An injured soldier was rushed into the Operating Room at the speed of light. MB-933 known only as “Doc”, with his labcoat sent fluttering behind him, unstrapped the patient and flipped him over to the cold, metal table. The crimson liquid was pooling beneath him as the smell of iron filled the air. Doc peeled back the mask, dripping with blood, off of the soldier’s face. He gasped in horror, wide-eyed at the sight below him. He had known the day would come when his world would be tumbling down around him, but he couldn’t fathom it would be today.
The day started out like any other. Doc lifted himself from the cot and inhaled the musty, stale air surrounding him. His position as a medic on an active duty ship in the war against Marim had the utmost respect, but that didn’t mean any special treatment, his ship was a monstrosity. The floors creaked, doors would jam, and the place was filthy. He heaved himself out of bed and headed up the rusted metal stairs to the medical bay. The stairs hissed and creaked under the pressure of Doc’s weight. He reached the top of the stairs and headed down the hall, but not before stopping to gaze out upon the galaxy outside the ship. He pulled open the door and walked into the medical bay. He grabbed his lab coat off of the rack. The lab coat was absolutely caked in filth. It was smothered in mucus, blood, and who knows what else. The bottom was ripped and torn and the pockets had been ruined years ago. It was in desperate need of a replacement, but his squadron couldn't afford anything at the moment. A rookie cadet was left alone in the Weapon and Ammunition Department and thought it was an absolute genius idea to reorganize. What the genius didn’t realize is that carrying a lighter in your pocket in a room filled of explosives isn’t the smartest move you can make. He was fine but let’s just say that afterwards he was “fired.”
Doc began taking inventory on the medications in his clean, white cabinets. He opened his cabinets to find his supply of anesthesia was gone. Great, now he needed to make a run to a supply dock for medicine. He called the fighting squadron to notify the squadron leader that two of the soldiers in the squadron were to accompany him on the journey. Reluctantly, the officer agreed to let them go. After all it was only a training day, and they can’t afford to lose the best doctor on the ship of ragtag misfits. The war was nearly over, they were winning. They didn’t need more troops, yet they pursued. Ripping families apart. Kicking, screaming, crying children as they are pulled away from their fathers and mothers. It was a sick and twisted way of rallying troops, but when the galaxy had been safe for so many years, people forgot what it was like to fight for their lives.
Doc made his way to the clearance door to meet with his soldiers. Doc held his ID up the the clearance door scanner and grabbed his jacket off of the coatrack. The clearance door loomed over him like a parent yelling at a toddler. The door had metal framework intricately drilled into it as it processed Doc’s request to leave. The buzzer rang throughout the empty halls and woke anyone still asleep. He strode through the door only to be greeted by his closest friends, Gen and Eld. Gen was a petite woman with the heart of a lion. She had bobbed black hair and a look that could turn someone to stone. She was about as stubborn as stubborn got. Eld, on the other hand, had a tall, wiry frame, and had a buzzcut. Doc tilted his head back to see Eld’s full stature, his goofy grin still on his face. Gen was leaned back against the wall in her worn out leather jacket, helmet in hand.
“Ready to leave?” Gen questioned, with a tone saturated in annoyance.
“Whenever you are. Captain.” Doc retorted, smiling to himself at his sarcastic remark.
“Bug off, Pipsqueak.” Gen remarked, referring to his small, wiry stature.
Gen was right. Doc was one of the shortest members of the squadron, along with Gen. He received the nickname long before Gen and him were even friends. As a small boy on his home planet Omnious, he was picked on for his stature. It never affected him much, in fact it became more of a pet name than anything.
The trio meandered over to their respective bikes and slid into the seats. The Metavoid 67 was the oldest bike still used. They worked well for their model and were once a staple in any galactic war. Gen’s bike was so broken, Doc was impressed the thing was even running. It’s seat was torn and the grips had long since worn away. It made a sound like it would disintegrate at any given time. Even Eld’s bike had several nicks and bumps from the clumsy driver forgetting about walls. Doc on the other hand, hardly ever used his bike and it was in nearly perfect condition. The worst part was that it was in need of a serious dusting.
After driving off the exit ramp the three headed for the nearest supply dock. With Gen and Eld on either side of him Doc felt safe. The wind was rushing past Doc and it made him feel free again. Doc rarely left his position to get supplies. Usually people would get his supplies for him. Doc was too bothered at work to even think about leaving. His job was a tedious task, it was filled with balancing the sugarcoating and the cold truth about the situation. It was a challenge for Doc not to make fun of the patients who are there only out of stupidity rather than you know, an actual reason.
The drive went by quickly even though their bikes were the oldest in the whole military. Doc, Gen, and Eld walked through the gates of the dock and weaved their way through the crowd. They found the shop they were looking for. It was a humble place with very few ornaments decorating the front. It was the best place to buy medicine for their current state of wealth. Doc had been here enough to know the layout of the store. To his dismay, the store had a new owner and had been completely reorganized. They pushed the door open and a little bell jingled indicated their entrance.
“Move over Pipsqueak,” Gen pushed between Doc and Eld to push through the crowd. “We don’t have all day.”
“Whatever you say Captain.” Doc loved to antagonize Gen because she failed to become a captain of her squadron at her annual test.
Gen and Eld accompanied Doc as he meandered about the endless walls and shelves of disturbing old remedies, including an antique MRI machine from the year of 1978. Considering its been over 2000 years since then, it was in good condition. Gen could hardly peak over even the shortest of shelves and wandered aimlessly about while Eld was attempting to help Doc find what he needed. She walked up to the front of the store and saw the emergency brigade rush past the doorway. At the time Gen thought nothing of it and returned to find Doc holding cartons full of general anesthesia.
“Ready to go?” Gen questioned.
“No, I’m only holding these for a friend.” Doc teased.
“Let’s go Doc, we don’t have time for chit chat.”
The three walked up to the counter which was covered in scraps of the daily paper and advertisements, along with the cashier. They looked to be about late teens, with deep sunken eyes that oozed a look of desperation and “get me out of here.” Doc was shifting his weight back and forth as he struggled to grip the cartons of anesthesia. He slumped over as he poured the anesthesia onto the already crowded counter with a deep sigh. The incessant beep and click combination was driving Doc mad as all he wanted to do was to crawl back into his lair. He had only left for a short time but he missed the stale air, rubbish strewn, and all around grimy room he called his workplace.  Truth is, that although Doc had a cold and brooding exterior, he enjoyed helping people and improving other’s lives.
“You’re total is 567.90 chronocins.” The cashier murmured in a monotone, rehearsed voice.
The idea of paper money had become obsolete. They still had newspapers and magazines but everything else was strictly on the new Metavoid tablets. In fact paper money was so obsolete that it was sold as a collectors item in the antique stores down the road.
Gen, Eld, and Doc left the supply bay and headed off in another direction. Gen had errands to run for her officers and was searching for new patches for her leather jacket. One of the last of its kind, Gen snagged it at an old antique sale. It had been put through the wringer by its previous owner, but that’s what Gen loved about it. She gave it its own history and covered the tattered and torn leather with embroidery, patches of every size, shape, and color, and studded the collar and sleeves. While not on duty, Gen wore this thing EVERYWHERE. Truth be told she would even sleep in it sometimes. Coming across a flea market Gen took a sharp right and began digging through piles upon piles of junk someone probably tossed out because their grandma died.
“I’ve struck gold boys!” Gen exclaimed. What she actually found was a box of vintage pins that was filled to the brim with images and pictures encased plastic forever. Gen ran to the old woman running the place and asked how much. The woman appeared frail and broken spirited, as if she had lost a piece of her soul.
“Those were my sons,” she smiled weakly,” take them, I insist. No charge.”
“Thank you so much,” Gen bounced up and down squealing in excitement,”I don’t know what to-” She was interrupted by the woman piping up again
“It’s no problem at all really, he would’ve wanted-” she stopped mid sentence and quickly scampered away, ducking into a tent.
“That was, odd.” Eld commented, clearly confused as to why the woman ran off like she had seen a ghost.
They continued walking through the flea market, but were surprised to find the place abandoned. The clothed tents rustled in the wind as silence surrounded them.
“This place is dead, let's go back to the ship and set off.” Eld, the usually cheery man, murmured. He seemed bothered by the sudden disappearance of everyone.
“Alright, let's turn around.” Doc agreed.
The trio headed for the ship, but only after a short walking distance, they were horrified at the sight. The ship was in flames and an attacker ship was hovering ominously above it. Gen, Eld, and Doc rushed through the throngs of people surrounding the perimeter.
“Move it people! Soldiers coming through!” Gen roared.
Doc was the first to reach the doors and kicked them through not worrying about any damage done to himself. He rushed for the weapons room. Luckily, nothing was disturbed. Doc grabbed a helmet off the shelf and a Low-Power Anti-Matter Cannon. He tossed an array of weapons and armor towards Gen and Eld. He rushed out of the door abandoning them to fight off the invaders.
He clambered over piles of rubble and several alien forms. He took a quick glance around a corner and ran down the hall. The ship was painted red as screams of agony and war filled the air. He saw an alien from the planet Marim, turn to him with its cold, dead eyes. These creatures were made of skin and bone. They were cobalt blue in color with eyes that could pierce straight through even the toughest soldiers soul. Man has been at war with them for as far as the history books date back. The creature hissed at Doc before scuttling around another corner. But Doc wasn't about to let this one go.
These monsters killed his parents and he wasn’t going to stop until every single one of them was destroyed. It was a crisp evening on his home planet Umia. Doc was having dinner with his parents. That's when the explosions started. His mother and father huddled around him until the barrage of squeals, crashes, and breaking glass finally ceased.
“Mom, Dad, the noises are over! We lived” Doc exclaimed.
He opened his eyes and couldn’t believe what he saw. His parents, or what was left of them, were sprawled about the room. The table, walls, windows, and doors were coated in blood. They had died to protect him, their only son. He picked himself up off of the floor. Tears stained his cheeks and clothes as he gripped the door. It creaked open as soldiers filtered through the rubble of the houses, searching for any survivors. A soldier saw Doc and ran to him, jumping over a growing pile of bodies and wreckage. All Doc could remember was being buckled into a medical transporting before reappearing in a hospital. Doc had reached up to his forehead and felt a warm sticky substance fall into his hands. He was sedated and that's when he woke up on a transport ship towards the nearest safe planet.
That was 30 some years ago. Doc refused to be the victim anymore. He mustered up all his courage and rushed after the vermin. He shot his cannon and nailed the alien in the center of its back. The creature hissed and howled in pain before crumpling to the ground in a crunched blue pile of muck. He saw a small gathering of aliens, feasting on one of the deceased. He fired multiple shots hitting several. The group disbanded and scuttled about in a state of confusion. Doc knew he had to get to the center of the ship. It was the stronghold of the vessel. The ship was built to have a strong core. This way, if anything attacks the ship it will slow the process down because they can't destroy the core
Doc was disoriented, caked in blood, and had been put through the wringer. Yet, he continued to push through the horde of blue. The military was calling in reinforcement to clear the rest of the ship. As Doc rushed through the endless halls, he began to see less and less blue and more and more red. As soldiers stumbled throughout the halls in a hopeless attempt to find a medic.  Doc had passed by fallen soldiers, one of which was a doctor attempting to reach the center. He was ravaged by aliens and picked clean to the bone. The only thing left was a pile of bones and cartilage, thrown about by the savage eating habits of the aliens of Marim. The only way he knew it was a doctor was the similar labcoat to Doc, it too was covered in blood, but this time it was it’s wearers blood.
Doc saw another clearance door as his bloodied hand left a trail on the walls behind him. He pushed and shoved aside piles of wreckage and began to pound on the doors.
“Please! Someone help me!” He wailed relentlessly.
His adrenaline began to slow and the emotions caught up to him. He pressed his hands to his face, not caring how he looked anymore. He bawled an ocean's worth of warm tears into his bloodied hands. Then a sudden realization struck him. He was becoming the victim. He was still his six year old self. He couldn't escape his own brain. He was the same weak-hearted, cowardly, frail six year old.
No, he wasn’t going to let the dark thoughts win, not this time. He pulled himself off of the slick floor. He walked slowly and confidently in the opposite direction of the clearance door. He wasn't weak, he wasn't cowardly, he was strong. He had to prove it. He sliced through anything he came across. He was single handedly going to destroy the alien race.  The reinforcement arrived just as Doc had finished off his last kill.
The next task was sifting through the rubble for any survivors or resources. Doc joined a small team of cadets. The majority of them were small with beady, mouselike eyes. They had been through a rigorous training to stay so small yet so sharp and even deadly. They were strong for their size. Slowly they were all lifting boulders and pieces of metal from the floor of the ship. Doc wasn’t very good at this so they brushed him off.
“Return to your medical bay. We are in no need of assistance.” one of the cadets commanded Doc.
So Doc made his way towards the medical station. As soon as he turned on his flashing green light, indicating he was available to help, soldiers began stumbling towards the door. One by one Doc helped the soldiers who carried themselves inside. As soon as he cleared them, they rushed to find others who had critical injuries. Doc was about to turn off his light because no one had arrived in about two hours. Just as he flipped the switch and group of six soldiers and a gurney came rushing down the hall. Amongst them he recognized Gen. He pulled the door open as they flew past him. They wheeled the gurney next to the table. Doc lifted the soldier off of the gurney and flipped him onto the metal table. Crimson liquid began pooling on the table as Doc hurriedly gathered the appropriate materials. He sent all but one of the soldiers out. He was a tall, stocky man with broad soldiers and a look that could curdle dairy. 
Doc began peeling the bloodied uniform off the body, the last step was to remove his mask. As Doc began lifting off the sticky mask what he saw left him in shock. Eld was under the mask.
“Eld, what happened.” Doc said meekly, while choking back tears.
All Eld did was smile weakly before taking his last shallow breath. He closed his eyes very slowly burning his stare into Doc’s memory forever. He ordered his assistant to leave and send Gen in. He did so as the door quietly closed behind him. Doc stepped away from the table and was left alone with his thoughts. He crumpled into a chair and weeped quietly into his hands. They weren’t tears of anger or sadness. They were tears of regret. He could’ve done something, right? He could’ve saved him. He could’ve saved everyone. Doc pulled himself off the chair and stepped over to the table, his shoes leaving an echo throughout the room. The air was so heavy he could’ve cut it with a knife. He slowly pulled the cloth over Eld’s face. Eld looked at peace, and Doc could’ve sworn his face was contorted into a small grin.
Doc quickly turned when he heard the door open. His eyes met Gen’s and he knew. She heard what had happened. The quickly ran to each other and embraced in a hug filled with tears, apologies, and mourning. He didn’t want it to end. Her sweet perfume mixed with the crisp smell of iron along with her small form pressed against his. He never wanted to let her go. She was the only family he had left. They walked out together with red, tear stained cheeks.
Eld received the standard funeral for a soldier. It was a quiet ceremony with only five to six people in attendance. When it was Doc’s turn to give a speech he shuffled the notecards in his hand nervously. He made his way to the podium and Eld’s form was staring up at him.
“Eld was, a true friend. No matter how much Gen and I bickered he was always there for both of us at the end of the day. He was no good at combat or academics, but he had the heart of a lion. He was more courageous, kind, and forgiving than all of us. He wasn’t afraid to jump into the fray. He never regretted it for a second, if it meant saving a life. No combination of words can describe how deeply Eld will be missed. He deserved better than this, but never complained,” Doc turned to face Eld’s casket,”I’ll miss you buddy. I love you.”
And with that Doc inhaled deeply and walked back to his seat. The funeral continued as Doc was lost in thought. He knew he was going to die, didn't he. Eld knew the consequences and he took them anyway. Gen touched Doc’s arm, snapping him out of his trance. They quietly walked out together and returned to their positions on the ship. Doc opened the door to his medical bay and organized all his medicine. When it was time to organize the anesthesia however, Doc burst into tears and ran out of the door and down the stairs. He ripped open his door and crashed onto the bed. Gen heard the commotion and rushed to the sound of the crash. She walked in to see Doc red faced with tears streaming down his face.
She rushed over to him and tackled him in a hug. They sat up and Gen began rubbing circles on his back.
“It’s okay,” she assured him, ”Eld’s happy now.” she cooed
“He’s gone because of us!” Doc raised his voice.
Gen was taken aback by his action and recoiled from the embrace.  Doc realized what he had done and began to mumble incessantly about how he was sorry and didn’t mean it.
“Doc, you’re not the only one hurting. We all loved him.” Gen said through gritted teeth. Her expression softened when she saw the hurt look on his face. She moved back to her original position and held Doc’s face in her hands.
“We are going to be okay.” she promised.
Promises didn’t mean much to Doc, but he could tell that she was being sincere because of the way her voice cracked at the slightest mention of  Eld.
Eventually Doc began taking patients again. That was a relief for everyone on the ship. They had been down one doctor in the height of a tragedy. Gen resumed her position as a trainee. She hadn't fully gotten over Eld, but she wasn’t willing to show it. The ship left the planet and continued on its path towards the next planned stop.
Doc still cried into his pillow. Eld’s face still engrained in his memory. Gen cried too. She cried into her pillow because she couldn’t save him. She was their when the monsters impaled him. She knew her efforts were fruitless, yet she pushed on for him. The squadron barely knew Eld. They thought he was just another trained machine. They were wrong. Gen and Doc replaced the sad memories with happy ones. Instead of being engulfed in their misery they pushed on.
The war eventually came to a close. The aliens were pushed to
the deepest ends of the universe. There population so scarce they were no longer a prominent force in the universe as they once were. Gen had become a captain, now head of her squadron. They were now in charge of  watching for any suspicious activity in the deepest reached of the Galaxy on the newest tracking machine. It could detect any movement from light years away. It was called the Marim.1 in honor of why it was created. Doc left his ship and became a traveling space medic. His patients were grateful and he was rewarded with the satisfaction of saving a life. Every year Gen and a Doc made the same trip to the flea market every year. The woman greeted them with a smile as they browsed the endless shelves and racks of trinkets. Gen had founded more and more pins, so much so she needed a new jacket. Doc finally got his new lab coat, which he too, decided to cover in pins. They returned to their positions in society and headed off in opposite directions. They would travel the depths of the galaxy until next year, when they return to the flea market, where their memories would linger forever.