In which an older Papa Snake comforts a younger Papa Snake.


    “<It’s an order, Sir.>” Said Captain Arasha’Ssabi holding a cup of tea, her scales drained from all heat and color by sheer shock. “<Do not go in there.>”


    The older Jornissian attending her gently pushed the cup in her hands in a gesture of “drink up, is good for you”, then said. “<I’m sorry, Captain. But, given your current state I will have to dismiss that order.>” He got up, picked up his medical kit, then went ahead on his mission to see the Potato Crew. “<My assistants will ensure you recover shortly.>”


    And with that, the Doctor left the nurses watch over the unsettled Captain and her guards, and entered the forbidden zone.


    An omminous music could be hear coming from inside Potato Fun even before he had opened the door. Then, he was met by a fog slithering through the ground as soon as he entered the room, every light gone except for a single lamp flickering above the door to Potato Den like an ancient derelict of innocent times, or a warning. A low droning sound could be heard somewhere in the room.


    Then, a thunder!


    And another thunder. And another, and-


    “<Knock it off!>” Said the doctor to the prankster hacker amongst the young interns still observing on the other side of the theater’s glass panel. He had noticed their presence amidst the darkness because of their heat signatures. “<Do you know how costly it is to keep the fogger working?>”


    The lights went on, the music stopped, and so did the party fogger barfing its contents from a wall, allowing the old snake man to give a judgmental glare to the now embarrased interns, who then scattered out of the observation theater. “<Kids these days take everything for granted.>” Said the doctor annoyed.


    Without missing a beat, he calmed down and reached for the Potato Den, touching the digital panel to open the door with no previous announcement to those inside.


    A figure of death embracing a Karnakian and a Dorarizin rose up to confront the intruder, issuing a warning hiss.


    “<Good day, boys.>” Said the doctor with a calculated tranquility characteristic of his profession, paying little mind to the danger being offered by one of his patients. “<I’m here for your weekly checkup.>” He left his medkit near the door, subtly stripped something from the wall, and turned to look at Cecil “Danger” Noodle. “<You didn’t arrive at my office, so I had to come here instead.>”


    And with zero fucks to give, the snake doctor stared down his fellow snake man, his face a clear message of “Look, kid, I stare Death in the eye as my job. Try better.”, a testament of his age and field experience.


    Cecil relented enough to stop hissing, feeling the pressure of the xeno doctor’s humanlike “dad stare”.


    “[Doc!]” Suddenly cried Paul Feathers from amongst his brothers, his previous frightened face leaving space for a faint smile. Alistair Kibbles perked his ears at the call, then smiled with relief at the sight of the Jornissian doctor, tail wagging.


    “<Well? Who’s going to be first?>” Said The Doc, expressing the equivalent of a snake’s raised eyebrow and warm smile.


    “[Me!]” Said Paul Feathers, getting up to meet with their (only remaining) doctor for their routine physical checkup. Meanwhile, Alistair Kibbles sat down next to Cecil Noodle, the latter now less angry but still concerned, both awaiting their turn.


    “<Good. Do you remember your previous specs?>” Said Doc, setting up shop while Paul begun to rattle whatever info he still remembered with relieved eagerness.


    This was a sample of normalcy and constance. Safe normalcy and constance.


    The Potatoes had been accustomed since the beginning of the experiment to be visited by medical officers of all kinds, some good, some “bad”, but all of them willing to take care of their health. It was perhaps the only reason why they could “bond” with the medical team so quickly, compared to the rest of the xeno crew of #DX192.


    In their eyes, the Jornissian doctor was no more different than a human doctor, despite being a huge dark-green boa-faced snake man wearing a white jumpsuit. He radiated a fatherly presence that always said “I’ll keep you safe” without words, and that put their fears to rest.


    “<You boys look like you saw the ?HS#@02-tz?.>” Said Doc as he nonchalantly checked on Paul’s torso, referencing some Jornissian boogeyman. “<What happened?>”


    “Guh” Sputtered Paul, suddenly remembering the previous event. “[We-we…We almost got killed!]”


    “<By who?>”


    “[The Agents.]” Whispered Paul. “[They found about the plan.]”


    Doc stopped for a second to meet the Karnakian in the eye, noticing his sincerity (and the heavy signs of a tired mind). “<Do you mean the “Agents Agents”?> Whispered he, recalling previous private conversations with his patient.


    Paul just nodded.


    The doctor nodded once in silence and continued his work, committed to his role as a peacekeaper. He knew his patient was being delusional, but he wouldn’t say that to his face, that would be unprofessional. So, he just redirected his attention to mundane health questions.


    “<…There we go.>” Said the doctor after finishing his first checkup. “<Now go along, let your brother come here.>” He gently nudged Paul in the arm before gesturing Alistair to step forward, leaving Cecil last on purpose. “<You are next, Mr. [Alistair].>”This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Alistair Kibbles got up with a nod, his wolf body expressing submission before the snake man. “[(Hello, doctor.)]” Gestured he in sign language.


    “<Hello, [Alistair], how do you feel today?>” The Jornissian welcomed the shy Dorarizin with a gentle bow, beginning his second checkup as Alistair Kibbles answered him in hardcore ninjutsu speech.


    “[(I feel afraid and weak. It’s no longer safe, doctor.)]”


    “<Why do you think so?>” Whispered Doc staring into his eyes, noticing the contrast between his tired face and his energetic paws. Alistair was pushing himself to keep his only means of communication effective.


    “[The Beast is out there.]”


    The doctor nodded in silence and continued his work, henceforth filling the checkup with the occasional mundane question. He knew now the delusion was caused by exhaustion.


    Meanwhile, Paul had gone to retrieve Broball from one of their beds, now feeling secure enough to lay down and play. Cecil remained concerned and serious, but upon noticing his Karnakian brother gesturing him to catch Broball, he calmed down some more to allow Paul to enjoy the game as the doctor finished with Alistair.


    “<…There we go.>” Said Doc after a while, nudging Alistair away to call Cecil at last. “<Your turn, Mr. [Cecil].”


    The ruby-red Jornissian nodded in silence, letting his Dorarizin brother take his place in the game of pass-the-ball as he reached his older parallel for a checkup. It was clear he also had signs of weariness throughout his serpentine body.


    “<Tell me, [Cecil], what happened?>” Whispered Doc with fatherly concern, knowing well that even if the younger snake was also delusional, at least he would give him a better clue of their situation.


    Cecil did not respond, but his temperature drastically dropped. A sign of guilt and inner conflict, the doctor knew.


    The question lingered in the air as the doctor kept focus on his work, only breaking the silence with a few more health related questions. Until-


    “[Ifoughtback,doctor.]” Whispered Cecil.


    “<What made you fight back?>” Whispered Doc, latching on the opportunity.


    “[Mybroshers…Sheywereafraid.Icouldfeelit…]”


    “<Why were they afraid?>”


    “[Sheirintent…Itwashdifferent…Itwashafterush.]”


    “<The Agents?>” Ventured the old Jornissian, now patching up time with random checkups to keep Cecil present.


    “[No,shesecurityoffishers…]” Said Cecil, staring into his parallel’s eyes. “[Sheycamefromnowhere…Sheyfelt…off.]”


    The doctor nodded in silence.


    “[Ihopedsheywouldgoaway.Sheyweremakingushnervoush.But,sheyblockedshewaybeforewewereshafe.]” Cecil begun to break down. “[Shen,sheytargetedme.]”


    The doctor felt a shift in his patient’s tone, a hint of guilt.


    “[SheyknewIwashresponshibleforshechange.SheyknewIwashbehindourdeshiretogetshtronger.Sheywereheretopunish.ButsheywouldpunishmybroshersforMYdecishion.]”


    “[Icouldn’tletithappen.Ishnotsheirfault,doctor.Ishnotsheirfault…]”


    The doctor nodded in silence, patting Cecil on the shoulder.


    “[Iwashonlytryingtohelpushsurvive.Ididnotwanttofight.ButIprovokedshem,IknowIdid…]”


    “[IshawachancetoletshemescapeandItookit…Itriedtoleavetoo,butsheywerepisshednow…ShoIshteeledmyshelfforsheend…]” He sighed, the weight of the world upon him. “[Wewereneverready,deshpiteourhardwork…Weweren’tready…AndIfelttired…Ifeeltired…ButIcouldn’tletitreachmybroshers…]”


    “[ShoIfoughtback.]” The words resonated.


    Cecil sheepishly raised his right fist and the doctor proceeded to examine it. The young Jornissian flinched at some slight probing, proving he had hurt his wrist doing his only punch (a common injury for untrained combatants), so the doctor applied some ointment and wristcast to heal it.


    “[Iknowsheywereundeterred.Andtheyweremore.]” Said Cecil with paranoid concern. “[Afterawhile,sheyfollowed…Iknowitwashshem.]”


    “<How do you know?>” Ventured Doc.


    “[Icouldfeelapreshenceoutshide.Ittalked,butIcouldn’tdistinguishit.Butitwantedtoenter.]”


    “<Then, what happened?>”


    “[Shedooropened…Iundershtoodsherewashnoweretorun…]” His eyes narrowed. “[ShoIpreparedtofightback.]”


    There was a brief pause as Cecil felt his body give in to the exhaustion, his head and gaze losing strength. “[Idon’trememberafterwards.Onlythatyouarrivedhere,doctor.]”


    “<That’s alright. Say no more.>” Said the doctor, understanding how Cecil’s own exhaustion had blinded his judgment of the situation. “<We are done with your checkup, [Cecil].” The old Jornissian medic then stored his last tools on his medkit and closed it up in tranquil silence.


    He noticed that Alistair and Paul had grown concerned about their brother, to the point their little game had stopped and they were staring at them in quiet worry (although, he was sure their own exhaustion had something to do with it). So, without a word, he ushered the tired Cecil back to them and gestured gently for the three to cuddle up together, much like a parent putting their children to sleep.


    The Potatoes picked up a warm spot (Cecil’s heatbed) and let themselves be embraced by its feeling of safety and bliss, their mutual presence bringing back that firm sense of being, and the doctor quietly exited Potato Den, letting nature take its course once more.


    “<…How did you do it?>” The doctor heard a female voice say in his comm-bead as he crossed Potato Fun, fully aware that his captive audience (thanks to a camera he had freed from its cover on the wall) would demand answers.


    “<I could tell you, Captain, but you would still need 500 years of constant field service, and a lot of clutches under your belt, before you master the chaos of patients.>” The doctor chuckled to himself, exiting the forbidden zone.


    “<Ugh, you didn’t need to add the “clutches” part.>” Said Arykins, clutching her head while other listeners began to giggle at the implication (her journey as captain was still too young for her own good).


    “<Captain, you are letting your imagination wander. Anyway, see me at my office. I still need to give you a full evaluation of the Potatoes.>”


    “<I’m already here.>”


    “<Good. I’ll be there in a minute.>”


    And thus, The Doctor mended yet another injury in the world.