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"Not often would I see something come back to life right on my operating table, perhaps it contained a psychic trigger within its body waiting to resuscitate itself, or perhaps its suit is designed to-" Serris stops short as he notices the progress the monstrosity is making into its suit, "Although none of that will matter if we die in the next few moments."

Serris dove back to his desk to Retrieve his plasma pistol and discharge it into the alien.

"How interesting... It is good you've managed to recover one of them intact" Serris stated with a hint of menace, but soon resigned his tone "Although it would be best if I postponed a full autopsy until we're out of danger, it would still no doubt be to our advantage to investigate..."

Serris placed his tablet aside, picking up tools to take apart the subject's suit and Investigate the body, trying to discover its relation to the pink substance

Aldarist is in the hospital with Serris.

((And under sedatives. Also apologies for inactivity, busyness and turkey day and more moving problems))

"Shit!" Serris shouted in alarm. Despite the eerie radio silence he immediately broadcast; "We have a potential unidentified and uncontrolled hazardous substance within vicinity of the breach, advise hazmat teams to be prepped immediately! Max, Hyperspace-drifting Psionic Guy, you will want to get inside ASAP, this stuff could puncture your suits!"

He continued attempting to broadcast as he tried to Neutralize, or at least get the stuff off of him and Aldarist.

Through the viewport on the wall, Serris observed the improvised payload hitting the enemy ship. He smirked, "How inventive. Looks like that shield has its limits, too." Upon receiving the distress signal on the console, however, his tone turned sour. "Damn shame I can't be there myself," he began, but finished the rest in his mind, It would have made for a good experiment. But alas, it's too risky to abandon my station nowadays... 

Serris turned his attention back to the patients, "My services will be needed for others soon, let's hurry this up. If it comes to it I may as well just prescribe you all aspirin and be done with it." he stated quickly as he Continued treating the patients.

The memory came as a hard shock to Yureig, vanquishing any sense of desire for challenge instantly. The memory of the massive fortress, corpses draped on it like decorations, struck Yureig with nausea and paralysis. The lager did nothing to help, only serving to increase his stomach's unease. He would spend minutes atop the small crate, clutching his head as he watched merchants push their wares to whatever passerby happened upon the street. Fortunately for them, none paid any mind to Yureig. Clearly the sight of an angered, slightly drunk bear would evoke a similar response from anyone.

Stay yourself, Yureig, he would mutter to himself. This fool, Johann, what does he want with the Walker? He held his head up, pulled out a single bullet and twirled it in his hand, He must know what it is, and to come to me- perhaps he knows how I came upon it?

Yureig sighed, feeling his senses coming back to him little by little. Time had passed, but there was still much of the night left. His stomach growled, he may have drunk, but he hasn't eaten a proper meal in the entire day. Perhaps it would clear his mind if he could Find food to purchase.

((Ahaha 'Psychopedia', I love it))

Serris' eyes darted from side to side as he quickly read all the information he could, despite the blare of the combat alarm ringing throughout the ship. "It may be for the best, with our luck in being stuck here for this long I wouldn't be afraid of an extra pair of psionic hands." Serris coolly stated, eager to see the psionic's capabilities.

"Hopefully this next threat will be less damaging to our hull, but regardless I must report to my station." Serris sighed in contempt for regulations, walking off to Head to the medical bay

Yurieg grunted at the dotted slate sky, the mere words 'Crimson Walker' had drained all the adrenaline and fervor from him in mere seconds. Yet what did it mean? Yureig fumbled the words in his head, the lager having clouded his memory ever slightly.

He would spend minutes attempting to Recall what he knows of the 'Crimson Walker', but would make little difference to his decision. He was tired of all the wandering and fleeting work, across the vast seas of the deserts, and tired of the unsung victories he's had against the Bandit Lord's supply chains. Come dawn, he would want a challenge.