Adventure of Jostan Ordomo 1

Jostan reaches the intake doors as a young man stumbles in behind him. His fitted charcoal pilot suit is layered with damaged dark armor, and one hand clamps around a scorched mechanical cell housing.

The housing gives a weak electrical whine. Inside Jostan’s private buffer, part of the damaged woman in the recording’s route marker decrypts, and the component answers with a brief matching pulse.

The young pilot steadies himself against the hospital wall. A cracked shoulder plate hangs loose, exposing scorched circuitry beneath, while his eyes remain fixed on Jostan’s cybernetic hand.

The cell pulses again, faintly synchronized with the route marker. The intake hall’s blue lights flicker across Daven’s damaged armor, and the hospital doors continue opening onto the rain.

Jostan raises the Eye of Anylasis and lets its scanner pass over Daven, the scorched cell housing, and the private route marker in his cybernetics. The scan resolves without resistance.

The Eye separates the signals cleanly: Daven’s cell technology is not Helix Meridian hardware, but its architecture is compatible with the route marker’s handshake. The pulse is a response, not remote control.

Jostan gestures toward the cell, then opens his empty hand. The movement stays measured, avoiding the twist that would aggravate his ribs, while the scanner preserves its findings.

The cell gives one subdued pulse and falls quiet. The Eye records the result: shared compatibility, no command authority, and no evidence that Daven’s parents used Helix Meridian’s network willingly.

Jostan pulls up his shirt, exposing bruised skin across his abdomen. The movement tightens his breath, but he holds still and lets Daven see the damage.

Daven shifts the scorched cell housing under one arm and points toward the hospital’s triage corridor. His damaged pilot suit carries a maintenance access tag beneath the torn shoulder plate.

The hospital doors part behind Daven, revealing a marked trauma bay and a waiting diagnostic bed. His offer gives Jostan immediate treatment and a private route around the ordinary intake scan.

Before taking his hand, Jostan raises the Eye of Anylasis. Its scan passes over Daven’s damaged suit, the scorched cell housing, and his biometric responses.

The scan finds no deception pattern in Daven’s account. His stress spikes around Finnick and Jijutoro, while the cell’s architecture confirms his claim about his parents’ technology.

Jostan reaches out and shakes Daven’s hand. The motion stays controlled around his ribs, and Daven answers with a firm grip before turning toward the trauma corridor.

Daven guides Jostan through the marked doors. The trauma bay recognizes the maintenance tag, unlocking a private diagnostic bed as rain glows across the hospital glass.

The trauma bed waits beneath white surgical lights. Seeing it, Jostan’s eyes sting; one tear slips free before his knees give way.

He drops before reaching the bed. Daven catches him under the shoulders, but the sudden weight wrenches Jostan’s bruised ribs and crushes his breath into a sharp gasp.

Daven lowers him onto the diagnostic bed instead of letting him strike the floor. Jostan’s shoulder scrapes the edge, adding a hot sting to the collapse.

The bed accepts Jostan’s weight and activates its restraint-free medical cradle. Monitors bloom around him as his breath turns shallow and the trauma bay dims at the edges.

The last thing Jostan hears is the diagnostic system answering Daven’s access tag. Then consciousness cuts out, with the bed beneath him and the pain held inside his ribs.

The diagnostic cradle reports unstable respiration and irregular neural response. Jostan’s body does not settle into treatment; each assisted breath meets a shallow, resistant hitch.

The trauma system reduces the medication flow, but the monitors continue to climb and dip without rhythm. No sedative takes hold cleanly, and the cradle cannot make him cooperative.

Daven braces the bed frame and watches the medical display recalculate. The scan confirms bruised ribs, withdrawal strain, and cybernetic interference, but offers no clean route through them.

Jostan remains unconscious beneath the surgical lights. His body is being kept alive and monitored, but it refuses to cooperate with the treatment meant to stabilize it.

Jostan’s eyes open beneath the surgical lights. His breath catches against the bruising in his ribs, but the diagnostic cradle loosens its support enough for him to speak.

The joke costs Jostan a shallow breath and a tightening across his chest, but his voice reaches Daven clearly. The pilot’s guarded expression softens without losing its caution.

Daven’s acceptance gives Jostan the help he wanted, but turns the joke into a real obligation. The monitors settle as the cradle resumes its careful stabilization cycle.

Jostan lets his eyes close and goes to sleep. Daven remains beside the bed, watching the medical readouts and keeping the trauma staff from forcing the system.

Sleep takes Jostan beneath the surgical lights, but Europa rises inside it: colossal trees, wet heat, and a horizon swallowed by dinosaur-like silhouettes. The place feels like a shithole even in memory.

In the dream, the pink-haired woman stands beside the damaged woman from the recording. Everything went right. No alarms sounded, no one was hunted, and the route opened cleanly beneath the green towers.

The perfect scene fractures whenever Jostan reaches it. Europa folds into the trauma bay, the women become reflections in dark glass, and the same unanswered route marker pulses behind his closed eyes.

Three days pass in broken cycles rather than rest. Jostan jolts awake, gasping, then sinks back into the same memory before his body can recover its rhythm.

Daven lowers the medical input and steadies the cradle manually. The prolonged failed rest leaves Jostan dehydrated and disoriented, while the trauma system marks his neural cycle as unstable.

The dream of Europa finally recedes, but it leaves its route marker burning in Jostan’s private buffer. The three-day sleep is over, and the complication is no longer something rest can solve.

Jostan reaches toward the trauma bay’s supply tray, but no water is within reach. The expected cup is absent, leaving only dry air and the faint hospital hum.

He braces both hands against the cradle and tries to sit upright. His breath catches as his ribs resist the twist, and he manages only a crooked half-rise before settling against the support.

Jostan turns his head toward Daven, irritation tightening his expression as the failed movement leaves him upright only against the cradle’s support. Daven keeps one hand near the controls.

A green indicator glows at the corner of the trauma bay, partly hidden behind a diagnostic cabinet. Its color is too steady and too bright for an ordinary status lamp.

The attempt leaves Jostan upright but dependent on the cradle, thirsty and unable to reach either the missing water or the green-lit cabinet without help.

Daven studies Jostan’s pale face and the steady green indicator. The request lands without resistance; he moves with careful confidence, keeping the trauma cradle and its cables undisturbed.

Daven retrieves a sealed hospital bottle, then opens the diagnostic cabinet’s maintenance latch. He lifts out the green-lit module in a padded isolation sleeve, its glow contained behind transparent shielding.

He returns with the water and places it within Jostan’s reach, followed by the sleeved module. A short kitchen call secures hot steak, eggs, and avocado on a covered tray.

The bottle rests against Jostan’s hand, the isolated green module glows beside the cradle, and the promised meal arrives under a hospital cover. Daven remains close, watching both the monitors and the device.

Jostan tears into the steak, eggs, and avocado with shaking urgency. Tears slip down his face as each rich bite registers as something entirely new, while the water bottle waits beside him.

Between bites, Jostan raises the Eye of Anylasis toward the sleeved green module. The scan identifies refined eolite energy material, compatible with the route marker and the Jimmy’s ammunition system, with no remote command signal.

Jostan opens the isolation sleeve and transfers the green eolite into the Jimmy’s prepared bullet channels. The material seats as an energy charge, leaving the ammunition loaded and the module’s response stable.

Jostan drains the water bottle in one long pull, then lowers it beside the empty plate. His breath remains rough, but the meal, scan, declaration, and loaded Jimmy are complete.

The loaded Jimmy gives a sharp electronic chirp. The eolite charge answers Jostan’s private route marker, then sends a pulse through his cybernetics and into the trauma cradle.

The monitors flash red. Jostan’s breathing turns shallow and uneven as the medical system withdraws its support, detecting a feedback loop it cannot isolate from his neural hardware.

A containment shutter drops between the Jimmy and the isolated module, but the pulse has already spread. Jostan’s health readings fall below the trauma bay’s safe range.

Daven reaches for the emergency controls as the eolite glow intensifies behind its sleeve. The weapon remains charged, Jostan’s condition worsens, and the trauma bay begins sealing itself from the hospital network.

Jostan grits his teeth and braces against the cradle as the feedback surges through him. His bruised ribs seize under the strain, but he forces the eolite residue through his cybernetic channels instead of letting it scatter.

The Eye of Anylasis opens across Jostan’s vision. It maps the reaction from the Jimmy, through the route marker, and into the trauma cradle, isolating the residue as a temporary conductive bridge rather than a command signal.

Jostan’s scan completes: the eolite residue is compatible with his route marker, but the cradle amplified it through his neural hardware. He identifies the safe channel and diverts the excess into the isolated containment sleeve.

The red monitors settle into steady amber. Jostan remains hurt and breathing hard, but the feedback is contained, the Jimmy stays charged, and the scan’s findings are stored in his private buffer.

Jostan forces himself forward against the cradle and tries to empty his stomach. The effort becomes a dry, painful heave; his bruised ribs clamp down, and nothing comes up.

The attempt leaves his breath ragged and the amber monitors climbing again. The cradle tightens its support automatically, preventing him from standing or repeating the strain without assistance.

Daven uses the pilot access tag to open the trauma bay’s private medical channel. The system rejects immediate release, but displays a same-day discharge review once a doctor confirms Jostan can breathe and move safely.

The monitors settle back to amber. Jostan remains held by the cradle, unable to force the matter physically, but the discharge review is now active and the hospital has a concrete route toward release.

Daven relays the request through the private channel. A middle-aged woman doctor enters, compact and steady, with dark braided hair, copper-brown skin, and a white coat threaded with diagnostic lights.

The cradle opens its internal scanner. Blue diagnostic bands pass through Jostan’s torso without pressure, mapping his ribs, organs, bloodstream, and cybernetic channels while Daven watches the display.

The scan confirms the explanation in layered charts. Treatment has been fighting several systems at once, but the feedback is contained, and the doctor adjusts the plan toward hydration, monitored withdrawal care, and rib recovery.

Jostan keeps one hand against the cradle while the diagnostic bands fade. His breathing remains guarded, but the results are clear, and Dr. Vennick reviews the discharge plan.

Daven watches the treatment schedule populate across the wall display. A supported discharge is approved, with follow-up checks arranged for the next three days and clear instructions for returning if his breathing worsens.

Leave the hospital safely