Entering quarantine. Do not move.
Calculating.... calculating.... level of contamination, zero.
Please exit proceed to the medbay for final inspection.
A sigh whistled between his teeth. He had gotten lucky this time. There was no need to get rushed to the medbay. There were no blaring alarms. There wasn't talk about euthanizing him. It was all just clean and clear protocol, like it should be.
Subconsciously, his right arm reached for his left hand. It fingered the empty space where his pinky and index fingers should be. To think, the last time he went to Earth, he almost didn't make it back. And now, here he was, fine as could be.
A smile crossed his face as his body moved toward the next station. It wasn't a long walk but it sure was lonely. Solitary confinement was a requirement for returning to the mother ship. Each returnee was forced to walk a long, white corridor, stopping at each station until cleared. Some men never made it past the first door. Others, they never made it back at all.
Hanging his head, the guilt of losing a member, Agent Siy, was gripping at his heart again. He should have tried harder. He should have seen the ambush coming. He should have... ugh! It should have been him.
Coming to a jarring stop, he jerked his head away and glared at the ground. His hands balled into fists and his blood pressure spiked. This really was his fault. He should have done something.
Please proceed to the medbay.
His olive orbs flickered to the voice that spoke from above.
"I know," he chided before swiftly making his way toward the end.
Now before two, large, white doors with a glass interface, he punched in his code--OJB007073. His name popped up and his entrance was announced.
Senior Special Operations Agent, Oliver James Barton, entering facility.
With an eye roll, he sauntered over to the nearest open seat. When the med staff were ready, some nurse would call him back and the doctor on duty would check him over.
When he arrived at the medbay it was 2:14AM. By the time he was called into the back, it was 4:37AM. With a grunt, he lazily followed the nurse and easily passed the usual vital sign tests.
"The doctor will be in soon," she chirped before yanking the curtain closed. Seizing the moment, Oliver, or Ollie as he liked to call himself, rolled out onto his back and laid on the stiff, white cot. Staring up the at the ceiling, he felt the sand in his eyes and, before he knew it, he was napping. If and when someone came, he would lightly open his eyes to the sounds of a curtain opening.