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Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 21: Relive your childhood

The group stood just outside the entrance to the hospital, a sea of baggage, medical equipment, storybooks and fussing parents milling about behind them. Time was of the essence, and discretion is the better part of valor; many people had done many daring and heroic things with what they had on-hand, and this current “field trip” of the starry-dust crusaders was absolutely no different. Suits had been checked and re-checked, supplies prepared and then doubled, air traffic cleared and volunteers raised. For all intents and purposes, this would be one for the history books – regardless of how it turned out.

It also turned out that on such short notice, the only transportation that the Hospital could muster that would not raise undue suspicion and not stop the flow of regular emergencies was a bright orange short bus.

“[I knew this was going to be some bullshit.]” Laverne said, mostly to herself, t-posing gently in the middle of the maelstrom of activity so as to not apply pressure to the bodies of her dozens of hitchhikers/field trip buddies. She was left alone partly because of the reassurances she gave the Jornissian parents on the way out, and partly from that “If you fuck with me right now I will use your children as a flail” vibe she was giving off.

“{…and G’rekrez likes to take the high ground, so don’t let her fight with her sister or else it’s all over.}” A Dorarizin mother said, fussing over one of the fuzzy beans that had latched onto Than Mo’s back and refused to let go.

“[Alright.]” Than mo replied, deadpan, as yet another bag of baby supplies was dropped at his feet.

“{So this should have everything to take care of Rrzwegr until nap time, in which case-}”

“[You do realize that this shouldn’t take more than a few hours, right? Like. We should be back before sundown.]” Than mo sighed, looking at the concerned parent – and the 4 others behind her. “[In, out, 20 minute adventure.]”

Than mo stared down the Mother – someone from accounting, he didn’t catch the name – as she shuffled awkwardly in place. “{Yes, but, well.}”

“[Well what?]”

The Dorarizin gave the also-gently-T-posing human a look, waving her arm about as the Human-Dorarizin Pup amalgamation tracked her hand movement with expectation. “{Just.}”

“{They’ll be fine, Zzr’gre-of-Drozr.}” Tipo smiled, walking between the two parents to pick up the baby bag, hefting it’s weight on his shoulder. “{A few of my own pups are on him, so I’ll be another chaperon. We also have plenty of juice boxes too.}”

There was a ripple of excitement along the Cerberarizin at the word, and only with a wiggle of his arms could Than mo bring the excitement down a bit. “[We’ll be fine-]”

Than mo’s reassurance was broken by a cheer as, off to his side in the middle of a group of equally-concerned Karnakians, James was yeeted about 20 feet into the sky before slowly drifting down into the waiting arms of bemused parents.

Than mo looked at the Dorarizin, who just looked away sheepishly.

“{I’ll make sure he lands safely and not on our pups.}” Tipo said, reassuringly, as he tossed the care bag onto the pile of other care bags. “{And speaking of safety, I think we’re all set on everything we need to get going. Anyone have anything else?}” Tipo raised his voice in that typical Dad’s-not-yelling-but-wants-your-attention tone, causing all the pups to look at him with rapt attention. The Karnakian parents broke the circle, letting a wobbly bow-legged James waddle forward, not so much as saying an affirmative as whining softly.

“{So that’s a yes! And that’s a yes, already from tiny-chomper sassy-slaps, and a yes from you tiny-chomper-lookit-him-jump. Can you all make it on the bus-}”

“[I do not know what terrible decisions I have made where the highlight of my day is getting on a short bus.]” Laverne deadpanned, pengin-walking towards the now-kneeling bright orange hoverbus. “[However, I will be sending a strongly-worded homemade package to my guidance counselor.]” With a hop she cleared the first step, and then the next, and the next, t-posing the entire time. Than mo followed in much the same lien, and James effortlessly floated into the bus.

Effortlessly on his part; excitedly on the part of his floating field-trip buddies.

The Short Bus – there really was no sugarcoating that part – had been hastily modified before it’s departure; seat rows were taken out, banks of medical equipment were bolted in, and the entire interior was padded for a myriad of reasons… not the least of which being that the humans were left mostly unattended with children, and that could only end poorly. Speaking of, each human had their own “cubicle”, a set place to stand in exasperation in safety, if not peace.

Tipo finished his pre-flight conversation with their driver, and with an effortless liftoff they were on their way. The ground quickly receded from view, replaced now with the middle-levels of buildings, monuments and the far horizon stretching along all sides. The Short Bus was windowed along all sides and had a see-through roof, giving everyone a beautiful view of their flight. For a few moments, both children and adults were enraptured by the experience, enjoying the ability to look on their world in a way that few non-Moth enthusiasts do.

This was in relative silence, which means it lasted for all of 5 minutes until the babies got bored, and began to fuss.

“[Oh! Alright, so you’ll want to unzip bag 7E, Laverne.]” Tipo began, dropping the bag into Laverne’s cubicle. “[James, you’ll need Box 12J, it should be to your right. Than mo, do you need anything?]”

“I can’t move.”

“[Oh! Are the pups settling in for another nap?]”

“No.” Than mo stated, wiggling his arms slightly. As he did so the pups on them gripped him tighter, growling and gurgling happily that they got to keep their favorite chewtoy while having an adventure. “Like. If I move too much I’m pretty sure I’m going to dislodge a pup and I don’t know how that’ll pan out.” There was a defensive growl from somewhere around his left armpit, and Than mo gave Tipo a shrug. “See what I mean?”

“Same here.” James said, his chick body somehow puffing out even further. “And let us not ever say anything that involves leaving the good earth.”

“I might have more movement, but I got nothing tactile.” Laverne responded, slowly moving her arms straight out infront of her. The Jornissian hatchlings who were on her hands reared up, waving their arms and bodies in confusion and excitement before falling back in on the pile and the safety of their moving perch.

“[Well… I- I can’t manage so many young, that’s…]” Tipo looked around for some sort of encouragement, but received none, as he started to do some mental math in his head. “[Good heavens. I couldn’t tend to all of their needs! We’re going to have to figure something else out-]”

“I can distract them.” James interrupted, an unusually serious tone in his voice. “But the price will be great.”

“[I’ve been told that if the chicks are talking to you about sacrifices, you are not to indulge them.]” Tipo chided, pulling out a tablet to flip through some notes. “[Especially if those sacrifices are of living, sapient-]”

“No. Laverne. Than Mo.” James said, standing somehow taller. With effort the two other humans turned their full bodies to face their incredibly puffy colleague, the chicks on his body sensing that something was about to occur, and that a yeeting may be needed at any time.

“What is it, James?” Laverne asked, concern creeping into her voice. “I haven’t seen you this serious in a long time.”

“You should know of what I speak.” James closed his eyes, preparing himself mentally. “We are on a bright orange bus, filled with kids.”

“Yes, but I don- oh.” Laverne realized, inhaling deeply. “Oh.”

“[I don’t like this. I don’t like whatever this is.]” Tipo said, pointing his tablet accusingly between the humans who apparently shared a concerned psychic bond. “[What’s going on?]”

“How long is this trip, Tipo?” James said, not breaking eye contact with Laverne.

“[Probably… 2 hours, give or take. We’re not speeding for obvious reasons, and there’s a lot of animal traffic that we have to be careful of. Why do you ask?]”

“Do you think you can survive 4 hours of this, Laverne?” James said, stoically. “Than mo?”

“I have no idea what the fu-funtimes you’re talking about.” Than mo said, trying his best to censor himself as the pups he was carrying began to wiggle on his body. “But 4 hours seems OK – I’ve already tanked a lot more with these guys on me, so I don’t get the-”

“Than mo. We’re on a bus. With kids. On a field trip.” James said, slowly, trying to help his friend piece the puzzle together. “Which will take a long time to do. What did we do ourselves to pass the time when we were on field trips?”

“I mean, played around, did I spy, san- oh.” Than mo realized, his mouth curving into a thoughtful frown. “I see. They wouldn’t know words, but probably tone and intent would get through.”

“Can you survive 4 hours though?” James repeated, softly.

“[Really, really not liking whatever is going on right now.]” Tipo interjected, trying to get anyone’s attention. “[Explanations would be very useful! I’d really like some of that right now!]”

Than mo nodded, and James turned – slowly – to an increasingly exasperated Tipo. “Tipo, my friend.”

“[Yes?]”

“We are on a bus.” James stated, matter-of-factly, over the soft prayers of strength that Laverne was muttering under her breath.

“[…Yes. We are. I don’t see how-]”

“And…” James inhaled deeply, before continuing. “The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round-

Tipo frowned, then crouched low, ears swiveling back and forth as he tried to understand exactly what was going on. After a few seconds James’ voice was joined by Laverne, and then by Than mo. It didn’t matter that they were off-key, or warbling, or that sometimes the lyrics were incorrect; the three humans began to sing. And as they sung, the repetitive, simple sounds, the toddlers in their care listened with rapt attention for a few moments.

Before they also began to burst into happy, un-coordinated, squealing and screeching and hissing and yipping song.

There had been many trials that tested a young father; bleeds and falls, sudden sicknesses and infections, the fear of losing a pup, the fear of killing one out of negligence. All of them had been faced, head on, and all of them had been overcome – either through his own determination or through a little help from his friends and family. He had heard stories of parental fatigue, of wanting to wander away from your pups – dump them on a relative or one of your wives, but he was strong. Tipo’s love was strong. He would never… he could never leave his loved ones. But this? This hell-ride?

Tipo now knew what it was to wish for death.

He knew all of the parts of the bus and what they did, and was half-mumbling it on the third go-around if only to participate… the children did seem to enjoy it, and a happy baby is not a fussy baby, so it was fine. Then he learned about an elder human and all of the animals of earth. Then he counted down 99 bottles of alcohol off of the wall, and did that again, and again – longing for the sweet release of some form of inebriation. He learned who’s land was what. He learned about an old male human. He learned about going to a ball game and experiencing something else other than the continued cacophony of repetitive noise. He was a teapot and a bridge fell down and a baked goods man wandered around looking for a black-coated grazing animal and stars twinkled as everyone rowed a boat down a stream. His mind was melting, regressing, becoming more and more mad. These infant songs were repetitive, simple, and most of all catchy in that ear-worm kind of way.

But the last one. The last one was the worst, and Tipo began to seriously consider if embracing oblivion wasn’t a better choice.

This is the song that never ends, it goes on and on my friends-” Happily droned Laverne, bouncing up and down as the Jornissian toddlers followed suit, the other two humans taking a break from singing that damned song for the past 30 minutes

“[Please, First Pack. Claim me now.]”

“I’m sorry, Tipo. There was no other way.” James sighed, bouncing in place to Laverne’s off-key singing. “But look on the bright side – I’ve seen nothing but forest here for a while now, so we have to be getting close. Do you want to check?”

“[Do you know the muffin man, the muffin- sorry, yes. Sure.]” Tipo babbled, getting up from his sprawling-out sploot on the floor and brushing off some of the ground-dust. He turned, leaning forward slightly to tap on the driver’s shoulder. The Karnakian tilted his head, before tapping his jaw twice and having a short conversation.

“[He says we should be good to land soon!]” Tipo said a bit too loudly, the enthusiasm of this torture ending sending a shudder up his spine. “[Though the GPS is giving us a different …address than what Juan’s business should be.]”

“What do you mean?” Than mo called out, his pups wiggling excitedly. “It’s Tierra Tara Terra Farms, correct?”

“[Well it should be. But the GPS indicator says Ram Ranch.]” Tipo frowned, pulling out his tablet. “[I’m certain the coordinates are right-]”

“They probably are.” James said, grinning widely as a very nice landing pad and farming complex came into view. “Yeah. And if not, then we’re definitely in the right area.”

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 20: Yet another pun you could not have seen coming. I hurt you because I love you.

IT WAS THE TIME FOR BRUSHIES AFTER ALL.

Moth, the great and honorable and good terrorbeast rocked his body from side to side in a rough approximation of a happy dance, the day’s dust and soot and dirt and branches and ceiling tile dust and roof shingles shaking off of him as his grab made admonishing noises. They weren’t the bad noises; Bench knew these noises and they were …playful. So he would play. And they did play! Granted, Bench may have been to enthusiastic in taking to the skies with his grab once more, but it had been so long and the sky was clear and those rooftops came out of nowhere-

“?f!ukcnstiikbug!?” His grab said, patting Bench’s side with the long bristlebrush before working down his abdomen. Bench stopped wiggling and lifted his back two legs as routine told him to, every so often a wiggle of joy would roll through his frame, causing his grab to make more noises.

They were good noises. This was a good day.

“You fucking stickbug!” Juan Esteban Aleman laughed, coughing slightly as he bapped his wiggling Moth with the long brush. He’d only been up and out of bed for a couple days now, but farm life left no time for leisure, especially when you were this far behind. Most of the livestock was turned out to pasture, the fence was never finished on the second field, the roofing on barn had only been half-completed – whomever stopped that job was going to get a talking to – and the list went on. Juan knew that Dust was a bit of a problem, sure, but that was only for Humans as far as he could reckon. Why the rest of his decidedly non-human staff decided to fuck off and mothball the farm…

Bench stopped wobbling from side to side, and Juan got to work. Post-ride routines were just as important as pre-ride checks; you need to make sure to get all the debris out of the wings, joints and folds of the animal, check for any damage – be it a borb parasite that happened to latch on or a wind-damage cut – patch and rest the muscles, check and file the foot prongs and then provide food, water and shelter. The last thing anyone wanted was to plummet to earth when you tugged on your harness to go right and it caught on a broken twig that pushed into the soft underbelly of your steed and it thought it was under attack.

Juan saw that happen exactly once and never wanted it to happen to him.

There was a loud pip and Juan looked down at his smartwatch, sighing. With a dismissive hand gesture he pushed the notification from the Hospital  – if it was important they’d leave a message, but it was probably something to do with aftercare and post-checkup checkups and a whole bunch of things he didn’t have time for. It was nice of them to let him have home care, and the life vest they stuck him in made him feel like a million creds, so he’d just swing by once he got in front of all this work that he had to do…

He sighed, and Bench lowered his legs. What was supposed to be a simple survey of the farm turned into an impromptu obstacle course, but what he did see…

…he needed to make some calls.

The Analyst who sat in The Pit in CENTRAL realized two things:

(1) Guilt tripping that Karnakian from earlier will probably be the high point of his day

(2) Immediately pull and review all MEDIBOTs in the field, because he was 100% certain their eyes shouldn’t glow that red. Or hum. Or have purity seals on their body.

“So… Doctor… Robotnick.” Billy – that was his name now – said, slowly and carefully as he stared into his terminal screen with not a little bit of confusion and fear. “How are things with, uh, you?”

“I NO LONGER CRAVE THE CERTAINTY OF STEEL; I HAVE IT.

So…good? Feeling good?”

“FINE.” Dr. RobotNick beeped, his tone of… tone brooking no argument.

“That doesn’t sound fine-” Billy started, before a loud burst of static interrupted him.

“I apologize, that was a cough.” Dr. RobotNick stated, before tilting forward and back in a …nod? “Point being, I have urgent news and am in need of a PDF detachment under my command.”

“Doctor, there are about two dozen reasons why I am absolutely against that idea.” Billy replied, narrowing his eyes at the screen. “Least of all being the fact that we’re under an XK-class pandemic and all our resources are 100% taken.”

“I need this detachment to escort a former patient of mine back to the hospital for dissection-”

Billy’s pen tapped against the screen. “For what-

“-discussion.” Dr. RobotNick said, matter-of-factly. “One of our nurse trainees received a message from him earlier today, thanking us for our hard work in curing him from his Dust infection.”

“OKAY, alright, what the fuck did you use, send me everything. I’m going to get a shadow warrant for all your records, so don’t worry about that, and this line is recorded-” Billy rambled, his fingers a blur as he began sending off various messages to adjacent departments, trying to get everyone on the horn that needed to be on the horn. “-we’ll need dosages, methodologies, whatever the hell you used. Did you tap into our fabri- nevermind, I’ll grab that too. So tell-”

“Billy.”

“Yes. We’re recording.” Billy said, as two dozen indicators popped onto his screen of everyone from the CDC to the SEELE council keyed in.

“Billy, we did not cure him of Dust.” Dr. RobotNick said, again, matter-of-factly, and he seemed to react to the two dozen people hanging up. “. . . This is why I am in need of a PDF contingent-”

“No, wait. What the fuck, Doc?”

Dr. RobotNick sighed – as much as he could, which just sounded like another burst of static. “You meatbags never let me finish. I said we did not cure him, but he is, as far as we can tell, cured. We were winding him down for cryostasis prep when he left the hospital. A few days later, one of his friends, an associate nurse of ours, received a voice message thanking our team for our hard work. All attempts to call him back and get him on the line have failed, and we’re a bit busy with our workload so we can’t leave.”

Billy sat there, brow furrowed in thought, as Dr. RobotNick made his case.

“This is why I’d need a PDF contingent. We need to go out to his home and work addresses, check for him or his body, and bring him back to-”

“Wait.” Billy said, tapping the screen once more. “Wait. If he was being prepared for cryostasis, how did he leave?

Dr. RobotNick and Billy stared at each other for a few moments, the uncomfortable silence stretching between them.

“Weather balloo-”

Bullshit.” Billy said, rapping his knuckles against his desk. “What the fuck happened, Doc? And you have Bright security clearance, so I’m going to be level with you if you’re level with me.”

“. . . Swamp Ga-”

Doctor.

“FINE. A wild Moth broke into the hospital, signed the guest register, unhooked our patient from all ICU machines, kidnapped our patient and flew off with him into the sunset. This same moth slammed into me, giving me my current fatal Dust infection and my internment into the golden thr- the MEDIBOT unit you see before you.”

Billy’s eyebrows were raised so high there was a chance they’d clear his forehead and get lost in his slightly-receding hairline. “And you want us to… grab a group of PDF. To… search way out in the boonies for someone who was kidnapped by a wild animal and then miraculously recovered. And the only – the only – proof of life you have of this miracle is a single voice mail on one of his friend’s communication device, and he’s not responded to a single call you’ve placed since.”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t know where he is.” Billy said, counting on his fingers.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t know if he’s alive or dead.” Billy counted to two.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t know if this is a verified message or a fake.” Billy counted to three.

“Yes. This is why-”

“This is why,” Billy said, lifting up his hand to show his ability to count, “I’m not about to do any of that. Fuck’s sake, Doc, we’re closing up shop left and right and that takes time and personnel. When I said I didn’t have the people I literally meant, I don’t have the people.”

There was another pause, and then a beep – from the good Doctor, and his eyes glowed a glow that Billy decided he very much did not like.

“Very well. Then do I have permission to send out a team myself?” Dr. RobotNick asked with a surprising amount of human inflection.

“What, on some starry-eyed crusade for the grail?” Billy panned, sighing. “Besides, I thought your team was working to the bone to handle your case load…”

“We are, but I can pick up the slack. I have learned how to shut off parts of my brain to sleep while waking, so I can pick up their shifts.” Dr. RobotNick replied happily, much to the concern of everyone ever.

“That’s… terrifying.”

“That’s efficient.” Dr. RobotNick corrected, doing that half-body nod once more. “And it would not be a starry-eyed crusade, more like… a crusade for the cure for dust. A starry dust crusade.”

“That’s a terrible name.” Billy said, leaning back. “Besides, how will you move your team outside? It’s not safe.”

“The suits you provided will be enough.”

“And the rest of the Hospital staff? I’m assuming you put up privacy walls, you’re having Humans use separate terminals disconnected from the main hospital mainframe? We’ve had a lot of success with our other remote medical teams doing that, so I’m assuming-”

“We have a better way, yes.” Dr. RobotNick said, grippy-arm spinning in the space between them. “Would you like to see?”

“Honestly, yes – we’re probably going to have to evac South-Central Medical soon, and-”

Billy’s comment died in his throat as Dr. RobotNick leaned back from his personal terminal camera to show his entire spacious livingroom and the roughly 4 dozen xenos medical professionals that were crammed into the camera’s blindspot, sitting with rapt attention. The good Doctor turned to face them, and in a booming voice echoed out a single order:

IGNORE ME.

“Oh goddamnit.” Billy said, groaning as the mental weight of the paperwork he was going to have to fill out hit him all at once.

“So let me get this straight, Doctor.” Laverne said, Jornissian toddlers looping around her body to make her seem like a human-shaped oroboros. “You want us to leave the safety of the Hospital to track down our mothnapped patient because he supposedly called Tipo and told us he was ok.”

“Correct.”

“And – to just jump in here – you want us to go on this excursion to find a potential cure, against the wishes of CENTRAL, while you remain as the only human advisor during a pandemic.” Than mo stated, dozens of eyes staring intently at what he looked at, moving almost as one being.

“This is also Correct.” Dr. RobotNick confirmed, rotating his grippy-hands in an extra correct way. “Think of this as a noble adventure, or even a crusade!”

“Can we please not say the J-word?!” James said, fluffy body cheering as he slowly floated back down on-screen. “And this isn’t an adventure, this is unpaid overtime.”

“Yes!” Dr. RobotNick said, raising his hands in affirmation. “It is all of these things! The unpaid stardust crusade overtime-adventuretime!”

The three humans in the nurseries tried to share a look between them, before collectively sighing.

“I knew it was gonna be some bullshit.” Laverne said, her Jornissian shoulders shrugging for her. “So, how do we… uh. Go about doing this?”

“I’ve made some observations using both the hospital external cameras and the security grid for our block.” Dr. RobotNick said, ignoring the incredibly concerned looks he was getting from his xenos counterparts. “And before you ask, yes, that may not be totally legal. Point being, anything that looks vaguely human-shaped is… well.”

Dr. RobotNick popped a couple small videos on the screen, playing one after the other – a scarecrow was brought into frame from a wild Moth before landing in a pond, floating about for a couple hours before it dissolved and the Moth took to the skies once more. Another scene saw a human walking his dog, until he very suddenly wasn’t, and the dog was left running around in confusion. The scene played over and over again, new people, new Moths, same conclusion.

“It seems anything human-like is taken.” Dr. RobotNick said, clicking something internally. “Which means…”

“Which means we have to have some of our xenos partners go out in our stead in order to-” Than mo said, nodding to himself.

“Which means you must go out clothed in your xenos partners, greater than the sum of your parts.” Dr. RobotNick said, nodding to himself.

There was a few second pause, before everyone erupted in accusations, confusion, declarations and a few yeetings of James off-screen.

ENOUGH.” Dr. RobotNick said, cutting through the conversation with robotic ease. “There is no other way – I need human eyes on the patient to determine what the hell happened, if anything happened. I need it to be documented and hopefully replicated in the field, and no one else outside of my human staff can do that. If I go, you all will be overwhelmed with your physical needs. If I stay, I can manage the flow of patients for the few days it should take for them to either slow down or for you to find a cure. It is already decided, for there is no other way.”

“. . . Besides, this will be classified as a field trip.

There was a cheer from the three nurseries, accompanied by hugs and happy wiggles… and another off-screen yeet.

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 19: It’s a Weather Balloon

“Yes. Weather balloon. Yes. No, I don’t care what you think you saw, I’m telling you that it’s a weather balloon. Yes.” The Analyst groaned, the Karnakian councilwoman on the other end responding with something noncommittal. The Analyst knew it was bad when CENTRAL’s first line of defense was swarmed with concerned calls, and knew it was really bad when some of the VIP and allied liaisons started to get slammed. But for someone to actually get patched through to the pit where he worked?

The Analyst looked up at the wall of screens at the far end of the pit, the red so deep in certain areas of the map as to appear almost black.

“Yes. We release them because they’re pretty – and they tell us the weather. Yes, we have weather satellite access too. No. Look we just let them go and they float, ok? That’s how we determine wind speed. What do you mean by ‘typical’, councilwoman?!” The Analyst half-listened to the apologetic trilling coming from the other end of the line, but he wasn’t truly paying attention. Outposts and townships had been reporting more and more cases, to the point that the human PDF contingent had been deployed to help with triage… and basically to bag the bodies, stack the chairs and turn off the lights on the way out. He and the rest of the grunts at CENTRAL would continue to buy as much time as humanly possible, but there was still no real direction coming from the top, and the UTF was adamant that nothing comes back to Sol.

It was easy to stop the bleeding at first, so to speak. Blame it on holidays, or on migrations, or shift changes. Eventually move to more extreme things – sicknesses, sure, but also deaths in the family, or sudden reassignments. The scarecrows worked for a few days, but then the Moths started to kidnap them, which caused all sorts of problems…

…like the one The Analyst was dealing with right now.

“Yes. It’s ok. Thank you for your understanding. Yes, I can assure you that any kicking or screaming from the weather balloons was just a figment of your imagination. Yes, even if it was caught on camera. Yes.”

Idly, The Analyst’s eyes drifted over to a certain hospital on the map, who in the past few hours had already begun to see triple-digit increases in cases per hour, and was steadily going from a light pink to a fire-engine red.

“Ok. Now I want you to make sure his saline tank is filled up, no more than 1.5L should last the next few weeks.” RN. James Wilson said, mentally scrolling through the checklist to put a human in cryostasis. He was on number 440…no, 443. At any given point he was switching between 3-5 nurses, overseeing and picking up handoffs from his fellow teammates.

The hospital staff had developed an almost assembly-line like triage system; Laverne would do the initial diagnosis – green, yellow, red or blue for the extreme cases – then Dr.RobotNick and Dr.Solid would manage the teams doing the actual invasive procedures for the installation of Life Vests. James and Than mo would then do the aftercare, making sure everyone dipped into the longish sleep with ease and relative comfort. Complications at this stage weren’t expected, but if they occurred they needed to be dealt with immediately.

“[Patient’s heart rate is now down to 20BPM.]” The Jornissian nurse stated, managing the controller at the foot of the bed. “[We’re forecasting a 5 beat per minute drop.]”

“Alright. With his size and age, he should flatline around 2-4BPM. Call me when he drops down to 5BPM and we’ll inject the final solution.” James said, tabbing over with a gloved hand gesture to another patient. The flow had not stopped since the initial few patients, and outside of some breaks to nap (and to help with snacktime) had been steadily picking up. Patients that were coming in “green” and turned away with benadryl were showing back up 48 hours later as yellow or even red – turning them away only bought so much time, and the on-site fabricators were pumping out nothing but Life Vests for the past day.

James blinked, as his internal musings prompted an unbidden thought. How long has he been staying up?

“38 hours… Jesus.”

“[I’m sorry, James?]” The Dorarizin – Tipo – said, looking concerned at the camera placed above the bed of his patient. “[I was under the impression that this shouldn’t take more than 30 minutes. Have I done something wrong?]”

“Ah, no Tipo – you’re fine. I just realized I’ve been awake and working for 38 hours this shift… if you’d even call it a shift.” James muttered, opening up another menu with a labored hand gesture. “My Pervitin tanks aren’t even a quarter of the way dry… no wonder.”

“[That word – Pervitin – doesn’t translate properly, I hope.]” The concerned almost-trained nurse said, lowering his head in concern at the camera. “[If it does, I’m going to suggest that you rest.]”

“I will soon.”

“[James-]”

“I’m serious! It’s almost naptime.” As if to support his point, he lifted up his arm – the 5 Dorarizin pups attached and gnawing at it gurgling with delight as their new toy moved and provided more of a hunting challenge – before realizing that no one else but the daycare administrator could see him right now. “Anyway. I’m fine – hell I feel great! But our patient probably doesn’t- What’s his sodium levels?”

“[Oh! Ah, he’s very salty.]” Tipo said, starting to read off various indicators and chemical levels. The side-conversation forgotten; triage moved back to the fore as James jumped from Tipo’s patient to another, and then a few minutes later to another, and then back to the Jornissians’ who had finally flatlined and needed to be bagged and tagged, and then back to Tipo…

38 hours became 39 became 40.

“[I think you need to rest, James.]”

“Tipo we just had this conversation-”

“[3 hours ago.]”

“Wait what?” James blinked as he looked at his suit’s internal clock again. “Where… where the fuck did the time go?”

“[Again. Can you ask for someone to shift-cover you?]” Tipo said, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. “[From what I remember, humans start to hallucinate right about now from sleep deprivation, and we don’t need that going on.]”

“I mean… yeah. You’re right.” James sighed, checking the indicators for the rest of the team. The unfortunate truth was a “temporary” solution had become more permanent, as no one in staff felt comfortable giving the OK to relocate the human team. Every sweep seemed to uncover some traces of Dust – either from a laborer who was working on cleaning out personal living spaces to super-fine particulate somehow coming out of the vents. It had been many days in the nursery, and the indignation of being put down for naptime had come and gone. Laverne was already down, having passed on her duties to another group of nurses. Dr. RobotNick didn’t really count as he apparently didn’t need sleep anymore, and every time he was urged to take a break he responded with something about the Omnissiah’s will and flesh being weak. With a few more labored hand gestures and a spoken command, James logged off of shift. There was a gurgle as the cocktail of medication switched, and the mountain of energy he was sitting on began to drain.

“Oh… Oooohhhhhhh.”

“[Are you ok?! James?]”

“Yeah.” James murmured, leaning heavily against the wall before sinking to his knees, the furry beans trapped in the soft loam of the floor taking this as a sign that their multi-day siege was working. With happy yips and growls they began to swarm him again, and James let the tide take him. “Yeah, just… didn’t realize I was this drained. I’m going to put 10 hours on the clock; if you’re still here by then make sure to ping me to get me up.”

“[You suit will do that, correct?]” Tipo said, bemused as the sound of pups started to drown out the voice of his colleague.

“Yeah, but I sleep through those alarms, yanno?” James said, yawning wide. “Ah fuck, darkness is taking me.”

“[You sure that’s darkness and not just my daughters splooting on your visor?]” Tipo murmured, and was greeted by silence.

Well. Triumphant yips and the light snoring of his colleague, but it was close enough.

“And I’m just… I’m just scared, Doc.” A young teenage girl confessed, in-between sobs and coughs. “I, I don’t want to die from this!”

“ACCEPTABLE.” Dr.RobotNick said, eyes glowing a crimson red as he shone his doctory eye-light upon the child. “Death is a concern that we will mitigate with science. Science, stimulants and questionable ethics.”

“I uh…”

“SILENCE, CHILD.” Dr.RobotNick calmly boomed, a vice-like grip hand extending from his chest to pat the teenager on the head with an acceptable level of force. “Soon you will rest, and sleep the sleep of the just. Then you will awaken. Better. Faster. Stronger than before.”

“. . . Are you sure you’re a real doctor?” The teenage patient said, narrowing her eyes accusingly at the totally medically doctorated Dr.RobotNick. “Because I came in for my yearly checkup and suddenly you’re telling me to put on this vest and I’m not seeing anyone else around here to talk to and this seems really questionable and I think someone bagged my parents as they came in-”

“UNPROBABLY.”

“That’s not a word.”

“Incorrect. That is a word, because you and I have just used it.” Dr.RobotNick said, tilting his torso forward and back in his best approximation of a nod. “Also, this is now part of your new yearly checkup procedures. Please relax and put on the vest.”

“…I want to speak to your supervisor-”

“K.A.R.E.N. PROTOCOL ENGAGED.” Dr.RobotNick intoned, and a small door opened up on his robot’s forehead. The patient, being only human and therefore incredibly curious, leaned forward just a bit – just far enough to not see the second door open up on Dr.RobotNick’s torso.

Thwip.

“OWW! Wait whaaaahhhuuuu~” Patient said as she lurched forward, the sleeping dart sticking out of her neck. By the time Dr.Solid pulled back the curtain to check on the fussy patient (and his concerningly efficient colleague) Dr.RobotNick had, with the help of a few automated subroutines undressed, UV and alcohol sterilized the skin, prepped for Life Vest Installation and was in mid surgery.

“[…Everything alright here, Doctor?]”

“AFFIRMATIVE. Patient should be ready for wind-down and cryostasis within the hour.” Dr.RobotNick said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been getting better at forecasting how long it will take my patients to flatline, and I can say I’m now within a 5 minute margin of error!”

“[That’s not concerning at all.]” Dr. Silver murmured, looking at the now almost-completely installed Life Vest. “[I think your bedside manner has suffered a bit as of late, my friend.]”

“Nonsense. They are given a chance to surrender-”

“[-to what-]”

“-to settle down, and if they prove belligerent I administer the anesthesia we would be administering anyway. Just in a larger dose. To the neck.”

Dr. Silver stared at Dr.RobotNick for a few moments, and once the surgery was completed and the patient stabilized, the two ended up locking eyes.

“What?”

“[That’s incredibly concerning, you know that.]”

Dr.RobotNick raised his vice-hands in the best approximation of an incredulous shrug as he could give. “What?! It works 80% of the time 100% of the time!”

“[That’s not how statistics work and you know it.]” Dr. Solid sighed, checking the work of his colleague. “[That being said, Ms. Squigglemeyer here should be joining the rest of her family soon enough… but I do have some questions.]”

“Yes?” Dr.RobotNick beeped, turning his gloriously shiny metal body to face his friend.

“[Well. We, ah, urged her parents to be checked in per your orders, but they weren’t displaying the level of symptoms we would expect given the advanced stage of their Dust infection. The door scanners caught and categorized them, and we only really figured out they weren’t as bad once we had them under.]”

“Asymptomatic?”

“[Not entirely. Still a persistent cough, but blood pressure was acceptable, no dizziness or confusion, and they absolutely had the energy to fight back. Well, as much fighting as one can do with your pants around your ankles and a shirt pulled over your head.]”

“Hm. We should probably… make a note of that.” Dr.RobotNick said, almost hesitating.

“[That’s the first I’ve heard you take a pause in the past few days, Nic-Doctor.]” Dr. Silver mused, coiling up to take a ‘seat’. “[Care to share what’s on your mind?]”

“I just realized we haven’t been contacting CENTRAL for a few days now outside of just putting in orders for discrete transport. They have to know that something is up-”

“[From the flood of cases? That it’s a true pandemic-]”

“No, from how well we’re handling them.”

“[Aaah. We could always say that general staff put the information together ourselves and helped out… or we could actually play dumb and say we haven’t noticed a pattern at all in new patients if we’re asked.]”

“Well you can’t be legally asked.” Dr.RobotNick said, spinning in place as his roomba subroutines started to take over. “Trends can be inferred, but Doctor-patient confidentiality is sacred… not to mention, CENTRAL has no real power over you. We’re stacking bodies like Washington here and whistling Dixie the entire time, so someone has to know something is up.” There was a pip, and then a dismissal. “It seems James has taken a break, so that leaves you, me, Team C and half of A as well as Than Mo up and running.”

“[Another short shift, nothing new there. How much longer do you think this will keep up?]” Dr. Solid mused, doing mental math in his head. “[We should be at the high-water mark now in terms of per-diem cases, but in terms of total overall cases… what. Halfway?]”

“Maybe. Initial estimates were 6 – 7 days, but we’re 5 days into that and the numbers are still off. We might have people not coming in for treatment, or worse, not getting treatment in time.”

Dr. Solid’s face darkened for a moment. “[So possibly fatalities in the home or office. Without someone to check on them-]”

Possibly. Which is all the more reason why someone needs to talk to CENTRAL; we might have to just ask for some PDF to sweep the area in a grid, forcibly evac those who won’t come in for treatment.”

“[But I’m assuming that’s a call no one wants to make.]” Dr. Solid said, half-laughing. “[How do you even request something like that?]”

“I have no idea. I have no idea how to ask for that without CENTRAL saying no, because as far as I know our orders are to still act as if nothing’s wrong. I have no idea if we can even do that, considering it would violate multiple rights-”

There was another pip, which was almost dismissed – Almost, because it came from one of the wind-down nurses, and marked as extremely urgent. Both Doctors stopped the conversation to check the indicator from Tipo/Ngruzren-of-Arzgr.

‘[Received a message. Juan Esteban Aleman says thank you. Please advise.]’

There was a pause as the message was read, and then read again. Upon the third reading Dr. RobotNick lurched forward, eyes aglow with an awesome power as the words made a visceral, almost physical impact.

WHAT.

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 18: It’s got what Moths crave

This one was, and was happy, and was currently balled up with her not-sisters and sisters and not-bigs and bigs in the soft place that was warm. It had been time since she was, dozing off and waking up in that hazy border between living and sleeping, where time has no real meaning. Big had fought other Bigs, and some had won and some had lost and it really didn’t matter; everything was fine and it smelled like many mothers and many fathers, and so this one was happy.

There was a tremor, a nerve firing unbidden, and this one’s leg kicked. It didn’t have far to go, very quickly pressing up against a not-sister, who protested the movement with a whine. The momentum echoed throughout the ball, and was just as quickly dissipated. This one gave a little sigh, and curled tightly again around a Big, for the big was warm and Big and everyone was safe.

This one was… happy wouldn’t do it justice; this one was content in all things, and life was good. There was another tremor that rocked through the ball, and this one paid it no heed as sleep took it again…

…but then there was a shift. This one was not sure what it meant; sometimes one of her not-brothers just wanted to leave, and did. Sometimes a Big did a do, and so the ball changed, but remained. But this shift seemed to be somehow more important; it rippled through the ball, as if the do was important enough for you to do, and so this one felt the ball slowly disintegrate. This one fussed and attempted to halt the progress of the dispersal, rolling over to cling to another not-brother, but the damage seemed to have been done. This one was no longer in the middle of the ball, surrounded by Bigs; this one was now…

With an unhappy sigh, the Dorarizin pup in question cracked open her eyes, huffing at the indignation of having to be awake. She took in the sights and smells, various smaller pups like herself wiggling to full wakeness, a few Bigs rolling around in the soft loam they had collapsed in in frustration, and a few others…

…well they looked battle ready. There were growls, yips and screams of challenge; there was a new Big and so this new challenge must be met!

Why it had to be met at the cost of the cuddleball was beyond understanding, but, this one knew such things had to happen. Wiggling her own self fully awake, she spent a few necessary moments attempting to bite the things that came into her peripheral vision. Eventually, she remembered those were her ears and thusly, no longer a threat.

What did seem to be a threat was the BIG that had suddenly appeared. It was a BIG because it did not make the sounds of a Mother or Father, and it very much was not one of the others who provided snacktime but still needed to be attacked because of reasons. No, this was a BIG who just loomed over the pack, who loomed over the other Bigs, who were defending this one and the others.

The battle lines had been drawn, and blood would be shed.

Than mo just stared at what was arguably the most adorable thing he’d seen all day. Granted, they were the toddlers of another sapient species and should be treated with respect, but in the privacy of his PPE suit he could let out an adorable and incredulous chuckle at the large furry beans that he somehow awoke by his presence.

Granted, he was standing there for a good 30 minutes just recording everything with his suit’s sensor suite with no issue, but now he had been made and since the jig was up, everyone was now super-aggressive and posturing and falling over each other and sometimes just fighting with each other before realizing he existed and needed to be babbled at.

?”GKBLFGK.?” One of the largest fuzzy beans cried out at him, unsteadily standing on her hind legs and matching his helmeted gaze.

“[You cannot handle my potions, traveler.]”

“?ZZKZKZKZKZKZ.?” The large bean demanded, before it was taken out at the hip by another bean tripping over it’s own feet. Gravity helped Than mo win the battle, and the larger Dorarizin pups seemed to disperse a bit before regrouping, forming to the untrained eye what looked like a phalanx before advancing a few feet again to howl, scream and babble at him once more.

“[I told you. My potions are too strong. You cannot handle my potions, traveler.]”

One of the larger pups – a true bean-shaped bear-dog, if Than mo was being appreciative – began to wiggle it’s entire body back and forth, much like a stickbug. Than mo turned his attention to the toddler, who was absolutely locked on to his leg. With a sigh, Than mo discerned the future, and once the wiggling stopped he moved just a foot to the right.

The assailant sailed through the air, harmlessly landing with an aggressive pamf in the soft loam behind him. Than mo turned for a moment to see the madlad, the absolute unit attack the floor for a few seconds before connecting the dots. Dislodging itself from the soft matted floor and it’s own feet, the pup looked up at Than mo with a hurt, almost betrayed expression.

“[Well. This is going to be an interest-AAH!]” Than mo cried out, his momentary pity replaced with abject fear as something firm and vice-like clamped around his calf. More surprised than hurt, he raised his leg and looked down at a feisty pup who was busy gnawing at the fabric of his suit.

Good news: These were obviously built up to spec, and there was absolutely no indication of tearing, deformation, puncturing or other damage to the suit, external or internal.

Bad news: With how the pup’s eyes grew wide and the vice-like bite began to oscillate between “tight” and “open”, he was apparently an incredibly fun chew toy. The happy gurgling around his leg sealed the deal, and before Than mo could really figure out a culturally-sensitive way to pry off a child from his leg, another impact and vice-bite hit his leg. Then another. And another.

Than mo looked down at the half-dozen pups who were squealing with joy at the new toy, and who kept their grip tight on his body even as their siblings began to crawl over them to explore the new thing in their enclosure.

Than mo laughed as he was consumed by the mound of puppies; he laughed as he was consumed with ultimate power.

Bench was… happy was the wrong word. Content would be more accurate, but it wasn’t a complete contentment. Sure, he had found his grab, and grabbed his grab, and then saved his grab from a not-grab who would have grabbed his grab, but now things were just…

Off.

His antennae swayed in the breeze, the feeling of heading in the right direction growing stronger. Bench knew the way home, back to his territory, and he was taking his grab back as was right and proper and should be done for all of time, but…

Bench’s compound eyes scanned the horizon, 300 degrees horizontally and 180 vertically. Above, his kin lazily rode the thermals, searching for their own grabs. Below, some of the more desperate were picking things that were grab-like, but weren’t grabs; things he would never know the names to, but were in fact carved statues, holo-projections, scarecrows (though those were delicious) and wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube-men.

The new balance had been thrown off, and his kin were trying to set it right, but the grabs were gone. His own was… sleeping. Listless. Turning his head slightly he looked at his grab, caressing him with his chitinous arms. There was no tug, no fall order, no climb yell, nothing. Just silence, softness, and the beeping which gave no orders.

Bench continued to fly, beating his wings with purpose. He was back in his territory now; the not-grabs that had followed him from the ground gave up, and all was well…

…all was well.

Bench wouldn’t have the words to know what concern was, though he felt it. It was that off feeling that never went away; it didn’t go away when night fell, it didn’t go away when he landed back at home. And he was home, truly; it was the place of warm and of rest and of safety and of water and food. Four legs splayed against the ground, the rest still holding his grab, turning it over against his body; it was his grab, and he would not be denied it again! He had to keep his grab on him at all times; to stay strapped or his wings would flap!

Somehow, Bench knew that you couldn’t have shit in Detroit, even though he didn’t know what any of those words meant.

Slowly walking into the pitch-black now-abandoned barn, Juan’s limp feet digging ruts into the soft dirt, Bench took stock of what was available to him. Sleep would come later; now he needed to refresh himself and his grab. With a new purpose, and comforted by the safety of home, Bench folded his wings and waddled over to the drinking-trough. It was perfect for Bench; a crescent-shaped divot just above the ground of cool, running water that somehow quenched his thirst more than the wild waters of the before-time. With a happy moan Bench dipped his proboscis-mouth into the Brawndo-stream, the straw-like action of his tongue pumping the refreshing blend of electrolytes into his maw. After a few moments he was sated, and stood there, pondering…something.

His Grab!

Mentally slapping himself in the antennae he reared back, letting go of some (but not all) of the grabholds of his grab’s harness, letting it’s top half dunk into the water to become refreshed too. He waited for a few moments – any second now, his grab would rear up and say the sounds and then he would get the brushies and food and pets and all would be right again.

But something was off. His grab drank deeply, almost too deeply, and although there was a steady stream of bubbles coming up from the bottom of the water-divot, but his grab’s thirst seemed to be endless. With concern, Bench gently rocked his grab; nothing. His grab had a powerful thirst, but this was too much – delicately, after only 15 minutes of abstract thought, Bench pulled his soaking-wet grab out of the drink, holding him close.

What next? Bench looked around; his nightly routine was playing in his mind but it was wrong because things were off and he was alone with his grab and there were no others, not even not-grabs. Bench gently waddled over to the cleaning-pad, standing proudly as he waited for nightly brushies before the sleeping time.

He stared at the brush rack, waiting.

He stared at the brush rack, waiting, gently rolling his grab underneath his body. Maybe his grab just needed to be reminded? With effort Bench reared up again, holding out his grab as an offering to the brushes – but they remained indifferent to the sacrifice.

With a sad “ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ~” Bench lowered his grab. Maybe he was wrong to grab his grab? He had found it and grabbed it and brought it back home to safety and food and drink and sleep and brushies, but now none of that was here. His home seemed lesser, somehow bigger and colder.

Was Bench… wrong? Was he a “?Noh!Bahdmofh?” – the noise of the newspaper and the sadness and the not-flying?

Bench reeled at the thought. He had done everything right. All was right now.

“ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ.” Bench said to no one, the darkened barn suddenly illuminating as it does sometimes. There was a noise, and Bench knew that noise – his antennae shooting straight up as he turned.

HER.

Bench bowed as he had been taught, as years of training had carved into his brain, as the feelings of the sky told him to, as the MOTHER demanded out of respect. This one was a grab, but was to never be grabbed. This one was, and would be remembered, until the ending of all things, as an equal.

Bench, The Right Honorable Terrorbeast, bowed to the grab before him, her 4’ height somehow towering over the beast, and knew her.

MATRIARCH.

The xenos doctors huddled around the Daycare center’s main console, watching the screens with rapt attention over the metal shoulders of their erstwhile human colleague.

“[I see. And you are all comfortable in those suits?]” Dr. RobotNick said, artificial concern added to his almost monotone speech. The melding of man and machine was still going, and would still continue to progress for many hours hence, but operational ability was more important than silly things like personality or ethics – those things take time, and Dr. RobotNick made an effort of manually putting those feelings forth.

“[Yeah, but holy shit Nick-]”

“[Robot-Nick, please. It seems more… right.]” Dr. RobotNick corrected, standing as tall as he could with his new body. “[And you know this is irrelevant. My operational status is green across the board, and I will be able to perform triage and oversight capabilities for the next month before I begin to degrade. Are you all doing alright in those suits?]”

The other human nurses – looking up at various cameras stationed in their respective daycare centers, gave positive, noncommittal noises.

“[This is still all sorts of fucked, N- Dr. RobotNick.]” Laverne said, sighing as a Jornissian toddler crowed her triumph at being king of the hill before getting too top heavy, wobbling erratically and collapsing on the nurses’ shoulders. “[Though, I do have to admit I didn’t think we’d be a hit with the local populace.]”

“[Yeah. There’s much worse ways this could go-]” Than mo said, a writhing mass of teeth and yips accompanying his exhausted sigh. “[-though at least we’re protected.]”

“[Honestly, that’s top priority right now.]” Dr. Silver interjected, the Jornissian arcing over his smaller companion to view the screens more fully. “[We’ll be outfitting the nurseries with more, temporary comforts, but for the next day or so you’ll have to live in those suits.]”

“[Oh, the joys of the auto-catheter. I can’t wait.]” James sighed, before a sudden cheer rippled through the karnakian fluffballs that had found every possible way to perch on the poor man. The puffs obviously didn’t know what those words meant, but they were words and that was enough reason to cheer.

“[Yes, well. Everyone just needs to get comfortable; we’re in this for the long haul, but we’ll all be ok.]” Dr. RobotNick said, nodding his head by bowing at the waist. It seemed an appropriately human thing to do, and so he did it. “[What we should focus on, of course, i-]”

There was a pip, and at the speed of thought Dr. RobotNick responded to it. Male. Human. 89 years old. Fever, persistent cough, dizziness.

So it begins.

“[We have patients now. Everyone, let’s get out there an-]”

“[Absolutely not!]” Nurse Stringbean said in that try-me-and-find-out tone of voice. “[We’re already functionally down one human; putting you out there on the front lines is only going to increase the chances that someone else takes a hit.]”

“[She’s right, you know.]” Than mo said, a happy Dorarizin gurgle backing up his argument. “[Considering we had a wild animal kidnap one of our patients, I’m not too… keen on opening myself up to that chance as well. Not to mention, well. We are putting ourselves in danger going out there-]”

“[Than mo, we took an Oath-]” Laverne chided, “[-And these suits are tough. I don’t think we’re going to have the same issues that uh, the good Doctor here is.]”

“[Fair point. I have also submitted triage instructions to the attending nurses from Group B, and am currently monitoring their progress.]” Dr. RobotNick stated, matter-of-factly.

“[Wait, that. That makes a lot of sense.]” Dr. Silver murmured, looking at his colleagues. “[What if we just had you all run remote triage? You could oversee multiple teams at once, stepping in when things aren’t going correctly. You can still help, but without putting yourselves on the line.]”

Pip.

“[Another one.]” Dr. RobotNick said matter-of-factly. “[Shall I work on this one as well until we reach a consensus?]”

“[No. I hate to admit it, but that makes sense.]” James said, shrugging his incredibly puffy shoulders. “[But if we are doing this, is there a way to stop this, what was it T’ciki’briiki?]”

“[Ah. Upsies?]” T’ciki’briiki said nervously – and as one there was a deafening cheer from the puffballs, and Nurse James Wilson was yeeted out of sight.

Categories
Stories They are Smol

They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 17: I am not sorry about this pun you should have seen it coming

The training manual didn’t cover this.

The mind, alone and dark, mused as it was flooded with information; the manual and seminars were, at best, ways to prepare one for a catastrophe, but they really didn’t do the process justice. Granted, the… fusion, ah, that’s the word – the fusion of a pilot to his MEDIBOT should have occurred with a more healthy specimen – preferably not one slipping into a coma, but you made do with what you had. No, not specimen, person. Pilot.

If a brain had eyebrows, this one would be furrowing them. Every word it remembered was an affront to it’s intellect; these were simple words, words the mind had been using for decades. To forget so many –

Ah, the fusion process. ‘It’s like growing an extra limb in real time.’ Was how it was described to… Nick. Yes. The mind had a name again: Nick. Wires and disks would be immediately and surgically implanted into his spinal column along C1 and C2 – Atlas, Axis – for rerouting into pseudo-wetware interfaces. Again at C7/TH1 and TH12/L1. Right – he had a spine. He had a body!

With blind curiosity the mind, Nick, tried to move his body. It… the body he should have moved, did not move, though he could barely feel it; the body that he had never moved before twitched, lightly.

That would be a concern for another time. The mind continued to grope blindly in the dark, trying to figure out, well. Everything. There was some comfort in knowing, somewhere in it’s recesses, that it was trained for this, that other people had gone through this before, that this was technology made by hands like his own and not some unknowable other mind. Other things connected, somehow turned on.

No human alive remembers being born, but Nick felt like he had a good grasp on what it was like as his senses turned on. Spatial awareness – he felt like he was perpetually squatting, but his legs couldn’t rise. Annoying. Next, temperature awareness. It was exactly 73.86.23.25 degr- no, wait.

‘Go with one or the other.’ Nick thought to himself. ‘It’s 23.25 degrees Celsius. This would feel normal… this feels normal.’

Hearing, hearing was next, apparently. His first body – Nick frowned, mentally at the word choice he subconsciously used. His real body didn’t have any of the tickling sensation of sound against the eardrum; these sounds happened somewhere in his mind.

“[…ATE HIM DOCTOR DUSTER THIS THING JUST ATE HIM-]”

‘Well that’s something.’ Nick thought to himself as panic started to bombard his ‘hearing’, the sounds of the hospital and a general commotion occurring all around him. It felt weird, being able to hear omnidirectionally and perfectly, but his mind was somehow able to understand and parse the information. A Jornissian was there, a couple Karnakians were there and there… the bed was here and the Dorarizin was there. Within his mind Nick began to rebuild a mental map of the area immediately around him, the memory of the past few hours starting to seep back into his brain.

Sight was apparently next, and the only warning Nick got to that fact was a light itching behind his eyeballs before the world was bathed in light.

Nurse Stringbean ferally growled, tensing her body as she drilled into Nick’s face with an intense stare. “[DON’T YOU GLOW AT ME YOU TOOTHLESS METAL WHORE-]”

“[Nurse! Calm down, we don’t know what’s going on – Dr. Silver wouldn’t have just allowed this to happen-]”

“[Dr. Silver was DYING, Doctor!]” Stringbean yelled, waving an accusing paw at Dr. Nicholas Silver, who was very much not dying and in fact felt pretty OK all things considered. “[He couldn’t have given informed consent for treatment-]”

Although technically correct, the Madagascar Protocol was built as a final safeguard on the off chance human medical personnel were wiped out in a catastrophe. According to the manual, his body was basically already in cryostasis save for his brain, which was being pumped with chemicals, anti-coagulation agents and all sorts of other wonderful, exotic things to keep it going while the rest of the body lay dormant. For all intents and purposes he could continue his duties and save lives while the catastrophe was ongoing, and then seek proper medical treatment for himself once it was all over.

Triage, triage, triage. That’s all the human medical community was about, once it got the funding and technology…

 Nick sighed internally.

“AAAAAAAAA.”

“[SEE HE’S SCREAMING LET ME RIP HIM OPEN-]” Nurse Stringbean lunged forward, only for a feather’d arm to clothseline her in an instant.

“[Absolutely NOT, Nurse!]” Dr. Duster crowed, wrestling his colleague to the ground under Nick’s literally-glowing, unblinking stare.

“I AM SORRY THAT WAS A SIGH.” Dr. Silver boomed out from vocal chords not his own, the volume causing his ‘ears’ to ring. “HOLD PLEASE.”

Unbidden from Nick’s mind, gentle ez listening muzak started to play from his speakers as he started to move and consciously control his new body. The joints were stiff, his chest felt 5 times too large, and he was in a permanent “squat” but he could move, talk, see, hear, think and act. With a mental ‘blink’ the music suddenly stopped, and MEDIBOT’s head looked down at his colleagues who were tangled up in what would be a compromising position had there been a little less clothing and a little more lubricant gel. Honestly, they looked kinda hilarious there, and Nick wished he could take a mental picture-

Click.

“THAT’S GOING IN THE COLLECTION.” MEDIBOT/Nick said, surprising everyone with the fact that he apparently did have a camera function, as well as a direct uplink to the cloud.

“[Dr. Silver? Are you alright?]” Dr. Duster asked, blushing as she stepped up her sprawled position on Nurse Stringbean. “[We’ve uh, never seen anything like that.]”

“I AM – I am fine.” Nick thought at his colleagues, murmuring in his head to lower the volume. “It’s just incredibly odd to be… in here, to be fused with MEDIBOT. It’s… man and robot. I just wish I knew what the numbers meant.”

“[Do you need assistance?]” Nurse Stringbean said, crouching on her knees with her head just above the bed height. “[That… that didn’t look or sound healthy.]”

“It is an emergency procedure, yes. I should be operational – no, I should be ok, sorry – for the next few weeks, at most. Eventually I will shut down and go into full cryostasis, but until then I can still lend aid.”

“[No offense, Nicholas, but. What are you?]” Dr. Duster murmured, tentatively reaching out to caress his chassi-chest, her head tilting so her fixed rear eye could view him directly. “[You’re… you look so wrong. I’m sorry, just.]”

“It’s alright. I am…. I am.”

“[You are a robot?]”

“No, Stringbean, and yes. I am a Doctor. I am a Robot. And I am also still Nick. I am Doctor Robot-Nick.” Dr. RobotNick said, matter-of-factly. “And we must move at sonic speed to stop the chaotic spread of Dust within this hospital.”

Dr.RobotNick’s clamp hands began to rotate as he turned, scanning the room. “Let us clean this place up, go through decontamination, and then regroup with the rest of the team.”

“{STOP FIGHTING.}”

“[VIVA LA REVOLUCION~]”

To be fair, Tipo was having one hell of a bad day. Hospital shifts, at best, were hectic. With a pandemic ripping through the population, it was a war zone. Now?

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr was holding down the fussy child by the chest, firmly-but-gently, as he attempted to slide on her booties. “{STOP. STOP FIGHTING.}” To be fair, wires had crossed in his mind before due to stress, and right now was no different. He just had no idea why his children were always the fussy ones; the other adults in the room seemed to be having no problems with their daughters, but his always seemed to just fight him every step of the way!

“[I am a grown woman, and I do not need your help-]” RN Laverne roared, impotently punching at the tree-trunk like arm that had her pressed against the ground of Loading Dock 5E. It was futile, she knew, but it was the principle of the thing that kept her going. Than mo and James were both being helped into their suits, and neither of them got to say no to it, but the other xenos in the room treated them with the dignity that they deserved. Tipo, of course, wasn’t going to have any of that when his pups were in danger, and so Laverne found herself manhandled into position as industrial-strength PPE was forced on her.

“{Stop kicking-}”

“[NEVER!]”

Tipo growled in frustration, bodily rolling over his pup and picking her up. “{Where’s your mother-}”

“[ON MOON.]” His child roared, little legs kicking against the air as Tipo tried to tucker her out. “[And would you PUT ME DOWN PLEASE?!]”

“[Ah, Ngruzren-of-Arzgr. Let me assist you.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse, Head Nurse murmured softly as she took the fussy pup-not-pup from Tipo’s arms.

“[Don’t you start-]” Laverne growled, before she was placed back down on the ground.

“[Let’s just… play along, alright? At least you’ve already got the pants on.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse said, trying to placate everyone all at once. “[Now, Ngruzren, why don’t you put the boots on the ground and let Tiny-chomper-sassy-slaps step in them herself, ok? She is old enough.]”

“[Old enough to throw these hands-]” RN. Laverne mumbled, hiking up the Michelin pants to stop them from falling down, tentatively lifting her right leg to slide her foot into the oversized boot. With a growl of ‘see if you’d have just listened to dad we would already be at the park by now’, Ngruzren-of-Arzgr kneeled down to clamp up the boot shut. The other leg and bootie soon followed suit, and although Laverne grumbled the entire time, within 5 minutes she had been suited, clamped, sealed and pressurized.

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr stood up with his hands on his hips to view his handywork, a smile spread across his features… before his brain un-crossed those wires and a look of utter horror dawned instead.

“[That’s what I thought.]” RN. Laverne’s suit speakers said, T-posing slightly as the padding around the arms hadn’t finished adjusting properly. It was incredibly hard to glower in a suit that made you look like an astronaut crossed with a soft-serve ice cream cone, but Laverne Roberts was doing her best.

“{I’m uh. Sorry.}” Ngruzren-of-Arzgr murmured, kneading his hands together.

The captive cloud formerly known as RN. Laverne bounced a couple times (in intimidation? Anger? Tipo didn’t know) before settling down. “[Well. What’s done is done.]”

“[Maybe.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse said, murmuring. “[We need to figure out what to do now, because this is a loading dock and not necessarily a clean room of any sort. If Dust is as deadly as Than mo has stated, then I wouldn’t be surprised if this area would be compromised soon, if not already.]”

“[I heard my name!]” Rn. Than mo said, half-walking half-bouncing his way over to the assembling group. “[What’re we talking about now?]”

“[What to do next.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse said, waving over the last human and his helpers. “[We need to figure out where to put you all until we can build a clean room and really scrub parts of the hospital down.]”

“[So I’d assume you start cleaning from living quarters out-]” James said, bouncing slightly in place. “[-and preferably not looking under my bed while doing so.]”

“[Yes, that’s probably the case.]” Rrr’ssrpprinsse nodded, coiling around to have a ‘seat’. “[However, doing so for everyone’s living spaces, plus connected hallways, environmental connections, food court and then recreational areas – that’s going to be many hours, if not a tiny-chomper day or so. We need somewhere to put you now.]”

“[Why? It’s not like we’re not safe in these things.]” Laverne said, the venom from earlier dissipating.

“[We’re potentially safe in these.]” Than mo corrected, frowning. “[And Rrr’ssrpprinsse is right – we could already be infected. We’re probably not, but, if we are then the suit we’re wearing becomes useless, and we have to be carved out of them and popsicled. Not to mention, a wild terror-beast kind of just stole one of our patients.]”

There were little “ah”s of realization, and mixed murmurs of affirmation. “[So wild animal attacks could be a thing – not to mention,]” Laverne continued, “[daily wear and tear. We really do need a place to inspect these things once we’re poured out of them, because a rip in these things could be a sudden death sentence – or, since we could be sharing suits, kill us all eventually.]”

JAmes sighed. “[Yeah, that’s a problem, and we can’t be babysat all day every day-]”

“{Wait.}”

The group turned to Tipo, who had a thought that… was a bit radical, and he hesitated.

“[Well?!]” Laverne crowed, her helmet wiggling as she gave the universal shrug of ‘go on’.

Ngruzren-of-Arzgr looked down at his feet, grinding his teeth slightly as the awkward thought finally bubbled forth. “{Our nurseries are hermetically sealed, aren’t they?}”

“[That’s… not a bad idea, actually.]” Head Nurse Rrr’ssrpprinsse said, thinking out loud. “[Not only are there blast doors that would most definitely withstand a terrorbeast’s tantrums, but each individual nursery is hermetically sealed with a very low-grade clean room hallway between the outside and inside – mainly to prevent escapees, but, it can pull temporary double-duty for a few hours I’d think.]”

The humans shared an inscrutable look between each other, before one piped up. “[I want to be angry at the multiple indignations laid at my feet.]” Laverne Wilson said in an uncharacteristic monotone. “[…but honestly, it makes sense.]”

“[I mean… do you have a preference?]” T’ciki’briiki said, trying to keep her smile going. It was unorthodox, to say the least, to have so many non-family visitors at the Nursery wing, and they were treading on totally new ground when it came to …whatever this was.

“Nah, just fuck me right up fam.” Than mo said, wiggling his arms. “I fear not my mortality.”

“[Ominous!]” T’ciki’briiki grimaced, glancing between the humans and her colleagues. “[So just to be clear here, you want me to ask for a triple shift, all day every day.]”

“Eyup.”

“[And you each want to be left, alone, in a nursery room. In those suits.]”

“Mmhmm.”

“[And when my director asks me what’s going on, I’m just to divert those questions to Dr. Silver and Dr. Solid.]” T’ciki’briiki slowly worked through the mental maze, trying her best to make sure this wasn’t some incredibly elaborate prank.

“Gotdangol’cousinboomhauerdangwouldn’thavedonetoldya’llaboutthis-” James drawled, wiggling his arms in what the xenos had now assumed was the “fussy wiggle”.

“[Alright, alright, just… you have to understand, this is incredibly unorthodox. But, uh… go right on in, Than mo.]” T’ciki’briiki waved with her arm into the first wing. “[I’ll… give everyone else orientation, and then come back to check in on you.]”

“Sounds fine.” Than mo sighed, bouncing his way forward down the hallway. “What’s the worst that could happen?”