Chapter 3: Koiloserine

Sykra relaxes on her medical bed, paying no heed to the medical jargon being spewed by the two doctors in white close to her bedside. Having nothing to do, she lends her ears to their conversation, noting a woman’s voice first.

“...expunge the substance out of her system—”

Then, a man’s voice cuts through the woman’s. “The girl is taking those emo-suppressants for a reason, Doctor Sifera. Just leave it be.”

The female doctor—Sifera—lets out a sigh, “It’s interfering with the healing catalyst. If we inject the reactant now the recovery process will be slower… and more painful.”

The male doctor scoffs, “Put her under anesthesia then.”

“And the excruciating after-effects once it wears off?”

“...Not our problem.”

Just then, the room shivers, making the doctors gasp in unison as their feet struggle to stay grounded.

“Ugh, what the hell?” The male doctor complains, before their attention is quickly diverted to the corner of the room, where a meagre speaker embedded on the ceiling emits several melodic notes.

The notes end with an abrupt and harsh cough coming from the other end.

“Hng, sorry about the shake, everyone,” a deep and hardened voice announces from the speaker, “It appears that we have encountered some unexpected turbulence. Expect it for the next half hour. Thank you.”

The PA system deactivates with a flat beep, leaving the room in silence once more.

“Tch.” The male doctor turns back to Doctor Sifera with an annoyed glare, “I have more patients to attend to. This carrier ship has no shortage of ‘em. Just consider my words and do what’s best.”

And with a quick turn of the heel, the doctor leaves, grumbling about the ship’s quality as he walks out the door and shutting it with a curt thud.

Sifera stands there in her own quietness before sighing and turning to her patient, still awake in her bed.

“I’m sorry that you had to hear all that, just tell me what you need for now.”

Sykra shakes her head, “It’s quite alright, Doctor. A glass of water would be nice.”

Sifera gives a polite nod before turning away from Sykra and walking behind the blue curtain hanging by her patient’s bedside. The blanchette assumes that the water station is back there.

Sykra hears a click and the sound of running water behind the curtain. It sounds clinical yet peaceful.

A few seconds later, rhythmic footsteps grow louder as Doctor Sifera reappears from the edge of the curtain, returning with a glass of water in her hand.

“Here,” the doctor says, offering the glass to the mercenary.

Sykra takes the cup and drinks, eventually feeling satisfied and withdrawing her lips from the glass’s rim. She settles it on the nightstand by her side, the glass half-empty.

“Thank you,” Sykra tells the doctor, who smiles softly in reply.

But soon after, her lips drop into a frown.

“Apologies if you needed anything more, but I have to prepare for your treatment. Please excuse me.”

Doctor Sifera drifts from Sykra’s bedside, but just before she turns the corner of the curtain, she is stopped by her own patient.

“Wait.”

The doctor turns her head to Sykra who, even still, remains expressionless.

“What is my treatment, Doctor?”

Sifera pinches the curtain by her side and sighs as her eyes become clouded with a glossy quality.

“I will expunge the emo-suppressants from your body, Miss Weiss Saber,” the doctor carefully explains. This isn’t the first time she’s pressing her way on a patient, but it never gets any easier either.

“And then I will inject the healing reactants into your body, which will trigger the catalyst Doctor Ifra and I have already prepared inside of you.”

Sifera lets out a breath, straightening her back and sharpening her tongue.

“You may suffer mental whiplash as the effects of the suppressants wear off, but trust me as your doctor I—”

“No.”

Sifera’s eyes widen at Sykra’s blunt retaliation. “I’m sorry?”

“No. I don’t want my medicine to be expunged. Please follow the other doctor’s suggestion.”

Sifera’s voice falters as she tries for a rebuttal, “But… if I do that then—” until her attempt is quickly dashed.

“Doctor, it would be for the better.”

“But—”

“Please.”

Doctor Sifera hitches her breath. Sykra’s face is as vacant as ever, and yet, to the doctor, her insistence—her pleas—carry so much emotion. The unspoken feelings of someone who just doesn’t want to go back.

Sifera is at a crossroads, and she has to make a painful choice.

“…Fine. I’ll— I’ll perform the alternative treatment.”

Sykra gives a short nod to the Good Doctor, “Thank you. And apologies. There are just some things I’d rather not let go of.”

Sifera meets the mercenary’s blank, scarlet eyes with her own conflicted and pitiful gaze, “I just don’t want my patients to undergo such pain.”

Sykra hums, and the doctor’s eyes widen as she realizes that the ends of the blanchette’s lips have curled up.

The first expression she’s shown to the doctor since her arrival at the medical wing…

‘A smile…’

“I… can relate in a way,” Sykra pauses, her small smile growing more somber, “There are some people I wouldn’t want to be in pain, too.”

The girl’s eyes glance to the corner of the room for less than a second before shooting back to the Good Doctor’s.

‘She’s hurting,’ Sifera realizes.

“Besides,” Sykra continues, “I’d rather it be my body than my mind giving me trouble.”

Sifera stirs in her patient’s words before sighing. Conflicted and defeated, she lets go of the curtain.

The Good Doctor walks away from Sykra, her figure now distant and obscured by the medical curtain between them. Soon after, the blanchette hears the sound of the door opening.

“I’ll just fetch a few more supplies before we proceed with your treatment. Please be patient.”

“Sure, Doctor,” Sykra calls in reply, before the sound of the Good Doctor’s footsteps fade into the hallway and the door is shut tight.

Sykra is now left alone.

The clock in the room rhythmically ticks away as the young woman waits out the potential of the Good Doctor’s return.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

…The doctor isn’t coming back for a while.

Sykra lets out a breath, and her eyes drift to her bedside where the half-empty glass now stands, and beneath it is a drawer… where her jar of emo-suppressants now lie.

The blanchette is lucky to be a mercenary, in a way. If she didn’t have that career—those perks, every medical institution would’ve confiscated her drugs… likely for good.

She lifts herself up from her bed and pulls out the drawer to see her metal jar rolling out. The mercenary gingerly picks it up to put it beside the glass of water.

Sykra eyes them both in silence.

“...”

That doctor was quite earnest. She would hate for Sykra to take even more of this stuff.

Unfortunate then, that the suppressants outweigh her guilt, however small that may be now that the drugs are fading.

Before the girl knew it, the pills were already in her palm, with the jar hastily set aside by the mattress, some capsules escaping and sprawling out from the still open container.

Five pills are now in her hand. Add that with the ten she took in total today in addition to the fact that she’s still technically under the previous dosage’s waning effects...

Sykra stares at the grey and white drugs in her palm, knowing what she’s about to commit.

‘Pain before emptiness. Hah, What a familiar tradeoff…’

With a sudden movement, the young woman throws her head back and shoves the pills down her mouth. She quickly grabs the half-empty glass and downs the rest of its remains, the pills washing down with it.

“...!”

Sykra starts coughing quick succession, choking on the slight bit of water that got caught in her airpipe. Unfortunately for her, the coughing does nothing to hinder the coming of her sin’s immediate effects.

Her hand shoots up to her head, grasping it in an iron claw as a powerful wave of dizziness and pain washes through her mind.

Sykra grits her teeth, forcing her eyes closed as her vision is clogged with memories of the past. But even in complete darkness, they still find their way into her head—!

“Hahh… Ahhh… This pain…”

It’s agony. Mental and physical anguish stirred into a hellish hex on her entire body.

Her nerves are burning and her brain is spiralling as every emotion, memory, and dream shoots through it.

The pained blanchette starts to raise her other hand, sparking further pain in her left shoulder, and carefully positions it over her mouth—

She bites down on it. Hard.

Her left hand begins to fill with the young woman’s screams, muffling them with her own skin and blood.

Seconds pass in hellish agony. The girl’s muted screams silenced only by clenched teeth and a bleeding hand.

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Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Until finally, her senses begin to recede, and sweet release beckons the girl’s spirit to let go. If only for a moment.

Her jaws loosen as her soul reaches out for that moment of peace.

Until it completely washes over her.

Sykra’s mind goes blank… She feels her hand becoming faint…

And then she falls… her body slamming back down on the bed like a slab of meat on a chopping block, a metallic creak accompanying her crash

The young woman takes her time with every heavy breath. Ragged, but controlled.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The immediate effects of the drugs—the overdose—are starting to lose their grip on her. Good. She’s limp for now, but at the very least her thoughts are back in her hands.

‘I’m alive…’ Sykra affirms to herself, ‘I knew I was overdosing, but maybe taking five was a bit too much. Could’ve taken just two or three…’

But Sykra’s mind eventually drifts from that topic, which leads to her using up all of her strength to tilt her head up—and she tilts it just enough for her eyes to catch a glimpse of her sins.

The still-open vessel of drugs is still sitting there beside her waist, almost taunting her, mocking her.

‘Those things are long overdue for a replacement… Won’t have to deal with the tolerance and overdose problems for a while once I’m over that hurdle.’

She continues staring at the open jar, as if it would start talking to her at any moment.

‘...I’m really pushing my luck, but fifteen shouldn’t give me anything too bad. At best, my tolerance will skyrocket. At worst…

The blanchette shakes her head. No matter. In a few more minutes she won’t feel anxiety at all. Just let the pills work their magic and give her a pseudo-lobotomy.

With that in mind, Sykra takes a deep and heavy breath, feeling the muscles in her arms and back…

And she slowly, achingly, sits back up.

With that milestone reached, Sykra pushes herself further and clumsily shoves the fallen pills back into their proper place.

She finds rhythm in her movement as she pops the lid back on and delicately places the metal jar back into the drawer.

Feeling the remnants of her emotions start to drain, she takes one last look at the jar in the drawer before shutting it with a conclusive thud.

Sykra reawakens to green flooding her senses. Quite literally, she’s swimming—well, suspended really—in a fluid green liquid.

She’s breathing in it too, she notices. She doesn’t have a ventilator or anything of the sort attached to her body, and her breaths create tiny bubbles of air that float to the top of her… vessel. She’s free to swim as she pleases.

So she swims forward, and hits a transparent surface—it’s glass.

Through the glass she sees a cramped, blue and grey room shrouded in darkness, with only the light of her… pod, and the light of various other machines surrounding it warding off the room’s dimness.

Just then, the sound of a door sliding open catches the floating girl’s attention. A ray of light spreads across the room and a long shadow looms over the blanchette’s tank.

‘...Doctor?’

The lights flip open, showering the chamber in bright light and revealing Doctor Sifera, eyes wide in realization.

“Ah! You’re awake!”

The Good Doctor rushes over to the nearby computer terminal beside the mercenary’s pod and taps away, looking relieved when she sees something on the screen.

“Thank heavens everything went alright! Otherwise…”

Sifera glances down to her feet before meeting Sykra’s eyes, “But you’re fine now. That’s what matters in the end,” she tells the blanchette with a smile.

“What happened, Doctor? Why am I in a Recovery Pod?” Sykra asks, her voice struggling to emulate genuine confusion.

Sifera frowns, as if her tone triggered several dots in the doctor’s head to connect.

If the Good Doctor had something to say, she doesn’t say it, instead sighing her arced lips away and replying to the listless girl.

“Miss Weiss Saber, what’s the last thing you remember?”

While Sykra didn’t expect to be answered with a question, she took it gracefully and answered quickly, “I was drowsy under a strong dose of anesthetics.”

Sifera nods in approval, “Good. How about sensations? What’s the last thing you felt?”

This time it takes longer for Sykra to recall. Assuming the Good Doctor isn’t talking about emotions, she supposes that…

“The feeling of the bed’s soft pillow was probably the last thing I felt,” she answers plainly; the doctor once again nodding in response.

“Good, that means you were thoroughly knocked out during the process.”

Sifera once again sighs as she brings her focus back to the computer terminal. But despite her needed focus, the doctor decides that maybe she could fray her attention a bit. The patient deserves to know, after all.

“I did as Doctor Ifra suggested and injected the reactants in spite of the substances in your body,” the doctor explains with her eyes on the screen.

“At first, everything seemed alright. That was, until your brain activity began to plummet…”

The Good Doctor pauses her work for a second, her eyes closing shut as she takes a deep breath, as if reliving the moment. “I quickly screened for what’s going on, and I found an intense neurological reaction running through your body. with the main catalyst being Koiloserine, your emo-suppressants…”

Sifera looks the mercenary dead in the eye, her gaze stern yet glossy, her lips tight yet the silence deafening.

“What happened, Miss Weiss Saber?” The Doctor asks softly, “What happened for you to take not just more, but evidently overdose on those substances?”

Silence settles between the two women, until Sykra finally chooses to break it.

“It was wearing off,” she replies simply.

Doctor Sifera’s eyes go wide and her mouth hangs agape, the words hanging loose on her tongue yet so clearly spoken. “That’s it!?” She probably would’ve yelled, if not for Sykra’s flat response and even flatter reason absolutely stunning her speechless.

Eventually, Sifera clears her throat—breaking out of her paralysis—and diverts her focus back to the terminal, only giving one more cursory glance to Sykra amidst the barrage of keyboard clicks.

Silence consumes the room, save for the doctor’s clicks and clacks, leaving Sykra to vacuously float in her pod in relative quiet.

Several minutes pass, and finally, through the monotonous clicks of the keyboard, Sifera’s voice slices through, catching Sykra’s attention once again.

“As much as I would like to say it’s because of my expertise that you’re alive now—to reassure you and myself—that would be a sugarcoated lie. In truth, it was a nightmare. I had never encountered such a situation, at least not one that’s this fatal. But regardless, I acted fast.”

The doctor’s fingers continue tapping away at the terminal’s keyboard, but she continues talking through it, not letting the silence catch up.

“My brain went on autopilot, desperately trying to concoct any sort of immediate solution, or at least a reprieve.”

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

“Eventually, I found a combination of agents that synergize well with each other, and were effective in dampening the reaction’s effects.”

Sifera pauses from her work for a moment to shake her head in dismay, “But it wasn’t enough…”

The Good Doctor resumes typing as she continues to tell her tale. “At that point, I was about fifty percent certain that I was gonna lose a patient for the first time. But I was not ready for that, so I decided to spin a wheel and take a gamble.”

One last click of the keyboard resounds as the doctor lets go from the terminal, a satisfied smile on her face. She approaches Sykra’s chamber and looks up at her floating form as she continues to speak.

“I took you here to soak your body in Locker’s Fluid. Normally, it’s only used to nurture and heal mild to decently threatening wounds, but it can be a surprisingly effective reactant and catalyst to all sorts of medical agents.”

Sykra gently lowers herself to the doctor’s level, and Sifera smiles in reply.

“And that’s why you’re in a healing pod. Lucky it worked, right?”

Sykra rigidly nods her head in response. “I see,” she replies flatly.

Doctor Sifera sighs, her smile vanishing and a frown taking its place, “I… suppose it makes sense that you would reply that way.”

Sykra tilts her head, “In what way?”

Sifera coughs into her fist, “Sorry, I have no right to judge a patient’s life decisions. But… I’ll allow myself one question—not a personal one, don’t worry.”

Catching on to where the Good Doctor is heading, the white-haired mercenary nods her head in acceptance.

“How…” Doctor Sifera hesitates, “How does being under the emo-suppressants feel?”

Sifera quickly follows up with a rapid-fire of excuses explanations.

“I mean! Like I understand if this is a sensitive topic, I mean I’ve already done plenty of research on the effects of similar drugs, but I’ve never gotten the data firsthand, so I was just wondering how—”

Sykra cuts the wound-up doctor off with a raise of her palm, “It’s fine, Doctor. My answer is neither secret nor sensitive, so you don’t have to worry about breaking trust.”

Sifera breathes out a sigh of relief, “Thank you! I can make up for it if you’d—”

“That won’t be necessary. Treating me with care is enough a thanks I could get. You’re a rare one, Doctor.”

Sifera turns away, a shade of pink lightly dusting over her cheeks, “Thank you. I don’t get compliments often.”

Sykra nods solemnly, “Compliments are worth less than a credit, ironically making them a rare commodity.”

The doctor frowns, “For someone whose emotions are suppressed, you sure do say some depressing stuff.”

“I’m only stating the facts,” Sykra replies, ”That’s how I work under the drug’s effects. Like a part of me is removed from my spirit, leaving only instincts and hollow sentiments.”

The mercenary elaborates further, “For example, the normal version of me would care for a loved one, but the drug removes the feelings the sentiment would carry, stripping the relationship and memories I had with that person of their inherent emotional worth. But I do know I love and care for them; I just can’t feel it.”

Even as she expresses interest and intrigue, Sifera’s hum carries a somber note. “That’s… really sad, isn’t it?”

Sykra shrugs, “Maybe, but the point is that I’m not feeling sad at all.”

The Good Doctor sighs, and she looks at her patient with helpless acceptance. “I suppose… But that doesn’t mean I approve of it.”

“As a Good Doctor should,” Sykra plainly replies.

“Thanks, I guess…”

Sifera pulls out her phone to check something, and then her eyes zip over to the terminal behind her. A look of conclusion glazes her eyes.

“Alright, according to both the time and the terminal, you should be good to release.”

Sifera walks back to the computer terminal and jots in a few commands, resulting in several low beeps to resound from the pod.

“Please hold on and relax, Miss Weiss Saber!”

Sykra nods, giving the Good Doctor the go, and Sifera responds by pressing the last button to commence release.

An alarming beep blares from the chamber, and Sykra feels a powerful suction beneath her feet drag her and the surrounding liquid into the filtration’s gaping maws.

The feeling of pressurized suction continues as the green Locker’s Fluid quickly drains from the pod, the level having been brought down to the tip of her head.

And now, to her waist.

And finally, the liquid has drained to her feet… and soon after, the pod is empty of Locker’s Fluid.

“The pod will open up in three!” Sifera calls.

“Two! One!”

The chamber depressurizes as the pod’s glass door shifts upward, letting Sykra walk down from the pod on wobbly legs, her bare feet shivering upon touching cold metal.

Doctor Sifera quickly walks over to support the white-haired girl as she quickly realizes that a second step might be too much to ask for.

“There you are…”

Sifera props the girl up by her shoulder and eyes her reaction.

She looks as hollow as ever, but something tells the doctor that normally, the blanchette would feel uncomfortable.

“Sorry… But this is a bit necessary if you want to go places.”

Sykra shakes her head, “It’s fine, Doctor. Just let me go when we get out of the room.”

Sifera nods, and slowly but surely, the two walk in tandem, exiting the room and letting the door behind them slide shut.

After a quick trip for some flimsy slippers, the doctor and the merc walk side by side through the halls of the medical wing in peaceful quiet, with not much being said between them.

Save for now, when Sykra finally asked the question.

“Where exactly are we, Doctor?”

Sifera looks at the blanchette with a look of confusion before realizing what she meant. “Ah, right. The ship’s docked at a Mobile City called Fitron. We’re only here for a restock, but the mercs are free to leave if they choose to.”

Sykra hums, “Fitron… I’ve heard of it. It’s Minerva owned territory, and if I’m correct, it’s also a popular hub for Nebula and its mercs.”

Sifera nods in agreement, “Yeah. Though it’s mostly popular with the rich folk, there’s still a vast variety of mercs roaming the place like it’s their home. Heck, it could even be their home!”

But Sifera’s banter didn’t reach Sykra’s ears, who is instead stuck on three particular words.

‘The rich folk…’ Sykra ponders.

“Hmm. Doctor…” the blanchette turns to Sifera, who hums in curiosity, “Have you ever heard of the mercenary Earth Angel?”

The doctor perks up at the name, “Earth Angel? Of course I know her! The rising mercenary that came from nowhere and shot to the heavens at lightspeed! The mercenary that took down and decimated a Plasida Corporation military outpost in record time, alone! Gosh I still remember that day… Everyone was slack jawed when they saw the footage!

Sykra simply nods along to the Good Doctor’s rambling. She heard of that feat, too. Among many others.

“Everyone knows Earth Angel! The doctor excitedly exclaims, “Especially with those ads of hers plaguing every video as of late…”

Sifera’s annoyed grumbling quickly leaves her system as she pops right back from the one-sided bitterness with a cheeky grin. “So why’d you ask? Do you admire her or somethin?”

Sykra seemingly ignores the teasing remark, and simply hums to herself before replying, “No. Nothing of the sort. It’s just…”

Sykra doesn’t reply further, her gaze having grown distant after the question.

After a few seconds of unresponsiveness, Sifera eyes the mercenary with a look of concern. “Um, hey. You don’t need to answer the question if it’s—er, well you can’t feel uncomfortability so… If it’s too private then I won’t press on it.”

When Sykra’s focus returns to her, she blinks several times before looking at the worried doctor, her head tilting at the expression. “I’m sorry about that, I just lost myself to some… memories. It’s nothing uncomfortable or private if you’re concerned about that.”

Sifera sighs in relief. Feeling the safety net on her back, the daring doctor decides to push her luck and doubles back on the question.

“If that’s the case, then why’d you bring her up? Nobody just brings up a specific person without a little bit of interest in them.”

Sykra hums, “You’re right about that, Doctor, but it’s not that I’m interested in her.”

“I’m just interested in… returning a favor to her.”