Espial Space Station, Mission Day 11, Continued
Silas was left to toil away in the lab for the rest of the day, though not without periodic check-ins from Aiden to ensure the specimen was still strapped down, undoubtedly sent by a still pissed-off Mila. Silas kept detailed and organized notes about the specimen, initiating a full body scan of it with his A.R.M.
Once the bodily data was compiled, Silas sat down at the lab computer. The biohazard suit he wore over his exo-armor rustled with every move he made. He pulled up the 3D rendition of the specimen's body, the computer labeling each layer and distinct system within the display.
Silas removed all of the layers except the skeleton, studying the layout of the specimen's bones. "Bone density appears to be 10% greater than ours, giving the specimen a stronger skeleton that likely aids the natives in their fighting. This particular specimen has evidence of trauma within its right ulnar bone, probably broken in a fight or some such event. The break apparently healed perfectly, indicating the natives have enough medical knowledge to reset bones correctly." Silas increased the display size to inspect the specimen's rib cage. "Specimen has seven rib pairs connected to the sternum. There are three false rib pairs below the true ribs. However, there are two pairs of floating ribs compared to just one pair within our anatomy. I can only surmise Psy Prime's native have not yet evolved to have one floating rib pair." He parsed through the rest of the skeletal structure, not finding much else of note.
Silas switch to the view of the specimen's musculature. His eyebrow raised up in interest. "Specimen's muscles are red. Therefore, I can assume its blood is red, too, which I will confirm later with a blood test." He checked the atmospheric composition of Psy Prime once more. "Despite the nitrogen levels being four times higher than oxygen, the natives breathe oxygen. Fascinating that their bodies don't utilize their atmosphere's most abundant element. Regardless, the muscle composition seems to be in good condition. Specimen likely conducts daily exercise to improve muscle strength and durability. I'd like to conduct stress tests on the specimen within the next few days."
He moved to the specimen's nervous system next. "Based off of this specimen, Psy Prime natives have 50% more nerve endings than us." Silas leaned back in his chair. "With all of their infighting, it seems like the natives subject themselves to massive amounts of pain. Everything must be so annoyingly and painfully sensitive to them. It's possible their minds are overloaded with sensory information, pushing them towards savage behavior patterns."
Silas turned around at the sound of rattling and struggling. The specimen was awake again. He sighed, moving to retrieve another syringe full of sedatives. He had to stick to the protocols Mila gave him. He stepped up to the observation table, watching the specimen struggle against the straps. It stopped when it saw Silas approaching it, its eyes wide and breathing quick and shallow. As quickly as it had stopped, it started struggling again, reenergized. Its eyes flicked between Silas and the restraints.
Silas put a hand on the specimen's shoulder to keep it still. He hesitated, watching it tense in fear. A few more tugs on the restraints was all of the fight it had left. It closed its eyes, resigned, and turned its head to face the other direction. Suddenly, the syringe in Silas' hand felt like it weighed heavier than him.
But he had no choice. He injected the sedative and slowly continued his work.
Marco woke up, his head heavy and groggy. He was laying down, looking up at a plain white ceiling. The cold metal stinging his back told him he was on a scientific observation table of sorts. His tensed his body, his muscles straining against the straps that held him down. A bright light above him was blinding, forcing him to squint and turn his head.
That's when Marco saw one of his captors. They were sitting at a table, their back to Marco. They were wearing the same hazmat suit over their strange exo-armor. Marco wondered where the other two were that he saw outside the observation-type room he was being held in the last time he was awake.
Marco focused on what the one captor was currently doing. He craned his neck, trying to stay quiet to avoid another dose of tranquilizers. He saw a different kind of holographic screen than he was used to, and the captor seemed to be studying images that weren't there. They were gesturing and pointing with their hands, as if they were talking to someone.
Or if they were recording themselves.
'Oh fuck, is this some sick science experiment?!' Marco thought as he felt panic grow in his chest. 'Am I going to be dissected?!'
He started struggling against the restraints, hoping to escape. Nothing gave way. Then Marco realized his captor had turned to look at the noise he was making. Marco stopped, looking at them with wide eyes. His panic was consuming him, his heart nearly beating out of his chest as his lungs heaved for air.
They stepped up to closer to Marco and he could see them holding another syringe, no doubt full of more tranquilizers. Marco restarted his struggle against the restraints, more determined to escape or fight for freedom.
His captor stepped up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Marco felt the sterile plastic of the hazmat suit, the distant cold metal of the exo-armor underneath it. He pulled against the restraints a few more times, but he knew he'd stay strapped to the table.
In that moment, Marco knew it was futile to even try. He closed his eyes, turning his head away. Every ounce of his being was crying out to him to fight for an escape, but some part of him knew, deep down, that he shouldn't. So he didn't.
He felt the pinch of the needle in his bicep, the string of the tranquilizer spreading out under his skin. He felt his mind become foggy, each thought taking a day's worth of energy to form.
He felt one tear slip from his eye, tumble across his cheek, and fall onto the table underneath him.