Body

(Aug. 22, 2217)

Fortress V - Brig

Rows of plain, boring cells fill the front of the ship, open-faced rooms with very little in the way of amenities. Designed for robotic prisoners, these cells have beds and power feeds, but nothing else. Force fields separate the prisoners from the guards, but they are seldom turned on. Repliforce keeps few prisoners, so this depressingly quiet place stays mostly empty.

Out <O> leads to Fortress V - Lower Deck.

Prismatic Spider arrives in the Brig in hazmat gear, along with a squad of medical personnel. With them is a containment unit for the transportation of the Doctor. The Spider Scientist stands before the field, looking into it. "Doctor, the preparations are ready. Are you ready for the operation?"

Haggard, hair disheveled to the point that strands flop every which way, Doppler slumps on the floor at the rear of his prison cell. His labcoat lies in a rumpled heap nearby, as does a paper coffee cup bearing the logo of one of the coffeehouses on Eurasia. The music player Prismatic provided is still running, the strains of a harpsichord concerto playing through the brig.

As Prismatic addresses him, he stirs from his half-dose, looking up to regard him. "As if...there was a choice." He gives a mirthless chuckle.

"There's always a choice, Sigmund. Let's just not make the other ones at this particular moment." Stepping from behind Prismatic and the small group that he had brought with him is one wearing absolutely no protective gear at all. But then, Dr. Matthews was immune to harm from coming into contact with Doppler, so it would only impede her work should she wear such attire. A small smile is offered to the German as she stands with her hands clasped behind her back calmly.

Dr. Doppler combs the fingers of both hands through his hair, which makes it all the more unruly. "You are right, Julie," he says in a tired voice. "Save the other choices for only if this fails." He draws in his legs, using the wall to steady him as he gets to his feet. His cane had been taken away for fear that he might have hurt himself with it. He half expects for a gurney to have been brought, and so he simply stands there.

Prismatic Spider moves up to the controls, and lowers the forcefield. "Indeed, Doctor... but you won't need to partake of any other options. You will be restored. Now relax, you will be recovering shortly." The medical staff enters, carfully placing the Doctor onto the containment unit (which looks much like a stretcher). With a click, the containment fields activate, hopefully stopping the deadly Virus from spreading outside. Without further fanfare, the Doctor is carried towards the turbolifts to the Medical area.

Iris enters the Lower Deck.

Iris has left.

You begin following Prismatic Spider.

Dr. Matthews says nothing in response to Doppler or Prismatic while preparations are made. It's only once Doppler is secured on the gurney that she falls in lock-step beside it, not daring to look down at the cyborg lain there. "< Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Be ready to do what needs to be done. >"

Prismatic Spider enters the Lower Deck.

Prismatic Spider has left.

You follow Prismatic Spider.

Fortress V - Medical Center

Sterile white and pale green, the medbay, like all medbays, is a calm, quiet place, the noiselessness enforced by sonic dampening fields. Repliforce's medical technicians work here, and this area is rigged to deal with any number of Reploid injuries, including the most series operations possible. The staff here is competent and collected, and they have one of the best survival rates of any military hospital anywhere. Minor upgrade work is performed here as well, as well as the physicals and regular exams that are a part of military life.

Mimos [RF] Prismatic Spider [Labcoat] [RF]

Iris [Rock_cult] [RF] Soul Nightshade's Biosphere <SNB>

Repair Chamber

Out <O> leads to Fortress V - Upper Deck.

[============================] -Prismatic Spider- [============================]

The silver body of Prismatic Spider stands at about 5'5", and is reasonably plain compared to many Reploids of the non-mass produced type. The majority his slender body is colored silver, except for his hands, the joints of his arms, and his lower footpods. He sports six slender arms on what appear to be ball joints, his six white-glovelike hands staying near to his body as they poke from the modified lab coat he wears (six sleeves and all).

Only his face has any synthskin, revealing a narrow build and crystal blue optics that dart about when not focused on a subject. He wears a helmet trimmed similarly to the rest of his body, with a cone-shaped sub-refractor on the top, A few strands of his black hair can occasionally be seen poking out under the ridge of the helmet, though when not wearing it, the hair is usually kept neat. His face is smooth and a bit more circular than the human norm, a bit more cylinderical than one might expect. It lacks a distinct nose, though he does possess a mouth. From his neck hangs a silver chain, with a pendant hanging from it. Set in thin circles of gold wire, a small refractive sphere lies, a remaining gift from a struggle long ago.

His abdomen, however, shines with refracted light, a dance of color that splatters iridescence around him. Within the mostly transparent bodypart is a hexagonal refractor, shattering what light that reflects from it into tiny rainbows, surrounding the Reploid in an almost perpetual iridescent aura.

... Also, he is wearing a very long two-toned blue scarf with a fringe. Odd, that.

http://www.divisionbyzero.org/PSLogs/PSpider.jpg

[============================] -Spider Scientist- [============================]

Doppler is quickly taken to the medical area, and placed in a special quarantined area of the medbay, where some of the finest medical minds in the world wait to help perform the operation. Prismatic moves to one side, to a workbench placed in the area, and punches at a keyboard, bringing up medical data and schematics. "All right... Everyone here?" He glances up, looking about to make sure those who are supposed to be here are present.

Dr. Matthews arrives from the Upper Deck.

Dr. Matthews has arrived.

Dr. Doppler puts up no resistance to his transport. His attention is focused inward, still fighting against the whisper in his mind. If the containment field permits it, he moves to rub at his temples, but nothing more than that.

Gate nods. He's not bothering to wear hazmat gear - either he's stubborn, overconfident, or both. He believes in working with his hands, and not necessarily in comfort and safety. If his kids have to risk exposure to the virus every day they go out and fight, it's only fair that he does too. At least, this is how he has rationalized it in his own mind. If Sarah could see him now, she'd break one of his arm actuators.

Gate cannot help but feel the irony of this situation. Some months ago when Doppler had challenged him to infect himself and see what it was like, Gate had commented that he would - if he had an opportunity to open Doppler's skull and tinker with the cyborg's mind in return.

He ponders over whether or not he'll have to have to keep that bet now.

Somewhere on the MUSH, Dr. Wily has disconnected.

Mimos has left.

Mimos has arrived.

Somewhere on the MUSH, Dr. Wily has connected.

Somewhere on the MUSH, Dr. Wily has disconnected.

Somewhere on the MUSH, Dr. Wily has connected.

Dr. Matthews follows in along with the others as stoically as possible. There was no smile, no eager rush of anticipation in getting to be here and help this. Her mind was already running over contingency plans which were her speciality. Gate's lack of safety attire garners a deep scowl from her, but she merely shakes her head. "If you get infected I'm going to hit you, Gate."

Long distance to Prismatic Spider, Gate, and Dr. Matthews: Dr. Doppler notes that his brain is protected under bone lacing and armor plating. Once you cut away the synthskin, it's pretty easy to get in. (Thank SiniScorp for that.)

From afar (to Gate, Prismatic Spider, and Dr. Doppler), Dr. Matthews (Rigby) nods.

"You'll have to get in line, Julie. Sarah will be there first," Gate replies with a faint smile.

Dr. Doppler tilts his head slightly as he hears Gate's voice, a frown forming at the corners of his mouth. "Professor," he greets in a tired voice.

"And I get dibs if there's anything left intact after they're done." Prismatic frowns at the lack of protective gear, but there's nothing to be sadi about it now. The Doctor is placed on the medtable, and the room sealed. Only then is the containment field deactivated. Prismatic looks to those present, and gestures. "All right. Here is the plan. The Virus' path of infection into the cranial implants the doctor has recieved is causing the observed problems. Since we are not going to be keeping the Doctor given extenuating circumstances, we are not going to be completely disninfecting him. We do, however, want to ensure he remains sane despite the feedback. Thus, we will be temporarily removing the implants. Doctor Matthews will be handling that part of the operation, due to her experience with cybernetics and human medicine. After removal, Professor Gate and I will be disinfecting the implants, and then modifying them so they cannot be reinfected by adding shielding and viral-resistant modifications. Any questions?"

Mimos has disconnected.

Mimos has connected.

Dr. Doppler would add his name to the list, but they might take him seriously. He lowers his hands, gripping the sides of the medical table. "...will I be conscious or unconscious for this?" he asks, tone as clinical as he can make it.

"Which would you prefer?" Rigger asks seriously in response to Doppler's question. "I can do it either way, and ensure you will feel no pain in the process. It's really up to you if you wish to be aware or not." She says nothing about her own doubts in regards to being able to preform this task.

Iris enters the Upper Deck.

Iris has left.

Gate approaches Doppler, hands in the pockets of his labcoat, looking down at the patient, his smile still present. It's not a vindictive smile, nor the smile of some predator about to pounce on a hapless victim. It is one of sincerity, as, despite orders given about him in the past, he does care about what happens to Doppler.

"Brain surgeries are usually performed while the patient is awake, due to the fact that the brain feels no pain, and the patient can inform the doctor of any oddities they might be seeing, smelling, hearing, feeling or tasting. However, this can be a frightening prospect; if you wish to be anesthetized, I'm fairly certain it can be done for your comfort."

He adds, with a chuckle. "I believe we had a small wager about messing with each other's brains, Doppler... Since I am, at last, helping you with yours, I have decided not to shield my own. Fair is fair. Unless of course you would really want to see me infect myself for the purposes of experiencing the Maverick point of view for myself."

Dr. Doppler is silent for a moment, gazing at the ceiling as he thinks. A scientist to the last. "Less risk if I am not sedated. But. You need to either restrain me or de-activate my cybernetics. Also, a dose of tatrazylene, to keep my organic tissue still without aggrivating the disease." There is no seeming apprehension, but then this is hardly the first time he's been under the surgeon's knife.

Mimos enters the Upper Deck.

Mimos has left.

Prismatic Spider nods, letting things proceed as they will for now. Until those implants are out, it's Rigger's show.

Dr. Matthews glances towards Gate a moment as if she were re-evaluating her thoughts on him. Again she shakes her head as her attention turns back towards Doppler with a small nod. "I believe we've already discussed that particular circumstance, Gate. You men really are too arrogant for your own good sometimes. Very well." A deep breath is taken, and she shrugs to loosen up stiff muscles around her neck. Turning towards a small cart set up with a clean sheet over it to keep the tools therein dust-free she begins to set herself up for the operation. First a face-mask. Only after that's affixed does she bother to speak again. "I usually use a neural inhibitor when working on patients that are awake. It will work in this case as well to cease operation of your cybernetics until such time as I've actually removed your neural connection. It's painless, and one of my more useful toys. You may wish to lay back, Doppler."

Ah, physician, heal thyself. The foremost cyberneticist in the world is in the room, but in this case he is the patient and not the surgeon. Doppler releases his grip on the sides of the table and eases himself back, resting his head and neck in the supportive cradle. "Then I suggest you use it. I do not know if I can keep him quiet much longer..."

"Some call it arrogance. I prefer to think of it as adventurousness," Gate asides, as he walks over to a wheeled cart of various surgical equipment, wheeling it over towards Dr. Matthews so that it can be in easy reach. "Besides. There is always a degree of risk in any field of research.

[Radio] Tightbeam radio transmission: Dr. Matthews says, "< Sigmund. I know you don't want to die, and I certainly do not wish to become a murderer... But if, worst comes to worst, that is what you wish the time to tell me is now. >"

"I call it foolishness," Doppler interjects. "You do not want this."

[Radio] Tightbeam radio transmission to Dr. Matthews: You say, ""

Prismatic Spider is at the workbench in the meantime, laying out tools, punching up schematics, prepping scanners and interface equipment... and also small blocks of a dark material.

Dr. Matthews withdraws the small, box-like device from the table. A button is depressed, a slider nudged, and then she carefully places the device alongside the neck of Doppler's cybernetics. Once it's in place she stops to stare down at Doppler again with a grim expression. "I promise," she says simply as if in answer to some unheard question. Then she turns towards the bench that Gate wheeled over to begin.

Dr. Doppler gives a small sigh as his synthetic muscles slacken, his eyes slipping shut. His lungs and heart continue to function normally, unless and until the doctor would have reason to arrest their functions.

Gate merely plays Nurse to Julie's Surgeon for now. If there's anything she needs, he'll hand it to her. As for foolishness? Well. He didn't get where he was now by playing it safe. He's made a success of being a fool.

Berkana can attest to this.

Prismatic Spider has shown himself to be neither particularly brave nor foolish. He just takes things as they come. And right now, that mostly invovles waiting, since the preparations are complete for the implants.

Dr. Matthews ducks her head down momentarily as if saying some small, quiet prayer. Then she looks up bright-eyed and leans in to begin her work. Carefully she hooks up small probes to begin monitoring the heart and brainwave patterns of Doppler so that she can have some fore-warning should something problematic arise. Then again she turns towards the table with her own supplies on it to take off the three parts of the anti-grav generator field she'd brought along. It's set up around Doppler as with the other items, and switched on to reduce the pressures of gravity on his sensitive brain matter. "Alright, if anyone bumps this table, I'll kill you. Fair warning." It's a bit of a joke and meant to be such. Turning towards Gate she requests, "Hypo, and scalpel, please."

Gate hands both over to Julie in turn. "Charming bedside manner, dear," he quips with a wry grin.

Dr. Doppler's lower brain functions are all within normal parameters. The higher functions fluctuate in and out of norm, occasionally showing a double pattern. One is created by Doppler himself, the other apparently coming from the implants. Under normal circumstances, these assist-chips are designed to not interfere with natural neural activity, but the Sigma Virus seems to be interfering with that.

"It's been awhile since I was the one in charge of an operation," Julie offers back cheerily. "I'm out of practice." A quick glance is given to the monitors before she leans in to apply the hypodermic to an exposed area. "Slowing heart-rate. Keep an eye on that monitor for me, though, Gate." A second or two is given to allow the medicine to do it's work, and then she leans in with the scapel. There's very little pre-amble as she cuts across Doppler's forehead to slice through the synthskin expertly and begin revealing what lay beneath.

Prismatic Spider continues watching, keeping an eye on things though this is definately not his specialty.

Gate has always been curious about cybernetics. He doesn't mind taking a back seat to Rigger to watch her work. "As you wish, Doctor Matthews," he replies calmly.

Dr. Doppler is not a full-conversion cyborg. However, very little of him has been left unagumented. His scalp is no exception, the skin and hair being entirely synthetic. His skull shows signs of lacing with ceramic polymers to give it additional strength, then overlaid with subdermal armor plates. It's the sort of thing one normally expects to see in a cyborg soldier. The plates are removable, and since Julie has seen his medical chart, she should have little trouble with them.

"Half the world would envy what I'm doing right now, and I can't even brag about it. You definately owe me coffee after this is over, Sigmund. Maybe some of those good chocolates I know they used to make in Germany, too. If they still do anyway. I'm sure the demand isn't as large these days." Nevermind that her patient can't really respond at the moment, it was just habit for Rigger to banter while she worked. A familiar habit that helped her to relax. The synthskin is peeled back as well as the false hair that adorns Doppler's head. The scalpel is changed out for a probe, and screwdriver. She pauses momentarily however to squint at the particularily small bolts she intended to unscrew only to snort. "Of course it'd be a hex-bolt. Blasted things are a pain in the butt."

"Such is the evil of Maverick design," Gate quips, watching the monitor.

Prismatic Spider simply snorts in a mildly amused tone (and despite lacking a nose) as he watches.

There is a small spike of activity on the monitor. While Doppler may not be able to articulate a retort, that does not prevent him from thinking it.

"Mmph. Still." The screwdriver is switched out for a hex driver, and she twirls it carefully between her fingers to loosen the hold of the main support bolts. As soon as those are off she uses the probe to carefully pry the armor plating away. "So just how are you guys planning to fix the implants anyway?"

Prismatic Spider says, "We connect the implants to an interface as per the normal decontamination procedures and send the virus into a dormant state, then repair as much as we can. Since they aren't completely infected, we have more time to deal with them. Also, with two of us, we can work faster than one of us alone."

"Exactly," Gate replies. He also intends to add a few programming seals to continue to filter the virus away from Doppler's mind itself.

Dr. Doppler's brain is indeed organic, thus putting to rest any question as to whether he is human or machine. There are signs of healing trauma from the hemmoragic stoke he suffered almost three months ago, more visible on a microscopic level than by the naked eye. The three implants are also visible, each the size of a fingernail and directly interfacing with the damaged areas.

"And you have the replacement chips in case one of them is damaged?" Julie goes silent in spite of her question as soon as the plating is removed to reveal the brain tissue beneath. The implants were obvious, and her main area of focus right now. She turns away rather quickly and sets down both instruments she'd been using on the table. A pair of goggles are plucked up as she asks, quite calmly, "Gate, could you please swab and remove as much blood as possible so that I can begin the next part?" Very carefully she pulls the goggles on over her head, and adjusts the magnification level of one of the eyes while focusing at a point across the room.

Gate is a little wary of touching a human brain. After all, the slightest mistake could mean that Doppler is returned with a newfound appreciation for the intellectuatl stylings of Teletubbies.

Still, he nods, and taking up the necessary equipment, very, very gently tends Doppler's gray matter.

Prismatic Spider says, "Yes, we have the necessary hardware. That's why it took so long. The information on the disc helped greatly in getting what we needed. We also have the chip you recieved as a backup."

Dr. Matthews takes a deep breath, then another, and then utters a curse in some language or mix of some language. Once assured of the workings of her goggles it would seem, and after Gate has had more than enough time to do the task she'd required of him, she turns her attention back with a grim expression. "Good. Keep talking. Or turn on some music dammit. Do you guys always keep it so deathly quiet in here?" The calm, joking nature she'd had before has been replaced by an irritable bite to her tone.

o/~" I'm a little teapot short and stout, here is my handle, here is my spout." o/~ Gate warbles. At least he's on key.

Prismatic Spider shrugs. "Sometimes. Sometimes not. I can, however, arrange for some music." He turns, and taps at the console. Over the speakers, Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D begins playing. "I don't think you'll want to break into the enertainment business any time soon, Professor."

"Bother. And here I was planning to make my debut singing Carmen," Gate replies with a coy grin.

Dr. Doppler can offer no commentary. His brainwaves remain as steady as can be expected under the circumstances, heart and lungs operating at reduced but still steady levels.

"... Old man music," Rigger gripes disagreeably, but Bach was at least something she knew that Doppler liked. Even if she felt the selection was particularily morbid given it's over-use in horror movies. Another breath is taken, however, and she focuses on the fifty percent magnification one eye was being fed, while the other allowed her a real-time view of her current work. Ever so carefully, using a pair of elongated tweazers meant for such a purpose, she begins to withdraw the first implant.

Prismatic Spider says, "Next time we do this, you can bring something you like."

Gate continues monitoring Doppler's vitals. No comment.

Dr. Doppler's brainwaves fluctuate wildly for a moment as the chip is decoupled and removed. Then, the monitor reads impaired activity in the affected area. This would be entirely expected, considering the purpose of the chips being there in the first place.

"I'll keep that in mind, even though I don't intend to do this again." There's an ever so breif pause before she stops in her own work to blink. "... There's a reason I'm not an MD." It's all she says however before reopening her eyes, and begining the movements her hands had been poised to make. With no sound at all the chip releases it's hold and she lifts it out to be turned over to a tray meant for such a purpose. "< Relax, Sigmund. It'll be over shortly one way or another. >"

"I'm certain that's -very- reassuring, Julie," Gate says dryly.

Prismatic Spider nods, watching the process without further comment. Gate already said anything he might have. His optics flick to the implant as it is laid aside, but he does not move to do anything with it yet. He doesn't want to interrupt anything by beginning work on it. He does, however, begin cleaning the implant off, preparing it for the disnifecting and modifications.

Neural activity spikes again. The second set of waves created by the remaining implants begins to supplant those generated by the organic brain. The pattern generated does not fit in with what would be considered normal human brain activity, the pattern more fractal than rythmic.

"It would seem Sigma is cranky, Julie. The brainwaves are spiking. I think the Virus is trying to make a play to get ahold of Doppler as fast as it can," Gate adds in suddenly, tone concerned.

"Is this virus /cognizant/ of what's going on?"

Prismatic Spider hisses. "It seems to have a mind of its' own. Doctor, we need to move faster or we might lose him."

"Okay so it's been awhile since I played nursemaid! Eesh..." Her joking rebuke breaks off as the time limit shifts. Without a word she leans in to begin work on the second. Her breath is shallow, and she forces it to come slowly so as to not jostle her hand any. "One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi..." A steady, quiet mantra to mark the passage of time as she works far faster than before.

Dr. Doppler's higher brain functions continue to spike randomly, activity increasing as the first set of brainwaves tries to reassert itself. There is a brief, furious struggle that plays itself out on the monitor, and for several moments there are two entirely distinct sets of patterns visible. As the second chip is decoupled, the second set abruptly diminishes. The first set of brainwaves also loses strength, but not to the same degree.

Dr. Matthews lets out a relieved sigh. The second implant is placed with the first, though she doesn't pause to banter in between as she had before. "Congratulations, Sigmund. Keep up the good fight." And her attention focuses on the third.

Prismatic Spider begins cleaning and prepping the second implant for decontamination as she begins work on the third. "<Don't give up now. We're almost into the safe zone.>"

The first set of brainwaves are reported as impaired by the monitor - they are weaker, unsteady. This is not unexpected, considering the kind of trauma for which the implants have been compensating. The activity generated by the implant is less influential than before, though it does generate the occasion fractal spike that Doppler cannot control.

Dr. Matthews clicks the last one out, and pauses to examine the charts. While Prismatic was busy with the other implants she watches the spikes hoping that nothing further would be revealed by that second brainwave.

As the last chip is decoupled from Doppler's brain, the secondary set of brainwaves vanishes entirely. There is a flutter of completely disorganized activity for an agonizing moment, but then activity begins to even out to more acceptable parameters. Activity is noticably impaired, though not to the point of being even close to fatal. Without the implants, he could survive, but nearly unable to speak or control his motor functions.

Prismatic Spider begins cleaning the third one, picking up the pace now that it's time for their work. The hands move in quick motions, taking the cleaned and prepped implants to the workstation. "Come, Professor. It's our turn now." He sets down the implants on the workbench, and begins hooking the first up to the system. As expected, the implant immediately shows as contaminated. Prismatic's hands begins running over the keyboard, quickly running interface protocols and beginning to write patch information to the implant's processing systems. In a separate screen, the status of the console itself is shown, diagrams of increasing Virus activity obvious. The virus doesn't want to lose... It seems that Doppler may have somehow created a sentient energy form. The issue this raises in Prismatic's mind, of course, is not lost, but he works to disinfect it as quickly as possible, patching in the information to make the Virus think it has completed its work. The Virus immediately begins to subside, and Prismatic keeps working, dismantling and rebuilding some of the altered and damaged code, as much as he can to restore the damage done.

Tears well up in the corners of Doppler's eyes. The whisper that has plagued him has finally been silenced.

Brain activity continues to report as impaired, but falls within what can be expected for his conditon.

Prismatic Spider lets Gate handle the second implant, as he unhooks the first and begins making modifications to it, pulling out tiny chips and replacing them with new ones, as well as one or two that Gate set up. He then begins using the black, dimly reflective material to build up a coating of it around the interface areas, as well as beginning to coat the implant itself in the material. He sets out some small, shaped pieces of the material on a tray, and pushes it over to Doctor Matthews. "Doctor, go ahead and attatch those shielding collars around the interface point in the cranial area. I need to make sure the entire device is shielded."

Dr. Matthews glances at the new tools and objects pushed her way. A tired sigh is exhaled, only to have her shake her head sharply to snap her out of it. The breifest of glances is cast towards the teary-eyed Doppler before she sets to work grimly. It was a morbid task as it was.

Prismatic Spider continues working, having sealed the first implant and setting it on a tray for reimplantation with the shielding collars. Since Gate is still busy with the second, he takes the third, connecting it and beginning the process of disinfecting it as well.

A few minutes later, Prismatic unhooks it as well, having successfully dealt with the Virus, and then begins the hardware manipulation, and stops, peering at a particular chip. "Hmm." He removes it, and then reaches over for the other chip, the one provided by Overclock. He sets the chip onto a diagnostic tool, and runs some tests on it, examining the output. "The chip Overclock provided appears normal, but it has an early stage of the Virus on it... I'll deal with it."

The monitors continue to report Doppler as impaired-normal. Breathing and heart rates are steady, blood-oxygen levels within acceptable limits.

Dr. Matthews glances over toward Prismatic with a small nod. "Yes, he told me as much. He said that it would be impossible to install pure, uninfected implants back into Doppler as his mind and his cybernetics would reject the difference. So he suggested they be infected with the early stage and cleansed afterwards." A look is given back towards the patient, as she adds, "I'm not entirely sure that's an accurate assessment. I believe Sigmund would manage."

"That's because Overclock WANTS him infected, apparently. No matter. I've dealt with the problem." Prismatic grumbles to himself about deceptive, pushy Mavericks as he installs the replacement chip and seals it up, placing it with the other implant for her to reinstall. At this time, Gate seems to have finished with his, and the third is replaced. "All right. All we need to do is reinsert the implants, and he'll be all set."

Dr. Doppler remains silent, for obvious reasons. There is the occasional flutter of activity on the monitors, which shows that he is still conscious.

Prismatic Spider stands, and brings the implant tray over to Rigger, setting it down. "It's all your show now, Doctor."

Fool or not, Julie sincerely hoped Overclock was not right in this regard. The tray is accepted, a nod given in thanks, and she turns to resume the work on her patient. The work was a bit easier this time though she took just as much care in doing it. She simply knew where things fit now. The third and last removed chip is inserted first.

Again, there is a spike of activity as the chip is reinserted. There is a momentary pause as the chip initilizes. Neural activity begins to increase. Unlike before, the patterns are complimentary, the implant compensating for the damage in the area rather than asserting a pattern of its own.

Dr. Matthews nods in apparent approval of the reaction. The second is poised, and prepared. Another look towards the monitors is given before she actually goes about it. The last would be inserted with careful haste just to ensure all took properly.

The monitor reflects the same general reaction as before. An itial spike, followed by some fluttering as the second chip initializes. Doppler's neural activity continues to increase as the implants pick up the slack. There is a little extra mental "static" as the brain adjusts to the cleansed implants and vice versa.

"< Good, good. You're doing wonderfully Sigmund. Just think: You'll be able to get a good night's rest after this. Just one more, now. >" As soon as the waves stabilize, the last is inserted as well. Her gaze flicks over to Prismatic, and she waits for confirmation on the acceptance of this chip as well before even considering closing up his casing again.

Prismatic Spider nods to Doctor Matthews again, watching impassively. "<Let's finish this.>"

The third chip is accepted much the same as the previous two chips: an initial spike, followed by a moment of neural scattering as the implant initializes. Overall activity is unsettled but is slowly evening out. Nothing but time will bring the implants and the organic brain to working in closer tandem. However, there is no sign of unacceptable activity or overcompenations.

Dr. Matthews smiles at the signs, and even looks back to the open brainpan which was such a disturbing sight for her before. It still is, and she looks marginally uneasy, but at the very least she can go back to the work she has to finish up one last time. The armor plating is carefully put back (with one last remark about hex-bolts being unweildy even if they did allow for more space) and then the synthskin is pulled back over to cover in a cosmetic manner. A small syringe of silvery-blue goo is drawn in a line over the incision that she had cut to mold the edges together out of sheer habit of finishing off all her work properly. Satisfied, she finally steps back and moves to withdraw the neural inhibitor. "< Probably the most historically affecting thing I've ever done, and it will never be known. Go fig. >"

Dr. Doppler gives a small sigh of relief as functionality is restored to his "non-essential" cybernetics. A slight tremor develops in his right hand as it begins accepting commands again. His left hand has no such difficulty, and responds as expected with he experimentally touches each of the fingers to his thumb in turn.

"<Give it awhile to adjust. Move around, get used to things working again as they should.>" Rigger steps back, and pulls the goggles off her face to find herself cross-eyed from the difference in magnification. Her hand works over those eyes pinching at the bridge of her nose to ease the discomfort. "< Let me know if you feel anything out of the ordinary. >"

Dr. Doppler's eyes flutter open, then squint at the bright light above him. Belatedly, he responds to one of Julie's earlier comments. "< /I/ will not forget, Doctor. >" He does not venture sitting up just yet, instead going theough the motions of flexing his fingers, toes, elbows, knees, then rotating his shoulders. He reaches over to touch his right hand with his left, pressing fingers into the back, then palm of his hand. "< Still numb, >" he mutters, more a notation than a complaint.

Dr. Matthews glances back over her shoulder at Doppler with a breif smile. Wordlessly she reaches out to rest her hand on his arm a moment, a breif sign of thanks before it falls away. ""

Dr. Doppler gives her a weak smile, one that is not quite as strong on the left side of his face as the right. Some regression is to be expected, at least until the implants fully resynchonize. He rubs at his face, but it is not the same desperate gesture as it was such a short time ago. "< Quiet at last... >"

"< Would you like some time to rest? I imagine it'll be back to the brig, of course, but... Silence can be a wonderful thing. >" Rigger steps away and looks Doppler over thoughtfully watching that regression with obvious worry. Even if she knew it was inevitable, it was still worrisome. Her left hand lifts to begin scratching at the right irritably. ""

Dr. Doppler moves his hands to the sides of the bed, using his arms to push himself into a sitting position. He winces, closing his eyes as vertigo momentarily washes over him. "< Best you give me a dose of antiboitics. I ran a bacterial infection the last time. >" He looks over at her, the smile lost to a more concerned expression. "< Yes. You had better disinfect yourself as well. I know that I am still contageous. >" His words began slurred, but they are gaining better diction even now.

General arrives from the Upper Deck.

General has arrived.

"< Better yet, I'll have it ripped out and replaced with a newer model. This has been giving me problems for awhile now. >" Without a further word she stops scratching at her arm (which was already red with her fingernail marks at this poitn) to pick up the antibiotic hypo that was lain nearby. "< Of course. I apologise; it's been quite some time since I had to play MD. It slipped my mind. >"

Dr. Doppler fumbles with the panel on his inner forearm, hidden just below the elbow, to expose the resivoir that holds his usual doses of medications. It's the easiest way to administer them. "< Simple enough to forget. But I have been through this before. >" The frown does not dissipate, his thoughts turning inward. "< We both know where I must go, Julie. >"

"<Unfortunate it is.. however true the fact that you must....>" comes the voice of General, seeming to echo from all around the medical bay. That, however, is not the case as General smoothly enters the bay, arms folded behind his back neatly. "<As much as I would rather you not have to go personally..>" His optics narrow slightly, not out of dissent, but just a mote of sadness, one supposes.

Dr. Matthews is most likely the only one currently within the containment field that isn't garbed in protective gear. Gate wasn't, but he had stepped aside to do other work at this point. She barely looks up when General arrives as she takes the offer of sliding the antibiotics into the appropriate slot. "" Only then does she turn around to smile weakly at General with a polite nod of greeting.

Dr. Doppler's expression becomes one of grim acceptance. Again, it does not track as well on the left side of his face as it does the right. "< You cannot protect me forever, Octavius. Right or wrong, I am a wanted man. The UN would kill me on sight. No other country would have me. >" He gives Dr. Matthews a nod, then slips the panel shut again. "< Besides, my other children still need me. I must find a cure for them. >"

"<Unfortunately true as well..>" General frowns, a grim chuckle emits itself from him. "<That.. and in your own way, you could do a little saving of your own, being as indirect as it is..>" He of course, refers to the children that were kidnapped. "" Octavius grunts slightly, his attention briefly noting the radio banter. "<Strange circumstances that we've come to this point, haven't we, Father?>"

"< Those matters aside, I sincerely doubt there will be any time to waste further in this argument. Just how do we plan on getting him *back* to Germany?>" Rigger glances from General, to Doppler, and back again with an arched eyebrow. "< I'm not sure how well-informed the rest of your men are about his presence here, General. I imagine you don't want to give away the Fortress' position though, even if it is mobile. >"

Dr. Doppler's frown deepens a bit at the mention of Daryn, but it soon passes. It is no secret that he and the former rock star despise each other. "< Yes, strange indeed...this has been a very strange year. >" His attention turns to Dr. Matthews as she speaks, then back to his son. "< Whatever will cause the least contamination. I still carry the Virus. >"

"" Octavius frowns slightly, rubbing his chin. "<Most were informed fairly well, Julie. We'll make sure the craft is given the once over when it goes to a decontamination facility..>" General waves a hand, "<Minor details through and through.. it must be said that you will have to ask, on our part, to make sure he returns every child, Father..>"

"< Well good. I dislike all these secrets that people think are for everyone else's welfare. >" Julie nods once, and then sinks down into a chair somewhere in the room to begin rubbing at her eyes in a tired manner. ""

Dr. Doppler gives Octavius a nod. "" His frown deepens again as he looks at Dr. Matthews, this time in concern. Could he actually care about a human being? "< Do not apologize. But do take care of that arm. >"

Prismatic Spider finally moves again, simply observing everything so far in the safety of his hazmat suit. "<I'm glad everything seems to have turned out well...>" He looks over to General. "<So... When are we sending the Patriarch home?>" It's probably the closest to 'father' he'll ever call Doppler. He still has his opinions on things, but he is at least courteous.

Dr. Matthews flashes a wan smile at the doctorly advice. She would likely say the same, so she merely nods, and gives her arm another scratch. ""

Dr. Doppler mulls things over. "< What is your advice, Doctor? Am I safe to travel, or be kept for observation. For now, I am in your hands. >" He also looks about. "< If I am to move, then I would like my cane back. >"

Dr. Matthews takes a deep breath, a half-yawn of sorts, before forcing it down to blink rapidly several times. Rather than remain seated she rises, and rubs a hand over her face to get the feeling back in it. The quesion from Doppler catches her off-guard however. "< ... We might wait awhile to see if there's any secondary infection, since you have a history of it. Perhaps rest the night, and we'll see how things go in the morning. I can check on your progress throughout the night. >" Without even waiting for an answer she turns her arm over to begin programing the alarm on her wrist watch/canopener/gizmothingy.

Prismatic Spider purses his thin lips. "<Given the rest of your body is still infected, and you just had brain surgery, I agree with Doctor Matthews. You should rest.> He turns to the console, and begins shutting them down, and locking them off for use. No need to give who is really a prisoner possible access to restricted information. "<Tomorrow we will see if everything works out, all right? I'm glad you are feeling better, however.>"

General inclines his head slightly, "<That would be wise indeed.>" Not that General confesses that having an extra day of talk with his creator, however much ill Sigmund has done, would be nice. To talk to him with his mind oriented.. it brings a faint visage of a smile to his facemold.

Dr. Doppler gives a small, ginger nod. He is trying to be careful with himself - he knows all too well the routine. "< Then I would very much like to sleep. I feel as if I haven't in years. >"

In a less busy area of the medical facilities, wounded are being loaded. A massive griffon carries in a broken eagle, setting her down somewhere to be looked at when the medics get a chance.. he's got more work to do.

Hailstorm seems to be offline while she waits for some help.

"< Now that sounds like a plan. Sleep. >" Rigger rubs a hand over her face only to pause as Hailstorm is dragged in. A small frown creeps over her, and she glances around momentarily. With a sigh she trudges over to the Repliforcer to check her over out of habit, even if it's just a visual once-over at the moment.

Prismatic Spider nods. "<Very well. Sleep well, Doctor Doppler. You've earned it.>" He turns, and then begins heading from the quarantine area to be checked and out of that hazmat gear. It clings!

<Chain of Command> Enker says, "I'm sorry!"

The eagle's missing a wing, half her hair, a great amount of her armor from crown to chest to belt has been blasted away revealing ugly bluish gray underarmor, and her optics have been gorily stabbed out.

<Chain of Command> Dr. Sarah Fairchild says, "We'll just have to make it TRULY epic when it does happen."

Octavius just nods a little bit, "<Indeed, indeed.. I think I might take that route myself soon, as I myself am approaching the need to recharge my batteries..>" The Repliforce Commander flicks a glance towards Hailstorm, looking more than a bit alarmed.. "Goodness.. Prismatic, over here.." he gestures for Prismatic over at the Eagle. "It's good to see that you did not suffer any more damage than you did here, Sergeant."

Hailstorm is also about as responsive and mobile as a stone.

Dr. Doppler begins to lie down again. Sleeping on the surgical table doesn't seem to bother him in the least. The small frown deepens again as he spots Hailstorm being brought in, and for a moment, his fingers twitch. The doctor and father in him want so badly for him to stand up, cross the room, and see to her repairs. The fact that these acts are impossible for him leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. "< Take care of her, >" he mutters to no one in particular as he closes his eyes. Sleep claims him quickly, this time without the whispered dreams.