Tanking it
Posted on Sat Jan 17th, 2026 @ 4:45pm by Lieutenant Colonel Cornelius Tremble
Edited on on Mon Jan 19th, 2026 @ 5:14pm
1,242 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Episode 17 - Going Home
Location: Marine Tank Bay 2 - The Snake Pit - Deck 9 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD003 2200 hrs
Neil sat on the deck of tank room two, regarding his newly issued leg. The artificial leg had a foot, with all the right parts even, but he had problems thinking of it as his.
It wasn’t his leg.
His own leg was currently in medical, soaking in a soup of nutrients and restorative goo that Hermia assured him would make it near as new when it came time to reattach the thing.
A thing.
That’s how he had come to thinking of it. A literal appendage that right now wasn’t doing him any good. And he didn’t have time to wait around for the forty five day estimate before both he and the leg would be ready.
The entity had done a number on the legs, the bus saw teeth and digestive juices had messed it up. When the thing had spit the leg at Ed like a javelin, the resulting impact had shattered most of the bones and relocated the pieces throughout the muscle and tissue, shredding and damaging pretty much everything.
He should be glad to get it back, but it was a mess and Neil had work to do.
Too much to do as always it seemed and adding getting used to a new appendage wasn’t helping matters. He was used to two-a-day workouts. Those had been a part of his life since he’d been a boot. Those workouts were now earmarked for getting used to his new leg.
Fitting the leg had taken most of yesterday, including the physio therapy that set let him be released from medical yesterday, AND been grudgingly cleared for light duty. Apparently someone had marked him as being a terrible patient.
The nerve.
The leg was attached to a cuff that gripped his stump and had titanium forming all the major bones and was sheathed in pliable skin that supposedly matched his own skin tone. His HUD was linked to the servos, giving him real time monitoring that the ship’s computer was streaming, gathering constant data.
And snitching on him.
Neil had gotten three scoldings so far today from various people who now had a hobby of monitoring what he was doing. He’d spent the first couple of hours getting used to the leg and cuff. The smart-leg had been downloaded with data gathered from years of physical training and had independent muscle and tissue response, taking cues from his history to all get him back on this feet ASAP. There were caveats though. For the next week, he had to use crutches or some sort of support that would help him learn balance again. Over-stressing the stump was the concern.
Crutching from his quarters down to Marine country had caused a twinge in the stump and an accompanied light flashing in his HUD. Thus why he was sitting on the deck next to one of the training tanks and he stopped, putting most of his weight on his good leg until the flashing subsided and he fought down the impatience. Impatience and pure frustration he was feeling.
Neil had been wounded before and was conscious of tole recovery always took He didn’t LIKE and felt sorta betrayed that the leg didn’t respond like he thought it should. Why losing something like a leg should inconvenience him was plucking his last nerve and he blew out a long breath, trying to lose the tension that was knotting into his shoulders.
The back of his mind knew he was being irrational. But also knew it would take a minute.
The stump didn’t hurt.
Much.
The cuff had a Pharma pack that distributed meds to treat the pain. That was regulated along with everything else to make sure he remained pain free.
The pain management briefing had taken two hours and he’d been ready to use the spoon they’d given him for lunch to remove his left eye before that one had been over.
Sighing, he pushed the dross out of his head and slid into the tank gingerly, like entering a scalding hot tub of water. The holo-tanks had a saddle that he perched himself on and then the internal membrane began to expand to fit him like the body glove he was wearing, wrapping him completely in a liquid filled cocoon. Medical data ensured his artificial limb was extra supported while he slid a training helmet over his head and it sealed to the body glove.
The tank then filled with liquid on the outside and the traction system exerted the appropriate amount of gravity as he brought up a running program that he and Jayna often used. The holoprogram engaged and he found himself in a simulation of the desert world of Sahara, running through the twenty-five kilometer course of Kings Oasis.
The leg felt odd as he started out at a walk, then did a simple jog for five paces then fell back to the walk for ten paces then jogged again. The leg was sending signals to his brain, but his brain wasn’t having much of it. Even with all the precautions, Neil knew he had a lot of work to do to get up to par.
He’d better get started.
Two and a half hours later, he was done. The top split open, the domed pieces sliding into the deck as the liquid drained into holding and the membrane receded from around him. Once his arms were free, he pulled the helmet off and tossed it onto his gear bag, then pulled himself out in what always felt like getting yourself out of mud. He lay panting on the edge of the tank, warnings on his HUD informing him that his pain medication allotment had been exceeded for the rest of the day and that medical would be notified.
He didn’t really care, but at least now he knew where he would be starting at. He was forty minutes off his usual time for this run and the pain that was like lightning eating at his stump as he lay there, chest heaving as he let the pain flash work it’s way out into a nice solid electrical storm.
It all reminds him of getting worked over by a low stun setting…without the benefit of unconsciousness.
He crawled over to his kit bag and found a hydration drink and began pouring it down his throat. Text from Rommie indicated that other marines were attempting to queue into the tank room for training, but Neil ignored that for now. He needed to get past this and back on his feet before any of his crew…especially the marines saw him.
Neil was fine appearing like a wrung out dishrag…but he refused to be seen on his back.
Some things a CO just couldn’t do.
After five minutes letting himself be lazy, he pulled himself onto a nearby bench, then got his feet under him using the crutches. Finally he retreated his gear and unlocked the chamber.
Then he crutched his way out, ignoring the fire that raced through his stump and entire side.
It was only pain.
It would pass.
A Post By
Lieutenant Colonel Cornelius Tremble
Executive Officer, USS Pioneer
Battalion Commander, The Cure
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