Page 4 of Stars in Aura

Wild Starter-Kits

Ki’REMI

Surgical Theater One of the Perseus Prime was a cathedral of light and steel, a stark contrast to the void stretching beyond the dreadnought’s hull.

The walls pulsed with energy conduits, their cerulean glow threading through dark metal-like veins carrying the ship’s lifeblood.

Above, in the observation gallery, rows of med-students leaned forward, eager and silent, their faces illuminated by the translucent holo-screens projecting a magnified view of the surgeon’s hands.

Ki’Remi Sable stood at the operating table, a towering figure in sterile black scrubs, a looming presence in the polished exo-steel of the surgical suite.

He was an imposing figure, no doubt.

With shoulders so extensive, so broad, he blocked the vista of the window behind him where space rushed past in a kaleidoscope of wild streaks.

He was taller than most, clad in a medic’s white jumpsuit molded to every inch of his frame.

The light color contrasted with his dusky tones and emphasized his slim, power-driven hips and fit, muscled thighs, which eased into surgeon’s boots.

Some of the female junior doctors in the gallery sighed from afar.

His keen hearing caught wind of it, and his lips quirked.

Seconds later, he gave the unadulterated attention no mind, switching his laser-focused meta vision on his patient.

The overhead lights glowed sterile over the colossal form across the hover bed.

The Sableman rolled his shoulders, flexing his hands inside his sanitary gloves as autobots whirred around him, prepping the array of tools necessary for the procedure.

His gaze dropped to the man he was about to relieve of a brain tumor.

His subject was a myth to most: a member of the seldom spotted IniMoab tribe of Northern Iccythria and at least nine feet of obsidian-skinned menace.

Even unconscious, the mountainous entity loomed in the operating theater.

His massive arms, hanging over the side of the hover bed, were adorned with bejeweled cuffs of ancient metal.

At the head of it, his gigantic braided mane flowed to the ground, woven with golden charms glowed with embedded bioluminescence.

Ki’Remi had seen some shit.

But an IniMoabite was new to him.

Being the first surgeon to wield a holo blade, albeit an intricate three-dimensional and nanoid-guided one, to new physiology was exciting to some degree, as the surgery was pioneering.

Thus, the observation gallery and the hovering drones recording the Rider’s every move.

‘Prep for incision,’ he muttered, flicking his neural command to kickstart the op.

The anesthetist’s autobot beeped, confirming sedation levels were sufficient.

Twas a bare-faced lie.

Because the moment Ki’Remi’s virtual scalpel hovered over the marked laceration point, the giant stirred.

First, a twitch.

Followed by a jagged inhalation and a wild explosion of movement.

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