//------------------------------//
// Resuscitation 
// Story: Forged Anew 
// by Vermillion Prose 
//------------------------------//

Twilight ignored what she knew to be a glare directed at the back of her head as she lit her horn and enveloped the comatose Salamander in front of her. In a both reassuring and disconcerting turn of events, Hesperos had found ample support from her guards, who formed a well armed perimeter around her and the unconscious astartes she was working upon. The unicorns managed to levitate bolt pistols acquired from the crash site, instructed in their use by the rubricae. Weapons of disturbing lethality, overkill in nearly any other circumstance, she was not comfortable with ponies bearing such items. In this instance, her guards and Hesperos were in ironclad accord that such overwhelming force may prove necessary. Even so, Twilight had forbade their use without her permission. The Thousand Son had made a point to have sword and pistol drawn, plasma coils glowing in readiness. The medical staff on hand had been shuffling nervously as she worked.

The previous night had been spent mind-delving, Hesperos reluctantly sharing his knowledge of the Pavoni arts of biomancy with the adamant princess. He had no flair for such workings himself, but as he expected, the young alicorn had absorbed, processed, and tested the practicality of such spells. He had provided ample evidence of the dangers inherent in this field of sorcery, and she had been sure to avoid pushing beyond her capabilities, but she had worked out key flaws in several approaches to the art in short order.

Now, she was working her way through alien anatomy, knitting wounds and healing burns. Nigh-failed organs were carefully restored, and several hours of work returned the Salamander’s body to merely a battered but fully functioning state. Hesperos had assured her his physiology would complete the rest, which her body scans confirmed. Now, there was but one path left.

Awakening.

Twilight dismissed the hovering doctors and nurses, who scurried out of the room but could not help spying around the edge of the doorway in what they hoped was subtle but in reality utterly obvious. Even so, Twilight was already prepared to erect a barrier as necessary, and reached her magic into the synapses of the Salamander to simulate the awakening stimulation necessary to restart the warrior’s consciousness.

Minutes passed as the process continued, until a sudden, rattling gasp signalled the start of his awakening. The pony guards flinched, leveling weapons as Hesperos took a ready stance, sword level to the ground across his front and pistol aimed squarely past Twilight to the Salamander.

A second desperate gasp for air filled the Salamander’s collapsed third lung and his twin hearts beat furiously as he awakened. Eyes shot open to reveal blazing crimson, infernal and filled with alarm. His attempt to lunge to his feet resulted in a surge of pain. His gaze danced about the ceiling until it chanced upon Twilight.

The Salamander loosed a shuddering roar as he attempted to lunge for her, his protesting body merely rolling off the table and dropping heavily to the floor. The guards took a solid step forward before Twilight sharply indicated they stay back with a wing. Her eyes were unyielding as they fixed on Hesperos, and the rubricae was torn between obeying and doing what he knew was necessary to defend her.

The Salamander got to his hands and knees, panting and coughing at his rude awakening. Twilight lit her horn to cast a translation charm worked from her experiences with Hesperos.

“Where…? What…?” his voice grated out, parched and threadbare. His gaze lifted again, locking onto the ornate suit of power armor behind the princess. His eyes widened and his face twisted into fury as he managed to stagger into a lunge, hands splayed like claws to attack the rubricae.

Before Hesperos could fire, his pistol was enveloped in lavender and pulled aside. “No killing!” The princess shouted, her voice echoing oddly in two languages as her spell continued its work.

An eery sound Twilight identified as a snarl slipped from the vox grill of the Thousand Son as he smacked the battered loyalist aside with the flat of his blade, the swing almost slow compared to the flesh and blood warrior before him, but it was enough to deter the Salamander.

After a couple moments to assess the situation, and seeing the floating bolt pistols around him, the Salamander took the first course of action to enter his addled mind and sprinted from the room, scattering the last bits of his sundered armor as he went.