It was the feeling of being awake of mind, but not body.

  Similar to when one wakes up certain that their alarm will go off soon, and that the remaining few minutes of sleep would be lost forever if even one eye was cracked to check the time. Jonathan was vaguely aware of his injuries in the same way he was vaguely aware of being alive.

  He thought of all those TV shows where one person was trying to keep another awake after a mortal wound.

  Jonathan was experiencing several sources of shock:

  The shock of having met real aliens. The shock of having learned that the world was ending. The shock of having attempted AND gotten away with stealing from a museum. And of course, the more mundane shock of physical trauma and blood loss.

  Jonathan forced his eyelids open.

  His immediate surroundings were illuminated from a single porthole. In the 10 seconds he was able to keep them open, several more shocks were registered in quick succession.

  He noticed the pod was filled to the brim with junk food and boxes. There was a huge corpse pinning his arms down, bleeding all over everything. He had awoken just in time to see the pod leaving the upper atmosphere — beautiful despite everything. He also noted dozens of similar pods leaving at the same time, which actually only represented a fraction of the pods across the planet.

  Finally, he noticed that even if he could reach his phone, he was too late to send all those goodbye messages.

  Although the most shocking thing probably had to be the thin thread-like tentacles bursting from the back of the corpse's neck.

  If Jonathan knew more about marine biology, he would have likened the event to a sea cucumber defending itself through the process of evisceration.

  This latest revelation brought enough adrenaline to allow Jonathan to open his eyes again — but NOT enough to push the body away, though not for lack of trying.

  Jonathan's eyes were reeling as he struggled to remain conscious. He would open and close them several more times, slowly watching the strange creature simultaneously extract itself from one body while crawling toward another.

  His.

  The creature looked like a combination of octopus and slime mold as it half-crawled, half-slithered, searching for exposed flesh.

  Eventually Jonathan couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

  A series of pinpricks could be felt where the fingerlings of the creature found what they were looking for. The pain was excruciating as the tendrils used to pierce the skin shot out and morphed — from needles, to hooks, to prybars, to funnels. It felt like being force-fed a banana through his pores.

  The best Jonathan could manage at this point was to turn his head away in the same way a baby would attempt to avoid creamed carrots, appropriately screaming all the while. The issue was that the creature was perfectly comfortable seeping into his skin and wounds without coming anywhere near his head, so he really had no way to defend himself.

  As it entered his body from a combination of old and new wounds, he could feel it coursing through him in all directions.

  Mercifully, Jonathan swiftly passed out after only a few more minutes.

  It took some time for the dropship to return.

  Craig was in his own pod, trapped with his thoughts, planning out every second he could. He knew this was a longshot, but had a soft spot for their newest employee and really needed some help — so it was worth a try.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Craig idly wondered what the record was for shortest raider career.

  (Footnote: 5.43 seconds.)

  Once the dropship was finally firmly back in its bay, Craig rushed out of his pod and over to the one holding Jonathan. He reached in, practically threw the body off of him, then pulled Jonathan out as fast as he could.

  He ran him to the mess hall — which was just a regular hall, but with a mess in it — and put him down on the table. He broke into the somewhat-aged first aid kit.

  The emergency fluid replacement was expired.

  Craig let out an audible "Damn."

  But the healing gel was still ready. Maybe that'd at least close the wounds. Craig was just about to start applying when Rex interrupted him.

  "I found something that might help amongst our deceased friend's belongings. Come quickly."

  Craig ran back to the drop pod and opened the small satchel hidden under Kurkuril's cloak.

  Military-grade stimulants. An advanced healing kit.

  "Tough decision time — you'd best make especially sure he's still alive before applying these. They're worth more than just about everything from that mission combined."

  Craig was too busy rushing back to reply.

  Craig didn't blame Rex — his pragmatism was important to their survival, and even Craig wasn't sure this would work. Rex knew by now that Craig would do whatever he could if there was a chance, so rather than argue about the cost, Rex decided to offer assistance where he could.

  "His vitals are much more faint than when I scanned him on the surface, but he IS still alive — so there's a chance. Apply the healing kit first. Do NOT give him the stims yet."

  The healing kit was a gel-like pouch with a feel similar to juice pouches on Earth — only instead of a straw, it had a large injection nozzle. Craig slapped the pouch against Jonathan's exposed side, careful not to hit him directly in any of his wounds.

  These kits worked as emergency transfusions and repair kits all at once, circulating to the damaged areas. Directly injecting a wound risked causing more physical trauma. The kit automatically dispensed its contents, then fell to the floor.

  Craig was in a perfect state of medium-to-heavy panic at this point.

  Had he simply been at a medium stage, he would've noted that Jonathan's wounds were already knitting back on their own, and that his body had been forced into an unnaturally torpid state — ensuring blood was only flowing to the most vital areas. This would have raised major questions.

  Had it been any lower than medium, he would have known that more than enough time had already passed for poor Jonathan to succumb to his wounds — causing him not to use the healing kit at all, depriving Jonathan of that much needed extra push to survive.

  Inversely, had Craig been a panic level higher, he would've also applied the stims — causing a rare "cardiac ejection event."

  Craig watched with fascination as the bones, flesh, and skin started to knit themselves back together. There was a good chunk of skin on his chest that had been melted away by residual acid, but even that started to regrow.

  Craig had heard of miracle medicines that could fix nearly anything, but this was his first time actually seeing it happen.

  The universe has all sorts of miracles for those who can afford them.

  After a while, Rex was back to business.

  "We've done all we can for him. You should carefully move him to a bunk, and then we should get to stripping the corpse of valuables in case it has anything perishable."

  Rex knew they were going to take a hit. Fares only pay out if the entire agreement is completed — including transit to and from a location — and while not directly stipulated in most contracts, it's pretty much a given that the traveler remain alive throughout the transaction. Definitely not murdered by the one providing transport.

  The good news was that there really isn't usually any sort of law enforcement for such things, and they were pretty sure the guy was acting alone and wouldn't be missed by anybody.

  "What do you mean he's dead? There's no way that hit finished him off."

  The Sponsor was already disappointed in Kurkuril's performance on The Mountain. They weren't expecting that outlier to show up — but all analyses of the fight indicated that he lost not due to a power gap, but due to being caught off guard.

  They had spent a fortune perfecting the latest model, only for the first field test to end in such a way. And now they learn that things can always get even worse.

  Who could have even done this? The power gap between Kurkuril, the outlier, and anyone else on the planet was vast.

  "He contracted with a raider vessel to reach the planet. That vessel's executive is now reporting that he was killed as a result of an altercation with local law enforcement. They still have the body. It's mostly intact, minus the arm that was lost during the competition. We will be collecting it once they hit the nearest way station."

  The Sponsor breathed a sigh of relief — at least they still had the body.

  Leave it to Kurkuril's temperament to get him killed in such a way. Had he lived, they were likely going to liquidate him at his next checkup in favor of a more even-minded candidate.

  The thought was still very troubling. How was this possible? First the outlier shows up and makes them look foolish, and then the local police finish him off? Very few of the weapons on that planet were strong enough to even be a concern.

  The Sponsor considered ordering the raider vessel detained for further "questioning" — but that would've drawn more attention than they wanted. The Sponsor really just wanted to put this whole thing behind them.