Chapter Text
Beebs felt Shrike’s body go limp in his hands and a cold knot of fear tightened in the walrinian’s stomach.
“No… no no NO! – Shrike! Shrike, stay with me!” Beebs pleaded. “Shrike I need you to wake up, Shrike…” he hesitated then fumbled one finger against the smaller alien’s neck in search of a pulse.
“Please don’t die.” Beebs whispered. His vision blurred and he quickly blinked away the unbidden tears.
Beneath his fingers Beebs felt the small flutter of a heartbeat. He released the shaky breath he had been holding and carefully scooped his wounded companion off the floor. The walrinian stopped just long enough to grab an ancient first aid kit out of the hall storage before carrying his injured partner to his room.
With extreme care Beebs gently laid Shrike on his bed then set about trying to treat the squidman’s injuries. Shrike’s uniform was peeled away and Beebs winced at the ugly bruises and jagged cuts covering his friend’s body. Several of the deeper cuts were still oozing blood and Beebs tried his best to clean and bandage the worst ones as quickly as possible.
Beebs could not claim to be a certified medic but he still knew the more blood he could keep inside Shrike the longer he could buy his friend some time. And the more time Shrike had the better his chances would be of surviving long enough for Beebs to find help.
As soon as the last cut was bandaged Beebs strapped Shrike to the bed and hurried out of the room. He hesitated only a moment at the door and glanced back at his unconscious friend one last time – assuring himself that Shrike was still alive, and then forced himself to hurry to the bridge.
Shrike was stable for now but Beebs needed to get him to some sort of medical bay if there was going to be any chance of saving his friend.
Beebs slid into his chair and revved the Bucket’s engine to life. In less than a minute the ship was jetting out of the planet’s atmosphere while Beebs grimly punched out a distress call.
The walrinian’s brow furrowed in concentration as he picked the direction of the nearest medical center and hoped a ship would pick up his distress signal long before he reached it. Beebs fingers tightened on the ship’s controls and he tried not to think of the other reason he needed a ship to respond first.
Medical centers cost pixels that they did not have.
There was a much better chance he could rely on the compassion of a fellow mercenary over the good favor of a medical center. And even if mercs weren’t compassionate – they were a lot cheaper to bribe for aid.
It was close to an hour before Beebs received a response to his distress call.
“This is the T.C.F. Bucket requesting emergency assistance. Please respond.” Beebs cracked his knuckles nervously and stared at the snowy monitor screen. The screen flickered; fighting against the weak signal of the distress call before the picture cleared and a small slime creature with large bulbous eyes appeared on the monitor.
“Blzzzibrrrr bzzz brrrrg?” It blinked and adjusted a thick pair of spectacles that accentuated its large black eyeballs. In the background several more slime creatures gathered close to the screen.
Beebs hesitated for a moment, unsure if the creatures could understand him. His own translator was not detecting their language and he hoped that it was not a mutual problem. Unfortunately he was short on time and options if he wanted to keep his partner alive.
“I have a medical emergency. My crewmate was attacked by an unknown creature while we were on planet QR93 and is suffering complications from an unknown neurotoxin. I need help identifying the creature that attacked him and finding an antidote to the toxin if it exists.” Beebs stared into the monitor trying to read the expressions of his small audience. He wasn’t sure if they had understood anything.
“He has lost a lot of blood and is currently unconscious; before he passed out he said he had lost feeling in his extremities. He needs medical attention. Do you understand me?” Beebs counted the seconds that ticked by.
On the screen the creature blinked several times then turned to one of its crew members. There was a quiet conversation that sounded to Beebs like the bubbling of boiling water. Several more of the alien slimes chimed in and one of them disappeared from the screen.
Beebs waited. He waited and tried not to think about the hasty patchwork of bandages from the expired med kit that was keeping his partner from bleeding out. Or how small and frail his friend had looked when Beebs strapped him to the bed before departing the planet.
Shrike would be fine. And he would survive this – he had to. Beebs would accept no other alternative.
“Bzzzibble Blorp.” A new slime was standing in front of the monitor fidgeting with a piece of machinery. It glanced at Beebs while burbling and fidgeted with several dials before Beebs finally picked up the sound of voices in the monitor.
“Do you interpret?”
“Yes! I understand you!” Beebs leaned forward in his chair.
“Good,” The slime interrupted. “We received your distress call and from what we could gather there has been an injury?” It studied Beebs waiting for a response.
“Erm . . . yes, my partner was injured by some of the local wildlife. He’s – ”
“Cliff Scarabs.”
“What?” Beebs asked.
“Cliff Scarabs, QR93 is prolific with them. They paralyze their prey temporarily in order to create a host for their offspring. The toxin should wear off in a few days. Do you have a medical facility sufficient for treatment?”
“No…”
“Unfortunate.” The slime muted its device and burbled to its companions in the background. One of them gestured in the direction of the Bucket and angry bubbling commenced among the group.
Beebs glanced out the window in the direction the slime had gestured and noticed an odd cluster of maybe two dozen orbs scattered across the right side of the Bucket. He guessed they were eggs from the cliff scarabs that had been crawling across the roof of the ship when he woke up. He also noticed the slime aliens were very interested in them. And by the way they became agitated when they noticed that he had noticed – Beebs guessed the eggs were worth money.
A lot of money.
The slime with the translator switched on the device and burbled noisily to get Beebs attention.
“We are not inclined to assist in whatever foolhardiness caused your incident. Our resources are not for charity cases.”
Beebs moved as if to disconnect the transmission.
“However!” The slime hastily continued. “It happens that the organisms along your ship have a small value to our leader. We would consider it a generous offering to allow your crew member an hour in our medical pod in exchange for that organic material.” It leaned back with a smug confidence that clearly meant it did not expect Beebs to know the real value of the eggs.
And to be fair Beebs did not know how much they were really worth. But he did know when another merc was trying to lowball him on a trade.
“I’m afraid that won’t work.” Beebs sighed and shook his head. He was walking a thin line between saving Shrike and losing the only rescue opportunity he had. Knowing that he could blow his friend’s only chance at surviving made Beebs very careful.
“It will take at least three days in a med tank to get his physical injuries stabilized and to build back the blood he’s lost.” Beebs insisted. “If you want those eggs you need to put a little more on the table than just an hour in your med bay. Besides – we spent weeks attempting to collect those.” Beebs added.
He crossed his arms and allowed a not quite threatening scowl to darken his expression. Even a non threatening scowl on a Walrinian’s face would cause the bravest of aliens to reconsider their next actions.
The slime deflated slightly after Beebs called its bluff. The translator was muted for a second time and more frantic bubbling noises ensued. Beebs stood motionless staring fixedly at the monitor with just enough threat in his eyes to show he meant business. Inside he was trying not to count the seconds that ticked by or think about how badly he wanted to check on Shrike and make sure his friend was still okay.
After what seemed like an eternity the slimes came to a tentative agreement. The translator was unmuted and the lead slime cautiously met Beebs eyes.
“We will offer you three days use of our medical pod.”
Beebs snorted threateningly.
“A week in the medical pod! – And five thousand pixels – per egg!” It hesitated, nervously glancing at its crewmembers. “Th-that is our final offer.
With his heart hammering in his chest Beebs pretended to consider the offer before slowly pulling out his tablet. He punched the details into a contract form and glanced up at the monitor.
“I wish to be present and have access to the med bay while he recovers. And the eggs stay where they are until the healing process has been completed.” Beebs insisted.
“That hardly seems acceptable.” The slime protested.
“I have a feeling you will find this an incredible deal even with my conditions. Unless you want to go planet-side and collect your own eggs. Something tells me you aren’t quite capable of handling cliff scarabs on your own.” Beebs countered, staring fixedly at the slime until it lowered its gaze.
“Any other – conditions?” The slime muttered.
“I think this will suffice, I am sending a contract over for you to sign. Once that is complete I will tether to your ship and shuttle my teammate over.” Beebs hit the send button on his tablet.
“Very well.” The slime agreed
It had been a long week aboard the ship with the slime aliens. For the most part they ignored Beebs who had been allowed access to the med bay upon request. He had only shuttled back to the Bucket for food breaks and after two days of managing the shuttles the slime aliens gave him a small cabin next to the med bay and insisted on the Walrinian using their cafeteria to save them the trouble of operating the shuttles.
Beebs was relieved because it was easier to monitor Shrike’s progress when he did not need to leave the ship constantly. As a tradeoff he made a point to stay out of the way as much as possible whenever the slime aliens were around.
On the final day Beebs was standing nervously in front of the medical pod staring at his unconscious team mate. Shrike’s color had improved immensely and the scars from his fight with the cliff scarabs had faded to a light pink hue that would probably fade away in a few weeks.
Next to Beebs a small slime medic was giving him instructions as it deactivated the healing pod.
“He will probably not be fully conscious for another hour. Keep him in a warm environment and monitor him for pod sickness. As long as he isn’t nauseous after he regains consciousness he should be able to eat solid food.” The slime briskly hit a series of buttons and the pod hissed open.
The slime then used a device to scan the squidman’s vital signs before nodding to Beebs.
“He is all yours.” It confirmed.
“Thank you for your help.” Beebs responded, scooping his unconscious companion into his arms.
“Oh no, thank you.” The slime insisted slyly. “After today our entire crew is going on early retirement.”
Once the Monkey Wrench crew arrived back on the Bucket, Beebs carried his unconscious team mate back to his room to start the recovery process. He carefully wrapped Shrike in several blankets before strapping him onto the bed. As much as Beebs wanted to remain at Shrike’s side until the squidman began to regain consciousness he needed to return to the bridge and finish his business with the slime aliens first. So once his friend was secure Beebs returned to the bridge to disengage the ship’s tether from its neighboring host.
While the two ships were un-tethered Beebs watched as the slime aliens sent a small drone out to collect their payment. The drone worked quickly and in less than ten minutes the eggs had been gathered and the slime’s ship immediately set a course to put as much distance as possible between them and their unwanted guests.
Beebs felt an immense relief as he watched the other ship vanish from site. Once the other ship was gone he set the Bucket on auto pilot for the nearest food district.
The walrinian was starving and with the extra money they had received from the slime alien’s agreement, Beebs figured he owed Shrike a round at the nearest Pizzapocalypse once his friend had regained consciousness from his stint in the med pod.
Beebs had already decided it was better not to tell Shrike about the eggs or how much they had been underpaid for them. As far as the Walrinian was concerned he would have freely given away an entire shipload of the eggs if it meant saving Shrike’s life.
Fortunately for Beebs he had only needed a handful of them.