Without looking, Soshyan knew the source of the mechanical sound. It was undoubtedly the pharmacist's surgical aid—equipped with a laser blade, a chainsaw, scissors, a syringe, and a drill.
"Observe the damage to the subcutaneous tissue from the first incision..."
As he entered the door, the broad voice of the pharmacist came again.
"Mark, c22, a large amount of infection was found in the left lower rib, the growth rate index of the second heart tissue was too high, and the bone deformation was obvious."
A stale smell wafted into Soshyan's nose. The stench was the smell of burnt bones and flesh.
He glanced around and saw a boy lying in the center of the operating platform. Above was a tangled net with lumens and recording equipment from all angles.
The skin on the front of the boy's chest was uncovered, revealing the internal organs covered by a large number of fibers under the epidermis and dermis.
Different models of blood transfusion units and neural sensors were exposed to the air, and part of the boy's ribs had been removed and placed on a tray held by a servitor.
The cold surgical appendage was stretched out on the boy's thin body, pinning the open wound.
The image of the pharmacist looks the same as before. Of course, due to long hours of work and anxiety, his pale cheeks and disheveled face have lost their former youthfulness, and he has a pair of cold eyes.
At this moment, he smelled a mixture of several smells - liquid antiseptic, sour blood and the chemical smell of antiseptic ointment.
The stench was a physical punch to the Space Marine's heightened senses.
Soshyan closed his eyes and slowly inhaled the stench, trying to parse the putrid aroma.
Then, his eyes popped open.
"His taste..."
"He's dying."
The pharmacist pointed at the boy.
"You can smell it, can't you? He smells of death, like only the walking dead can."
"Is he hopeless?"
"I can't tell, please pass me these medical forceps, Chapter Master."
Nasin Balitaem stretched out his hand, and Soshyan immediately picked up the tool from the side and handed it over.
The pharmacist took the tweezers and rummaged through the abdominal cavity.
"It seems that it is not possible...it is hopeless. The rejection reaction is too strong and he is dying slowly."
There is no doubt that this is an obvious fact.
"The organ atrophy may be slower, but it is inevitable that he will not even live to adulthood. This body cannot contain the gene seeds... He is not the first, and he will not be the last."
Soshyan's eyes involuntarily moved to the wound in the boy's abdominal cavity. What should have been there was now different - a throbbing mass of flesh and blood that should not appear on a healthy person.
The distorted tissue network was revealed under the light, and the pharmacist cut it open with dexterity and precision, then removed the tumor mass and gently placed it on a tray to prepare for the next test.
"Even the potential to transform into a servitor is gone."
The pharmacist then injected the lethal drug into the boy's body.
"Take him and burn him."
"yes."
After a while, the servants on the side removed the boy's rapidly stiffening body from the table.
"Chapter Master, sometimes I really feel like an asshole."
Nasin Balitaem walked to the edge of the pool, dipped his bloody hands into the pool, and watched the blood slowly disperse.
"One, two, ten, twenty... Chapter Commander, I feel like I am murdering those children every day. I already regret that I chose the position of pharmacist."
After a moment of silence, Soshyan walked up to the pharmacist and put his hand on his shoulder armor.
"Brother, thank you for your hard work... I know this is very difficult. You can ask for anything, as long as it makes you feel better."
"Well, what else can I ask for?"
Soshyan suddenly remembered that he did not see the two new pharmacists.
When he mentioned it, Naxin pointed to the corridor.
"They are doing other tests."
Soshyan looked at the robotic arm of the surgical machine and imagined it moving for some divine purpose.
"Show me your current success."
Later, Naxin led Soshyan to the storage room at the rear.
Both pharmacists were here, and they both expressed appropriate surprise when Soshyan appeared.
"Currently, all the reformers are placed in sterile cabins. This is the most successful one so far. He has adapted to almost all the transformations at this stage without any rejection."
Narsing pointed to the first child, a boy with jagged pink scars on his chest, back and throat from recent invasive surgeries.
The boy's face seemed a bit familiar. Soshyan blinked and recalled it for a while.
Finally, he remembered that dirty boy on the last day of the primary election.
His name seems to be Bahram.
"As expected, he can receive gray marrow implantation in the next stage."
"How many similar ones are there?"
Faced with Soshyan's inquiry, Nashin didn't even need to know the exact numbers on his medical equipment.
"Twenty-six people, aged between 14 and 16 years old, have basically adapted to different stages of organ transplantation. The occasional rejection reaction is not strong, but they are not mature enough for implantation. So far, 29 people have died.
, there are still 6 in unstable condition, the situation is not good."
Although it sounds cold-blooded, Soshyan is quite satisfied with these numbers.
"Well done, that's a very good survival rate."
"I know--"
Nathan sounded almost angry.
"But it's far from over. The failure rate in subsequent transformation stages will not be better. We all have to be mentally prepared."
"That's why I need you to keep doing this."
Soshyan approached one of the sterile chambers, where Philip, the Soul Drinker's apothecary, was examining the child inside.
He lay there motionless, as if asleep.
Suddenly, when Soshyan brought his face closer to watch, the boy's limbs began to convulse violently, and his eyelids kept rolling up, as if he had been shocked.
The alarm immediately sounded.
"Emergency situation at receptor No. 17! Emergency oxygen supply first!"
The three pharmacists immediately got busy, and Soshyan could only step aside.
They opened the sterile chamber, used robotic arms to fix the boy's spastic limbs and neck, opened his mouth and inserted a breathing tube, and then lifted him to the emergency operating table.
As soon as he lay down, seven or eight needles pierced the boy's skin at the same time.
"Heart rate is too fast! Pupils are constricted!"
"Cranial pressure rises too fast!"
"Enter the tranquilizer first! Standard 2 doses!"
In order not to get in the way, Soshyan could only leave quietly and pray for the boy in his heart - if he remembered correctly, the boy was also chosen by him on the last day, and his name was Haomo.
He doesn't like this kind of cold-blooded decision, but the reality is so cruel, and the empire is built on cold sacrifice and blood.
When Soshyan left the medical area and returned to his private room, he suddenly received an emergency message.
The Imperial patrol fleet has detected that there seems to be an Eldar fleet operating near the Nessen system!