Project Prometheus Ch. 66 - Teaser (Patreon)

The med bay was quiet except for the faint hum of diagnostic machines as Korsa and Zuzanna worked methodically. On one of the holo-displays, a comprehensive analysis of the Prime woman’s blood scrolled line by line, showing negative results for every virus, pathogen, and contaminant known to galactic science. Korsa’s four hands moved in a synchronized rhythm, entering commands and cross-referencing data with the galactic medical database.

Zuzanna, leaning on the counter nearby, let out a soft sigh of relief as the final results confirmed what they had hoped. “Clean as a whistle,” she murmured, running a hand through her blonde hair. “For a moment there, I thought we might have to quarantine the whole ship.”

Korsa grunted in agreement, her golden eyes not leaving the display. “She’s remarkably clean. No dormant pathogens, no latent infections. Her immune system is… unique, but more than capable. Whatever suspended animation system she was in did its job perfectly.”

With the tests complete, Korsa deactivated the translucent medishield that had enveloped the Prime woman. The soft shimmer faded as the shield collapsed, leaving the woman fully exposed to the room. Her skin caught the light, its faintly metallic sheen almost hypnotic. Korsa’s upper right hand retrieved a small reflex hammer while Zuzanna prepared a neural scanner.

“Let’s check her reflexes,” Korsa said, moving to the woman’s side. She tapped the hammer gently against the Prime’s knee, noting the automatic twitch of her leg. Zuzanna hovered nearby, holding the scanner close to the woman’s head to monitor her neural responses.

They were halfway through the tests when the woman’s eyelids fluttered. Korsa froze, all four arms pausing mid-motion. Zuzanna straightened, her eyes widening.

The Prime’s eyes opened fully—a vivid, crystalline violet that seemed to glow faintly. She blinked once, twice, then sat bolt upright with startling speed. The sudden movement sent Korsa stepping back instinctively, her sheer size not enough to mask the sharpness of her reflexes.

The woman’s gaze darted between the two of them, her expression one of wide-eyed alarm. Her breathing quickened, and she pressed herself back against the biobed, as though trying to put distance between herself and the towering red-skinned Korsa and the blonde human.

“Easy,” Zuzanna said softly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “You’re safe. You’re on a ship—a medical bay.”

Korsa, ever the pragmatist, stayed still but ready, her lower arms folded while her upper arms held the tools she had been using. “She’s disoriented,” she said, her voice low and steady. “Give her a moment.”

The Prime woman’s breathing slowed gradually, her wide eyes studying them intently. Her gaze lingered on Korsa’s four arms, then shifted to Zuzanna, noting her blonde hair and softer features. She tilted her head, her expression shifting from fear to something more curious, her violet eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

“There,” Zuzanna murmured, offering a tentative smile. “She’s calming down.”

The Prime’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she straightened from the defensive posture she had instinctively adopted. Her gaze swept the room, taking in the equipment, the biobed, and finally returning to the two women standing before her.

“She’s… curious,” Korsa observed, tilting her head. “Not terrified. That’s a good sign.”

The Prime woman sat there on the biobed, her crystalline violet eyes staring at the doctors before her lips parted. What came out was a series of sounds so alien and complex that it made both doctors pause. Her voice was melodic yet sharp, hitting phonetic tones that defied easy replication. Even Korsa, with her Khontaran physiology and the ability to produce a broader range of sounds than most species, winced slightly at some of the harsher clicks and guttural notes.

“She’s speaking,” Zuzanna said, her brow furrowed, “but I’ve never heard anything like it. Korsa?”

Korsa shook her head, her lower arms crossed over her torso while the upper ones worked the controls of the holo-terminal. “It’s not Khontaran or anything close. Some of those sounds… even I can’t replicate them.”

The Prime woman continued, her voice weaving a tapestry of sounds that alternated between urgent and questioning, her gaze shifting between Korsa and Zuzanna as though waiting for recognition.