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Mother Confessor:

Getting down to my trade with the Ober-Commander, watching as the surgical tech puts on protective gloves. Taking a moment to collect my thoughts, as the sound of metal instruments being placed on a tray cut the silence.

“I would like to be trained as a soldier, so that I too can be apart of crippling the Terran scourge”, I assert to the Commander, as I witness the tactile incision being made in his flesh. Fascinated in watching the tech as she works. Sliding a pair of medium forceps into the enlarged laceration. Releasing a low growl as the metal enters the flesh. The minutes pass, as the tech focuses on her delicate work.

Marckus:

Gripping the sides of the table as the tech invades my bullet wound, working to dig out the composite ballistic from my thigh.

Clucking her tongue she says, “Luckily it missed your femoral, but not by much” , as she explores further into the hole,” Ah here it is.”

A bit of elation in her voice, I feel her connect with the bullet. Gritting my teeth, feeling the metal spreading inside my mutilated muscle tissue. The tech starts to extract the ballistic, feeling the reluctant projectile being teased from the tissue.

“There we are now” , she softly exclaims, as I see the back of the round in the bright focused light. It exits with that familiar sickening sucking sound. Its final quiet cry of defiance. I watch as she places the bullet into a cleaning solution. She then sets about cleaning the inside of the now cleared hole.

Turning my attention back to the request of the interrogator, as I feel the beginning of suturing to finish off my patching.

“I will see what I can do, are you sure that is what you want” ,I offer my acceptance with the others request.