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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.”

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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.

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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?”

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They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 16: The Fall

Loading Dock 5E, Roughly 10 minutes or so before visitation hours (gone wild gone wrong gone sexual):

“I don’t like these things.” Dr. Silver murmured, looking into the freshly-opened crate. He wasn’t alone – not in the room, nor in sentiment over the three puffy medical-grade bright white suits that stared blankly back up at the assembled crew.

“Well I know you don’t, but this is just what we got.” Than mo said, letting out a little sigh as well. “And I see that we didn’t even get enough new suits. Absolutely fucking typical.” Leaning down he picked up one of the suit’s helmets, turning it around to reveal the TruMichelin brand on the back. The thing was soft to the touch, almost foam-like, with a surprising structural rigidity underneath. Tilting the helmet down, he saw that it was covered in flex-screens, various inputs and attachment clamps ready to be tailored to the individual wearer’s needs. The helmet had an old-fashioned twist-lock like the first astronaut suits, and Than mo could only guess of the additional redundancies therein. Laverne reached in as well and examined one of the gloves, the same archaic twist-lock mechanism visible on each joint. Modern suits zipped up, or magnetically clamped, or a hundred other ways that made it much more convenient and easy to slip in and out of your gear. This PPE suit looked like a bit of overkill, and really…

…When you put on the suit, in other words, it looked like you put on the suit. “I don’t think these are solo efforts.” Laverne mused, sliding her hand into the glove to test it’s heft. “I remember seeing these things in museums.”

“[So what does this mean, Nurse Tran?]” Dr. Solid said, keeping a respectful distance from the new medical equipment. “[I am …impressed with our government’s strides forward in protecting our employees, but outside of that-]”

“Ah, well.” Than mo said, turning the helmet over in his hands idly as he searched for the words. “Being straightforward and honest is going to be the best policy, so I’m going to have to start off by saying this: Please don’t share this information with anyone.”

The assembled xenos nurses and doctors looked at each other, a few of them smirking. “[I don’t think any of us are new to doctor-patient confidentiality.]” Nurse Stringbean quipped, the Dorarizin female grinning softly. “[Though, if this is about helping you all into those things then-]”

“It’s about committing treason.”

Than mo’s words hung in the air for a brief moment before the entire human crew were bombarded with questions; Who, why, what are you doing, you can’t make the Independent Hospital Occupation Place – that’s illegal, are you planning on starting a garden on the roof – Dr. Silver raised his hands to restore order, and after a few minutes an uneasy silence settled on the room.

“Just let the man finish!” Dr. Silver called out, letting his hands drop. “We’re serious about the treason bit, and about you keeping silent. If you can’t, then you need to get out, because time is of the essence here. Any takers?”

Aside from some awkward shuffling, no one moved.

“Great. Than mo? This is your party; I’m going to start unpacking.” Dr. Silver said, leaning over the box to start pulling out suit parts.

“Right!” Than mo clapped once, leaning back to half-sit on the edge of the crate. “So no more bullshitting. You’re all familiar with the haze from the field-burning that’s going on, right? That slightly-smoky stuff that’s moving over everywhere?” He was met with a few nods, and continued. “Well, that’s what we humans are starting to call Dust, and it’s 100% lethal to our species.”

“[What the fuck.]” Dr. Solid said, head curving low as he stared Than mo down.

“Oh wow they finally found a translation for fuck outside of sex?” James said, hefting out a leg from the shipping crate. “I thought that was the unattainable dream-”

“Yeah look.” Than mo said, holding up a hand to stop the questions before they began. “The Dust is some sort of spore or irritant; gets into our mucosa membranes and lungs and just destroys everything. From what we’ve seen from our two patients, it can do anything from create tumor-like growths to sandpapering down the lining of the lungs. CENTRAL – our CENTRAL-” Than mo said, pointing to himself, “-is keeping this hush because they don’t want any of you-” Than mo’s finger pointed vaguely in the direction of his xenos colleagues, “-from panicking on our behalf and deciding to ‘help’. CENTRAL said-without-saying that every single settlement is getting hit with this shit, as even the smallest mote of Dust could start an infection and airborne particles are basically everywhere at this point.”

Than mo sighed, running his hand through his ink-black hair. “So, that’s where we are now. Recommended procedure is to sedate patients, put them in a medically induced coma, slap on a lifevest and then popsicle – eer, sorry. Put them in cryostasis. As we run triage, the cryostasis humans are to be ‘relocated to Central for advanced monitoring’ but really, we’re stacking bodies in freezers because there’s no cure. Our bunkers-”

“[Wait, you have bunkers?]” Tipo asked, ears perking up. “[Why?]”

“Because live-action Fallout reenacting is a lost art.” James piped up again, earning a light smack on the arm from Laverne.

“Just chalk it up to cultural trauma and leave it be.” Than mo said, shrugging. “Doesn’t matter. Point is, these suits here -” Than mo punctuated his sentence by holding up the helmet, showing it off to the crowd, “-are rated, hopefully, to protect us, and I would damn well hope so considering they’re basically 100% self-contained suits. Shit, I don’t even think these things have external oxygen connections-”

“Nope.” Dr. Silver said, his arm elbow-deep in the torso of a unit. “Looks like scrubbers and re-breathers.”

“I feel like there’s a fart joke in h-oww” James whined, rubbing his arm from a particularly savage punch from Laverne. “Don’t be mad because you didn’t think of it fir-oww.”

“And that’s where we’re at. Official orders are to run triage for every human here until there are no more left, then to pack up and head into CENTRAL after that – if we’re not already in the back of an ice cream truck ourselves.”

The assembled crew said nothing, watching the humans unpack their suits with gallows humor. Eventually, Tipo once again broke the silence.

“[That doesn’t sound right.]”

Than mo tossed the Dorarizin trainee his helmet, which he caught with deft precision. “Doesn’t matter if it’s right or not; it’s what we’re working with. With only 3 suits we’re going to have to take turns going out to the front, and I’m also assuming somewhere we’ll have to set up a decontamination and clean roo-”

Than mo’s wristwatch suddenly started to scream at him, and he looked at the indicator, swearing.

Visitation, Human Wing, Right Now:

“JESUS LORD-” Laverne was able to sputter before a furred arm completely blocked her view, gravity going wonky as she was forcibly grabbed and lifted.

“[NO~!]” Tipo roared, instinct and fear kicking in as he half-smothered the tiny-chomper nurse in his arms. “[GET THEM BACK NOW-]”

Dr. Solid leapt forward once the Terrorbeast lunged at his colleague, the fine cloud of gray-brown Dust powder coating the human as he slammed against the ground, wheezing from the impact. The Terrorbeast – Bench – with no commands from his grab, let pure instinct take over; with a furious flutter of his mighty wings he arced backwards, outpacing the furious Jornissian with a speed that belied his size. The sliding glass doors had no chance to react as they crashed open, one broken off it’s hinge and hanging akimbo as Bench pulled up to gain altitude, to save his grab, to take to the skies once more.

All Dr. Solid could do was scream impotently at the animal as the limp human hung underneath. He watched it flutter about confused, before seeming to pick a vague destination and lazily float away. With a thought Dr. Solid pinged all relevant teams – A, B and C – barking orders to remove the warmcuddles from their wing. To his pleasure, this had already been done by the time he turned to head back indoors to check on his colleague.

Dr. Silver was red-faced, red-eyed, and gasping for breath, propping himself up on one elbow. Dr. Solid knew enough about human biology to make some educated guesses; Anaphylaxis (which he had never personally seen), possibly Toxic shock (if the darkest version of what Than mo said earlier was true), Diaphragm spasms (not the good kind that made cute hiccups), Concussion from the impact against the floor. A few other doctors and nurses began to swarm the fallen human, cutting away his clothing and beginning to triage him.

To lose one of the human medical professionals so soon was going to be problematic, to say the least, and Dr. Solid snarled in a rolling staccato hiss. “[Fates damn those things! Do we have access to any warmcuddle life vests? We’re going to have to put him on ice sooner than later-]”

“[Not that I know of!]” Dr. Duster, a Karnakian, called out, physically lifting the spasming human in his arms and jogging over to an empty cot. “[They’re held in triage lockers 7 through 12, but I don’t have access to open them – logic being if they’re necessary to use we need a human medic present-]”

Dr. Solid turned to a few of the panicking nurses, pointing at the group. “[Just rip one open and bring me what’s inside! You, you and YOU-]” He pointed to three others, getting their undivided attention, “[Get this place scrubbed down now. Change the air filters, get the doors fixed and sealed, get in touch with maintenance to do so. Start spamming cleaning controls; get the bots to scrub this area at least a half-dozen times!]” With the barking of orders and the hierarchy of command established, the teams got to work – sudden panic and confusion being replaced with furious determination. “[I want those warmcuddles in their PPE suits now. Do not stop carrying them until they are back at the loading dock, and do not let them out of the dock until they’re suited up! Those in the back – do it! Everyone else, assume you’re contaminated!]” A few other nurses broke rank to run after the human group to assist in the forced suit-up.

“[How are we on triage – nurse?]” Dr. Duster called out, clawed hands working deftly on the smaller human bed’s AI panel, attempting to bum rush the startup routine.

“[Sssh, there there. I’m giving him oxygen, but we’ll probably want to intubate him sooner than later.]” Nurse Stringbean said, the Dorarizin nurse holding a hissing oxygen mask over the writhing, choking Dr. Silver. “[This is a good stopgap but we really need to get that lifevest on him now.]”

“[Alright. Dr. Duster, give him a saline IV and try to get him stabilized, I’m going to check on those lockers.]” Dr. Solid gave one last, long look at his shuddering colleague before leaving, quickly and silently.

“[It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re going to be ok.]” Nurse Stringbean lied, resting her free hand on the top of Dr. Silver’s head.

“HHrrrkk-” Dr. Silver said, ferally grinning under the mask as he coughed furiously. “MMHHD-iiiiihhh” he wheezed out, inhaling sharply as he lifted an arm to point at the furiously-spinning-in-place MEDIBOT.

“[Wait. OH.]” Dr. Duster connected the dots, looking between the nurse and Dr. Silver. “[The robot might have vest capabilities! Hold – hold on.]” Dr. Duster repeated, her hands attempting a human placating gesture before she ran over to the robot, physically picking it up from the Dust spot on the floor.

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT protested, rightfully pointing out the indignation of a medical professional such as himself being picked up like a common light-up whorebot. “MEDIBOT.”

With a grunt Dr. Duster dropped the protesting AI helper at the side of the bed. MEDIBOT spun in place once before it’s camera eyes locked onto the rapidly-dying Dr. Silver, and the realization that hit his circuits stopped him in his tracks.

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT said, the full weight of what was happening hitting him. “MEDIBOT.”

Dr. Silver smiled, weakly placing a hand against the cold chassis of his friend. “HHNNK… S…sor-RRHH-y, o-old fr-KHKAH.” Dr. Silver coughed as MEDIBOT leaned down, cradling the human in his arms.

“MEDIBOT.”

“Now, HHHH, d-don’t be l-ACHK, KHM, th.” Dr. Silver swallowed, his breathing heavily labored. “That. We ha-KAHD, kuh, some good memor-HHHEESS. KHM.”

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT beeped, somehow sadly.

“Y-ye-kah. I’d ha-AAAAH, mhm. Liked to take-KHK, KAH. You there too, buddy.” Dr. Silver looked up, vision slowly dimming as he struggled to breathe. “I’HKM. Going to s-KUH-t do-hhhn, now.” Dr. Silver cleared his throat one last time.

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT pleaded, softly.

“Youhh… do us pr…oud.”

“[Look I don’t know what in the empty hells I just watched but put him down we need to stick him in cryostasis-]” Nurse Stringbean barked, glaring at the useless robot.

“MEDIIIIIII-”

Dr. Silver started to go limp, his face turning blue.

“[NOW, may the first pack damn your programming- DROP HIM NOW.]”

“MEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDIIII-” MEDIBOT began to vibrate, eyes glowing a somber red.

Growling, Nurse Stringbean reached forward –

– and her hand was slapped away by MEDIBOT’s arm so fast she didn’t see it coming.

“[WHAT?!]”

“MMMMMAAAAAADIGASCAR PROTOCOL ENGAGED.” MEDIBOT blared, somehow, it’s entire body shaking violently once before falling silent. Nurse Stringbean watched with morbid fascination as MEDIBOT’s chassis opened up, various internal surgical implements, prosthesis parts, gears and padding and wires sliding out to wrap and stick and cut and impale the dying human, dragging him into the machine itself, all the while fiercely glowing red eyes making unbreaking contact with the one who would dare interrupt this fusion of flesh and machine. Cradling Dr. Silver in the fetal position, connected to wires, diodes and the robot itself, the chassis slammed shut with a hiss, the gurgle of fluid and hydraulics punctuating the now terrified silence.

There was just a pause, for a moment, before MEDIBOT raised it’s clawed appendages to the sky and roared in defiance.

“HOSPITAL. OPEN.”

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They are Smol Doctors at Large – Chapter 15: So it’s treason, then!

“Really.”

Of all the responses, of all the possible ways that Than mo thought his colleagues would react to him breaking the news of an incurable global pandemic, that CENTRAL was stalling for time at the potential cost of human life, that the four of them would most likely be left to deal with an incoming flood of patients and may also succumb to the disease with possibly no hope of rescue other than a bag-and-tag operation to be tossed into a bunker to chill, a half-interested “Really” was not on the top 10 list of expected reactions. Hell, it wasn’t even in the top 50, and it made the preceding 5 minutes where Than mo heroically burst into the break room to break earth-shattering news to his compatriots all the more… awkward.

“Uh. Yeah. Really-really.” Than mo said, the wind in his sails deflating from the lack of… well, anything coming from his team.

“I mean, it explains a lot.” Laverne said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Mail was getting harder and harder to get, thought it odd that all delivery services went on strike at once.”

“Mmm.” James added, rapping his knuckles against the table as he connected his own dots. “That’s also why my week leave was turned down. Not a staffing shortage at all.”

Laverne responded with a noncommital “ah”, and then resumed some small talk with Dr. Silver. Than mo stood at the doorway for a few more moments before wandering over to the table and taking a seat. “Well I think a potential extinction level event for the human species on this planet is important.”

Dr. Silver sighed a bit and then shrugged. “I mean, it is – we’re not saying it’s not, but what the hell do we do about it? You already poked the bear, you’ve already got some high-tier gear coming in, and the marching orders basically equated to ‘shelter in place’. When we have our patient surge, hmm.”

“-We just make a pack of otter pops, ship ‘em back to central?” James suggested, and was met with a ‘not bad’ half-nod from the doctor. “We assign a couple fabricators or fab shops to build more cryopods as we run through them, CENTRAL then picks up our patients, and then it’s someone else’s problem.”

“This feels… wrong. I don’t know how, but it just does.” Than mo murmured, resting his chin in his hand. “First big medical thing on an exoplanet and my part to play in it is to shove unconscious people into a gel bag and stack them in an ice truck?”

“To be honest, Than mo, yes.” Dr. Silver said, looking at his companion. “We’re four people servicing thirty thousand, at least. This medical thing, as you put it, could not have come at a worst time; we’re not established but we’re the first point of contact, we have no backup, we have no remote staff to call on for this surge, we’re screwed. All we can do is play triage, but on a grand scale.” Dr. Silver gave another noncommittal shrug. “We might have to bring some of the xenos on in order to help with patient flow, but outside that we do what we can do. It sounds like Dust hits people differently, right?”

“Well, yeah, from what I’m assuming – we’re not seeing anything now, but that trickle could become a flood.”

“Certainly, but it’s not going to be all of them at once.” Laverne commented, bringing herself back into the conversation. “Even if we’re peaking at a couple hundred a day, that’s something we could handle if we bring in some of our trained staff. It absolutely helps that all we’re going to be doing is stabilizing people and then putting them in cryo – so what, that’s… 20, 30 minutes per patient, and stabilization will include sedation?”

Than mo started to run some math in his head. “So… that’s mostly just seeing if people code out while we’re preparing them than anything else. Slap a life vest on them and have them count to 100, basically.”

“Given that’s all we’re doing, how many do you think you can monitor at a time?” Dr. Silver asked, scribbling some notes on his tablet.

“…50, tops. I’d still do walk-throughs and check connections, but I’d feel comfortable saying 50 at a time, at absolute most.”

“So 50 from you, let’s just say 50 from each of us as well – 200 at any given time, every 30 minutes, at best. Assuming nothing goes wrong-” Dr. Silver’s thoughts were interrupted by four sets of knuckles tapping against the tabletop, and he continued without skipping a beat. “-that’s 400 per hour, or 4,800 per surge shift. Assuming every single human comes in to see just us, we’d get through the entire population footprint of mankind in our area in what. 6 days? 7? Assuming we get no help whatsoever, of course.”

“I… I mean, that’s it?” Than mo said after a few moments of thinking. “Just… that’s it.”

“[What’s it?]”

Dr. Silver turned, leaning back in his chair to look at the human-sized entrance to the human break room. Covering a majority of the opening with a look of slight concern was Dr. Solid, twisting his torso in a way that would make any performer of Cirque du Soleil feel inadequate. “[Sorry, I just wanted to poke my head in so to speak and let you know we’ve had two more human patients come in. We’ve stabilized them, but they should be added to your rounds. Is there something I can help with?]”

“Actually, this does prove to be a problem.” Than mo said, pointing at the Jornissian doctor who pointed at himself in confusion.

“[I assure you, Than mo, I mean no harm in-]”

“No, I mean. Sorry Dr. Solid, I mean – ah. The Mothership… um.” Than mo sputtered to a stop as he attempted to figure out a way to say something without saying it. “We… well we do need to keep it mum, don’t we?”

“Oh.” James said, suddenly connecting the dots once more. “Yeah, that’s… that’s going to be absolutely fucking impossible to hide, especially if we keep getting patients presenting with the same problems.”

“They won’t like us spilling the beans.” Laverne added with a sigh. “But they haven’t exactly shared how to sweep this under the rug, and soon it’ll be impossible to do so.”

“[I feel like I did come in and interrupt your conversation – for that, I’m sorry.]” Dr. Solid said, dipping his head even further down while keeping his eyes focused on the table of humans. “[Please excuse me.]”

The humans shared a look between themselves for a brief moment, before Dr. Silver scootched back his chair. “Um. No, actually, you…probably need to be in on this. A lot of you do; who’s here that’s human triage rated?”

“[Including myself, everyone from group A and C. Bravo team is not on duty.]” Dr. Solid responded, sliding his body backwards into the hallway to “crouch” down. “[What seems to be going on?]”

“Can you have everyone meet us in the mailroom? Our package should have arrived by now, right Than mo?” Dr. Silver said, standing up.

“Yeah, I think so.” Than mo replied, leaning back in his chair feeling totally overwhelmed and how underwhelming this emergency was turning out to be. “Regardless, it’s probably a good place to keep things under wraps.”

“[I am incredibly confused as to what’s going on.]” Dr. Solid said, scratching under his jaw. “[If you can please explain to me what you need, I’d be happy to get everyone together.]”

Laverne finished her now lukewarm coffee in one gulp, spiking the ceramic mug into the tile floor with a loud crash. “We’re going to commit treason.”

“[Oh. What.]”

It landed with all the ceremony, pomp and circumstance that millions of years of evolution afforded it’s people; which is to say, the wayward terrorbeast landed on the ground in front of the hospital triage entrance with a pomf and general confusion. Shaking loose a small cloud of Dust It – and by It I mean Bench the right honorable and good Moth – tilted it’s antenna forward.

It had taken Bench many hours to cut down the territory where his grab went, and there were others of his kin who were searching for their own grabs. Some were lucky and found their grabs and grabbed them, as is proper. Others – like until just now, himself – found himself in the wrong places, bumping against the clear sky walls, or even getting the water spray from the not-grabs that were nearby and had very delicious plants and clothing that they weren’t eating.

Bench did not know why the not-grabs had so much food that they didn’t eat, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t question many things, as there was one overarching drive in his slightly scrambled mind:

His grab was near. He needed to grab his grab.

Bench the moth slowly walked forward on his tri-pronged segmented legs, the slightly manicured gripping feet splaying against the concrete as he neared the automatic doors – where the feeling told him to continue. As he approached the pressure mat those same feet dug into suddenly soft memoryfoam; the sensation was new, and quite welcome, and Bench ended up spending a few moments outside the hospital kneading the mat much like a cat. This was apparently enough for the sensors in the mat to trigger, and thanks to processes far beyond the terrorbeast’s reckoning, the door slid open with a soft beep.

Bench stood there, antenna swaying as the air changed. The sunlight-shielded sliding doors welcoming the tamed animal inside.

Bench, not comprehending such complex things as “cause and effect” decided to wait, antenna swaying in the breeze. It was his grab, he felt it so close, so surely his grab would come out and then he would grab and they would fly again.

The sliding doors closed, and the wind changed, and the feeling lessened.

Bench was not happy at this change in developments, and began to do what most Terrorbeasts (and toddlers) would do in this situation: slam his forefeet into the ground and make angry moth noises.

The sensors in the mat tripped again, and the door swayed open again, and the feeling came back, and Bench calmed down and waited. This process would end up repeating itself for another 5 or 6 rounds until the only person – well, “person” – who was not getting a top-secret debriefing left in the human medical wing decided to put a stop to it.

The doors slid open and Bench’s antenna peered forward and it had the feeling but there was also something else.

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT so helpfully said, standing at the edge of the doorway to welcome the new visitor.

“?ööööö?” Bench cooed at the new visitor, not sensing… much of anything, to be brutally honest. Sure, he saw the thing that made welcome noises at him, but, there was not a sense to it.

“MEDIBOT.”

Bench weighed in his mind the wise words of the roombot and slowly made his way inside, MEDIBOT making sure to stay a respectful distance away from the semi-wild animal as it walked unchecked into the human wing of the hospital. Instantly Bench’s antenna was assaulted with so much feeling, so much information – grabs, there were many grabs here, some he knew and some he did not but he knew his grab was right…. There.

Right there.

Bench turned and started to walk towards his grab, antenna gently caressing and tapping against the walls and currents of air, mutlifaceted compound eyes staring unblinking at the alien surroundings. Gently, he nosed forward past a privacy curtain, his antenna picking up very strong-

“MEDIBOT.”

Bench froze.

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT quipped, and somewhere on some planet a laughtrack played unprompted. Out of MEDIBOT’s chest a screen popped open, asking for visitation information.

Bench, not knowing what any of this was or meant, but seeing the false fire so close to him, reached out an antenna to see if it was real false fire or false false fire and therefore real, useful fire.

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT commented, as Bench’s antenna pressed against the tablet, registering as a human signature. And as an aside, before you say how unlikely any of that is have you seen a doctor’s handwriting?

Scribbles are scribbles, so it all counts.

“MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT chided, letting the terrorbeast know the visitation rules and regulations. “MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT reached forward and pulled the privacy curtain away, showing Bench’s grab laying comatose on the human medical bed. Juan lay there, silent but alive, multiple machines breathing for him, filtering his blood, scrubbing his spinal fluid – pretty much living for him, in an attempt to figure out what, if anything would help reverse his situation. Banks of injectable medicine lined either side of the bed, all controlled by a master AI that sat at the foot, constantly monitoring and administering medications in changes so minute no human could hope to be so exact. All of these things flowed into Juan through what the medical community colloquially called a “Life Vest”, a separate and stand-alone wearable ICU that physically attached to the patient and kept them alive for transfers from bed to bed or ward to ward without any loss of treatment time, or life. It had it’s own smaller bank of medication, it could filter out both air and blood, and it was powered with both an on-board solid salt battery as well as wireless ambient power harvesting.

It was truly a marvel of modern human engineering and paranoia, and it’s nuances were totally lost on Bench the Terrorbeast as he deftly, silently climbed over the bed railing to stand over his grab. The vest was nothing to him, except…

…well, it was awfully close to a flight harness, and it did have great handholds for Bench to grab…

…so he did just that. Gently he cradled his grab in his forearms, disconnecting hoses and wires, turning him over and pushing him against his soft body. Bench stood on the bed, various alarms going off around him, and felt somehow more complete. More whole. He had grabbed his grab; he had done the thing he set out to do.

And then he had absolutely no idea what to do next.

“No, I don’t know – he suddenly cratered-”

The human medical team was mostly through their treasonous briefing of what was going on, what was in the fancy boxes that had just arrived, and what they were going to be expecting in the next few days and weeks when suddenly James’ tablet started to scream at him. They sprang into action, bolting down the hallway to the ICU ward, James trying to give a status update while running at full-tilt.

It was a mixed success.

“Wh-what the fuck happened?!” Dr. Silver yelled, rounding the corner first and diving into the crashbar.

“I DON’T KNOW. He just suddenly cratered – everything all sorts of fucked-” James panted, lagging behind. “Jesus, we don’t have a heartbeat on him, or O2, or anything-”

Skidding against the linoleum floor, Dr. Silver burst into the shared ICU room. “MEDIBOT.” MEDIBOT exclaimed, surprised at all the commotion.

“NOT NOW, MEDIBOT.” Dr. Silver yelled, and was immediately greeted with a loud, low “?öööööööööö?”. With a dramatic flair, Bench spread his wings – the other grabs were threatening his grab, and he just grabbed his grab!

With a mighty flap, Bench gained a couple feet of clearance before smacking into the drop ceiling above, knocking ceiling tiles askew. Without the ability to go up, the answer was obviously to go out.

With another mighty flap – and with the comatose, limp body of Juan hanging below, Bench lurched forward-

-And with a giant pomf of Dust, slammed into and bowled over Dr. Silver before anyone else could react.

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