't someone?"

Someone's knocking on the door. Maybe it's Clara. (If you like, you can 'reply <words>'.)

Corian shakes her head, with a wry little smile. "It would be somewhat easier if there were, but there was not, no." She starts to say more, but pauses at the knocking. She makes some effort to wipe her eyes, then gives it up as a lost cause. Fairskinned people can't cry without it being obvious.

Corian calls, "Come in?"

Clara enters from the Elevator Lounge.

Clara has arrived.

Tarrant would probably say one of a thousand things, looking as stunned as he is. But of course Clara has arrived, and it's time to behave like a normal person. Or try, he realizes rather guiltily she's probably not the best person to run into right now, and he holds both booted feet rather still so as not to call attention to them.

Corian is on the couch, Tarrant's arm around her. It's very obvious that she's been crying. And, in fact, she's still got a hanky in one hand. As she registers the doctor's arrival, she summons a smile. "Hello, Clara. How kind of you to visit." Once again, resorting to politeness generally works.

Clara peeks her head about the door at first, fairly radiating concern and anxiety ridden urgency, then lets herself in the rest of the way to let the door close behind her. "I...I'm sorry to interrupt, but this was important, and I couldn't reach you on the comm..."

Corian nods slowly to that, sitting up a bit more. "Of course, of course," she says, smile still firmly in place. "What can I do for you?"

Tarrant says nothing, as he can't really think of anything that needs to be said. So he just tries fading into the background. Not here, he's not here...

Clara shifts the medical kit somewhat higher on his shoulder as her eyes flicker uncertainly to Tarrant. "Perhaps this would be a matter best discussed at another time? It regards...ah...our last conversation," she adds slowly to Corian.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Tarrant carefully disengages his arm from Corian's shoulders, moving to lever himself to his feet. "I'll let you ladies talk." Offering something of a bow he adds, "Give me a call anytime Corian, yes?" He slowly moves to limp from the room.

Tarrant leaves the room.

Tarrant has left.

Corian's gaze flicks between the others. She starts to say something as Tarrant leaves, but, no, he's too quick, limp and all. "I suppose now would be a good time after all," she says, eyes lingering on the door for a moment.

Clara's gaze drops to Tarrant's ankle in a faint frown before she looks back up and sighs as he leaves. "I'll read him the riot act later," she muses, coming forward and unhitching her medkit to pull it open. "When was the last time you had your contraceptive implant updated?"

Corian blinks at that. "The riot act?" she echoes. At your question, she thinks for a moment. "Perhaps... eleven years ago? It was just before I started to travel."

Clara's nose wrinkles as she pulls out an almost spiral shaped instrument, and fiddles with one end for a moment. "I was afraid of that. Could you possibly lie down?" she asks absently. "Also...I know pregnancy was a surprise, but is it something you wanted? Or want in the near future?"

Corian looks a bit puzzled, but lies down agreeably enough, tucking the sad-faced teddy bear near the head of the couch. "I do not wish it, no. I thought, perhaps, sometime in the future, when I had found a place that I wished to stay--but I have not found that in ten years, so I do not forsee it occuring any time soon." With a faint smile, she says, "But the decision is made for me, yes? Somehow..."

Clara holds up a hand to forestall the comment, shaking her head. "Keep faith, mon ami," she notes distractedly. "And please lift your shirt a few inches? I need to be able to access the original incision for your implant."

Corian looks just a bit puzzled, but nods, lifting her shirt the necessary amount. "Of course," she murmurs, red-rimmed gray eyes rather curious, now.

Clara rummages in her bag briefly and extracts a hypo, pressing it gently directing on the faded, almost invisible tiny line that was the incision at one time, then tugs on a device that fits over one wrist. A small red laser reopens the incision neatly so she can insert the spiraled instrument, and she taps a few commands into it. "Here we go...there, yes...that. Mm-hmm. Got it." Out comes the implant.

And naturally, the hypo was an anesthetic. Clara's not that evil.

Corian watches the whole process as best she can while flat, that is to say, not well, looking just a bit puzzled. "Thank you?" She definitely doesn't know what's going on.

Clara holds up the spiralled instrument to peer at the circuit-like device at the end thoughtfully, then settles to her knees to plink it into a sample container. "I'll examine that when I get back downstairs. Now we wait five minutes, and then I check your hormone levels again. You shouldn't be feeling any pain, though..."

Corian nods slowly. She's still confused. "There is no pain, no." She shifts a bit so that her head is resting on the arm of the couch, and inquires, "Should the removal of my implant make a difference?"

Clara pulls a fresh hypo and a small computer from her bag, shaking her head. "Not if it were current, no. But an expired implant will imperfectly block the ovum production and sinterigen levels, allowing the body to -think- it's pregnant."

Corian blinks. Twice. "To think... so I may not be?" Oh, yes, that's definitely hope, with relief right behind it.

Clara pauses in readying the hypo, schooling her face to be properly grim against the hope she's feeling as well. "I can't promise that," she supplies solemnly. "But it is one theory. We'll know in a few moments," she adds, taking a blood sample from the incision, then giving it to her portable computer for diagnosis.

Corian closes her eyes, lips moving briefly for a moment. It's amazing how folks can suddenly find religion in times of crisis--especially when they're hoping that they're going to learn that they're not, in fact, about to found a religion of their own.

Clara's expression softens at the motions, ones she recognizes so well from familiarity and from seeing them as a field medic so often. Finally, the appropriate data scrolls across the tiny screen, and she exhales a breath. "Corian...I have the results..."

Corian's eyes snap open, moving unerringly to your face. "Yes?" she inquires. It's amazing how much can be conveyed with just one word, but Corian manages it very nicely.

Clara reaches a hand over to rest on your forearm, a warm smile touching her face. "You're not pregnant. It was the implant. Breathe easy, my friend." She rummages in the bag again and holds up a small, sealed package. "Now the question is...do you want a new implant?"

Corian does breath easy, her exhalation one of decided relief. "Good. Good. Very good, thank you." It takes a moment to consider your question, and then she nods. "Yes. Yes, I would, even if it doesn't seem quite necessary." With a smile that still holds some of her relief, she adds, "It would not feel quite right if I did not."

Clara's smile turns entirely into a grin as she shrugs. "Oh, you never know. Might need it someday. If nothing else, it's good for cycle regulation," she explains, carefully tearing open the package and fitting the sterilized implant to the spiral again before reinserting it in the incision. A few taps are made to the commands, a short wait, and the instrument is withdrawn...sans implant. "We'll get this closed up, an antibiotic, and back to life as normal."

Corian nods at that, with another of those very relieved smiles. "Back to life as normal, yes," she echoes. "I really cannot thank you enough, Clara. This is a great relief."

Clara shakes her head, pulling out another hypo and a resonator, using the latter to close the incision, then the former to administer just above it. A pair of bandaids follow just to cover the sealed place. "No...I apologize for distressing you earlier. I should have thought of this sooner."

Corian shakes her head to that, with a faint smile. "Why would you think of it? Most people keep up with their updates, yes? At the very least, I find it unlikely that they would let them go as long as I did. I should have done that. There was just often very little opportunity to do so."

Clara leans back slightly, replacing various instruments back into the bag, the spiral one going into a sanitizer, puffs of smoke indicating sterilization complete before she closes the bag. "Well, let's just be happy that this had an easy conclusion. I should likely go disappoint your brother and tell him he's not an uncle, though. And perhaps Mr. Czolgosz should know you're better? And that I'm going to break his other leg when I find him for taking his own cast off," she adds, obviously joking.

Corian nods at your first statements, with an amused smile for poor Riley. "He would have subjected me to horrible toys with loud sirens," she predicts. "It's an excellent reason for birth control." Then she pauses. "He... what? He did not have that done in Medby?" She shakes her head, with a hint of exasperation, then, after a pause, observes slowly, "He really does prefer to be called Tarrant, Clara. He may be somewhat older than either of us, but he is not that old, I believe, as his species goes."

Clara settles her bag over her shoulder and rises, almost smirking wryly. "No, he didn't have it done in Medbay." Her brow furrows slightly, then. "Tarrant. Well...if he would prefer that, although I'll admit he really doesn't look any older than say, Riley. Do you know what species he is?" she adds, perplexed. "I've never seen his like before..."

Corian shakes her head. "It is not something we have discussed. And I'm not altogether certain of his relative age, as far as that goes--it is merely supposition. But he really would prefer to be addressed by his first name," she adds, sounding fairly sure of that. A hint of amusement touching her tone, she adds, "Though he's hardly one to protest excessive formality."

Clara half smiles, shaking her head with a hint of bemusement. "He's...a unique man, from what I've seen. I'm glad that the two of you share such a friendship," she adds, then leans forwards to offer a hand to help you to a sitting position. "I'll suggest resting a lot for a day or two, just to get used to the new implant. In fact, I'll let you get started on that rest while I go puzzle through your old implant."

Corian nods her agreement to that, with a murmur of thankyou for the assistance. "I will certainly be sure to rest, yes. Will you let me know if you learn anything of interest from that? 'That' would be her implant, if her graceful gesture is any clue.

You faintly hear a chime mark the hour.

Clara inclines her head affably. "Of course I will. In the meantime, though, rest, relax, be a right layabout for a few days. Holler if you need -anything-. From a glass of water to fatimaners from the bakery, okay?"

Corian nods her agreement to that. "Of course, of course. I will certainly do that." Of course, she doesn't say -who- she's gonna call. It's not going to be the Ghostbusters. "Thank you for all your assistance, cha'leket," she adds, with a warm smile.

Clara pauses on her way to the door at the word, a faintly puzzled but appreciative smile in place. "Thank -you-," she replies quietly. "I'm honored. Now rest," she adds, and slips from the room.

Clara leaves the room.

Clara has left.

You say "Van'chela?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Yes Corian?" Goodness, that was a quick response, had he been waiting, hoping perhaps?" in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I... I thought perhaps I should tell you that a mistake was made--I am not expecting after all." There's a pause, then she adds, "I'm also curious how your cast was removed. Clara threatened to break your other leg for having it done outside medbay, though I believe she was joking." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "You're not pregnant?" Okay, Tarrant sounds a bit bewildered, but he has been for a while. Sheepishly he simply notes, "I have a toolbox. The cast did not prove overly stubborn."" in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I am not pregnant, no. It was a difficulty with my contraceptive implant, which has been remedied." And, yes, that's definitely relief in her voice. "But what posessed you to remove it -yourself-?" into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and says "Everything turns out all right in the end then." Tarrant sounds till further sheepish. "There was a place I needed to go, and it made that impossible." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Will you at least let her look at it to make sure it's all right? She's likely going to attempt to track you down, you see, and it would be much simpler for everyone if you just went to -her-." She's not going to ask where you had to go. She's just hoping it didn't involve squirrels." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "I don't think it's all that appropriate to go ask her to do something like that. Not after I took it off." Tarrant sounds dubious. Okay, there is something inherantly screwy about the fact that this man climbs trees. Considering." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "Well, van'chela, she seems to find it appropriate, whether you do or not." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and announces "I think that classifies as insult heaped on injury." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "*tired* Have it as you will, van'chela. It is time that I rest now, I think; it has been something of a difficult day. But do try to be careful." into the communit.

Your communit crackles to life and blares "Sweet dreams find you, my friend." in Tarrant's voice.

You say "I am certain that they will." into the communit.


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