《Serenity's Children》Chapter 08 - Arrival
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From far above, the scene below seemed distant, almost inconsequential to the naked eye. But standing in the middle of it was something else entirely.
The worst disaster ever in a decade, and it happened right at the ten cycle mark, too. Almost like those ten years were all the peace they were ever going to get.
Such thoughts were what occupied Corteza's mind as she quickly but carefully bandaged another rescuee. The little girl whose gut she had to sew shut, was already her thirteenth patient.
Next up was the kid's father; blunt trauma to the front and back. Caved-in ribcage and shattered thoracic.
"..."
"Excuse me! Does anyone here know how to amputate legs?!" A man's high-pitched but barely audible yell came from somewhere behind her.
"... I'll be right there! Go help someone else!"
She carefully placed her instruments back inside the kit to be sterilized and walked away from the still-gasping father. There was nothing useful she could do for him. Her time was better spent elsewhere.
Thar was what she kept telling herself. She only hoped that he wasn't lucid enough to understand what was happening. Like the others she had decided to skip.
A trembling clinic nurse passed her by, brisk-walking with his kit clenched tightly against his chest. There were no words between the two, not even a glance or nod. Even though he was the one who asked for help. There was no time and they had no energy to spend on such things.
Medical students, biologists, and even veterinarians had already been called to help with the wounded. And yet still they were outnumbered 15:1.
Thousands of them, Imperial, Federalist and Union - they were all gathered in this square. Pulled out from every corner of the ship they could reach.
They ran out of beds a long time ago. Then they ran out of sheets a few hours later. But the sea of wounded was ever widening. They were laid wherever there was space. So she had to hop and skip, over the living and the dead which nobody had the time to remove.
There were way too many wounded.
Complaints like these welled up in her heart, and surely it was the same for many others like her. For every healthy person that arrived here, there was somebody severely wounded being brought in. But she swallowed the words, not even daring to mutter them.
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"... shit!"
Yet one did slip out, as she nearly slipped on someone's lifeless hand in a pool of blood. Then came a new cry from nearby.
An aging woman stared up at her, with despair in her dull red eyes. In her hands was the corpse's other hand.
"Please… help my husband!"
Then she noticed how mangled the man's lower half was. So he was the one who needed to be amputated? Sure, he could've been saved. But…
"I can't-"
"Why…? Is your hatred so perverse that you'd refuse to help even the elderly?!"
The woman's hysterical crying grated her ears, and the gazes from those around them weren't helping her stay calm.
Red eyes. Red-hued eyes all staring at her. All of them were accusatory.
And then something snapped.
"That's right…!" Her professional veneer was finally grounded away. "You, your husband and every other gray-haired Imperial is the reason why all this shit is happening!"
An ugly grin formed on her face, which she quickly tried to hide with her palm when her senses were back in control. But it was too late now. The red eyes were now enraged, hateful.
And she, though ashamed, still glared back. She wanted nothing more than to purge the pus that had festered in her heart.
"He deserved to die in agony, and so do you!"
*** *** ***
[... This is a state of emergency. But please, remain calm. All survivors must make their way to the central squares of B deck. These have been turned into evacuation zones.
Please avoid using elevators that have sustained visible damage and bring whatever supplies you can with you. If you cannot move, stay where you are and use anything to guide rescuers towards you.
Once you arrive, take your critically wounded to the main plaza and make your way to your respective, designated evac building.
These will be marked by either your flag, or your national colors. Do not interact with those from other nations, unless absolutely necessary. This is a state of emergency…]
How many times has that announcement repeated by now? It was the only thing that's been blasting out of the PA system. Like a siren. But by now, nobody was listening.
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"We're going to die here, aren't we?" One of the engineers muttered, while fiddling with the internal electronics of an auto door. "Even at times like these, we're still divided. Hah."
"Shut up, I don't want to hear it." His partner answered with an exhausted sigh, not even raising her head from her tablet.
While he was trying to bypass the mechanical security. She was attempting to lift the lockdown itself.
"..." The man fell silent, but they both shared the same lightless eyes. They were out of their depth, and they knew it.
"Still no word from the others?" He asked again, as the silence only made the PA system louder. To which she sighed again.
"No. Not yet." She almost chuckled after saying those words. Like anyone else could get through. Just then, another error popped up on her screen, requiring her to start over again.
"How hard is it to hotwire a door, anyway…?"
"Why don't you do it, then?"
They both glared at each other. Then, they smiled. Their pallid faces regained a bit of their color back. Conversations like these were the only real reprieve they had now.
And right at that exact moment, the door came to life. The hiss of the hydraulics being forced back - the sound that they've all been waiting to hear.
But neither of the two were happy or proud. It wasn't them who made it happen. The lockdown was still in effect and he still hadn't found any success either.
So why? The question had muted them, halted them from telling the others. The door creaked and screeched - even though it should've slid smoothly.
Almost like…
"Commander!" She yelled into her earpiece. "Someone is prying their way in from the other side! There's survivors!"
Glee was evident on both engineers' faces.
However, they didn't receive a reply.
"Commander! Are you there? Commander!"
"Is anyone hearing us?!"
Both were now yelling, hoping for any response. Yet there was still none to be recieved.
"Can you stay here and guide them? I'll run ahead and…" She turned around, only to see something peering through the door.
No. Someone. A person shrouded in darkness. But in their arms was a weapon that glowed a bright yellow green hue. Aimed straight at them.
"Jay!!" She screamed, but it was too late.
A clump of glowing plasma was fired from the weapon and pierced through both of them at the gut, before splattering somewhere behind them.
He died without a sound, eyes and mouth wide open, while the hole through his stomach kept expanding.
However, she was still alive - on the floor, lying on her side. Kept awake by the searing pain of her internal organs being melted and cauterized at the same time. If she still had her stomach, she would've vomited from the stench of their flesh and steel being melted.
It was a weapon that was deigned to ensure the enemy could never recover and suffered as much as possible.
"... why…?" She glared up at the man wearing a black uniform. With tears running down her cheeks. She didn't recognize his face, but his black uniform was the only answer she needed.
A man who served the Count.
A man in a blood-soaked uniform, with a part of his skull missing.
"... I see now… serves you right…!"
He stared at her for a moment before aiming the weapon at her once more. A bright green flash was the last thing she ever saw, before her face was caved in and turned into a macabre goblet of plasma.
But perhaps it was a blessing. A kindness, even. For she and her partner were spared the same fate as those just several feet away.
Barely illuminted from the other side of two sets of partially melted doors, were dozens - no - hundreds of corpses, gathered in one place.
Torn apart, their organs and limbs scattered everywhere. They had been ravaged and feasted upon by thousands of chittering figures.
And those creatures were now pouring in. Led by the one of the Count's finest men.
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