Hunter, Prey
By Sapphire
Disclaimer in part 1
Chapter 3 – BlendingHe had never performed a blending that quickly, but there had been no other choice. It was either this or letting the human die. Luckily, human physiology was similar to most humanoid life forms, as similar circumstances created similar solutions.
The first order of the day was to stop the bleeding. Several organs had been cut by the piece of shrapnel and fixing those took priority. Creating a thin shield out of his own body mass to reduce the bleeding, he simultaneously coaxed the cells of the affected organs to reproduce themselves at an unbelievable high rate. At the same time, he enveloped the piece of metal and started to move it ever so carefully out of the body. While about seventy-five percent of his body mass was working on that, he infused himself within the human's body, sending feelers out to every region.
The cells of his body were about a tenth in size of those of most carbon-based life forms, so it was no problem to slip between muscles fibres and into the arteries and veins. He prodded the heart to beat and the lungs to expand and contract, making sure that the brain was supplied with oxygen. If push came to shove, he was actually able to provide oxygen directly to the brain, but this way was much better.
Hunter had lost all feeling for time, so focused was he on the battle to save the human's life.
Suddenly he noticed that he received assistance from outside. Fresh oxygen in high concentration reached the lungs, which had finally started to work again on their own. Somebody stabilized the piece of shrapnel, arresting his effort to push it further outside. In most cases a sensible precaution, as without him working from inside on fixing things, every movement of that piece of metal might just cause further injuries to the organs. He didn't want to call undue attention to himself, so he stopped pushing. The worst was over anyway, most of the damage already repaired.
What now?
The human would live. And for better or worse, he was now Hunter's host.
Of course, Hunter was able to leave the human's body anytime he chose to. But that would put him at a severe disadvantage. His space ship was somewhere underneath the ocean now, not accessible for him anymore. Somewhere on this planet, one of his own kind probably possessed another body, though how he was to find out which one, was for the moment beyond Hunter.
He didn't know the language, had no idea about the culture and their way of life.
He had to learn, and quickly.
If he could have sighed, he would have. Instead, he settled himself down, infusing himself even deeper within the human's body.
It looked as if he would be staying for a while.
oooooo
John was sitting up in the bed, sipping on a glass of orange juice, when Gordon stormed into the sick room half an hour later.
Though Scott and Brains had spoken to Gordon multiple times while he had been steering the boat back to the island, it was obvious that he hadn't believed their assurances that his older brother was doing fine. The cut John had received on his head had been only a superficial one as he had been protected by the diving mask. The piece of shrapnel in his side had been only half as deep as anybody had feared. By sheer luck, the metal bit hadn't even nicked any of his organs or larger blood vessels. It was removed by Brains without any problems. Seeing that his patient wasn't to die on him, Brains had grabbed the piece of metal and had disappeared in one of his many laboratories, happily muttering to himself about unusual metallurgic properties and compositions. John suspected they wouldn't see hide or hair of the scientist for the next couple of days.
John was told to rest and drink lots of fluids to replenish the blood he had lost.
"Hi, squirt." John looked up, smiling.
Gordon had stopped in the doorframe, drinking in the sight of his obviously still very much alive brother. He swallowed a couple of times, then, "You're looking good."
John studied his brother and grew serious. It was clear that Gordon had gone through quite a bit the last couple of hours and was still somewhat in shock. It must have been hard on the younger man, all alone under the water, thinking that John was seriously injured and not knowing if he could make it to the surface with him while John was still alive.
This wasn't like any of their normal rescues. Even though most rescues were life-and-death situations, they normally didn't involve direct danger for any of the brothers. Of course, sometimes it got hairy for them, but so far they always had come out on top.
John placed his glass on the nightstand and waved his brother to come closer.
"Gordon, I want to thank you. If you hadn't been there, I might be dead right now."
Gordon blushed, but then nodded. "You gave me quite a scare, John. For a while … down there … I thought …"
But what he thought he never said. He didn't need to.
John gave him all the time he needed, and after a few moments, he was rewarded by a smile that spread over Gordon's face.
"I'm just glad to see you're going to be okay," Gordon finally said quietly.
"Thanks to you, squirt, thanks to you.
"So," John drastically changed tracks, "what do you think it was we've found down there. Was it a bomb? But where did it come from and what was it doing down there?"
For the next hour or so, both speculated on the origin of the object they had found on the ocean floor, until Tin-Tin showed up and shooed Gordon out of the sickroom claiming that John still needed some rest.
The next day John insisted that he was again fit for duty. Brains did a thorough examination and was forced to agree. John was fine, the wound Brains had lasered close was healing very nicely, with the prognosis that there wouldn't even be a scar remaining.
The day after John took Thunderbird 3 back up to Thunderbird 5, relieving Alan for the next month. John all but forgot about the incident.
He felt better than ever. All the Tracy boys were fit by nature and necessity, but he noticed that for some strange reason the five miles run he took every morning on the station's treadmill didn't take as much out of him as he was used to. In fact, the first morning on board, he found that he had improved his best time ever by over five percent, and then he continued to top that time every morning for the next week. Maybe he should get involved in an underwater explosion more often if this was the outcome.
Life was going perfect. Until one morning, a week after he had come back to Thunderbird 5, John started to see things.
Tbc
In the next chapter, John will have a very interesting conversation.