Chapter Text
Something about the set of Laswell's feathers froze Soap at the doorway of the med room. She'd turned all of the holoscreens back on, different diagrams and simulations displayed that Soap couldn't parse at a glance. The one in the middle, however, was clearly Ghost's body.
“Laswell?”
She turned slowly and Soap had ample time to see the horror etched in her posture. Blast, was Ghost sick? Dying?
“What's going on?”
He stepped closer. That seemed to shake her, and she gestured to the main screen with a talon.
“I don't know.”
He'd never heard such utter disbelief in Laswell's voice. He was used to her being close to all-knowing, her long years and experience attributing to insight he would never have. This was...
“Something wrong?”
She gave him an odd look. If he didn't know any better, he'd have said she looked lost.
“That's the problem. I can't tell.”
“...Nothing?” There had to be similarities to known species. There were just too many for the contrary.
“Well, for starters, the scan identified over a thousand types of bacteria on the skin alone.”
“A thousand?!” His shrill voice barely registered. “But that's...” How did anyone live like this?
“And as far as I can tell, this could be completely normal.”
“No way.”
The feathers of her shoulders were still slightly raised, revealing the crystals beneath.
“This is...” she paused before continuing. “...a lot of it is known phenomenons. But the scale is simply unbelievable. Some harmless bacteria on the body, yes, but so many? It shouldn't be...”
Be what? Able to work? Survivable? It seemed insane that such a state wouldn't be harmful, and a thought made him jolt.
“They're not transferable right? The bacterias?” he stammered.
“No, they're tailored to the species they reside on.” The thought didn't seem to reassure them as much as it should have.
And that was just one thing.
“What else?”
“His weight is more than I thought it would be for his size, even for a creature born on a deathworld. Probably extremely dense bones, denser muscles too.”
“Explains how strong he is.” That one wasn't exactly surprising.
“I didn't have the time to do a deep scan, so this is all just surface level. But the one thing I'm sure about...” she seemed to get a spark back in her eye as she looked at him. Uh oh.
“Is...?”
“What you took for a pouch protecting the reproductive organ isn't natural. It's clothes. Unknown materials, so I'm assuming fabricated back on his planet.”
Out of all the things she could have said. What? Soap felt himself darken when his eyes skittered over the offending area. As much as he wanted to respect Ghost's privacy, this was weird. With the bulge he could see behind the cloth, did that that mean its natural state was just... hanging there?
“Is there any other species that has...this?” He couldn't remember.
“No.” He hated how professional Laswell managed to sound. “All recorded sapient species evolved some sort of biological cache to protect that area, for the ones that reproduce sexually.”
Dear Light, Soap didn't want to discuss Ghost's reproductive capabilities with Laswell. It wasn't important. Why would she even bring it up?
“You're going to use these measurements to get him clothes back at A-738 right?”
“Yes?” he answered too fast, too eager for a change of subject, but he didn't care.
“I'm sure he'd appreciate an extra or two of these,” she gestured at the black garment rendered on the image.
“Ah. Yes,” he glared at her. Did she have to torment him like this?
She was clearly unapologetic as she returned to her scan.
“Aside from the thick amount of grime sticking to him, there were also parasites. Lots of them, microscopic. They've all been removed.”
“He's sick?” And potentially infested with deadly parasites. Blast.
“Was. I think. They were mostly on his face for some reason. If he gets any more they will be destroyed again, so I don't think it's something worth worrying about for now.”
Soap wasn't sure he liked that answer, but he kept his mouth shut.
“I'm a little more worried about the fur on his body.”
“Fur? He barely has any.”
“Yes, that might be a problem. He actually has a lot more than we can see, they're just really thin and small hairs all over his body. I'm not sure if he lost his coat or if that's normal, and that's not something we can help with if it isn't.”
Soap imagined Gaz losing all his fur save for a few spots and felt his heart pick up speed. That was...
“Well, the results are ridiculous, but until proven otherwise, I'm going to have to treat the rest of these vitals as normal. There's only one thing that concerns me.”
There was worse? She moved the focus of the screen to Ghost's left arm, revealing in more details the shapes there. Soap couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn't understand everything represented, but the general theme seemed clear. Violence. Ghost had violence painted on his skin. Skulls, weapons, flames and who knew what fought for space on the man's skin.
Soap had crafted designs for various battle paints in his life, but this was simply horrible. There was no subtlety, nothing left to imagination.
“It's not the design I'm worried about,” Laswell said, as if reading his mind, voice suddenly much more serious.
What?
She raised her head to him, and Soap's heart lurched at the terror he read there.
“This is under the skin, Soap.” And because this could get even worse, she continued. “And there's traces of metal in there.”
The only reason the whistle wasn't heard was that neither of them had the hearing for it above the water. Soap only knew he'd done it because he felt his gills vibrate over his darkened skin.
If there was one thing that all discovered species so far seemed to share, both sapient and sentient, it was steel madness. It was a basic law of the universe. Organic bodies rejected foreign bodies. Prosthetics had made leaps and bounds along with other technologies, but even those exterior attachments were known to still cause steel madness, regardless of the materials used. Something to do with the brain unable to accept the new limb as an extension of one's self. It eventually drove the wearer insane. Not even Laswell was exempt from that rule, and Urna's bodies weren't fully organic.
Ghost had metal under his skin.
“But that's...” he couldn't finish the thought.
It wasn't violence that Ghost had painted on him, but death. The skulls there seemed to mock them for their ignorance. Why? Soap couldn't understand why someone, anyone, would do such a thing.
Why Ghost would do such a thing. The design was intricate and foreign enough Soap had no doubt this had been done by a human hand, and willingly so.
“There's no signs.” He was grasping at weeds and he knew it.
Laswell let him. Soap didn't want to know if that was because she wanted to believe the same.
“It takes months and years to fully develop,” she answered.
They'd have time to expand Ghost's vocabulary. Enough to explain what would be necessary by then. If he could survive that. Humans were tough creatures, that much was clear, and Soap hoped that for once, the stories lived up to their reputations. Otherwise, they'd lose Ghost, one way or the other.
All his excitement dashed and washed away, Soap didn't glance back to the still lit screens when he left the med bay. Laswell turned back to her data in silence and for the first time since they'd been working together, Soap didn't put any trust into her figuring out something else. Not even she could break through such an immutable fact.
Soap was still brooding when Price called the team onto the bridge the next morning. It felt like his skin had taken a permanently darker shade than normal. It was greatly muted since the discovery in the med bay, and hadn't gotten quite back to normal. Evidently, Laswell had relayed the rest of her findings to the others, as the mood was decidedly down, and not just because of Soap.
“The last of the dirt was cleaned out of the bottom ventilation during the night, and Nik already checked it over. Everything is back in order.”
Oh stars, they could finally get off this light-forsaken planet. Even as he thought that, he could hear the but in Price's voice.
“But what food we have left won't be enough to get us back to A-738.”
Blast. That meant...
“Soap, I'm sending you back out to collect,” he hesitated, then, “with Ghost. Gaz and I will follow with our own bags.”
He didn't say if the extra security was in case of tridul, or Ghost snapping and attacking Soap. Before yesterday, he'd have berated the Captain for still considering Ghost such a major threat. Now, he wasn't so sure himself.
There are no signs, he repeated to himself. It was fine. For now.
“Aye.” Nobody harped on his half assed reply.
Silence hung on the bridge before Price dismissed them. Soap was glad they hadn't discussed the subject. It hung like a cloud over their heads, but so long as everyone had a job, they could ignore it well enough. That was fine by Soap. He had to find Ghost and move out.
Two hours later, they stepped off the ship and into the forest. They had a slightly shorter window than last time to avoid getting burned to a crisp by lightning, but with Price and Gaz also on gathering duty they would get enough between all of them. Their reserves didn't have to last long, only until they could land at the closest station, but they'd had to revise a lot of things since Ghost came along, and food stock was one of them.
Soap was too busy shooting down tridul and watching Ghost break them down to dwell too much on the situation, until crackling overhead made him flinch. He looked up just in time to see a flash of lightning tear the clouds.
He thumbed his com to get Price.
“Where are you guys?”
“On the way back, like you should be, Sergeant.”
Blast. He'd lost track of time. He bit off his immediate remark. Yes, Price could have checked in when the time was up, but he wasn't at fault for Soap wandering off on his own. Well, as on his own as he was with Ghost trailing him.
He checked the timer, wondering how he'd missed the timer beep. They'd calculated some leeway for them to get back, but the storm was back even earlier than that. Swearing, he started turning back the way they came, only for Ghost to yank him back.
“What?” he snapped at a nonplussed Ghost.
Soap was dragged behind a thick bush. From there, he saw the triduls who were also retreating from the lightning. Right towards them.
“Come,” Ghost whispered, taking off the other way.
This time, Soap didn't argue. He hadn't gotten an accurate count, but it had looked like too many. And if the triduls were starting to retreat, they themselves wouldn't have time to get back to the ship. They had to find shelter before the storm struck in full. Already, the leaves overhead were starting to buzz with static.
“Soap, what's your status?” Price asked, and he realised he hadn't answered him.
He pulled up the holo on his com with a map of their position relative to the ship. Too far, and getting farther. Still he sent his coordinates along with a message. They wouldn't be able to use the coms once the storm had set in with all the interference.
“We're looking to hunker down somewhere,” he started just as Ghost pointed to their left. Soap slowed and spotted the entry to a cave. Perfect. “Found a cave. We will wait it out.”
Message sent, Soap didn't have to urge Ghost towards the opening. He was running out of breath trying to keep up with the breakneck pace instead. Soap was no slouch, but there was only so much running a Kran could do when put against land based species. The disadvantage was a matter of course, but even then, Ghost didn't look slightly winded. And Soap had to remind himself that on top of Sherla D-7's higher gravity, the human still refused to use the gravity belt to lighten his bag filled with fruits and roots. That kind of stamina was simply unfair.
Soap almost ran into Ghost's back when he suddenly slowed at the edge of the small clearing. Beyond it, the cave had spat out two triduls. Soap wasn't sure who was most surprised, him or the animals, but Ghost wasn't. He rushed forward, training pole in hand.
Ghost targeted the closest specimen, digging the blunt end of the pole under the tridul's chin. The move gave him good leverage due to the animal's long neck, and he flipped it over, crushing what he thought were windpipes under his foot. It might struggle for some time, but it was out of the fight and not calling out for help. Soap took down the other with a well placed shot. Behind them, Ghost was sure the pack of triduls that had cut them off earlier was still following, as was the static electricity in the air. If Ghost had had any length of hair left, it would be standing straight to the sky. As it was, he felt the buzz down to his bones. They didn't have time.
He walked inside the cave. Shuffling came from deeper inside, but Ghost couldn't see. He wondered if Soap had better night vision, because the alien didn't break stride and overtook him, rifle at the ready. A few shots illuminated the interior and two triduls fell on the rocky ground. Helpless until his eyes adjusted, Ghost hung back. He hadn't seen more than these two during Soap's shots, but he wouldn't count on it.
Soap said something and relaxed. Apparently there had only been these two. Maybe not so surprising if the rest of them were on their way.
“Soap,” he mumbled as the bushes in front shook.
It wasn't the wind, even if that was also ramping up. Soap swiveled and cursed. Three triduls broke the into the clearing as he put the first one down, and Ghost wished he'd been handed a rifle. The alien tech might be odd and unneccessarily flashy, but he'd have taken that over the stick he was wielding.
Soap let a few through and Ghost stepped forward. Raindrops fell on his scalp as he pushed one beast away, kicked another and stabbed a third. Soap shot one in the arse trying to get it off him, but all it did was cause the animal to swivel on his smoking hind end towards the offender, teeth bared. He got knuckles down his throat for his trouble and went down, but Ghost barely glanced at it. The rain was coming down harder now, the triduls growing frantic with it, throwing themselves not so much at them but at the cave entrance. Right arm smarting something fierce, Ghost took a deep breath before colliding with the next beast. The impact jarred him, but he'd dug his pole into a neighboring tridul for leverage and toppled them both. A tail whipped him in the shin and left a trail of fire and the one he bodied got his long neck over his shoulder to bite into it. Soap put the one behind him down while he broke the neck of the biter.
He wished he had more than his own body to deny them access to the cave. After a few more, a new gash had joined the other on his back, his right hand barely functioned and he was breathing hard. But the crackling overhead made his heart pump blood with renewed vigor.
“Soap, inside.” He backed away when a small window opened, trusting the alien to cover him while he retreated.
Soap followed him a second later, a tridul on his tail. Ghost's pole stopped it before Soap's rifle could get a shot. Grunting with the effort, the pole almost slipped out of his hands. The shaft was coated in blood and he used his chest to push for leverage. The tridul fell and was about to get back up when the sky lit up.
Ghost hugged the hard ground, not sure how he got there. All he knew was to stay down while the world fell apart. His ears were ringing and his eyes saw nothing but white. He'd been danger close to many things, and his mind flashed to spotty air support or inaccurate artillery, all sorts of friendly fire incidents his mind could cook up.
He blinked, trying to get his vision to clear, but all he got was tears and extra spots. A burning smell wafted over and despite the pain and stiffness of his body, he didn't think it was coming from him. Shit, Soap! Soap was with him! He tried to call out but coughed instead. The buzzing in his ears hadn't abatted and he knew that even if Soap were to call for him, it would be unlikely he'd hear it.
It was forever until his vision cleared. Rationally he knew it hadn't been that long, but bloody hell his brain was fuzzy enough that he couldn't be sure. His heart galloped unsteadily in his chest and he took a deep breath that did nothing to abate the headache and nausea. Some distant part of his brain registered the symptoms of electrocution, along with the roasted forms of the triduls outside.
Oh, he could see again.
With a groan, he pushed himself to his knees, teeth clenched against the pain. Soap was getting up a few meters behind him, looking a lot better than Ghost felt, and the reason came back to him. He'd managed to push him away from the cave entrance before the lightning struck their neighbours and burned them to a crisp.
Barbecue sounded nice.
“Ghost?”
Soap reached out like he was going to help him up, but Ghost pushed himself to his feet before he could get close. He only swayed for a second or two before he found his feet while Soap hovered.
“You hurt?” Ghost asked because he wasn't sure what he was seeing.
Soap's skin had taken the dark hue it did when shaken up, which he was expecting, but his eyes were... glowing, illuminating what might be a small cut on the alien's cheek.
“-I hurt?!” Soap all but shrieked, waving his arms at Ghost. He already knew he was hurt, no need to point out the obvious. Soap kept going and Ghost lost half the words. “-- you -- you---hurt!” was all he could make out.
Sure, his injuries were worse, but nothing that couldn't be patched up. The torn skin of his right arm was going to be a bitch, as was the bite on his shoulder, but the rest should be easily closed with some stitches. He patted his thigh for his med kit and froze. Fuck. Right. No med kit. Alien planet.
Or rather, alien med kit, he thought as Soap pulled out his own from his bag. It looked more extensive than the one from the bathroom, which made sense, but might not be of any help for him. And he didn't have a bead on what was wrong with Soap. For such a small cut, it sure was bleeding a lot. The somewhat dark blue and translucent liquid was now running down his neck and wetting his shirt. Hell, it seemed to bleed even more than head wounds on a human, with a more runny quality to it.
Soap lined up a few tools that Ghost couldn't guess the purpose of and braced himself for what was coming. He'd take the bandages. Maybe try to weasel some thread for sutures too.
No way was he letting Soap put whatever weird ointment he pulled out on his wounds. He drew the line of first aid at unknown alien material entering open flesh. He just hoped his immune system could beat whatever bacteria a tridul bite carried.