Sunuvabitch, I am Speedy McSpeedington. Here it is, hot off the press! Arkangel: No, I don't know you, of course not! Meh, at least you don't threaten to burn my house down. Or stalk me. Y'know.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck." Wikus dropped his gun and crouched at the motionless prawn's side. "Christopher?" He reached out his hand – the hand that had lost and re-grown a thumb – and gently rolled Christopher onto his back. The Poleepkwa's eyes were closed, his face cracked and swollen with bruises and cuts. He'd obviously been starved, and beaten many times judging by the mangled condition of his body. Welts and jagged fractures dotted his limbs. One antenna had been snapped off and another appeared to have been skinned, leaving only a tangle of raw, bloody nerves dangling from the prawn's head. Worst of all, his abdomen had been sliced open, a long line running from his neck to his narrow pelvis, and messily patched back together with surgical staples. Several had fallen out, and more had become infected, grey pus oozing from the areas around them.
"Oh, no. Chris? Chris, wake up. Can you hear me?" Wikus shook him gingerly, his voice breaking. Christopher's eyes did not open. Wikus started to touch the damaged face, his hands hovering above it, afraid to touch but needing to. "Please, c'mon. Wake up. Come on."
Brick-a-brack entered the room, looking for Wikus. He stopped short when he saw the smaller Poleepkwa carefully cradling the ruin of a body in his hands. Wikus looked up at him tearfully.
"He's – he's not dead. He's not. I-I can see him breathing."
The soldier nodded and called out to one of the others in the hall to bring a stretcher. Turning back to the distraught creature on the floor, he smiled as reassuringly as he could.
"Don't worry, human. We will get him to the ship and the doctors will take care of him."
The words took a moment to register in Wikus' mind, focused as he was on Christopher's plight. He looked up sharply. "How'd you-"
"Know that you are the human Christopher came back for? No offense, brother, but you didn't do much of a job of hiding it." Brick-a-brack added calmly, "Don't be afraid. None of us intends to do you any harm; it's obvious that Christopher wanted you kept safe, and you don't exactly seem to share your species' rabid hatred of us—far from it. Now, let's get him seen to." He nodded at the stretcher carriers and they lowered it, preparing to hoist their battered comrade on. Wikus was reluctant to release his hold on Christopher's limp form, but the blue-black soldier assured him that he could stay at his friend's side. Wikus relented and followed the stretcher closely, wringing his hands. As they exited the evil building, he turned to Brick-a-brack, who carried the amputee child.
"He… he's gonna be okay, right? Christopher's gonna – your doctors can just zap him with some sort of heal-ray, yeah? Just fix everything in a blink. Right?"
The warrior glanced away uneasily.
"Well… they should be able to heal his physical injuries without much problem. Of course, we don't know what they… did to him, internally. And then, there may be deeper wounds than we can see."
"Deeper, what do you mean, deeper?" Wikus asked anxiously.
Brick-a-brack sighed as they approached the ship, ignoring the crowds of both cheering and enraged humans that lined the streets. He looked at the barely-recognizable creature on the mobile pallet. "I've seen situations like this – none this serious, but some nearly so – where the victim has been so badly abused that their minds become affected more than their bodies. You understand?"
Wikus nodded, a horrible hollow feeling taking hold of him as he stared at Christopher. Brick-a-brack tried to console him.
"Christopher is strong," he said encouragingly, "If anyone can hold out against such torture, it's him."
Wikus looked up hopefully. "So – so he might just be, like, a little messed up for a while? Like, maybe he'll need… counseling or something for a while?"
The soldier shifted the child in his arms and looked straight ahead blankly. "Yes. Counseling."
/*/*/*/
They laid Christopher's bloody form out on a low, flat table in a room with blue-green walls that constantly shifted in soothing patterns. A large diagnostic machine hovered overhead, pulsing with faint amber light like a miniature sun. Several cushions had been placed along one wall for loved ones to sit and observe the doctors' process. All in all, it was quite unlike the medical 'probing rooms' described by supposed alien abductees, Wikus thought with wry humor. He was offered a seat and refused, preferring to stand in a corner as the four doctors lowered the machine over Christopher. It hummed and produced a screenful of prawn symbols that they clicked and chattered quietly over.
"Well?" Wikus asked when he couldn't stand it any longer. "Is he gonna be okay?"
One of the MDs, a smallish red Poleepkwa that walked with a limp, turned to address him.
"You are his… sibling? His mate?"
"I'm – I'm his friend. I'm just…" Wikus felt uneasy telling the prawn much – his last experience with doctors had left him somewhat leery of them.
One of the others whispered to the red male, who nodded suddenly. "Ah, you're his human, yes? I suppose that makes you qualified to-"
"Not if Christopher didn't ask him yet, which I doubt he did," a third argued.
Wikus was totally lost, and quickly becoming frustrated. "Look, I'm not 'his' human, I'm just – I'm his friend, like I said, now will you please fucking tell me what's going on? And what was Chris supposed to ask me?"
The doctors exchanged glances. The argumentative one started to warn the small one, "Gregory, he doesn't qual—"
"Shut up," the limping Poleepkwa clicked irritably. "He's close enough; we all know Christopher had planned to ask him anyway."
"And what makes you think the human would have said 'yes'? He's a human; he wouldn't have any interest in-"
"Would one of you just tell me what the fuck is wrong with him?!" Wikus exploded, slamming a fist against one of the lovely blue walls, causing the patterns to swirl and warp wildly.
The red prawn stepped forward. "Christopher's body, as you can tell, has been badly damaged. The worst of it was focused to his antennae and thorax; the human 'doctors' attempted to transplant a pair of human lungs into him in conjunction with his own. We can remove the lungs and heal the damage; it'll take about a day. However, there's a bigger problem."
"What? What?" Wikus' mind raced, panic building in him. "What is it?"
The doctor – Gregory – took a deep breath. "When a Poleepkwa has been harmed too greatly for their mind to process, they sometimes go into a state of permanent unconsciousness, keeping only vital body functions going. It is the last manner of escape we have, a sort of fail-safe. Do you understand?" He regarded Wikus with sharp orange eyes.
"I-I don't- he's… he's in a coma? Is that- that's what you're saying, he's in a coma?" Wikus choked.
"That's what your people call it? Ko-mah? Yes. He is in a coma, preserving his sanity by blocking out the worst of the pain." The doctor nodded.
Wikus sat heavily on one of the cushions. "Ca-can't you do… something? I mean, there's gotta be some- some cure right? You're an advanced fucking alien race, you should be able to get somebody out of a fucking coma!"
"We have one method of bringing victims back from this state," Gregory said, gesturing to another machine in the ceiling. "We have a way to shock the patient awake for a moment. Unfortunately, the instant they wake up, all the pain hits them at once, no matter how many painkillers they are given. Most can only bear it a few seconds before they once again lose consciousness. The only way we've found to keep them awake is to have someone get their attention and keep them alert for a full thirty seconds, talk to them and hold their focus long enough to ensure that they will not fall back. Usually it is the victim's mate or offspring that does this. As we apparently have neither, we must ask you to speak to him when we wake him."
"What?" Wikus blinked nervously. "Why me?"
"You are important to him." The doctor snapped. "Isn't it obvious? He left his son, returned to this planet, faced torture and nearly death to bring you your cure. I'd say that deserves at least some small effort on your part."
"Yeah." Wikus stared mournfully at Christopher. "Yeah, of course, I'll try. When are you gonna do it?"
"Now. We don't have time to wait."