Area-1

Bloomer 0.1

Bloomer 0.1 Based on surveillance, the space plane looks like it is falling down instead of going down. If this continues, it is going to crash land on top of a building, and probably damage several more.

The security can simply just disintegrate it mid air and save the damages. But there is a reason why we are not doing that yet. The plane must at least have a pilot. Although it is not a priority or a must, we can also save the pilot.

Using a feature in my suit’s helmet, I scan the vehicle for a heat signature. Everything turns dark, except for the occasional dots and lines that signify heat. When my sight is locked on the target, I can see a lump of heat at the center of the plane.

“Fire power, please stand by,” I request through the connection.

My helmet’s screen goes haywire, estimating the minutes before its impact. I launch myself forward, jumping off the bridge and rooftops until I can find a better angle.

According to calculations, the plane is triple the size of my Bloomer, but I am confident of my Knightframe’s strength.

“I am going to stop it.”

“We will fire an electronic discharge on the unauthorized aircraft.”

On queue, a hatch opens up to reveal a laser blaster inside that fires a blue beam at the plane. All lights on it turn off in an instant. It starts to lose its power booster and begins crashing down wildly.

I count down the remaining seconds before impact. Bracing myself, I change into a stance. My body bends over forward and my arms reaching out.

Twenty nine, twenty eight, twenty seven…

With fire catching at the end of its tail, the plane looks more like a falling meteor, leaving a trail of smoke and light.

…Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen…

As it closes in, I start to see the size difference between it and myself. It doesn’t discourage me though. Instead, it makes my blood pump harder—well, as hard as the nano virus allows me.

…Three, two, one…!

The plane pushes me more than I push it. I try to regain my balance, but it keeps trying to push me back. It won’t be good if this continues on.

“Flungel mode, activate,” I give the order to Bloomer.

[“Flungel mode: activating.”]

In a flash, electric magenta and blue spring out and surround me, spreading around at two different directions from my back as a pair of wings. From my helmet screen, I can see that my wings feature is turned on. It still feels strange to feel two extra pair of limbs on my sensory, but now is not the time to dwell.

Beating my wings, I began pushing back against the plane, and this time my attempt works. The weight is still on me, so I keep repeating my actions, using my wings to back me up. Eventually, the crashing force dies down and the plane is left with a gravity pull.

I make sure to place it down as gently as possible.

Now that I can take a closer look at it calmly, I can see that this space plane is way too small for distance travel.

The plane no longer functions, meaning that the cockpit doors will not open even when the pilot inside wishes to. The backup will arrive soon, but not soon enough. So, without wasting time, I tear it open.

The sound of metal tearing rings loudly in the air. But the Bloomer is strong and it only takes one solid pull to completely tear it apart.

The pilot is humanoid. That is the first thing I notice. He is wearing a standard black skin tight suit meant for military pilots. But what concerns me the most is the sight of blood pouring out from his eye sockets.

He is trying to see what is going on—though I doubt he even realizes what just transpired—by blinking open his eyes, but he can not. Why? Because there are no eyes left to see. I stare deep into where a pair of eyes are supposed to be, watching as more blood and chunks of flesh pours out from his sockets.

He probably has been bleeding out around the entire plane and his suit, but I do not care. I carefully take him in Bloomer’s robotic arms and spread my wings, flying off to the nearest transportal.

“N-no. Leave me alone!” His voice is hoarse and dry, indicating signs of dehydration. The wind must be blowing strongly outside. I wrap my fingers around him like a cage to protect him.

“It’s okay. I’m here to help.” I try to calm him down, but the impact after losing his sight makes him panic easily.

“No! Get away!” He screams even louder, kicking his leg against Bloomer’s palms. I can hear the distrust and fear in his tone. I need to keep him still, but I can not press too hard.

I try to examine the situation calmly. If he does not cease his fighting immediately, it will be difficult for me to carry him to the Healer Department. Meanwhile, I do not have the necessary medical kit to tend to his wounds (note to self to include that in Bloomer next time).

Using Verstehen psychology analysis, I imagine myself to stand in his stead. I just lose my eyes. I can not see. I am in a plane, but I can not see the control. I have to rely on my memory to remember which is which and what is where. I activate a voice control pilot and the system suggests me to go to Area-1.

Now my plane suddenly crashes and I fall. I fall and everything is dark and it’s scary. I am afraid and I don’t have anyone else to rely on. I must escape. I hear the sound of my plane crashing, metal against metal. Everything is so loud and frightening and I can’t see what’s going on. Then something hard and cold grabs me—

I blink open the eyes I didn’t realize I have closed, now understanding what to do to calm him down.

Choosing a detachment feature, I release an arm from Bloomer’s cover and reach out to grab his hand. He abruptly ceases his struggle. I proceed to releasing my helmet next, while the other covers are still intact.

Then I repeat the words I’ve said again, much slower this time. “It’s alright. You don’t have to fear me. I’m a healer. I’m here to help.”

Something crosses his face. If he had eyes, I’m guessing he would be crying.

“O-okay,” he rasps, his body still shaking but there is no more struggle. “Okay,” he repeats, this time to calm himself.

“You’re safe now,” I convince him. “Just let me move you to our healer. We’ll fix you up in no time.”

I try to let go of my hand, but he holds on to me strongly, as if I am his lifeline. It is a little bit too tight for my comfort, but I try to ignore it and think of his side of the situation.

I end up holding on to his hand for the rest of the journey.

When we pass the transportal, I almost warn him about the light as it heats up to get ready. “Close your— I mean, never mind.” The light that comes from the transportal can be rather intense to outsiders.

But apparently he already catches on and even manages to chuckle a little bit, though it ends up with him hissing in pain.

“Sorry about that. Please don’t laugh?” is the last thing I say before the transportal zaps us away.

A moment later, we arrive at the transportal gate of the Healer sector. Sensing my arrival, an operation chamber is departed towards me. It lies horizontally as I deposit the pilot into it carefully. I try to let go of my hand, but the male just tightens up his hold.

“Don’t go,” he says hoarsely, his body shaking so much that I can feel the vibration.

“The door is supposed to be fully closed during an operation,” I inform him.

“Please,” his voice sounds like a painful plea.

I consider his request for a few short moments before finally agreeing.

The operation chamber begins scanning him for injuries as I deactivate Bloomer and release myself from it.

[“Welcome back, Professor Lini.”] The operation chamber recognizes me and logs me in as its designated curer. If there is no curer that monitors an operation chamber, the patient must act as a replacement. Though I doubt very much that this outsider understands how this medical equipment works.

[“According to our examination, the patient is experiencing a phantom eye syndrome, sixty-five percent of dehydration, forty degree Celsius of fever, and extreme body shock at the aftermath of double eye amputation. A safe dosage of nano virus will be injected to him to recover the first three symptoms. Do you approve?”]

“Yes, I approve.” On queue, a robotic arm opens out from inside the operation chamber, a huge needle attached to its end. Before it begins the injection, I hold up a hand to it. The robotic arm stops, hanging in mid air and waiting for my signal. To the male, I tell him, “A nano virus will be injected to your system to stabilize your body. Are you ready?”

He coughs, clearing his throat, but ends up just nodding as his reply. “Proceed,” I tell the operating chamber. The robotic arm holds down and insert the needle into his flesh, pushing in the nano virus inside.

[“Nano virus injection: completed.”] I can start to see the effects immediately. The bleeding in his eye sockets have stopped. His horse breathing ceases, his body calmer and more relaxed, however his hold on my arm never subdued in strength. Good thing I have my own nano virus to fix me up.

[“Treatment: successful. Patient is recovering. Cybernetic eye is recommended for final treatment. Waiting confirmation.”]

I can feel my hand being tugged a little bit harshly this time. “Don’t leave…” he echoes.

“I’m not. But we need to put you unconscious for this procedure. Are you r—”

“Do it! No anastasia,” he says.

“Are you sure? It will be a very painful process.”

He nods his head. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” I reassure him. I cannot imagine what it must really feel like to lose my sight. If I was him, I would be afraid to be left alone, too. Especially in a place I do not know of.

“Proceed with immediate installation. Allow the patient to be conscious,” I inform the operation chamber.

The final treatment takes longer time. Preparation is needed before we can begin. First, his eye sockets need to be sterilized and cleaned from chunks of meat.

Although the chamber’s cut is very precise to the point it can avoid his nerve-ending, the flesh that has been cut instantly grows, closing in on the wound. Eventually, it is forced to use a tool to keep the flesh from overgrowing and closing up around the eye sockets.

The male bit his lips, trying to hold in the pain. I study his face for a moment. How old is he? He can’t be any older than Colton. Yet he is already experiencing so much pain.

What has caused this, I wonder? Was he in a fight? A war? Only a war can be this merciless to its victim.

The boy is lucky that he ended up on this planet. Only ours can make this quick treatment.

Then it comes the time to choose the eye color.

“What color would you like?”

“My eyes were blue. Light, like the sky.” I know I shouldn’t, but I chuckle by that. “What?” he asks, trying to laugh too but manage a shriek.

“What would happen if I tell you that our sky is purple?”

“Oh, right. Blue like steel, perhaps?”

“That’s more accurate.”

The operation chamber imports the cybernetic eyes in no time. Then, the installation process begins.

The eyes plunge in together at the same time. The boy lets out a scream when the wires inside the cybernetic eyes begin to force a connection with his nerves. While the wires drill thin holes in his flesh, the nano virus tries to close it down immediately.

This is why I wanted to put him unconscious.

His scream echoes through the entire wing for the rest of the operation.

TransportalAs the name goes, it is a portal that functions as a transporter. Commonly used for long distance travel, such as changing sectors and delivering market goods. When one goes through a transportal tunnel, one must have a solid destination in mind. The choice of destination is limited to different ends of the transportal.

A Transportal is similar to that of a time machine, but instead of crossing time, it crosses distance.

Sectors and DepartmentsA sector is an area that centralizes around a specific department. Area-1 has 1 sector that becomes the center of leadership, surrounded by 8 major sectors and 12 minor sectors.

A Department is a focused laboratory of study, commonly specialized in a certain scientific or technological field. Area-1 has 8 major departments and 12 minor departments.

Central sector/department is located at the heart of Area-1, as a headquarter and permanent residence to the High Commander, the highest title bestowed to an Arean.