The heavy steel door of Airlock Two hissed open with a sharp burst of warm, decontaminated air.
Tie Niu caught the limp, frozen spacesuit as it drifted through the threshold. He laid the old man down onto the magnetic stretcher with gentle, practiced ease.
Dr. Gu Qinghe stepped forward, his surgical laser humming as he sheared through the frosted, cracked suit seals.
“Internal body temperature is down to twenty-eight degrees,” Dr. Gu reported, peeling back the shattered helmet faceplate. “Both his tibias are splintered into sharp fragments. Multiple rib fractures have punctured his left lung lobe. Someone beat him with heavy kinetic clubs before throwing him out into the cold.”
Little Guo’er leaned over the stretcher, her eyes rimmed with tears. She pulled a warm, red lotus-honey candy from her pocket and gently pressed it past the old man’s cracked, purple lips. She held a cup of steaming star-lotus tea to his mouth, blowing on the surface to cool it.
“Drink a little warm tea, grandpa,” Little Guo’er whispered, stroking his gray hair. “The sweet candy will chase the cold away. You are safe aboard our ship now. Nobody will hurt you here.”
A gentle pulse of pure lotus life-energy spread through the old man’s chest.
