Echoed Lullabies (Lunar Chronicles x Reader)

Chapter 39

Cress and I stood to the side of the lab table, her clutching a portscreen as Dr. Erland held a strange tool beside Thorne's face, sending a thin beam of light into his pupils.

The doctor grunted, and bobbed his head in comprehension. "Mm-hmmm," he drawled, changing the tool's setting so that a green light clicked on near the bottom. "Mm-hm," he said again, switching to the other eye.

The tool in the doctor's hand made a few clicking sounds and he took the portscreen out of Cress's hand. He nodded at it before handing it back to her. I peered over her shoulder at the screen, where the strange tool was transferring a jumble of incomprehensible diagnoses.

"Mmmm-hmmm."

"Would you stop mm-hming and tell me what's wrong with them?" said Thorne.

"Patience," said the doctor. "The optic system is delicate, and an incorrect diagnosis could be catastrophic."

Thorne crossed his arms.

The doctor changed the settings on his tool again and completed another scan of Thorne's eyes. "Indeed," he said. "Severe optic nerve damage, likely as a result of traumatic head injury. My hypothesis is that when you hit your head during the fall, internal bleeding in your skull caused a sudden pressure buildup against the optic nerve and—"

Thorne waved, bumping the doctor's tool away from him. "Can you fix them?"

Dr. Erland huffed and set the tool down on the counter that ran the length of the Rampion's medbay. "Of course I can," he said, sounding insulted. "The first step will be to collect some bone marrow from the iliac crest portion of your pelvic bone. From that, I can harvest your hematopoietic stem cells, which we can use to create a solution that can be externally applied to your optic system. Over time, the stem cells will replace your damaged retinal ganglion cells and provide cellular bridges among the disconnected—"

"A-la-la-la-la, fine, I get it," said Thorne, covering his ears. "Please, never say that word again."

Dr. Erland raised an eyebrow. "Cellular? Hematopoietic? Ganglion?"

"That last one." Thorne grimaced. "Bleh."

The doctor scowled. "Are you squeamish, Mr. Thorne?"

"Eye stuff weirds me out. As does any surgery regarding the pelvic bone. You can knock me out for that part, right?" He lay back on the exam table. "Do it fast."

"A localized numbing agent will suffice," said Dr. Erland. "I even happen to have something that should work in my kit. However, while we can harvest the bone marrow today, I don't have the instruments necessary to separate the stem cells or create the injection solution."

Thorne slowly sat up again. "So ... you can't fix me?"

"Not without a proper lab."

Thorne scratched his jaw. "All right. What if we skipped the whole stem cells, injection solution thing, and just swapped my eyeballs out for some cyborg prostheses instead? I've been thinking how handy X-ray vision could be, and I have to admit, the idea has kind of grown on me."

"Hmm. You're right," said Dr. Erland, eyeing Thorne over the frames of his glasses. "That would be much simpler."

"Really?"

"No."

Thorne's mouth twisted into a frown.

"At least now we know what's wrong," said Cress, "and that it can be fixed. We'll figure something out."

The doctor glanced at her, then turned away and set about organizing the medbay cabinets with the equipment we'd taken from his hotel. He seemed to be making an attempt to hide any emotions aside from professional curiosity, but I got the impression that he didn't care much for Thorne.