Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabble 51 - Army Parasite

Someone grabbed his face and tilted it up towards the light. Commander's face appeared, his mask half on, half off as he yelled into Xander's face. Sound wouldn't compute. He started blindly up, unable to react as the expression turned darker. Fingers traced his brow, and a hand gripped his hair before a mask got pushed onto his face. 

It's not a good sign for a quick death. They wanted him alive for the same reason as the Cell. They wanted answers, and then they'd kill him. At least their reason was one he understood. The mask had an antidote in it. His awareness clung on long enough to register he'd been put in a fireman-style carry. 

The pain stopped.

For a few hours, he was safe from the world.

---

The ship had the same ceilings on all the decks, ignoring the environmental bays. Grey metal plates that were easy to clean and made waking up feel like a nightmare. They gave no clues about his fate. The one above his face had a slight discolouration on the bottom corner. It looked like maybe it had been dipped in bleach. 

Well. 

He was alive. Fucked up beyond measure and dead and walking but alive. Nothing hurt; where was to say? Everything buzzed, but drugs held back the pain. Good drugs, the kind people gave to heal.

Maybe they wanted him to stand for his execution?

Seemed like a waste of medicine to put him on good drugs. He was a prisoner, but they didn't torture prisoners as a rule. It might be different as a deserter. The metal around his wrists confirmed that he was a prisoner, but there were no chains. Not that he had the energy to move, so maybe it was seen as overkill. 

He sunk under again. 

The next time he surfaced, the lights were low but on. There was a louder bustle of activity from beyond the door. He blinked slow, everything returning as a spike of pain rocked through his shoulders. Dislocated shoulders would hurt for a while, assuming the bone hadn't broken.

Someone sat next to him, tapping away at a datapad. He glanced, but he couldn't see to his right. One of the bandages hung over his right eye, blocking the view. The air didn't so much buzz with danger as it stunk of it. He knew the smell of the aftershave on the man. 

"Commander?" His voice croaked.

"Awake, Corporal?" The tapping stopped. "Ah, you can't see me." The man stood and moved over to the other side of the bed, but Xander couldn't see his face. 

"Did Scott remember my coat?"

"Yes, Corporal. He got the USB to us. Command is excited with the information you provided. We'll be able to track down a lot of dangerous people. Good job." A hand patted his forearm before resting on it. "We were grateful."

Xander relaxed, the haze of drugs making it hard to focus. His job was done. They would stop the attacks and keep people safe. He could die in peace knowing he'd down his duty even if he made a few mistakes. There were worse ways to go; hopefully, his service would get him an honourable, fast death rather than a painful one. 

"Corporal?"

"Sir?"

"You weren't listening, were you?" Disapproval rang. 

Xander shook his head, regretting it as the world span with his eyes closed. "Sorry, sir. Drugs are making things hazy."

A warm hand moved some of his hair out of his eyes. Well, the eye that tried to stay open. 

"Rest more," ordered his Commander, a softer tone filtering through. "You're safe."

Xander dropped back to sleep, knowing someone watched over him. Even if that person scared him. Too many teeth and too many minds all wound together and created the nightmare that would sever him from this reality but would stop anyone from touching him. His commander would keep him safe; nothing bad would happen as he slept.