Into the Tank (Guntz)

Pops, leading the way, quickly wheeled the still-unconscious Klonoa's stretcher back through the base's maze-like hallways.

"Are you…" I began shakily, running behind him, "are you sure we're… we're going the right way?" I thought he was leading us back to the medical ward, but… I didn't recognize the path we took…

"Positive." he responded. "From what I saw in the base's files, Garlen had a few specialized defrosting tanks past the exam rooms, in case he or his allies were exposed to a hard vacuum and needed to be resuscitated."

"Perfect…" I muttered.


Eventually, Pops led me into a large, white room, the sign next to the doorway reading "DEFROSTING CENTER".

Like the surveillance room, the defrosting center stretched out in front of us. At first glance, it looked just like a longer version of the exam room Pango and I took Klonoa to last time – five exam tables lined the left wall, and various supply cabinets, drawers, and showers lined the back wall.

Lining the right wall, however, were five large, glass tanks with open tops. They seemed to reach maybe a meter above us, and were filled to the brim with some blue-ish liquid. "For warming patients back up and re-oxygenating their skin." Pops explained.

In front of each tank was a control panel, similar to the one back inside the airlock, but adorned with a microphone and speaker – probably for communicating with whoever's in the tank – along with pegs for the patient's smaller belongings, and a monitor for keeping track of the patient's vitals.

We took the still-rigid Klonoa off the stretcher (his skin's warmed up enough that Pops can touch him now) and set him face-up on the table closest to the doorway, his head pointed towards the tanks and his ears dangling off the edges. Pops went over to the cabinets and started shuffling through them; following his directions, I worked on removing Klonoa's clothing (aside from his underwear), being careful not to break his stiff joints.

Not long after I finished, Pops brought back a weighted harness, weighted sandals, weighted bracelets, and an orinasal mask designed for Klonoa's facial structure, equipped with a regulator and microphone. I quickly got to work slipping them on him – while the sandals, bracelets, and harness went on easily enough, I had to carefully squeeze his ears through the mask's strap before I could secure it to his face.

During this, Pops went to the control panel near the tank directly across from Klonoa's table, and hung his wind ring on one of its pegs. He pressed a small, green button near its top left corner, the label above it reading "PATIENT PRE-SET" – almost instantly, four steel wires, a vitals armband, an oxygen hose, and a mic cable descended from a rig on the ceiling.

As soon as they stopped, we quickly attached the wires to Klonoa's harness, the armband to his left arm, and the hose and mic cable to his mask. The control panel's monitor sprung to life, displaying what's supposed to be his heart rate (currently at 50 bpm), his blood pressure (90 over 50), his body temperature (35 degrees Fahrenheit), his respiration rate (nothing so far), and his oxygen saturation (89% and dropping).

Once we were finished, Pops went back to the panel and pressed another button – this one blue in color and labelled "PATIENT SUBMERGE". Immediately, the ceiling rig lifted Klonoa off the exam table and carried him over the tank directly across from it. He was then turned upright before being lowered into the blue-ish substance, his ears trailing above him, and the frost on his fur melting off. His oxygen saturation held steady at 73%, and his body temperature rose a bit to 36 degrees.

Now, all we could do was wait… may as well patch up our injuries in the meantime…


After about three hours, Klonoa's vitals haven't shown any real sign of improvement – while his body warmed up to 40 degrees, his heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen saturation haven't increased at all.

And he still wasn't breathing…

I walked up to the tank and looked him over. His face still bore a vacant stare, and his mouth was still slightly open – completely unchanged from when I brought him back inside…

Christ… I thought to myself, resting my head on the warm glass. It's Janga's poison all over again…

"H-how long?" I asked Pops, my voice wavering. "How long did the files say this would take?"

"Between 90 minutes and two hours…" he answered. "Though, given how long Klonoa was outside for, it may take longer for him… if he even wakes up at all…"

My heart sank yet again. "Wh… what do you mean 'if'?"

"He's been outside for… what, two… three minutes?"

"I… I think so…"

"Right, so… the files listed multiple tests performed with different patients and…"

He hesitated again, before sighing.

"…Only the ones who were out for less than a minute successfully recov-"

"NO!" I snapped, a tear or two trickling down my cheeks. "Don't say that! You saw how tough he was back in the Darkness – if he can pull through Janga's poison like you did, then he can definitely pull through this!" …Right?

"…I'd like to believe that, too." Pops replied – I could hear him walking over. "Still, I know it's the last thing you wanna hear from your father, especially now, but we…"

He rested his hand gently on my shoulder. I looked over… his face bore that same pensive look I kept giving Klonoa these days…

"…We may have to… prepare for the worst…"


Another hour passed. Klonoa's body temperature rose to 45 degrees, but his other vitals haven't changed at all…

And once again, he still wasn't breathing…

"I…" I whimpered, my voice still wavering, "I need to tell them…"

"…I'm sorry?" Pops asked.

"Pango and Popka… they need to know we… we probably can't keep our promises…"

"I see…" He sighed. "If you want, I can see if the base still has any working message bots… if memory serves right, they can relay to another bot on Earth… make sure your message gets across…"

"That'd… that'd be great…"

He took a few steps back towards the entryway, before turning back to me, that pensive look returning to his face.

"Are you… gonna be alright by yourself? Or do you wanna come with?"

"No, I-" I began, glancing back at Klonoa, "I think someone should be by his side if he wakes up… and if he doesn't, then…"

I gulped. "…I don't want him to have to go on alone…"

"Very well… but just so you know, no matter what happens, I'll…"

He hesitated. "…I'll be around for you… now more than ever."

I tried to grin. "Thanks, Pops."

"Any time, son." He headed off.

Now, it was just Klonoa and me… what should I say to his friends, though…?


How long was I standing there? I eventually felt a small tap on my shoulder, startling me.

I looked over – it was Pops, that pensive look still on his face. Flying next to him was a small, yellow, bug-like robot – one of Garlen's personal message Nagapokos.

"Thanks…" I said, trying not to let my voice waver.

"Of course." he responded. "Do you… do you need any help with your message?"

"P-probably… I… I should be fine for now, though…"

I turned to the message bot. "I… need to send a private message to… to Pango and Popka, both in Breezegale."

"Understood, naga." it said. "Ready to begin recording?"

I hesitated. "…Yes."

"Very well. Beginning recording now, naga." A small, red light started blinking inside the bot's nose.

"H-hey, Pango…" I began, "I'm… I'm sorry if I come off as… as blunt, but… well, you were right to worry about… about Klonoa doing something reckless…"