USCMRPG

Sixtus had done what he could as far as the emergency surgery could provide, and knew that complications could always arise. Primarily the risk of a hemorrhagic stroke (more commonly known as a brain bleed) and a concussion. Fortunately, the medicine for that was well settled.

The medic elevated Pushkin’s head using the man’s own helmet. This was followed by, after consulting the diagnostic scanner of his medical kit, administering two drugs. The drugs were not a common addition to the standard kit of a field medic, but Quinn had long past hit the point of being a doctor in his own right (the paperwork for his M.D. was currently in process). So he had brought along a few other items to provide better levels of care to the Marines under his eye.

The first drug was a very common one, an anti hypertensive drug administered intravenously. It would lower blood pressure and significantly reduce the risk of a clot or stroke. The second was a diuretic, to remove excess water and salt from the body. This would again lower the risk of a sudden stroke. It did, however, have the side effect of really having to piss. But that would be a later problem. Quinn monitored the scanner, giving a slight nod of satisfaction when Pushkin’s vitals adjusted in accordance to the drugs.

Sixtus then looked at Preacher. ”Put him on a stretcher, keep his head elevated, and monitor his blood pressure. If anything critical happens, that will be the first indicator. Check it every thirty minutes for the next six hours, then drop to once an hour.”

Tapping his throat mic, he opened a channel to Morse. ”Morse, Quinn. Pushkin is stable.”

Lieutenant Davenport was stunned by the turn of events! Personal combat was a chaos of sights, sounds, smells and personal terror. She struggled to gain a grip on herself but with the discipline drilled into her by her beloved Navy, Davenport took control of herself and ordered her Naval unit into the ship once the marines had given the all clear.

"We'll have this wreck cleared in double quick time!" she responded to Perez before quickly taking charge of the unloading operation.

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The Navy crewmen began to gather up the food, but they discovered more then they could easily carry back. Even the marines loaded their packs to the gills, leaving behind small and unnecessary things. After this the Navy crewmen loaded two ponchos with food and supplies and carried them in twos like stretchers. Even so, there was more that was left behind. The crewmen did their best to hide this food where the native creatures would be unable to find it in case they had a chance to return.

Morse waited for a reply to his comms message. His ear was filled with static until Giosso could patch the signal through for him. The voice of Lieutenant Nelson replaced the static, “This is Sierra 6, I copy that, Staff Sergeant. Bring the supplies to Sierra Camp, we will consider our next move once we regroup. Sierra 7, report.”
The broken-up voice of Danny Sykes came through the radio. It was unmistakable to Morse, having served under him for five years. As always, he sounded positive and unfazed. “Copy that Sierra 6, we have located the target. Quite a few are still functioning, but I’m unsure how many we can relocate. The Juggernaut is here but it’s severely damaged, the engineers think they can restore power but it’s never going to move again. We have a tank, couple of APCs, a buggy, and some forklifts and support vehicles. I’d say half of them are sunk in the swamp or smashed. Copy?”
“I copy, Sergeant Major, return to Camp Sierra with everything you can. Sierra 6 out.”

Doom Dice Result:
At first it appeared that Pushkin was deteriorating, but the medic and his support crew worked furiously. After a matter of minutes it seemed that Pushkin may be stabilizing. Several more anxious minutes passed before Quinn could sit back and exhale. The work had been very delicate, but the patient was stabilized. He was in a coma, but all things considered he was lucky to be just that.
(OOC: Survived three more doom dice rolls. Well done team.)

Nodding to no one as he got a response back, Morse listened to the new directive. It was about what he was going to guess. He was surprised that they had identified as many vehicles intact as they seemed to have, but getting them functioning was a different story. In a way he was amused by the buggy notice. The last time he was stranded on an equally lush rock they had several of those buggies and he had made great use of the weapon system mounted to its back. He had no additional information to state beyond what had been said.

The reason was Quinn had noted Pushkin as being stable. Had he been dead or in a more critical place, Morse would mention it. But their current situation being what it was they could lose personnel at any moment, especially in those early moments. He'd keep track of his personnel and give a report after, but he was not going to invite micromanagement in their current situation. Being stranded meant relying on leaders at the lowest level, and this was no time to be giving sitreps to higher every few minutes. Pushkin was alive, thanks to Quinn, and that was all they were going to need to know when it was over.

"Nice Job, Quinn." Was all Morse had to say over the mic in response. They'd been together for so long it was no surprise that he kept the downed marine alive. He probably should have left the Corps to pursue a medical career in the Civilian World.... but they all were where they were.

Morse turned to face those near, but turned his mic up to all call those in the team.

"Orders to head back to Sierra. Strap tight n' keep in sight. Perez you're still point on return. Keep Push on that stretcher in the middle. If we get into a shitty spot he better be able to be covered n' not dragged off by some four legged fuckstorm. Keep the formation together n' we'll be back for the rest a this shit. Good news's they may a found some wheels, but for now we're walkin'! Perez... Take em out."

Morse had his own pack full of the food substances that he could, prioritizing that over anything else. His rifle was at the ready and he prepared for march.

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Paulson was seriously overloaded now having crammed as much food as he could into his pack the going would be slow and hard but with multiple stretchers he figured he could keep up.
<fatigue?>
He took his place back at the end of the column quickly glanced at his motion scanner which still showed multiple small contacts all around, it was being next to useless in the jungle, adjusted the straps on his packs again and prepared to move out.

Perez briefly checked the established perimeter inside the shipwreck, before moving outside, just in case, some-t-h-i-n-g came out of the still unknown jungle. He was glad, that Quinn was able to save the life of Corporal Pushkin, the former showing off an impressive level of competence in first-aid and medics. No more creatures showed up and Perez felt, that they had teached them the first lession of the new order of the food chain. Surely, some more teaching sessions would be necessary, but he called it a "head start".

After quite a while they had for what they came for and the troopers formed up. Morse gave the orders and Perez took point. One more time, he checked the smartgun status. Better safe than sorry.

"Ok, platoon, stay in formation and look sharp, let's go"

Perez started moving back towards Sierra Base Camp.

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Dmitri shouldered his rifle and took up one end of Pushkin's stretcher. He wasn't able to keep his friend from getting hurt, but by God, he'd make sure his friend made it back to base camp in one piece.