New Horizons: Grounded Sky

CHAPT. 11: DECLEVITY

YEAR: 56023, year twenty three after the Arcaite Schism, three years after the Protogenian Rebellion

DESTINATION: N/A

"Are you going to have to... amputate?"

/][Not in this situation. His condition may seem moribund, but we will fix him.][\

Hmmmm... that seemed tricky, at least in Kukri's opinion. As he ran his claws down the length of the splint, he could still feel the point at which the flesh... dipped. A broken leg with crumpled thigh couplings, internal bleeding, and severe head trauma—it was remarkable that Albion was alive. On that note, from the way he lay practically lifeless and dismantled, Kukri would have guessed he was already dead... at least, if it wasn't for the faint "thump thump" he could hear from Albion's exposed chest cavity.

He felt a cold chill march its way up the fur on his back. NO. He would not be reliving the memory of when Tanto tore off Albion's chest cowling. Kukri shook it off, trying to clear his head, and plastered his gaze on the lifeless visor of the protogen in front of him. It was a deep dark blue like the oceans.

/][We need to clean his arms again to prepare for reassembly. I can still smell blood on this one][\ Tanto announced for the fifth time.

/][He will wake soon, make haste.][\

Kukri drew in a sharp breath as he fiddled with the disjointed limbs that lay in the tray on the floor beside him. The scrap of fabric he was using was stained a glowing fishy green, courtesy of Albion's leaky guts of course. He wiped the metal of the shoulder display again, before scooting the bloody pan back to Tanto... who promptly picked up an arm, frowned at it, and jammed it into the shoulder socket of the crumpled protogen that lay in before them. Maybe "jammed" was the wrong word? The amount of force involved just seemed... unnecessary. Was Tanto frustrated? No, the expression on his visor had barely blinked for the last eternity, let alone made any faces. Tanto was crouched over by Albion's head running boot preparation diagnostics, which gave Kukri time to think.

How could Tanto even function with how specific his routines were ? Maybe his frustration stemmed from being self aware of that fact? Well... apparently his answer to life was still "don't screw up". Tanto expected machine precision from himself, nothing less.

Bor someone with mechanics woven into the frame of his little bod, Kukri didn't feel like a machine. He had precision yes, but he could still make mistakes, and he had a silly little mind that could wander...

/][Kukri, the neural syncopator. We will have to replicate a sync pod with the tools we have onboard.][\

"Got it!"

"Ope. I think it's still packed."

He lumbered towards the supply bulkheads, being careful to not disturb the passengers that rested around him. They were all due for rest and repair of course,  but their slumber had seemed endless and dull. Kukri was careful to step over Karst's leg, but he almost tripped over his own foot, nearly falling flat on Griffon. Yipes!

Even though its sides were lined with seating, the cargo hold was still a bit... cramped. Kukri was getting restless. The one thing that made the space seem less suffocating was the tiny stream of light that poured in through the viewport on either side. He crept his way towards one as he weaved through the passengers. Just a quick peek, he reminded himself.

Space: endless, but not empty—the darkest of places filled with a myriad of lights. Currently, they were drifting past the orbit of the nearest star. Probably for safety, he figured. Larger search and destroy ships wouldn't be able to persue them, unless they felt like risking the gravitational pull of an entire sun. Large flares of heat erupted from its surface like angry claws, tossing unfathomably large bursts of molten gas out into the endless sky. It made Kukri feel so incredibly small. The glow of warm light was unavoidable, almost entrancing. He had only ever seen a star up close one other time, from the bay window of the dropship that Shadow was tasked with fixing.