Typically, the life of a Total Regenerative Hyperbaric Chamber operator is not exactly worthy of the epics.
If you're on the front lines of the War of a Thousand Atrocities, doing the same job as I, you will get excitement, and danger, and stories to tell.
At least, I assume that must be true. I am just one of six operators in my city, the Trinifarian settlement of Adaron, nestled within the Stone King's fingertip itself, the mountain Nerysin.
The fingertip is not a very important part of the Stone King's anatomy, it would seem.
Nothing happens in Adaron. Not ever. We have only had posession of the Heart of the King twice since Adaron was settled. That is including the instance of actually settling. This makes Adaron a particularly unimpressive, architecturally outdated city, but that is acceptable. We do not complain, for the Stone King and the Queen of Skies have provided us with everything we may need.
Everything except perhaps entertainment, or excitement.
I went into operating to help my people, to perhaps see the greater side of our nature as brave and good Trinifarians.
What I usually see are elders with back pains, hoping the Total Regenerative Hyperbaric Chambers will cure them of their ailments. They are correct to hope, and they leave feeling young again, but I have not seen a single exciting event, not even the day I finished my medical training and became an operator.
That is, until this specific day, I hope.
"Haran, it might be prudent to get one of the chambers prepared. Joon says there are strangers, aliens even, who require our aid." Merni, a fellow operator of mine, says with a certain air of anticipation, walking briskly through the doors to the chamber room.
At first, I think she might be attempting to create humor.
"Quickly, it is of dire urgency. It is probable that we will actually need to perform manual operation." She pauses to give me a dark look, showing me the depth of her two pearly, rather attractive if I'm being honest, fangs, "It is of Kleo's doing. Ruth the Revolting."
I respond in kind, lifting my lip to show my fangs and my displeasure at the mere mention of our mortal enemy.
"Say no more, Merni. I will prepare the newest model. When will the patient arrive?" I say, turning to make my way over to the perfectly shiny white capsule. I begin inputting codes to start the initiation sequence, and the familiar flash of green, the light of the Stone King himself, flashes through the white marble.
"The strangers have little time to spare. They will be here-"
I flinch as the doors to the infirmary ward slam open, and strange looking creatures burst in, followed by the rest of my fellow operators.
They are short and skinny creatures, with no green veins decorating their skin. In fact... I cannot see their veins at all. They are an opaque pink-red, and their faces are all wrong. It nearly makes me flinch again to see their eyes above their mouths instead of where they should be, below them.
"She saved you, all of you. She didn't know a single one of you, yet she valued your lives over hers." The taller of the aliens says, adorned in a tight black outfit, clutching the golden-clad one to its body as if the fate of the universe depended upon it. His voice is tight, stretched to the point of breaking with emotion, "She could have listened to Ruth, took a shot in the dark in order to live. But she chose you over herself. Now it's time to return the favor."
The alien in gold, the one of whom he speaks, is entrancing to behold, practically glowing with a certain, strange energy. An energy not possessed by the one in black.
It... She... hangs limply in his arms, her oddly placed mouth parted, and her eyes closed, rolling behind the eyelids. She is obviously clinging to the last bit of life left in her body, her chest rising and falling just barely, shallowly.
"We must save this creature, this 'human', Haran. The Madroons had planned to explode our entire Galactic Locality, not only Trinifare, but all of our peaceful neighbors as well. This blessed one, the golden human, it is as he says. She chose to save us." One of my fellow operators says from behind the odd creatures, and a determined silence settles over the whole room. I walk forward and reach my arms out to the black clad alien, bowing slightly so as to make myself less threatening. His flushed pink face, covered in a sheen of perspiration, seems resigned, as if he is powerless and he knows it. He sends his precious charge over to me, his creepy five-fingered hands still reaching for her even as I sweep her away.
My fellow operators and I set to work, asking him questions about what ails her, and he answers in a whirlwind of words, leaving his mouth as if he may talk her back to the world of the living.
She has been used as a weapon, an organic nuclear fission reactor having been implanted into her brain.
Even if it had not been connected to the neurons of most vital parts of her cortex, it is still well beyond us to remove it. One wrong move, with this technology we do not fully understand, and either the golden woman dies or the entire planet dies.
It is a small part left of what used to be, he explains, so we simply repair some damaged connections within her brain, and seal her skull back up. The grey matter of her brain is starting to die, wither away due to lack of oxygen.
The alien does not like watching our work. He takes to pacing instead, running a hand through the fuzz on top of his tiny head as we work, attempting to keep most of her blood contained within her skin while performing a manual operation upon her vital organs. They, too, have started to die from lack of oxygen.
The alien chances a glance at us, and lets out a distressed grunt when his eyes fall upon the blood on our white robes. He goes back to pacing.
He must care for her very much. They must be bonded.
Adaron is a relatively safe city, with the technology to keep its citizens healthy for many years. I have never had to tell someone that it is most probable that their bond-mate is going to die.
I do not want to tell this creature that. He seems... unstable, to say the least. There is something in his foreign eyes that speaks volumes of violence and unimaginable grief, something I would never deem it wise to provoke.
Yet, as the rise and fall of her chest stops for the fourth time during operation, I know someone needs to tell him, for any minute now, his bond-mate may pass on. I leave the patient in the capable hands of my fellow operators, turning my robe around to the side unmarred by blood, as is customary after a manual operation.
I approach him, head bowed slightly in respect and compassion, my hands clasped before me, bad news on my tongue. He doesn't even see me, through his distress.
"The cardiac system is not operational, all functionality has halted. Resuscitation is impossible at this point. " I hear from behind me, and my stomachs drop at the look on the face of the alien. His mouth opens and closes, moisture filling his eyes, and then it is falling like a blessing of rain from the Queen of Skies. He shakes his head, denying the evidence of his bond-mate's death.
"No, please." He says, his voice faint, barely a whisper, and then loud, forceful with the refusal of reality, "You have to do something, those coffins, what do they do?"
I am sorry that you have lost your wife, your bond-mate, I want to say, We will all mourn her death with you, for she has saved us all.
That storm behind his eyes stops me.
My fellow operators seal the incisions in the human's body and wheel her over to the chamber I had prepared, lifting her carefully into it, and the alien follows their movements like a shadow.
"You don't understand what she did for you! You have to try harder, you have to bring her back. I know you can do it, c'mon! DO it, bring her back to me, or I'll... I'll..." He shouts, practically shoving some of the operators in his rush to get to his bond-mate, his wife, "You don't understand."
His fury dissipates when he reaches her, laid in the state-of-the-art hyperbaric chamber, still as death. He stares at her, rain falling from his eyes again as he strokes her long, dark cranial fur with those strange, five fingers of his.
"I lost you... I'm sorry. I tried for you Evy. I tried. I'm so sorry... I-"
He is silent after that, staring blankly at his deceased wife. His noble, brave, selfless deceased wife. We all stare at her as well, the reason we are alive at this very moment.
No one wants to approach him.
The chambers are designed to work specifically on living subjects. Yet, in some cases, the Total Regeneration sequence of the chambers has been known to revive deceased Trinifarians.
It may not work on this new species, a human, but looking at the distraught alien, I want to try. I would never be able to live with myself knowing we might have been able to save the blessed savior of Trinifare.
Urgency courses through me at the realization, knowing the electricity in her brain is slowly dissipating. Time is of utmost importance.
"Please," I say softly, inching forward to place a hand on the black-clad alien's shoulder, and he shoots a viciously devastated look at me. The message is clear.
Leave us be, in our last moment together. Leave me to grieve.
But I will not give up. He may be thanking me by the end of this very exciting, very odd night.
"All may not be lost. If you will allow me to input the Regenerative sequence..." I say, and his glare softens, not quite into hope, but softens nonetheless. He wordlessly steps aside, allowing me to close the lid over the body of the golden alien.
I place my hand upon the cold marble of the chamber, focusing upon a sequence I have never had to use before now. It is for extreme cases, targeting the vital organs of comatose and deceased patients. A last chance, in a way.
When I remove my hand, the chamber does not pulse green, as it normally does when an occupant is inside.
It is pale and unresponsive as death.
I let out a breath, and turn to the alien. He seems numb, staring blankly at the white marble.
"The chamber will work to try and repair the damage done to your wife. The chances are not in her favor, I fear. She will most likely remain... deceased." I explain, and he doesn't make any acknowledgement of my words. He just turns around to slide down the chamber, sitting against the base. Standing vigil, waiting for his love to return to him.
I glance over my shoulder at the other operators, and they watch with sadness and sympathy. The veins of every one of us are darker and pulsing deeper, a testament to our grief for this golden human, our blessed savior. Merni cannot watch anymore, and leaves the chamber room quickly, followed by the other operators.
I am torn. He gives off the vibe that he would like to be left alone, yet something tells me that he shouldn't be.
I remember the storm in his eyes when she passed, and it causes me to sit next to him, my back against the chamber as well.
I sit silently for a very long while, and I am not even sure he wants me here. He doesn't speak, or look at me, or shift positions. He just sits, very still, and very silent, staring unseeingly.
"What's your name?"
I am startled by the sound of his voice through the long silence, so empty.
"I am called Haran." I say, and he nods slowly, as if getting his body to respond to his commands is a chore.
"I'm the Doctor." He says, and I vaguely remember learning in academy that on other planets, this is the word they use for their sort of medical operators, healers.
Doctor. A healer from another planet.
"Doctor. Thank you for what you and your wife did. Ruth will be punished for his actions." I reassure him, then hesitate, wanting to ask, but feeling wary of that storm inside of him, "What was her name?"
"Evelyn Anne Crenshaw. Liked to be called Evy, though. She was an Evy, really. Not much of an Evelyn. Bit too exciting and fun to be an Evelyn." He says, and I don't quite follow his meaning, but I nod anyway.
"She was precious to you. I am sorry for your loss... We feel it as well. All of Trinifare will feel it." I say, and his throat bobs as he swallows thickly.
"Haran, she was the only reason to sail the stars, the sole purpose for me to continue plodding along this never-ending road that is my life." He says, looking at me for the first time in the hours that we have been sitting here, "Evy came to me at a time when I had nothing, absolutely nothing, and gave me someone to care for, to show the universe to."
The tides in his gold eyes, gold like his wife, swell with something abhorrent. Self-hatred, loathing and disgust.
"And I repaid her with letting her die a victim." He spits, venom in his words.
"You brought her to us, hoping we might save her. If it is the fault of anyone, it is ours to bear. Not yours, Doctor. Please, do not blame yourself for the wrongdoing of the Madroons. They are evil and vicious creatures, spreading their hatred to even one such as your Evelyn... The war spares no one." I say, realizing that perhaps he is not accustomed to the atrocities of our war. The lengths we force ourselves to go to in order to harm our mortal enemy, locked in battle for hundreds of years.
He is no stranger to loss, though, that much I can tell.
He doesn't reply, just goes back to staring into nothing.
I lean my head back upon the chamber, wishing for once that my night had not been so eventful. I close my eyes against the sadness for this Doctor and his Evy, wondering what will happen to him now that he is alone.
But then, a colorful disturbance shining through my nearly translucent eyelids causes me to open my eyes, focus upon the Doctor with surprise.
The pulsing of green light illuminates his opaque skin in a two beat rhythm, reflects in his wide, disbelieving eyes.
She is alive.