Corliss nods and takes the bag, setting it aside and pulling out antiseptic swabs and a number of metallic pincer devices. He cleans a couple of them off with alcohol and looks over at the door. Still no Mike.
The Yeerk tries to let as little of his thoughts and almost none of his memories sink into the mind of the man who is clearly from another universe, but still a bounty hunter, and dangerous in any universe. All that Cavan can feel is the eerie sense of some force rifling through his mind, forcing him to relive memories of how to fix wounds if he, himself, were ever injured on the job. Accidentally forcing him to relive other memories, too. Some of them painful.
<I'm in your head because my human friend thought it would be a good idea,> Corliss says bluntly. <This creature you've shot is a friend, and I intend to make you help her. If it's all the same to you, we can pay you for your inconvenience.>
He sets the cleaned tools into a little single-use sterile tray. Mike comes running over, carrying a black metal case with red, flowing script embedded into it.
"Don't use it all, mate," Mike says.
"I'll use what I have to," Corliss replies curtly, pulling out a small grey vial of liquid with a pincer on the end. He uncaps the pincer and sticks it into Asda's upper arm, releasing a small dose of general anesthetic. "Mike, my computer is in your pocket."
"Oh, yeah," he says, digging out the small, blackish-green cube and handing it to Corliss. "God, this is weird."
Corliss turns on the computer's holoscreen and sets it down next to Asda, rotating the floating holographic square and pressing it down against Asda's midsection. He speaks to the computer in a rapid alien sentence, and it starts running a sort of bioscan on Asda's vital signs, and the extent of the wound in 3D. Corliss watches, frowning.
"Asda, can you hear me?" Corliss asks, gently prying back an eyelid. "Asda! It's Corliss. I'm a friend."
