To Rebuild A Pirate

[Haaza Kutter]

Cold, bare metal floors, exposed beams in walls, tool benches down both sides, microscopes, arc welder, circuit boards, microchips, wires, bare lightbulb dangles from wire, and in the middle a round shape of disfigured meat, it would've held an uncanny resemblance to a man but the wires hanging haphazardly out of wounds and the occasional transparent tube transporting oddly discoloured liquid. He thought it was ironic that the man held under his scalpel was his captain, and only a few days ago he had said 'we don't have the money to spend on a proper medical bay, besides none of us get hurt'.

"You can't hear me captain, but I'll be opening-" he'd pause the florescent bulbs that were his eyes buzzed with light, the mechanical twitch and tinge of his inner working letting out a mechanical groan. "-you up now." he'd turn to his centre left addressing a small droid, it was a smooth ovoid floating a few inches from the floor on its own contragravity; as it approached, its top opened like a bursting beetle shell and hinged trays of medical equipment swung out.​

To think he had a man's life in my hands, his hands the most unfit hands for the job, not for lack of skill nor incompetence with a scalpel, but for the things he had done. All the people he's attended to against their will, only to sell them to the highest bidder after their cybernetics overhaul. Not that this man deserved pity, he was a pirate and one of the worse people he had met, but he was the captain and he was the medical officer. How many will he hurt after he's repaired, 'I'd like to think I'm living my life for a higher cause, but it is little more than a morbid obsession'.

Making a line of red with his scapel he began to work​

 

[Flannigan Mcnash]

Broken, a fancy bouquet of wires bursting out of him for every square of skin, a mass of tangled and opened wounds, stitched tightly with twine, each one plated with rivulets of sweat seeping from the neighbouring pores. The monstrous machine clicked the life-support constant expansion and deconstruction pumping lifesaving air, moving his chest up and down as one might blow up a balloon, and the enormous compound eye of the raised ceiling light, blaring an unblinking stare.

"Hu-ha." ​

 

[Haaza Kutter]

“Diagnostics, punctured lung, internal bleeding and loss of movement in both arms and a leg. Cause of injury three slugs filled with a corrosive formula, and bludgeoning from a collapsing structure. Conclusion patient will perish without cybernetic implants.” that's what he thought when he first saw the captain, and he had been right, but this was his job. His finger's wrapping tightly around shafted metal, apply it to his flesh as a musician might apply his hand to his instrument, plucking, pulling, cutting.

With the careful tools of his trade, he'd turn this organic into a cyborg, and what trouble would he cause on the solar winds, maybe it would be more merciful to just end this, a missed movement of the scalpel no one would blame me. But didn't I think that last time I was here, and yet I continue.

 

[Flannigan Mcnash]

In his weather beaten skin was a fine meshwork of red threads, from the depth of his wrinkles vague and distilled movement can be seen. His skin is so fragile it ruptures on anything more than the softest of touches, the connections and divergence of the tubes under his skin can be observed, straight and angular. The open eyes are not focused but move randomly, white, obscured with unconsciousness. His hair is wispy over half a scalp that shows signs of pressure sores, pink from the contact of debri from the buildings collapse.

 

[Haaza Kutter]

"Wires have been installed." he'd say the girth of his arm's rounding on Flannigan Mcnash, picking him up with an audible click the restraints releasing him, setting him up against a sheet of metal clapping him in with a twist of the surrounding buckles. Stepping back he'd rattle off some commands to the near by droids.

The buzz and sound of mechanics working to form around Flannigan Mcnash, joints and pistons attached with meticulous care. Mechanical limbs would be brought to the scene, gliding along a conveyor belt of droids until being clipped onto the pirates form, eventually he'd be built back up given both structure and body.

 

[Flannigan Mcnash]

"Ah-h." the low suffocated moan of a man returning from death, his eye's began to gain colour rolling in their sockets narrowing and sending burrowing looks at Hazza Cutter. "Am I whole again." he'd work his finger's on his restrained arm, the mechanical pistons and components crunching together to form a fist, their heads ending in points. "Do you know Doctor, I once refused a man who was nothing but cybernetics into my crew, my thought was someone who makes that many mistakes to warrant that is a hazard."

 

[Haaza Kutter]

"What do you think now?" the voice a ripple of steel on ice, robotic and cold. He'd raised his hands, wrought between the thin sheets of plastic that were his gloves holding aloft a mask. The sound and repetition of the occasional shower of steam sterilising the room, gathering condensation at the boarders of its eye slits, attaching it with a low harmonized 'bzt' to the face of the now robotersized captain.

 

[Flannigan Mcnash]

The round cylindrical tubes and durasteel plate that make the form of the arm would snap back, throwing buckles spinning across the room in blurring forms, moving the now cyborg captain would make his way to Hazza Cutter, the condensation rolling off the mask in round rivulets of water. "I think, no I know the only mistake was suffering the Jedi!"

He was angry furious, it was the machinations of the Jedi that brought him to this, to not know the feel of the wind nor the touch of a womens hand, it was this that they had made, for it was them who struck at him on Tatooine, riddled him with bullets threw him around, and finally brought down a building on top of him. It is in this Faustian bargain he is now forced to live.

 

[Haaza Kutter]

"Of course captain." he shuffled along the room, keeping pace with Flannigan Mcnash, stopping every so often to twist or tighten a component of the captains form.​

​

He was proud he had conquered nature once more, bringing a man upon deaths door back to the living world, given him strength and power only a machine could know, it wouldn't be too long before he would put those dreaded gifts to work, 'than why do I do it'. It was than he'd maneuver around the surrounding droids to the bin removing the gloves with a long and sluggish slap of rubber 'thwak'.

 

[Flannigan Mcnash]

And there was a wrapping, a tapping on the grated floor. And there he was, patches of armor plating rounding his form, his legs were powerful machinery with large pronged toes like that of a bird. And his voice a beating machine thumping so hard that bones vibrate in their sockets. "Doctor." he'd pause the pistons and the pumps attached to the life support groan with a light 'squeak'. "Tell the men I'm back, and tell them if they call me droid I'll break them."