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Post by Carrow on Sept 2, 2010 5:50:44 GMT -5
Carrow really couldn't help it at this point. He was tired and stressed as a result of the day anyway, so would have felt out of sorts no matter what else had happened, it was just that Caden's situation had made the wood mouse feel quite a bit worse. He could have pawdled his weariness and his stress under different circumstances - both were things he lived with on a day-to-day basis after all - but there was nothing he could do to keep from worrying about his pine marten friend. If he was alright, all well and good, but... what if he wasn't?
He was surprised at what Elliot did next, however. As soon as the beech marten placed his paws on the mouse's shoulders, he felt frozen in place, unable to move and searching desperately for anywhere he could look. He tried not to meet his friend's gaze, but, time time and time again, Carrow felt himself being drawn to Elliot's eyes. His gaze was quite comforting, and if there was anything in the world the rodent needed more at this moment in time, it was to be comforted; so he relented and looked into the mustelid's eyes, smiling a little.
He listened to his words without saying anything, but knew that there was something Elliot was neglecting to mention, and as soon as she had finished speaking, he spoke up, unable to hide the smile that appeared when the marten playfully 'punched' him. "Yes.... I know he's been through a lot, and in a way we all have, but there's always the question of when it's become too much to pawdle. To me, Caden's most definitely a strong creature, probably the strongest one I've met so far, but the load that some beasts carry can become too heavy for them to keep lifting up, regardless of how much they want to fight it.
"I guess what I'm trying to say is: based on past experiences, we would assume that our pine marten friend is holding up just fine, but there's a strong possibility that things have gotten worse since I last spoke to him a few hours ago. He looked sort of hopeless to me, before I left, and I couldn't stop thinking of him while I was on duty. Let's hope that he's doing alright, and well, if he's not, then, as you say, the three of us are going to have to work to pull him out of it," the long-tailed field mouse told his other marten friend, the small smile that had formed remaining on his features.
He shook himself, trying to clear the cobwebs. Carrow realised then that he had forgotten to pick up his tray. "Good grief...," he murmured, "I'm practically sleepwalking at this stage!" A wry chuckle followed from the mouse, and he placed Caden's plate and the two mugs down on a nearby tray, lifting it once he was done. "Elliot... hopefully I'll be alright sometime. Don't worry about me, okay? I've been here before, and probably will be again. It's just something I've learned to live with, in a manner of speaking. Things would have course been better without Caden getting attacked like that, but what can we do?"
The youngster moved in front of Elliot, glancing back at Selvis as the beech marten delivered his question. The long-tailed weasel had sat there in silence, listening to the two converse. He couldn't help thinking that Carrow wasn't doing himself any favours, filling his mind with thoughts as depressing as that. Somehow, the weasel knew that he stood with Elle as far as the issue of Caden's wellbeing went. He seemed tougher than most creatures the mustelid had known in the past, at least from what he had been told by his mouse friend, so probably would pull through.
"Well, actually, now that I think about it," Selvis said gently, chuckling as he stood up and took his tray in his paws, "I would much prefer to come with you and see Caden for myself. I think it'll do him good to see all three of us there for him, so I reckon I'll tag along with you both... that is if you don't mind," he murmured, smiling, but this time a little bashfully, which couldn't be said to be something he did all that often. Bashfulness was not something that Selvis Frenata was known for. He stood, tail gently swaying as it did out of habit, as he waited for a response.
Carrow's eyes lit up at this idea. "Sure! Why not? As you said, it'll probably help him feel better if he knows that we're all going to be there for him" - and, by extension, me, the Dibbun thought, certain that seeing his albino companion in good form would have the knock-on effect of helping Carrow out of his despondency - "so I'm all for that. If you want to come along, neither of us are going to be stopping you!," he exclaimed, tipping his weasel friend a mischievous wink. "Right, then, if we're all set, I suppose we should get going. Caden's going to be starving I'd say." With that said, the mouse began heading for the Sick Berth, going in the direction of the bow of the ship and leading the way for his friends.
Moments later, the trio of friends had arrived at the entrance to the Sick Berth. It had been precarious for Carrow, who didn't have good balance - a problem exacerbated by the try he was carrying - but both Selvis and Elle managed just fine, each keeping as good a hold on their respective trays (and by extension, suppers) as they could manage under the circumstances. It wasn't the easiest of journeys, but Carrow had to admit he was more used to it by now than his companions, having made it twice beforepaw, earlier in the day.
The door was open partially, so the wood mouse placed his tray down on the dick timbers for a moment so as to facilitate his opening of the aperture. When that task was completed, he took of his tray and headed inside, and his two friends followed him, both as eager as each other to see their stricken pine marten friend. Carrow spotted Kasal, on one of his rounds, and went over to the older mustelid, Elle and Selvis of course following in his wake. "Visitors for Caden Fugate," he said gently, nodding towards his tray.
With this said, the Dibbun mouse headed over to his bed-bound albino friend, smiling slightly at Caden as he spotted that the tired creature was dozing. "Wakey, wakey, mate," he called softly, placing his tray down beside him before taking his mug of rum in his paw and taking a seat in the hard-backed chair that had remained there from the rodent's first visit a number of hours ago.
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Post by Ladorak on Sept 3, 2010 12:34:43 GMT -5
The fleet was by now well in toward the harbor, entering the inner position and safely passing the forts. No hostile fire erupted from these occupied posts, and the Allied fleet continued on its way unmolested.
By now supper was practically over, and the mess cooks were gathering up the plates and taking them to the wash basins. Spender had not said much since his withdrawal into himself, and had not responded to Ocean's queries. Sighing, the ermine took Spender's plate (the food had been downed by the voracious Willard), gathered up the rest of the wooden utensils and stacked the plates together for easier carrying.
Bringing them up to the basin, Ocean stood beside a few others and dropped the contents of his paws into the sudsy water, carefully scrubbing them down and hoping that Willard wasn't glancing over his shoulder like the last time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kasal was not in fact on duty during supper, so the mouse must have mistook the Assistant Surgeon sitting behind the desk for Kasal, as the mouse rapidly introduced himself then brushed by the table and immediately headed for a hanging cot.
The Assistant Surgeon merely stared in wide eyed amazement. "Caden Fugate? And here hold on!" he shouted after the mouse. "You need to check in first." As supper was nearly over, the group had around ten minutes before the Second Dog Watch started. "Caden Fugate...Caden Fugate..."
If Carrow got closer, the mouse would observe that that was not in fact Caden Fugate on the hanging cot. White fur yes, but not an albino pine marten. It was matter of fact an arctic fox, looking quite sick and obviously a long way from home. "Caden Fugate?" the Assistant Surgeon asked again. "Caden Fugate's checked out a little while ago. I believe you're at the wrong bed." The fox stirred in his bed, cracking his eyes at Carrow and giving him a confused look.
The Assistant Surgeon glanced up from his book. The fellow was a sable, making him look a tad like Kasal, so perhaps the mouse had confused the two in his haste. "Patients with fractures aren't required to stay here...well in fact NO patients are required to stay here if they really don't want to, and it seems your Mr. Fugate checked himself out about ohhhh...twenty minutes ago according to the log. I'm sorry, seems you just missed him."
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Post by Carrow on Sept 3, 2010 13:37:41 GMT -5
Carrow was completely crestfallen at the creature's words. STUPID mouse, he told himself, whiskers drooping again as he fought to overcome the waves of embarrassment, and, moreover, anxiety, that were crashing over him, causing the tray to shake and tremble in his paws. THAT's what you get for rushing into things. You shouldn't just have assumed he was there, and now look what's happened! You've really let yourself down this time, he thought.
The wood mouse turned beetroot red as he realised what had occurred. "I-I-I'm sorry...," he stammered in response, "I w-was just s-so sure h-he was here...," he murmured sheepishly, completely mortified at this unexpected turn of events. "Sorry we bothered you, sir," he said softly to the sable Assisatant Surgeon, thoughts of his personal humiliation running through his head at light speed as he picked up his things. He hated to screw up like this, and not for the first time he wished fervently that he could just disappear.
Without another word, the rodent turned and headed outside, his thoughts turning dark again. Another screw-up... Another mistake... and in front of his other two friends as well. The Dibbun felt the weight of the world begin to descend upon his shoulders again, making him feel even worse than he had been doing before. His exhaustion had deserted him momentarily to be replaced by a crushing disappointment. He had so been looking forward to seeing Caden after all.
Even worse than this was the fact that the youngster had absolutely no idea where his friend had gotten to, and as he thought of how the pine marten had recently been feeling, a horrible notion crossed his mind, and he turned ghost white, the tray trembling visibly in his paws now as he tried to force it out of his mind. He didn't have the heart to fight it, though, in his present state of mind, and couldn't help but wonder whether Caden's recent troubles had gotten the better of him and he'd left his bed to end it all...
He began walking again, taking the stairs almost automatically at this point, appearing to his two friends to be in a dazed and unfocused state. Caden could be dead, he thought. He might have given in to his despair and taken his own life. This thought filled the long-tailed field mouse with more dread than he could bear, and he was struggling not to burst out crying as he made his way down the flights of stairs, with his friends following silently in his wake.
As soon as the trio began to approach the mess once again, Selvis leaned in and whispered in his mouse friend's ear. "Everything alright, mate?" Carrow shook his head vehemently, in response to which the weasel merely smiled. He patted his diminutive companion's shoulder gently. "Well then," he said softly, using a reassuring tone of voice that he thought could help put his friend at ease, "why not let's sit down and talk about it for the time we have left?" Of course, Selvis had already learned than when it came to Carrow, this was much more easily said than done.
The young mouse nodded slowly at this, and cautiously made his way over to where the group had been seated a while before. He was the first to sit... and then almost immediately stood up again, leaving his mug of rum untouched and left on the table. "Wait. No, Selvis. You two stay here and eat. I know you need to have something to keep yourselves going for the rest of the day after all. As for me, well, as I said earlier, I'm not hungry, so I'm going to make myself useful for once and go look for Caden."
Selvis nodded. "Alright. I, for one, don't want to have to tackle duty on an empty stomach, especially when I'm actually hungry." The cheerful weasel smiled again, looking into Carrow's eyes to help calm the mouse, who was trembling slightly under the weight of everything that pressed down on him and - in particular - the thought that he might already have lost his best friend. "Listen to me, Carrow. Caden's most likely fine. Keep in mind that he can still walk anyway, regardless of his injury, so perhaps he just got out to stretch his legs? He wasn't confined to bed in that sense, after all.
"I'm sure you'll find him somewhere. Good luck, mousey," the mustelid said kindly, beaming at his younger friend. Carrow smiled back, though the old timidness that had afflicted him in past was making a return... and his weariness had come back worse than ever. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, but the albino marten's tray was still in his paws, and the sight of it helped him focus. "I always have a habit of assuming the worst anyway," he remarked in a self-deprecating fashion. "See you soon..." Ten minutes to Dog Watch... ten minutes to Dog Watch..., he thought, as he turned and went back the way he had come, out onto the lower gun deck to start his search for his injured best friend.
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Post by Ladorak on Sept 3, 2010 22:42:32 GMT -5
It was abundantly clear however, after a brief sweep of the lower gun deck, that Caden was not here. At least not in plain sight. The tables were being winched back up into the ceiling, and the mess cooks were busy scrubbing away at their plates and utensils.
Caden wasn't in sight on the lower gun deck, that much was clear. Evening was fast coming on, the light fading from the open gun ports as it neared 6 PM. There was light enough outside though, the crimson and oranges of the setting sun playing an eerie and yet still dazzling hue over everything they touched. It was all practiced bravado, the sun bathing this section of the world in its last vestiges of light before it too would vanish below the horizon.
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Post by Carrow on Sept 4, 2010 6:00:59 GMT -5
Carrow realised, to his sheer despair, that he had even less time to search for his companion than he'd first assumed. He knew he had his mess cook duties to attend to as well, and the thought of being ounished for not doing so was not something he was prepared to deal with. So the mouse continued his search on the lower gun deck, finding nothing and growing more dpressed about the whole situation by the second.
Suddenly, a thought struck him. The pine marten might have gotten out of bed to continue his studies in the gun room. Perhaps he felt more comfortable doing so in surroundings that were more familiar to him, and more tranquil, than the Sick Berth, which was active and filled with hustle and bustle most of the time. With this thought in mind, the rodent headed for the gun room. He realised he was breaking the rules if he slipped in here, but desperate times did indeed call for desperate measures.
Where the hell could he be?, the wood mouse thought as he went in to the confines of the gun room. He wasn't a Volunteer Class or anything else that seemed marginally important, just plain old Seajack Cerinus Apodemus, but he was prepared to go to great lengths in the search for his companion, regardless of what the consquences might be. The higher-ups weren't heartless after all, were they? "Caden? Caden?," he called softly, wondering if he would find his friend here trying to find some peace and quiet.
The youngster whipped out his pocket watch. 5:53... no, 5:54 pm. He only had two minutes at the absolute most before he'd have to abandon things or risk getting punished for not carrying out allotted tasks. The thing is, though, the mouse didn't feel prepared to call it off. Not just yet, he thought. I have to keep going. If he's not down here, I'm sunk. By the time I got anywhere else it would already be too late for me. Please be here, Caden... please... for both our sakes...
Selvis had been famished, and as such was devouring his food now. He had dealt speedily with his oatmeal and was now exacting like treatment upon his meat. The food was certainly old, but he wasn't going to complain, as it was palatable enough at this stage. He was unaware that Carrow was relatively not all that far away from him.
The weasel was worried about his rodent companion. He had his heart set on finding the pine marten and making sure he was alright, but couldn't help but wonder how the Dibbun would be affected if his search proved fruitless. All three creatures knew just how much Carrow needed his albino friend at this point in time, and it could be seen that he was barely hanging on as it was. The longtail just hoped that the younger creature wouldn't be tipped over the edge if he should fail in his endeavours, and plunged into lasting despair... but realised he was probably hoping against hope.
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Post by spender on Sept 4, 2010 7:28:35 GMT -5
Spender didn't move from the table as the dishes were cleared away. He clung to his mug as if it were an anchor, and he a rollicking schooner being yanked by tides. He had fallen asleep, briefly, lulled by his own disquietude.
Time and time again, the dream came up. He would raise the mug, and then lower it, swiftly, onto his other paw. Just break the wrist--that was all he wanted. They couldn't make him work, then. He'd get special treatment, just like Caden always did. Maybe Ocean would feel sorry for him then.
But however hard he tried, the courage failed him. Even in his wildest imaginations, Spender didn't sit well with self-harm. It was in his instinct to avoid hurt, so why would he seek it out?
A tap at his shoulder caused him to flinch up, nearly striking the intruder into his personal space.
Peskers jerked back.
"Relax!" she hissed, her voice low. "I saved you some rum... Ocean and Willard have gone, and I need to wash the mug, so hurry up... not like I care..."
Spender stared at his fellow ferret a moment or two, and, still not breaking his gaze, raised the mug to his maw, and drank. It was only dregs, and with his tolerance, half a pint alone was barely enough to give him a buzz, but it was far more enjoyable than water.
Peskers dug into her pocket and produced a few strips of cheese and a slice of meat. These she left on the table in front of Spender.
"They fell on the floor," she explained. "I'm not going to eat them." Her nose scrunched up curiously, and she quickly turned away and stomped off with their mugs, muttering. "Hey, don't bother to thank me or anything..."
Spender slipped the food into his pocket.
Willard sighed wistfully. As far as he was concerned, this was the best day ever. Two full courses... what more could a weasel ask for? But... Except, maybe...
Dancing on his paws, he knocked again.
"Hurrrry uuuuup, pleeeeeease!"
The rat finally came out of the head, and Willard popped in. A few minutes later, he sighed again, this time contented. His stomach gurgled its displeasure at having been stretched more than its usual allowance. Willard told it to be quiet and be thankful. It was a glorious day! And soon it would be time for their next shift! Joy of joys!
On his way back to check that Ocean had done the dishes properly, he spotted Carrow. Odd, that the mouse would be here--hadn't he overheard the fellow say he was going to the Sick Berth, or hadn't someone else mentioned it? Willard was sure he had, because before he'd left, he'd been paying attention to the fact that Carrow hadn't immediately gone to do his duties as mess cook. And that some of their mess were still eating. Slowpokes!
Frowning, Willard tailed the mouse. Where was he going? What was he up to? The gun room? But he and Caden were the only striplings allowed--oh no! Breach of, of... of ship's law! Or what was it! Oh no! The rules! Bad, bad, bad mouse!
Willard's tail was bottlebrushed, and he fidgeted immensely, too excited by the occurrence to remember what he was supposed to do about it, or what the misdeed was even called. Auto-pilot finally kicked in, and the weasel's paw shot out, pointer claw pointing very pointedly at the crime. His eyes bugged and he shouted--but nothing came out. His voice was gone. He could only stand there, rasping wordlessly at the outrageous miscreant rodent.
Realizing he wasn't getting anything done, Willard spun around and raced off to find someone, anyone, to alert them.
The first someone he found was actually standing immediately behind him, insofar as a cannon could stand. And it found him--right between the eyes, so the saying went. His footpaw snagged on the wheel, and he fell forward, his nose smacking into the metal tube with a wet thunk.
The weasel bounced off and fell on his back, dazed and confused, gawping like a winded fish.
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Post by Ladorak on Sept 4, 2010 9:24:34 GMT -5
Caden lifted his head, quickly wiping his tear stained eyes. He had been sitting against the hull way in the back by the tiller, close to his berth in the gun room when suddenly he had heard Carrow calling his name. Carrow?! He was back in here!?
Slapping the thick book shut that he had been using for studying, the albino roughly shoved it into his haversack and rounded the corner to look down the corridor with cabins for the Gunner and Marine Lieutenants on his right and left. They were all upstairs eating in the Wardroom, so Carrow was lucky that this place was relatively empty right now, but they'd soon begin to trickle down now that supper was almost over.
"Carrow!?" he asked, shocked to see the mouse in here. "What are you doing in here? You can't be in here!" he hurriedly charged down the corridor, placing his paws on Carrow and rapidly shoving him out the door and pushing the open door closed with his tail behind him.
Now that they were out on the lower gun deck they were safe, and just in time too as the Gunner came tramping down the stairs to head to his cabin. A red coated Marine Lieutenant or two was behind him as well. Breathing a sigh of relief, the marten looked at Carrow confusedly. "What...are you doing here?" he asked, hoping the mouse wouldn't notice the redness in his eyes (making them even more so) from when he'd been crying.
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There was less than five minutes left now until the Second Dog Watch started, and Ocean was all done cleaning the plates, mugs and utensils. Humming to himself, the ermine retrieved them from the basin and began walking back to their mess in order to stow them in the racks.
Placing each one in its proper spot over his head (the racks were underneath the table which was now hanging from the ceiling), Ocean paused as he saw Willard's head sticking out from behind a gun carriage. What on earth...?
"Willard?" the stripling asked, tentatively approaching the semi-conscious weasel.
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Post by Carrow on Sept 4, 2010 10:51:13 GMT -5
Carrow's face lit up when he spotted his pine marten companion. He'd taken a risk and it had paid off for once! Caden was indeed in the gun room! He smiled even as the taller mustelid guided him outside, simply overjoyed to see his best friend again. All of a sudden, the mouse felt quite a bit better. Still tired, yes, but better all the same.
The wood mouse smiled softly at his mustelid friend when Caden asked about the rodent's reasons for being where he was. To all intents and purposes, he had been tresspassing, but now that he was out of danger, he'd ceased to care about this. It was then the mouse noticed the redness present in his friend's pink eyes that had almost turned them crimson.
"Oh, Caden!," he exclaimed, smile widening. "The only reason I'm even down here is because... well, we went up to check on you about fifteen minutes back, and when I asked to see you, I was told that you had left." He purposefully left out the part where he'd almost burst into tears over his mistake. There was no point going back into that after all.
"I panicked then, Caden. I really did. I had no idea where you were, see, and I knew you had been feeling low when I'd seen you earlier, so I knew I had to find you and make sure you were okay. I just couldn't go another moment without seeing you, especially not after what happened." Here, the youngster's voice trembled a little. It was all coming out now, he knew it.
"I've been concerned about you, you know, and all I wanted to do was find you and make sure you were alright, regardless of the consquences." Of course, he realised his friend had been crying, but he didn't mind that at all. He'd been going through a rough patch, of course, and if he'd seen the marten stone-faced and dry-eyed, he would have felt he was bottling his emotions up, and Carrow knew from experience that that never ended well.
As it was, he declined to comment on it, instead turning his thoughts to other matters."I'm so relieved to see you again... here, I brought you some food. It's probably a little less than warm at this point, but you're welcome to it if you want it," he told Caden, chuckling a little now. "I didn't eat at supper. Hadn't been feeling like it anyway, and I still don't, so it's no skin off my snout. As said, if you want this, you can have it." He fell silent then, wondering what Caden's response to all this would be, pulling out his pocket watch again for another time check. Five minutes... and counting.
Selvis had finished his food at this point. The weasel had no time to drink any of his rum. He was now waiting on Carrow's return, and wondering whether or not the mouse had been successful in his search. Things were quietening down now, but even if the weasel strained his ears as hard as he could, he could not of course come within any distance of the ongoing conversation between his fellow mustelid and the rodent. He supposed it would all become clear what had happened when he saw Carrow again. He had not forgotten that the long-tailed field mouse was on Mess Cook duty, but knew his friend would most likely still have time to complete his task.
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Post by spender on Sept 4, 2010 17:35:01 GMT -5
Willard tried to focus on Ocean's face. He didn't know what the stoat had done, but everything was wobbling, and there was an upsetting dullness in his ears.
"I'b fibe," he muttered. He lowered his paws from his face, revealing that he was most likely not at all fine. His paws were dripping, his nose was a mangled accordion that would turn purple and green within the hour, and one of his upper fangs was sticking out at an impossible angle. The tooth was beyond saving.
The weasel sat himself up and leaned back against a cannon. He waved a paw in the vague direction of the gun room--which is to say, the entire stern half of the deck.
"C'ber's fneekin' inber g'broob..." he wheezed. "B'kin' rubes, gobba tell ogsif'r..."
His eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped.
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Post by Ladorak on Sept 5, 2010 0:15:06 GMT -5
Caden sniffled a bit, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. So Carrow was worried about him? Caden had felt a little abandoned during supper, considering that no one had come to visit him at first. He figured his friends had forgotten about him, and that they simply didn't care enough about the marten with the broken paw.
But Carrow had come for him, and had even broken regulations to go looking for him. Maybe he wasn't as worthless to his friends as he imagined himself to be over supper. He smiled down at the food, shaking his head. "Why don't you quickly help yourself eh? The Orderlies brought me my supper a bit ago, so I don't need it. But thanks anyway. And...thanks for finding me. I thought that maybe well...none of you wanted to see me." he said, that small smile still on his face.
Perhaps he was an angel...rejected by most of the world. And maybe Ladorak was a god that had forsaken his immortality to help those in need. It was nice to think of things that way. Hearing the commotion of beasts scampering about and heading up above decks, the marten looked up at the ceiling. "You'd better get going eh? Don't worry about me. I'll just be down at my berth in the gun room. You got your duties to take care of. I think the watch is starting so you should hurry!" the marten urged his mouse companion to make haste, but patted his shoulder as a way of thanks for what he'd done.
"I'll see you around...and thanks again Carrow." he gave his mouse shipmate a nod, the smile still on his lips, thin though it was. He was starting to see things in a different light now, and knew he could keep going because of this.
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Ocean was surprised that Willard had seemingly been knocked senseless on the deck. He couldn't make heads or tails of the weasel's swollen ramblings, so he decided it was best to take the stripling up to the Sick Berth and see what the Surgeons had to say.
Pushing his arms under the prone weasel, Ocean hefted him up and began to carry him to the companionway that led to the upper gun deck and the Sick Berth.
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And that concluded the occupation of Toulon. Not a shot was fired in securing Rosferia's second largest naval base, but holding it was another matter entirely. Ladorak needed to take the Agamemnon to Naples in order to secure reinforcements, and it would be a trip of around a week and a half. The saga would continue with the Agamemnon's arrival in said port city in the Calgary Alliance...
END
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