The ensuing fight was a long, hard-fought battle. By the grace of God, Rupert came victorious, even if this wasn’t his specialty. Thanks to his efforts, they managed to seal that breach in the airlock and escaped off the skin of their teeth.
But it wasn’t without a cost; In the midst of it, Ambassador Abbitt stepped in to assist when those Black Angel soldiers were getting the upper hand, only for one to appear right behind him. Before that same individual could strike- Rupert was struck on the head and knocked unconscious by the remaining target. The last attacker was quickly subdued after before they could finish him.
As for their human guest, they could only carry him to sick bay and tend to his wounds, hopefully no brain damage or skull fractures were found.
From that point on, the Meera made a grand escape into orbit, dodging oncoming fire from artillery cruisers among other things. They managed to pull off an emergency jump with their warp drive, completely vacating the planet under siege. None were found of leaving so many civilians behind, but going back to save anyone was far too great of a risk, and a hard decision was made, one that may haunt them.
Eventually… The man would regain consciousness, slowly but surely while laid on his back. Should his eyes open, the first thing he would see was Abbitt standing over him at his medical bed. This time, however, he could get a whiff of fresh air, akin to a forest, albeit different from what he might’ve been used to. The room was asymmetrical, made from the same, sleek, boney architecture the Mici were known for, favoring white and varying types of gray. There were windows that allowed natural rays of- violet sunlight to pour in, signifying that they were no longer aboard a starship. Whatever sky lay behind the glass was ivory in color.
Standing idly on the floor was another male Mici dressed in a pink cloak, adorned by little crimson ribbons. His outfit had quite a few pockets and pouches, many of which had various kinds of medical instruments and tools alike. Without a doubt, it was a Doctor, likely the same one who oversaw his care.
“He’s awake!!” The physician in pink said aloud, darting over as a bright, vibrant smile formed on his small white lips.“How you feeling?!” Asked the Diplomat, who was equally enthusiastic.
For now, it was just the three of them.
How long had he been unconscious? A few minutes? Hours? Almost a day? Regardless of how much time he'd been out cold, waking up felt like an awful chore. The side of his head throbbed dully from the blow it had taken, a price paid for taking a big part in putting a stop to the Black Angels. And, perhaps due to the end of an adrenaline rush kick-started by sudden heroics, he felt utterly exhausted. In a way, having laid there thoughtlessly for a good while felt a lot like a gift. There had been no recurring nightmares during his blackout period. No echoes of himself committing evil deeds fresh in his mind.
It had been a nice break. That much was certain. But he wasn't about to lie there in the dark forever. Not especially when whatever surface he was rested upon wasn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. He had to get up. Had to find out where to go from here.
With some hesitation, Rupert blinked slowly, pale green eyes shifting from left to right as he took in the sights ahead of him. And the scents. For being in what he assumed was some sort of hospital wing, it smelled a quite a bit fresher in a natural sense as opposed to chemically sterile. But that was far from the most alarming. The light pouring into the room from the windows was different, and almost darker from the Sun he knew. The contrast of violet rays against the blinding silver-white behind it was so great that it sort of threw Rupert's brain off-kilter. He counted himself fortunate that some of the view was obscured by his new friend Abbitt, even if not too much due to his size. As it was still a choice, he chose to focus on the Mici's little face.
"Uhh..." the man let out a soft moan, blinking again. A voice slightly different than Abbitt's had rung out. That third party alone got him curious enough to try and sit up. He was slow and clumsy in his movement on purpose, as to try and not aggravate his head injury or throw Abbitt off by accident. "Uh, erm..." The Ambassador had asked him how well he fared. It was a simple question with a far less easy answer. "A bit battered, honestly. But I'll be all right. Erm, I think."
Placing a hand on the side of his noggin, Rupert's attention flitted to the Mici in pink. He gave the tools in the creature's pockets a wary look before looking back at Abbitt. "W-where are we, exactly? This place, it's hardly reminiscent of St. Bart's..." And from what little he'd seen of it thus far, outside wasn't exactly a spitting image of London either. Rupert wasn't ready to mention that yet, however. He figured it was best to get used to one piece of his surroundings at a time.
