//------------------------------//
// Chapter Four: Protective 
// Story: Unknown 
// by Divide 
//------------------------------//

Unknown

Chapter Four: Protective




I jogged back to the Cryogenic Chamber Room with the patient still in my arms. She flitted in an out of consciousness, always muttering some form of thanks towards me or a prayer towards someone else before lapsing back into a fitful state I dared not call rest. I had no medical training, but I knew that wasn't a good sign.

Conveniently, the large article of cloth was exactly what I needed. I rolled the survivor up in it, for her muscles were spasming from the cold, and I had nothing else to use as a bed spread. I left her on a quickly cleared section of floor, and went to work on finding medical supplies.

I tore up the room, both metaphorically and literally, in my search. I did so with relish. Finally, I had a purpose, a job that didn't require abstract thought on matters I had never before considered.

There was an injured person. Find medical supplies. Fix injured person. A simple matter.

After overturning a chair, I found the first aid kit. Or what was left of it. The hard plastic box was shredded, but still seemingly functional. I popped open the clasp and was met with nothing but air. Tossing the kit aside, I removed my helmet and went on my hands and knees, rummaging through the overturned room to find whatever spilled supplies I could.

By the end of my scrounging session, I had procured two syringes of desomorphine, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a large role of bandages, some gauze, and a small box of needle and thread. It would have to do.

Upon glancing down at my bulky, gloved hands that held the items that would possibly save this woman's life, I realized that I couldn't hope to accomplish any form of medical treatment without the full use of my fingers. I could reload and press the buttons on a large keypad, but handling a needle and thread would be outside of my dexterity.

I placed the supplies in a pile and went to work, meticulously undoing the straps and buckles that would free me. My armour came together in sections, and I had to remove the armour from almost my entire torso upwards to do something as simple as take my gloves off.

I guess they never expected a Juggernaut to do anything other than kill. Maybe—just maybe—I could save someone's life.

Piece by piece, a pile of Kevlar, metal, graphene and whatever else my armour was made of grew beside me. The first things to come off were my shoulder pauldrons, followed by the heavy and incredibly sturdy chest piece. All three pieces clanged to the floor without bouncing. I shivered, unused to how exposed I was: I hadn't removed my suit since first equipping it, and I felt naked without it. After glancing at the survivor, I steeled myself and pushed my feelings aside.

Next came the half of the arm piece that went as far as the crook of my elbow, falling away easily; the large and easily manipulable clasps that connected my armour were very convenient for hands as large and unwieldy as mine. The lower portion quickly followed suit, and now left with only gloves, I removed those too.

My hands were clammy and moist, but my motor skills were decent enough, considering. I picked up one of the syringes full of desomorphine and crouched down beside the woman. She was awake, although she didn't seem fully lucid—her eyes flickered back and forth underneath her eyelids like she was reading an imaginary book.

I moved a section of the fabric aside, exposing her mostly undamaged, bare arm. I bit the protective covering off of the syringe and stuck it into her arm. Luckily, I managed to get the vein I was aiming for on the first try. She winced and parted her lips, but no sound came out. I pushed the plunger down and watched as the heavy painkiller exited the hard rubber tube, flowing into her bloodstream. Hopefully it would stabilize her long enough for me to wrap up the shredded remains of her other arm.

Working quietly and efficiently, I disinfected the stump with hydrogen peroxide. The survivor stirred and moaned but did not waken. A froth of white bubbles soon coated the area. After squinting and reading the bottle, I learned that meant an infection was present. I had expected that; being covered and crushed by corpses wasn't exactly sanitary. All I could do was disinfect the stub again, wrap it in bandages, and hope that the infection wouldn't spread.

I would've done exactly that had I not heard an echoing sound radiate down the corridor.

The roll of bandages was instantly replaced with my submachine gun. I stood and faced the doorway, listening as the echo died down. All I could hear was the soft, steady breathing from the other occupant of the room and the background noise of the humming cryogenic chambers. No further sounds bounced down the hallway.

I could almost pretend that I hadn't heard the noise.

Almost.

I looked over my shoulder at the slowly rising chest underneath the black cloth, then clicked the safety off and started off on my search for the source of the sound.

\\\\\

It was strange, walking with only my lower half protected. My movement was fine, but the fact that I was nearly ten centimetres wider on both sides from the waist down was rather disconcerting. I fervently hoped that the sound was one of the horse aliens trying to attract my attention rather than something new luring me into an ambush.

Every step I took sounded like a procession, and I realized that I'd have to tie something to the bottom of my boots if I wanted to walk any quieter. Perhaps the grey fabric.

I walked into the kitchen. It was still, and everything was in the same place that I remembered. There wasn't a soul in the Arming Room, either. Pausing only to grab a light machine gun from the wall, I continued through the Arming Room to the most likely place: the Hangar. If it was indeed the horse creatures that made the noise, then I could only assume they would be waiting there.

The setting sun blinded me as I turned the corner. Normally my helmet would reflect the light. I winced and blocked the light with the hand not gripping my gun. Blinking to restore my vision, I pressed onwards, gun outstretched and hand steady.

I breathed a small sigh of relief when I saw two of the wide-eyed horse aliens—sitting? Their hindquarters were lowered and their back legs were half on the floor while their front legs were straight, which looked about as close as they could get to sitting. I immediately recognized the one on the right—the same one that first approached me, and more recently, tried to communicate with me through the hole in the Cockpit. The fact that it was back meant that it hadn't given up.

To the right of the familiar creature was a winged one that was unknown. Its body colour was yellow, but light red—

No. Not light red—pink. Pink like a cloud of poisonous gas. That's what the name of the colour was.

Pink 'hair' flowed from its head, ending in a styled curl. Looking back at the blue-green creature—I couldn't remember what that colour's name was—I realized that it too had hair, only it was roughly the same colour as its body, which explained why I didn't notice it before. It was also messy and haphazard compared to the other's.

I noticed that the yellow creature had wings, and was also visibly shaking—whether that was from the cold or from being in my presence, I didn't know. I was a step from shivering myself; even from the proximity of the hangar door, it was still cold enough to make my breath visible to the naked eye. A carrying device of some sort was slung over the yellow one's back. It looked nearly bursting.

I lowered my gun, and both creatures sighed in unison. Or at least, they did whatever their equivalent of sighing was. That meant that they knew what my weapons were capable of—what I was capable of—yet they still chose to... greet me, as it were. Were they confident that I wouldn't shoot them? Or were they confident that they could stop me if I tried?

A wave of caution ran down my spine, and although my gun was lowered, my finger crept towards the trigger surreptitiously.

The blue-green alien waved its front limb to get my attention. When I gave it, the horse creature opened its mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I heard it gulp as wide, curious, and bright gold eyes looked up at me. I could see the intelligence in them. Had they been a different colour and a smaller size, I could've mistaken them for a human's. The same spark was there.

I relaxed slightly, taking my fingers completely away from the trigger guard. Either the curious creature noticed, or it received a burst of confidence from somewhere else, because it started chatting nonstop. I understood that it was trying to communicate with me, but it may has well have said nothing at all. I shook my head, showing that I didn't understand.

If anything, that made it try harder.

Wobbling, it stood on its hind legs, using the yellow creature for support. It then bent its front left leg behind, hiding it from view. It took me a second to realize that it was pantomiming the crew member. Specifically, the fact that she was missing the lower portion of her left arm. A few quickly spoken words between the two creatures later, the ever-shivering one made the motion of wrapping something around the pretend-stump, still shaking as it did so.

After the performance, they both looked at me, their eyes asking a question I now understood: Can we help?

I didn't answer immediately. How could I? Even though I needed all the help I could get, the two aliens in front of me were exactly that: alien. Not human. I could barely relate to other people of my own race. I couldn't verify the authenticity of their support. For all I knew, they would attack me the moment my back was turned. The gift I received the previous night might've been a decoy.

The alternative was to rely on my less than up-to-snuff medical abilities. But what if she died because I refused the creatures' help? What then? What purpose would I have as a walking tank on a dead ship?

I made a decision. Trust had to start somewhere. I would take the risk. What did I have to lose, anyway? I should've been dead a hundred times over. Every second that I was alive and conscious was extra.

I nodded to myself and slung the light machine gun over my shoulder. I turned around, motioned for the creatures to follow me, then started back towards the Cryogenic Chamber Room at a fast jog.

There was no time to waste.

I didn't need to turn around to know that the creatures were following me: their hooves clonking on the floor behind me were more than enough confirmation. I glanced over my shoulder a couple of times just to be sure. They were always just a couple of steps behind me. Only the largest pieces of debris gave them any pause, but they managed to find a way around quickly enough to still keep close. Before long, I was back in the Cryogenic Chamber Room with the two creatures in tow.

Thankfully, the crew member hadn't moved, and her breathing was steady and even. The yellow creature removed the bag from its back and took out several bottles filled with strangely coloured liquids. It went to touch the unconscious woman, but stopped with its limb hovering a few centimetres above, looking at me for permission.

I bent my head and took a step back. I didn't know how to help, so I relegated myself to simply watching. Standing and watching. The yellow one was busy looking over the crew member's stump, but the green-blue one was 'sitting' a metre-and-a-half away, watching as well. Our eyes met for a second. It looked away first.

If I saw any suspicious behaviour, then may God have mercy on them.