Recollection
#5 of The War of Man, Anthros and Machines; The Second Great War
"Upon this Iron Alter do we hammer the Formless Carbon with Blunted Tungsten and Simple Titanium to form the Steel upon which We War! And With One Scale do we make the New Race who will War in Your Name! For none can stand against you when We are armoured in your Flesh!"
-Third Chant of Creation, Of Making Synthetic Steel, recorded on [REDACTED] at [REDACTED]
"Doktor...Doktor!"
He was in pain. His scales felt melted and cold. His bones where poking at things they shouldn't be. Not to mention he had a headache straight across his forehead, like he had been telefucked.
He was in bandages and castes, hooked up to an IV in an open spot of his scales, a tube being felt running through his mouth and down his throat.
The Doktor tried to open his eyes, painfully, to see who was calling his name.
It was a Feline nurse. She was about five feet tall, orange tango fur, long neat whiskers, three on each side, and had an air of cuteness, yet oblivious, look on her face. She was brimming from ear to ear when she noticed he had responded to her call. "Good, you're not in coma. You had us worried when you never responded for a few days..." The nurse walked over to the IV posted
The Doktor realized he had an arm in a cast and hanging, his torso wrapped in bandage, and one leg missing half its scales, slightly burned flesh exposed. He noticed in areas that were not bandaged, metal had fussed with scale. Attempting to shift his positron to be more comfortable, the Doktor felt his scales tugging on one another, pulling at his flesh beneath.
In a groan of agony, the Doktor slumped back into the bed. The nurse quickly took a needle from a tray and injected morphine into the IV. The Doktor was overcome by a wave of relaxation and was engulfed in darkness.
*******
It was the next morning before the Doktor woke. He was no longer in bandages, the tube was removed from his throat, and many of his scales had since grown back and his flesh was no longer burned.
Now, attempting again to shift his position, the Doktor moved slowly, straightening his spine. In an audible crack he was sitting up.
Around him, were his friends, slumped over in there chairs, Taka sitting in Alyx's lap, Vandal sitting next to them, with Glow and Sugar to both of his sides, along with Mirror, Empty and Arctic, all seated around him.
The seas where calm, the wind was almost minute as it brushed against the young sapling trees and the leaves of centuries old forests, the sky was just partially cloudy, the beautiful moon shining brilliant silver.
Silver... The window to the Doktor's left showcased the moon as it slowly danced across the sky, only a few bright stars as fellow audience with Doktor.
Silver... It reminded him of home. Of his family... and the family of human's who willingly gave there DNA and RNA to "The People's Age of Science and Discovery" genetic engineering and research team.
Some days, he wondered who he was "descended" from. They where all told and encourage to believe that they are blood relatives and descendents from a Human family, but where told to never seek out or ask who there "relatives" are. Instead, they are all told that each and every Anthros are relatives, some quite literally, sharing the same DNA and RNA, creating identical and fraternal twins. Each and every one of them is family, and thus, treat each other as such, something the Clunker's would never understand with their machines.
He remembers though, the young professor that witnessed the Doktor's hatching and took care of him, showering the young dragon in silver items. Jewelry, trinkets and toys. One day, the professor said that the family the Doktor was descended from had a large stock pile of silver passed on from generation to generation, to be used as emergency money. He hinted he may one day inherit this stock pile if the war ended soon.
That all seemed like years ago, in reality it was 23 years ago, but it was still fresh in his memory.
Recollection was draining to the Doktor's energy in his state. Once more, sleep befell him.