THE ORBITAL BONDING SYSTEM(OBS)

—Dr. Arvan Elric | Emergency Surgical Session: CASE-776.MZ | Subject: Carlos Mendez

[Operating Theater | Elric Orbital Medical Institute | Level-3 Trauma Zone]

The call came mid-lecture.

An unscheduled trauma ping, flagged Red Axis 1—the highest level of orbital medical emergency.

"Mid-40s male. Blunt force trauma, collapsed lung, internal hemorrhaging near spinal array. He's fading. ID tag reads Carlos Mendez. Long-haul ORB logistics."

"They hit a convoy."

"He's the only survivor."

Doctor Arvan Elric didn't blink.

"Prep Trauma Pod One. I'll take him."

[Surgical Initiation Protocol — Begin Session]

The OR opened like a cathedral to light—filtered, antiseptic, humming with calibrated silence.

Elric stepped in, his G-ORB, Aegis, floating at his left shoulder, like a twin thought sealed in obsidian.

Carlos Mendez lay still—helmet crushed, neural relay fried.

Vitals flickering. Blood filling the cavity around his heart like ink spreading through paper.

"He's coding."

"We're losing cortical response!"

"Someone get Elric—!"

"He's already here," Aegis said, its voice clear, ageless, intimate.

[G-ORB Engagement – Sync Rate: 99.7%]

Aegis pulsed once, syncing with every interface in the room.

"Beginning pre-op analysis. Left pulmonary chamber has ruptured. Hemorrhage likely from intercostal artery cluster. Bone fragments pressing against spinal root L3-L5. Recommend vascular clamp drone deployment at junction 7."

Elric nodded once. "Autodrone ready. Launch incision burst."

Luna, still active and tethered in low-energy protective mode, hovered quietly on the opposite side of the room, trying to sync to Carlos's fading rhythms—her emergency sync code trembling like static.

[Procedure – Phase One: Stabilization]

"Breath pulse vector?"

"Unstable. Redirecting auxiliary blood oxygenation through peripheral lung channels. Recommend stim-buffer flush before initiating cardiac compression."

Elric's hands moved like piano strikes—swift, decisive, not an ounce of wasted motion.

The drones obeyed without delay, unfolding microscopic arms tipped with diamond-thread cutters and nano-cauterizers.

"Aegis. Predictive trajectory if clot reaches spine?"

"13 seconds to paralysis. Recommend nanothread scaffold insertion now."

"Do it."

"Done."

A drone pierced the clot's edge like a wasp's sting, stabilizing it mid-pulse, holding life in suspension.

[Procedure – Phase Two: Reconstruction]

"Cavity rupture needs grafting. Is the synthetic tissue wall warm?"

"Yes. But recommend using patient-derived biofoil overlay instead. His ORB has preserved tissue metrics from pre-injury scans. Real-time data is fresher. Graft will take better."

Elric paused. "Luna, permission to open your surgical archives."

The damaged ORB beeped once—consent.

And then Aegis downloaded a full-body musculoskeletal scan, accurate to Carlos's last meal and blink rate.

A second later, drones began printing synthetic overlay laced with carbon-responsive nerve meshes.

"Seal it," Elric said.

[Procedure – Phase Three: Decision Point]

Pulse dropping again.

"Neurothread relay is decaying. He's shutting down despite clot clearance. Emotional regulation hormones are off-scale."

"He's… afraid."

Elric leaned close. "Carlos... listen."

"Cortical bridge is collapsing."

Elric reached for Luna, syncing briefly to her emotional memory core—letting Carlos hear his children laughing, the voice of his wife calling him to dinner, his own voice saying "I'll be home soon."

His brain flickered.

"Stabilization... confirmed." Aegis pulsed. "Emotionally-driven neural rebound. Primitive, but effective."

[Procedure Complete — 97.4% Recovery Projected]

Elric exhaled for the first time in the last ten minutes. He wiped his gloves. Turned to Luna.

"Your user will live. He should know he has one of the strongest partner ORBs I've seen in my life."

Luna let out a low, pulse-bright chirp. If an ORB could sigh in relief, that was it.

[Post-Op Log | Doctor Elric]

"Carlos Mendez. Not a soldier. Not a genius. Just a man who carried lives every day in silence.

And in the end, it was his ORB that carried him back.

Our machines do not replace us.

They remember us—so well, they keep us alive when we forget how."

Carlos would wake two days later.

Broken, but alive.

His first words?

"Luna… did I make the drop?"