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Aleck glanced in the proffered jar. "It is, but I don't know how to use it." That was real healer business, not the son of a master healer who just happened to lecture a lot. "Let's put the odd stuff aside until we get someone who knows what to do with it." Then he turned his attention to the cupboard. There was a hard set to his jaw and his eyes as he looked over its contents - staring at them, really, willing them to be his focus. Practicality was a lifeline, organization an aegis. "Looks good," he said after a pause. "We'll have to triage if too many come in." What was assembled and sorted looked.. rather sparse. There'd been looters here, and he felt a flash of irritation at people being people as he turned to face Carltis.

"There's enough beds for barricades and maybe a crate or two might have more weapons about-" smuggled in for the revolution, probably, but that was a pet theory he shouldn't rely on "-but," he took a breath, "if we have to evacuate, and if there's no one else who knows what to do, we need things ready." Panicking, shoving, people would be bad news for anyone around them, especially the injured. "Best bet is the dragon side of this place; we can get stretchers ready to go, and have.." What had Bereck said? How could he forget so quickly! "Numbers, or colors, to match people up to dragons. And someone to keep order, otherwise it'll all go to between. You want to loom at people?" Even as he said it, he was aware this conversation was being had between two banged-up weyrbrats, one of them missing his shirt and not a ranking knot between them.

But they were all that was there.

All Aleck said about the dragons was "I think so." Then, stiffly, "I'll check." He needed to anyway, needed to see what condition Berath was in. It would help him to think.

"Then dragon names. Simple enough." Simple and straightforward. Aleck might have had an unkind thought for the other weyrbrat's impatience - he hadn't known because his father had passed out, but he wasn't thinking like that at the moment. This was about movement - of information and objects - and when you looked at the situation as a collection of things it was easy to forego politeness and human feeling in favor of efficiency.

For the moment, he was okay with that.

The object known as Aleck said "Right." Then it turned and left. The human part glanced over at Bereck before the weyrbrat passed into the main room of the infirmary and cracked open the door to the dragon side, cautious of what he might find. Hopefully Berath, reasonably alive.

He saw.. green, flecked with green. It took him a moment to register what it was - ichor, drying on a familiar mossy hide that was thoroughly blocking the door. Guarding it. Trying to stay disconnected and focused as he was, Aleck felt a little surge of love for the mammoth creature and reached out, brushing Berath's hindflank with his fingertips as she started to move. She didn't look as bad as he'd feared, and she was moving. Maybe whatever had been fighting her had realized she wasn't one to tangle with and.. oh. Oh.

She'd turned around.

What had they done to his father's dragon?

The brunet's arms came up, the left one a little awkwardly, to embrace the blocky muzzle. It was sticky with ichor and now Aleck was too across his chest and bandages, but he hardly cared. "Hi Berr," he managed, seeing his reflection in the great whirling eye as he leaned into her snout. "I'm okay. I got the wher that hurt Dad - it won't move - and he's.. resting." He had to be. "I did everything I could, and I'm checking on him, but-" But what? "I don't know if Dad asked you to send the message. Can you fly?" Are you all right? He felt guilty for moving the conversation along, but with his back to the main infirmary entrance he felt exposed, aware the doors might slam open at any moment. But Faranth, her eye, her face.. He knew less of dragonhealing than he did of humans, but there had to be something he could do.

[Created Characted, Becka, Apprentice Healer, just arriving on a random incoming Dragon]

Becka felt slightly sick, she'd seen so much pain recently. When the Revolution began she was lucky to have been out gathering healing supplies, when she'd reached the Weyr proper and saw what was going on she'd hidden, feeling terrible everytime she heard Whers and Dragons clashing, fighting each other. She wanted so badly to go out and help but the one time she had she'd felt sick, the ichor all over the place, the odd Dead Wher here and there, small, crumpled forms of Firelizards too. She'd managed to find a dragonrider headed to the Infirmary. As they circled above and drew closer to where the dragons were she spotted a dragon she knew well and her heart broke, the fact Berath was in the Infirmary meant she must be hurt. Once the dragon she was on landed, Becka was off and sprinting towards Berath "Berath!... oh Berath... what have they done to you?" she asked, her voice cracking as she took in the injuries to the Green. She didn't take much notice of Aleck really, her focus on Berath and wondering what was being done to help her.

A little of the tension went out of Aleck's shoulders then; he exhaled and closed his eyes briefly. She would, too - she'd fight all of Pern if she had to, but it was better that she didn't fight alone. "Me too. Thanks, Berr." There'd be people coming now, maybe among them a healer who could do more for his father than-

Running feet!

The brunet jerked his head up and pulled away from the green, ready for another attack. But it was a young girl, looking distressed and familiar in a vague sort of way, and at Berath's identification he paused. The lanky weyrbrat himself was a sight; he'd lost his shirt to something, one shoulder was bandaged, and multiple bruises were forming on his face and torso under the ichor streaked across his chest. "You're an apprentice?" he asked, fixing on Becka. He kept his good arm curled around Berath's muzzle. "How far are you - do they let you treat people yet?"

Berath's right eye shifted from blue-grey to yellow-grey, and she had to repress a keen at the mention of HerHealer; she had to be as strong and confident of his survival as she could for HerHatchling. Of course the apprentice had assumed Bereck was alright; he was a constant in the infirmary, solid and steady as the foundations of the Weyr, or maybe she just felt that way because he was Hers.

she explained, her mental voice now twanging with worry despite her efforts to keep it calm for Aleck's sake, She couldn't bring herself to say it, to explain that HerHealer was... hurt. His heart weak, breath shallow, both racing as his body struggled to deal with the massive blood loss. He would make it, wouldn't he? As solid as the Weyr, but the Weyr might yet fall.

Becka snapped her head round at Aleck, she'd been looking at Berath, trying to see where was bleeding the most. There were other hurt dragons sure but Berath was her friend, she'd help if she could. "He's..... What?!" she said, stunned at the harshness of Aleck's words, Berath's mental voice now made sense, she'd sounded so tired and worried but Becka had assumed that was just because Berath was a very loving dragon and hated that people were hurt. "Berath.. it's ok ... " she whispered, trying to reassure both herself and the dragon but mostly herself.

She looked back to Aleck when he spoke again, trying to keep the shocked look from her face though she was sure, despite the Malvren tan, she'd gone white. "Is he awake or unconcious Aleck" she said, her tone not exactly certain but trying to be professional, despite it being her master. "Is he hot or cold to the touch?" she asked him, time wasting ... perhaps but important to know before she rushed in, if he was hot with an infection, which in the heat of Malvren, could be very fast working, then stitching wounds closed would be bad unless they had clean water to wash them out with. "Berath, i'm going to make suer Bereck is alright, i need you to try and speak to him whenever you hear him awake, let him know you're there, it will keep both of you strong and living" she said, knowing that if Berath died, Bereck might not want to carry on living himself, and that having his Dragon there for him, would give him a reason to fight and stay with them "Aleck, wash out her wounds with clean water ... then bandage her up as tight as you can... be gentle with her eye though" she said, almost bossily. "Berath, it will hurt but let Aleck do what he needs to ok... it will help you and Bereck" she said a little more gently.

Any other time the brunet had been seen with his father, he was.. mild, possessed of a calm demeanor and pleasant smile as he dropped in to make sure the healer had eaten or slept in the last two days or to return or borrow some medical treatise.

He wasn't any of those things right now.

Why was she wasting time giving Berath advice she didn't know, telling him how to do what he already had a- all right, an admittedly vague idea of, and asking things she'd find out if she just went in there? If this was his craft he'd up and do it himself, but it wasn't, and his helplessness was the most frustrating thing of all. He didn't know enough!

Worn thin by fighting, fear, and the first major act of violence he'd committed in his life, Aleck's patience quietly snapped.

"It's tachycardia, tachypnea and hypovolemia," he said instead of something slightly rude like 'sharding hell.' "Look." He held up an exasperated finger. "He's in shock, she knows, infection takes a day to show up and I know at least that much about treatment so please go!" Each clause was punctuated by a gesture - to the door, the dragon, himself, and the door again. His tone was urgent, even desperate. It certainly wasn't even-tempered, and his mouth was a tight line.