Chapter 377

Without looking, soshyan knew the source of the mechanical sound. It was undoubtedly the pharmacist's surgical aid - equipped with laser blades, chainsaws, scissors, syringes and drill bits.

"Observe the damage of subcutaneous tissue from the first incision..."

When he entered the gate, the broad voice of the pharmacist came again.

"Mark, C22, a large number of infections were found in the left lower rib, the second heart tissue growth rate index was too high, and the bone deformation was obvious."

The stale smell floated into soshyan's nose. The stench was the smell of charred bones and flesh.

At a glance, he found a boy lying in the center of the operating platform, on which was a tangled net with flow lights and recording equipment from all angles.

The skin on the front of the boy's chest was uncovered, revealing the viscera covered by a large number of fibers under the epidermis and dermis.

Different types of blood transfusion units and nerve sensors were exposed to the air, and part of the boy's ribs had been removed and placed on a tray held by a machine servant.

The cold surgical appendages stretched over the boy's thin body, pinning the open wound.

The pharmacist's image looks no different from that of the past. Of course, because of long-time work and anxiety, his pale cheeks and disheveled face have lost their former Green astringency and have a pair of cold eyes.

At the moment, he exudes a mixture of several odors - the chemical smell of liquid preservatives, sour blood and applied bactericidal ointment.

This odor is a physical blow to the super senses of the Star Warrior.

Soshyan closed his eyes and slowly inhaled the odor, trying to analyze the rotten smell.

Then his eyes popped open.

"His smell..."

"He's dying."

The pharmacist pointed at the boy.

"You can smell it, can't you? He smells like death, just like only walking dead."

"Is he hopeless?"

"I don't know. Please pass me these medical tweezers, commander Zhan."

Nassin ballitaem held out his hand, and soshyan immediately picked up the tool from one side and handed it over.

The pharmacist took the tweezers and searched the abdominal cavity.

"It seems not... It's hopeless. The rejection reaction is too strong. He's dying slowly."

There is no doubt that this is an obvious truth.

"Organ atrophy may be slower, but inevitably, he can't even live to adulthood. This body can't hold gene seeds... He's not the first and won't be the last."

Soshyan's eyes involuntarily moved to the wound in the boy's abdominal cavity, where what should have changed now - the beating flesh and blood mass should not appear on a healthy person.

The distorted tissue net appears under the light. The pharmacist cuts it accurately with dexterous techniques, then removes the tumor mass and gently puts it on the tray for the next test.

"There is no potential to transform into a machine servant."

The pharmacist then injected the lethal drug into the boy's body.

"Take him and burn him."

"Yes."

After a while, the servant immediately removed the boy's stiff body from the table.

"Commander Zhan, sometimes I really feel like an asshole."

Nassin ballitaem went to the pool, dipped the blood filled water into the pool and watched the blood slowly disperse.

"One, two, ten, twenty... Commander Zhan, I feel like I'm murdering those children every day. I regret choosing the post of pharmacist."

After a moment of silence, soshyan went to the pharmacist and put his hand on his shoulder armor.

"Brother, it's hard... I know it's hard. You can make any request as long as it makes you feel better."

"Well, what else can I ask?"

Soshyan suddenly remembered that he didn't see the two new pharmacists.

As he lifted it, nassin 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 sacred purpose.

"Show me your success now."

Then nassin led soshyan to the rear storage room.

Both pharmacists were here and showed appropriate surprise when they saw soshyan appear.

"At present, all the reformers are placed in the sterile cabin, which is the most successful one at present. He has almost adapted to all the reformers at this stage without any rejection reaction."

Nassin pointed to the first child, who had jagged pink scars on his chest, back and throat from recent invasive surgery.

The boy's face seemed a little familiar. Soshyang blinked and recalled it for a while.

Finally, he remembered the dirty boy on the last day of the primary election.

His name seems to be bachram.

"Not surprisingly, he can accept the implantation of gray pulp in the next stage."

"How many are similar?"

Facing soshyan's inquiry, nassin doesn't even need to know the exact number on his medical equipment.

"26, aged between 14 and 16, have basically adapted to different stages of organ transplantation. The occasional rejection reaction is not strong, but it is not mature enough to be implanted. So far, 29 people have died, and 6 are in an unstable state. The situation is not good."

Although it sounds cold-blooded, soshyan is quite satisfied with these figures.

"Well done, this is a very good survival rate."

"I know --"

Nassin almost sounded angry.

"But it's far from the end. The failure rate in the follow-up transformation stage will not be better. We all have to be prepared."

"That's why I need you to keep doing it."

Soshyan approached one of the sterile compartments, and Philip, the soul drinker's pharmacist, was examining the children inside.

He lay there motionless as if he were asleep.

Suddenly, when soshyang looked close to his face, the boy's limbs began to spasm violently, and his eyelids kept turning up, as if he had been electrocuted.

The alarm went off at once.

"Receptor 17 emergency! Emergency oxygen first!"

The three pharmacists were busy at once, and soshyan could only step aside.

They opened the sterile cabin, fixed the boy's convulsed limbs and neck with a mechanical arm, opened his mouth, inserted a breathing hose, and then carried him to the emergency expanded temporary operating table.

As soon as he lay down, seven or eight needles pierced the boy's skin at the same time.

"Tachycardia! Pupil contraction!"

"Cranial pressure rises too fast!"

"Enter the tranquilizer first! Standard 2 dose!"

In order not to get in the way, soshyan had to leave quietly and pray for the boy in his heart - if he remembered correctly, the boy was also selected by him on the last day. His name was haomo.

He doesn't like this cold-blooded choice, but the reality is so cruel that the empire is built on cold sacrifice and blood.

When soshyan left the medical area and just returned to his private room, he suddenly received an emergency communication.

The imperial patrol fleet detected that there seems to be a spirit fleet active near the Nathan system!