7/3/2011 Image:Doac jpg.JPG The med bay smells terrible, strongly reeking of antiseptic and solvent to fight back the armor crawl contamination in the area. Ratchet is muttering various curses as he makes his third pass around the berths to decontaminate the 'Bay, and while he's sure by now that First Aid isn't to blame -- much -- he'd rather ensure this gets done right by doing it himself. Dually strolls in, scratching idly. "Hey, anyone in here?" He calls loudly. Ratchet pokes his head up from where he's been scrubbing the lifting mechanism under a berth. "I am." He stares. "You're scratching."