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Location: I.S.S. Prize, Havi Orbit
The forest was thick, and luckily, the glow of the trees helped keep most of the hidden crevices illuminated. The structures were in a large state of disrepair. There were ancient ruins back on Earth that were better kempt. But regardless, Izumo was already going underway as the equipment was being set up. He had his tools, brushes and picks. Old school as it was, he was good at his job. Normally calm, he certainly loved his job. Mason didnât know much about him, but he couldnât help but think that anything Elm had said after arriving just went in one ear and out the other.
Mason wasnât much of a head in this expedition. He mainly tagged along with one of Elmâs assistants as they took samples of various mosses that grew within the city itself. He became a pack mule of sorts swapping vials, swatches, and other tools. But he didnât mind. This close to the camp, he was able to quickly drop everything off, and packed it nicely. He lost track of Jenkins, thankfully, but also DâArtigan. Mason presumed that he went with Jenkins. How DâArtigan could stand him still eluded Mason.
Time spent on the wonderous planet was cut short, unfortunately. The crew had barely managed to do any research before a communication came through with the order to return to the ship. It was short, and concise. Much groaning was to be had as they had to quickly pack up everything, they had laid out what felt like not too long ago.
Getting back to the ship wasnât that long of a journey. It felt shorter actually since theyâve already walked the distance once before. Aboard the ship, Mason found himself with the others as questions about the outcome with the Holy Vei were directed to captain, and his team of diplomats. The team mostly seemed down, leading Mason to believe that things did not go well. Captain Carabello remained quiet, leaving for the bridge and leading the ship back into orbit.
The ship was preparing to swing around back to the wormhole when the captain rounded them up to explain what happened. He looked like he was having a hard time to come up with the words, when the ship received a communication. Someone was injured. Captain Carabello hastily made the decision to allow the distressed individual aboard the ship.
The injured lay on a med table as Mason looked over him. The figure groaned and wormed as Mason quickly went through his pre medical checks. The figure was humanoid, had black and red skin. The colors were spotted all over his body like some odd mosaic. He had no hair and the few times Mason could see its eyes; they were completely black. The figure's most striking feature was that he had four arms. It made the creatures flailing that much more troublesome. Mason had not seen this kind of alien before, but he was humanoid, and that helped considerably. In the several courses Mason had taken involving alien anatomy, it was learned that most humanoid species had similar bodily function. The size, shape, and location of organs differed between species. Some times certain organs would be missing or preform the same function differently. Regardless, humanoids had enough similarities so that the same medical treatments could be used between them; skin, bones, and blood.
An overhead disc covered in lenses looked over the figure, mapping his body. The table measured the figures weight, and a handheld device Mason pressed against the figureâs skin took note of chemical composition. All in all, this entire procedure took a minute if not two. This was exciting, Mason would admit to himself more exciting then his brief time exploring the planet below.
âAlright, I can do this.â Said Mason, a little enthusiastically, âYouâve been shot. Your skin is remarkably tough, so it looks as though it wasnât able to penetrate much deeper past your hypodermis. Still, I may need to do a skin graft. Let me just grab this here andâŠâ Mason went about cleaning the wound. It was difficult because contact with the cleaning solution caused a spark of pain, and the figure didnât want to stay still. He spoke out various sentences and phrases of varying degrees of discontent, but Mason had no clue what he was saying. He didnât want to bother with the translator, leaving his nurse to figure out how to patch it into the med bay.
Did he not want medical attention? Thought Mason. It would be helpful if heâd sit still. If he doesnât, I may have to sedate him.
Before Mason could do any actually medical work, who other than Denise had power walked her way into the medical bay. Of course, Mason had forgotten to lock the door, and his nurses wouldnât think to. Mason quickly put down his tools walked over to the door if the operating room where he sealed it. The medical bay had two operation rooms that were separated from the main facility by large and thick paraglass panes. These panes could be fogged to prevent view and the doors leading into them could be locked from both sides. In this way, either side could ensure the room remained sterile.
âI do not have time to be dealing with you right now, Denise. I have work to do.â Mason walked across the room to a prep area. He washed his hands, and then walked back by the door. Along the wall next to it was a control panel touch screen. After a few presses, the glass fogged. Robotic arms from around the observation disk above the table began to lower just before the fogged glass completely blocked them from view.
âSandra, could you please entertain Denise once you figure out the translator?â The nurse looked up from the computer screen. She was not pleased.
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