He quickly took off his helmet, letting it clang on the floor next to the severed arm. He checked his suit, noticing that it was covered in mud and grass, but it wasn’t perforated. Dirt covered his new stump, and blood dripped from it onto the floor. Before his numbness fully went away, he grabbed rubbing alcohol from the medical kit and sprayed some alcohol over it. He only felt some distant burning sensation, but it was getting worse with each passing second.

“First order of business.”

He thought ruefully, looking at his chest. With a trembling hand, he unzipped his suit, peeling it from his skin. He hissed when he saw his exposed chest, covered in a big, purple bruise and sporting a bump on top of his right bicep. Just as he began hyperventilating, another coughing fit assaulted him, followed by more blood.

Isaah closed his eyes, trying his best to remain calm and not make everything worse. There was not a lot of time, the drugs’ effect were already going away, and the pain was going to be debilitating. His arm was still missing, and he had to do something about that. Reattaching it was impossible. He didn’t have medical robots or any doctor available for that kind of procedure. And if he left it like that, there was a good chance it would get infected.

“Fuck…” He choked, spitting up a blob of congealed blood to the ground.

He did his best to put the scanner on top of the broken rib without touching it, but his strength was already leaving him. His vision was too blurry to read exactly what it said on the screen, but he could already suspect it. At least 3 broken ribs, one of them piercing his lung.

He tried to grab the basic multi-tool attached to the pod with his right hand, but he couldn’t grab it. He tried several times, even briefly feeling flashes of pain under his chest, until he remembered. With a muttered curse, he stood up with a wince and grabbed it with his left hand.

It was too late to calibrate and properly test it, so he just hoped for the best. He switched it on, carefully left it on his stomach with the blade pointing out, and attached the medical scanner under the barrel.

The bottom part realigned with the top, and the vibroblade retracted. The scanner morphed into a laser pointer, emanating a square grid from the center of the tool. He was supposed to use a helmet or power armor to guide the medical tool to do the surgery. But it was quite impossible to do now. The blood stained both his helmets, and one even lacked a visor.

The multi-tool and the AI had a predetermined way of handling surgeries, albeit a bit primitive. It would perform it with no problem, but it would not care if it caused unnecessary pain while doing so. That’s why exploration fleets always had a medic on board. The ones that could afford one.

Very carefully, he turned the multi-tool towards his chest, illuminating the biggest bump with the laser grid. His quivering hand doing its best to remain still while the machine did its job. After an eternity, the AI announced.

“Do it!” He screamed before another coughing fit overcame him.

The 3D printer quickly produced the required materials for his surgery: a trio of small plates, screws, and four small rods. He grabbed them, almost falling to the floor, and loaded them on the side of the multi-tool. Without giving himself the chance to chicken out, Isaah pointed the tool at himself and pressed both triggers.

The four small rods extended from the multi-tool, harmlessly touching his skin.

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The last bit of his numbing agent shot to his skin, and he gritted his teeth. The vibroblade slowly descended, perfectly aligned with the grid to make the first cut. As each second passed, he got more and more agitated. Before the blade could touch him, he let go of the triggers.

The blade stopped moving, millimeters away from piercing his epidermis. His eyes were wide as saucers, but it was getting harder to keep them open.

“You’re going to die.” He told himself as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Stop being a coward.”

He clenched his eyes and bit his lip, trying to fight the quiver in his hands. He looked around the pod. His stump only gave him another bout of phantom pain, like he was desperately clenching his right hand. Clarice’s helmet reminded him of what he had lost. The monster’s severed hand…

“You did that.”

He almost couldn’t believe that he could pull it off. He managed to not run away and stand for himself. To do something other than cry and pray for someone else to save him.

“The stars won’t conquer themselves, Jack.”

He thought with a smirk, making a small prayer to his fallen captain. With one last painful huff, he pressed both triggers. The blade made a thin line across his chest, followed by a small fountain of blood. Then, it returned to the multi-tool. Pain flared up once more through his chest, almost forcing him to stop again. But he persevered.

“You’re an explorer…you’re an explorer…” He told himself, over and over like a mantra to avoid the pain. “You can do this…”

A pair of tweezers extended next, delicately entering the wound and fully opening it. The laser then began cauterizing the blood vessels that were still bleeding. Isaah winced each time it fired, but held on, fearing it would miss if he moved too much.

A thin tube lowered inside his wound afterward. Draining any extra blood inside and outside the lung. He held his breath as the machine operated, fearing he somehow punctured even more tissue. When it retracted, he let out a strained sigh of relief. The hard part came next, removing the bone fragments.

Thankfully, two of the fractures were clean breaks, the one poking his lung being the exception. If he had his other hand, he could take them out himself, but as it was…

“Override…Auto…” another cough. “Automatic mode…”

The tweezers stopped opening his skin and entered inside. He groaned and twisted with each small movement they made, further increasing the pain. Slowly and painfully, the tool dug out each fragment, letting them fall to the floor. And as if nothing had happened, it opened his skin back up.

Tears had puffed Isaah’s eyes. His lip was raw and full of bite marks. His gaze felt unfocused as the machine lowered the plasteel plates on top of his ribs. He heard the AI saying something, but he was too tired to answer or acknowledge whatever it said.

“I’ll close my eyes for a moment…”

Silence returned to the pod for several seconds. The strength inside his arm slowly fading away. He distantly felt something piercing his skin before his eyes shot open again. His pain briefly forgotten.

“Fuck…”

His arm tensed, pressing the tool against his chest with more strength that he intended. He could watch it carefully screwing the plates to his bones with detached amazement.

His body felt foreign after that injection. His actions were stilted and automatic. When the last screw went into place, the tool changed into that familiar stapler he used after the first attack, rods retracting back into it.

Using this moment of lucidity, he stapled his lung with bio-degradable clips, finally closing the wound. Thankfully, those would slowly dissolve inside his body until they were gone. On top of it, he used plasteel ones to hold everything together. One final spray of alcohol later, and the surgery was done.

“What…”

“Oh…”

His voice began to falter as his consciousness drifted away. His stump was still in the open, completely raw, so he had to be quick. With the auto-tool aimed at his missing arm, he pressed the triggers. A couple of seconds later, a dreadful message echoed inside the pod.

<...>

His heart dropped after hearing that, draining all his strength. Even if he wasn’t a doctor, he knew that an injury like that going untreated was 100 percent fatal. It would either be an infection or just bleeding out that would take him out.

The sound of the 3D printer operating drew his gaze, curiosity bringing some color back to his face. When it opened, a blade laid on the tray. The flat was considerably thicker and had no tip, resembling more a butcher’s knife than a blade. A clang on the floor from his vibroblade clued him in to the AI’s idea.

With no more options and sleep sapping away at his consciousness, he inserted the blade on the tool and pressed the bottom trigger. Heat emanated from it as it changed to a bright orange color. Tears streamed from his face as he brought it closer to his stump.

“I don’t wanna…” He coughed one more time… “God…please…I don’t want to do this…”

As he quietly sobbed, looking away from his missing arm, he pressed the scalding blade against his flesh. A single instant of unbearable, scorching pain rushed through his body. His mind went blank, unable to think of anything but the fire that was burning him. Before his lung had any chance of rupturing again from screaming, he passed out.