Ghost may be used to opening doors under dangerous circumstances, but Adia is a poor substitute for a Guardian. Her swings are wild, born of fear and not skill, and she misses as often as she lands a blow. And there are two hands, two terrible hands that keep trying to sneak past her. They are not fast, but they are persistent, and with every swing of the messenger bag, they only seem more determined.

“Hurry!” she pleads. Begs. She can’t keep swinging like this forever.

Her bag connects with a hand, sends it cowering like a scolded dog. The doors open and she takes a step back, hoping that the doors will be easier to close than —

The other hand has Ghost.

“No… no!” She rushes forward, forgetting her bag, forgetting everything as she grabs at that large, alien hand, pulling at its fingers, trying to pry her friend free. “Let him go!”

pleasehelppleasehelpithurtsithurtsithurtsneedhelppleasepleaseplease

PAIN.

Ghost pops loose, and she staggers backwards, reeling with a sudden burst of nausea. A line of blood trickles out her nose, but she pays it no mind, scooping up her bag and gesturing wildly for the small bot to follow her into sickbay, before the hands get a chance to regroup.

Hopefully he’ll have the presence of mind to shut the door behind them.