Hyperthermic Amputee
"Circumstances rule men; men do not rule circumstances."
- Herodotus
"Yes, sir! At once, sir!" Britain signed off.
Barbuda chuckled to himself. He could almost picture the man saluting. The thought of Britain's rotund frame snapping off a salute to an intercom amused him.
He was not sure what to make of the news he had received from Antigua. One man invariably meant more men. While the significance of this event was not lost on him there were other, more political considerations that would have to be ironed out. If they were lucky, all they were dealing with was a small tribal pocket. The last remnants of human civilization in the southern hemisphere eking out a meager existence. If they were unlucky, they would be met with a large indigenous population that might not take kindly to their arrival in search of arable land and resources.
The five Rangers had been given explicit instructions on how to interact with any natives of the Southland that they might encounter. The simple rule of thumb was to find out as much as possible while revealing as little as possible. So, if a community of human survivors was encountered, learn as much as possible about them. Their culture, their history and above all their capabilities; both intellectual and physical, but keep them in the dark about the Southland, specifically the potential for a sudden influx of technologically advanced colonists.
He resolved to write a report to the Elder Council. They would need to start preparing a propaganda campaign for each of the possible eventualities. The people wouldn't need too much convincing. The threat of societal collapse, starvation, and death would see to that, but it didn't hurt to soften the blow. They would need to be creative. Demonize the Southland in some way. Make it seem that taking their land from them was in everyone's best interest.
He turned to study his console. The return pod's support system readings were all nominal. The refrigeration unit was doing its job. He was mildly concerned that the core temperature was being reported at roughly fifty degrees. If it climbed any higher they would be receiving a well broiled human specimen.
The time of arrival was estimated at roughly three hours, forty minutes. For a moment, he considered the condition Antigua had reported the man as being in. He didn't hold out much hope for the Southlander's chances of survival.
He tapped out notifications to both the medical bay and the morgue. The medical bay needed to prepare to attend a hyperthermic amputee that had lost significant quantities of blood. They would also need to be prepared to work under level five quarantine. The strictest level possible. There was no telling what he might be bringing across with him. Likewise, the morgue would need to be prepared to perform a potential autopsy under the same quarantine level.
Once he had sent the instructions he sat back, contemplating the little blip that represented the progress of the return pod on his console map. He was immensely excited by what it contained but also more than a little apprehensive. Who was this man, hurtling through the nuclear furnace like a stray bullet from another world?
His console beeped a notification at him. The Equine Robot, Argentum had just uploaded a data log. He quickly scanned over the file. It was a comprehensive record of the readings from all the horse's systems. It contained a wealth of useful, time-stamped information. Temperate, pressure, radiation, and all manner of useful datasets that would keep the science team happy for a month. The most interesting thing it contained though was a complete three-dimensional recording of the entire journey that the horse had embarked upon, from their point of departure at the dome, all the way to their return with the injured Southsider. The recording was built from a combination of the real-time radar and standard optical and infrared transmission data that constantly streaming from the sensors and cameras that cover the horse's body. Clever algorithms decoded the data and rebuilt it into fabulously detailed representations of the area immediately around the horse and that gave a passable representation of the landscape and the objects in it, up to a thousand meters out. Beyond that, the three-dimensional effect breaks down as the radar and infrared signal weakens, but the standard optical data still provided a good sense of the surrounding terrain.
Using his visor unit, Barbuda spent a happy few hours gliding about the newly discovered landscape, flitting through the highlights of Antigua's journey and ultimately marveling at her skill with a blade. He had always known she was a capable swordsman but watching her performance on the Southland steppe, clearly out-numbered, left him quite breathless with excitement and pride.
He was pulled from his reverie by the soft chime of a notification from his console. He flipped his visor up and turned to look at the screen. The package had arrived.
Art by https://twitter.com/JulesGregorio