New Awakening

His focus was intense, his hands moved steadily yet quickly, with a level of accuracy as if he had performed the procedure hundreds of times. But without the recommended supply of cell-gel that is required to repair damaged tissue properly, he was acting against standard procedure.

“She ain’t gonna make it, kid.” What appeared like a bushy old Earth otter, stood on two legs, ranging at three and a half feet. His body covered with ruffled tanned fur, stood again, standing off to the side of the cargo bay that served as a makeshift operating room. He was dressed in a grey pilot’s jumpsuit made with several small orange pockets, standing in a posture that conveyed a readiness to help, despite his futile view of the situation.

“Don’t tell me that, unless that’s a certainty.” A serious surgeon brushed away the external doubt with his own determination as he continued without slowing down. “This is just enough to stimulate the body to initiate regenerative repairs.” He spoke in a stoic monotone as he sutured a thread to stitch together the severed organs, which were coated with cell-gel, giving an orange hue to the epithelium.

The surgeon did this to three other organs, all alien compared to his own, but he recognized their structure. He sewed up and cauterized the remaining wounds in a slow, methodical manner with his gloved and teal-bloodied hands. It was only after the next 30 mins that he sat back to breathe, as if he had been holding his own breath out of the wonder if he was to succeed himself.

“Well, I’ll be…” the Laroshan captain had returned after the chaos had subsided. He jumped onto a nearby metal crate to peer over the woman’s body, admiring the unorthodox work.

Together with the series of synthetic thread networking the woman’s insides, the lacing of cell-gel would act as a constant source to enhance the body’s natural repair cycle long enough before the synthetic thread dissolved. The remaining damage would fully heal in time. The Terran surgeon got up to examine the woman’s body, carefully inspecting her vitals with a medical scanner.

“Heartbeat’s clear, breathing stable.” He informed, placing her arm back to her side. “Her body is healing just as expected.” He double checked the scanner's readings to make sure the woman’s parenchymal cells and all the other connective organ tissue were active, stable, and regenerating before finally looking at the Laroshan captain, giving the all clear with a confident nod.

“You have me at a wonder, boy.” The Kathari stated. “What about her leash?”

Ignoring his question, the Doctor stared at the woman, specifically at the metallic device fused to the back of her neck. His eyebrows furrowed as he frowned in disgust. . The contraption was a behavioral chip, one crafted by amateur scientists and sawbones from the more illegal corners of the galaxy, like the side of space they now flew in. The chip was designed to suppress specific levels of cognitive function. This tech was originally used to put the subject’s brain to sleep for neural operations, but this variant was built to suppress and limit the brain to become subservient to a registered owner.

“Uh, Lucian?” The Laroshan man snapped his clawed fingers to draw him back from his inner thoughts. “We can’t leave with her on this ship. If that thing gets far enough away from the station, or whoever her owner is, it’ll fry her nervous system to a crisp.”

Lucian stood up, his mind made up before he could rethink his decision. He sat the woman upright, leaning her forward in a slump. He eyed the hexagonal device, its yellow indicator glowing brightly. “I guess they didn’t want her, so—.” He shrugged, not caring about the consequences, since there were none. “I need two more things from you, Captain Rosha.” He turned to look at his superior.

The man was quick to scuff the fur on his face, his tail puffing in agitation. “Now see here, boy! You already took Cell-Gel from me, which is already going to the colony sectors.”

He hopped about on the crates, incensed in a way that made him look like an old prospector fuming from an old cartoon Lucian used to watch as a kid. It brought him to the verge of chuckling. He did his best to push the thought from his head before he sputtered a laugh or stretched a wide grin across his face.

“I only need a magnet and an ion stabilizer to remove the chip,” Lucian clarified, waving a free hand to dismiss the concerns. He knew he definitely didn’t want to take from the old man’s cargo again.

Rosha was quickly calmed, expressing surprise and possibly a bit of foolishness from his outburst. “That's all?” He asked as his scruffy mustache, or whatever the Tuft of matted fur over his mouth was, twitched. “I heard these things are terrible to get off.”

Lucian smirked, showing a cunning he had that made Rosha curious enough to comply. After retrieving the requested tools from his engineers, Lucian primed the stabilizer to a steady frequency and placed the magnet to attach itself to the device's metal surface, albeit in a crooked position. With a sharp and precise tap, the stabilizer sparked against the magnet, forcing the chip to shut down and die, its indicator going dark. Only then did Lucian use a suture to cut the skin connecting the chip to the woman’s body, sterilize the fresh wound, and patch it up with a leftover gel patch.

“Easy,” Lucian grinned, glancing over at Rosha, whose orange-shaded eyes were wide in disbelief.

“How in the Allmaker did you do that?!” He shouted, the tuft of fur over his mouth bristling wildly in excitement.

“Trade secret on being just that good.” Lucian scoffed, but laughed when Rosha puffed his whiskers in annoyance.

The small captain glanced at the woman. “Cleaning those plasma burns, stabilizing her vitals, and stitching her innards with cell-gel coated syth-thread? Pretty smart, and on a Vul’Katahn no less. Didn’t think you’d have a technique like that on anything…not you.“ He spoke softly, before snapping his head back to the surgeon. “But removing an exploding behavioral slave collar is definitely not something a sawbones would know about. And you’re young, as far as Terrans go. Quite suspicious,” he accused with a wave of a clawed finger. “Now, what will you do with her now that she’s free?”

Lucian turned to the woman. She now lay on the cot, her breathing steady and her body settling calmly, as if she knew subconsciously that she was at peace. “Take her to Colonial authorities, now that we can get off of this dump and out of Marauder Space.”

“That is the first good idea you’ve said all day, boy.” Rosha was quick to jump down from the crate, but not ensuring his landing, he nearly slipped on a puddle of blood that made him stumble into a drunken dance for two seconds.

Rosha snapped his head back towards Lucian, who faced the other way, shoulders struggling not to shake.

“Just…clean up this mess!” he barked, his fur rising inembarrassment before he exited the cargo bay, leaving a small trail of teal-colored footprints behind him.

Lucian kept his eyes on the woman, unsure of whether she could hear him, as he spoke softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, removing and disposing of his gloves to place his hand on her ivory forehead gently. Lucian stared at her for a moment, finally taking in her appearance, now that the threat of her existence was no longer in peril for the moment.

He studied the black tattoos on the tendril-like extensions emerging from the back of her head, the noticeable muscular build in her arms and torso, her wide hips, toned legs, and the fullness of her lips. Despite her few scars and rough condition, he found her very attractive, and oddly muscular for a Vul’Katahn; they were normally more lithe and not so combatively built.

“You must be special.” He mused, eyeing her features. “Either way, you’re free now.“ Lucian took her hand again, holding on firmly, only for the woman’s grip to return the favor with a weakened grasp. He couldn’t tell if she was listening until he noticed her eyes open ever so slightly. Her dark sclera was like an inky abyss, and a faint glow of cyan light formed the rings of her irises.

Lucian stared at her in awe as he witnessed her come alive with majestic splendor, the cosmic energies running active in her body, concentrating in her eyes to emit a luminous neon. Her rising presence appeared to fill his lungs with fresh air, causing him to inhale sharply. The woman stared back, her eyes squinting to focus with relative calm as they shifted about. Lucian held his hand up as she made her move to sit up, only for him to take her gently by the shoulder to make her rest.

The woman grabbed his arm in shock, her once tender touch now a firm grip as her bicep tightened and fingers held tight. The contact felt as if a static jolt coursed through her, bringing her to inhale as well, her tendrils twitching from one rapid moment to an intense vibration that made it sound like she was purring for but a second.

“Hey, hey, easy!” Lucian removed his hand from her shoulder as quickly as he could before she could act any further, and her grasp slipped from him. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you must rest.” Lucian placed his other hand atop the one he held, reassuring the Vul’Katahni woman of his intentions. “You’re safe here.”

“T-Terran!” She spoke in a crisp yet melodious cadence, making her Galactic Common sound heavily accented. The statement was matter-of-fact, holding no spite to it, yet much concern. “Why are you— where am I? Where is my crew?”