Feburay 24, mid-day; Video; OTA

[manyvoiced]

[It took about a week for Breq to realise something was wrong. Maybe she’d set the angle of her broken wrist wrong, maybe she hadn’t been as careful about the disinfection as she thought she’d been. She had field experience with treating wounds, but she was no doctor. She’d treated herself only because it would be obvious to anyone worth seeing that she wasn’t the normal, baseline human she claimed to be. There were lies she could tell of course; exaggerations and deflections, but it had seemed easier to take care of things herself. Easier to hide the lies you don't have to tell. A few broken fingers and cuts wasn’t really worth blowing her cover over.

Or at least it hadn’t seemed like it at the time. But now something was obviously amiss. Her wrist only seemed to be getting worse, and whether the pallor in her face is from pain or fever is anyone’s guess.]

I’m looking for someone on the ship with medical experience. Someone with experience with… [She hesitates, teetering on the edge of divulging more than she wanted.] atypical physiology. Someone discreet.

[It’s vague, and it’s going to stay exactly that vague on public networks. She knows asking for discretion only raises more questions, but there's no avoiding it.]