[ Vasiliy throws on the bedside light as the coughing becomes hacking and retching—and stares with horror as he begins to convulse, body jerking and thrashing with tonic-clonic movements. Blood begins to ooze from his mouth, a resurgence of the internal bleeding, and within seconds as he prepares to leap up—something leaves his mouth, dark and leechlike, and slithers towards him, blossoming into a more complex shape as it moves. Some sort of monster. Alien. This is why they kept him.
By habit he reaches for the empty space on the bedside table where his gun should be, where it would be were he at home, the weapon still in his possession, and grasps air. There is no comfort to be found, no way to defend himself.
On the other side of the creature-occupied gulf between the two beds, the cosmonaut is unconscious, bleeding from the mouth, barely breathing. He hesitates, heart racing—then, in a moment of impulse, rises to stand on the bed and jumps over it, onto the floor, quickly dashing toward him. He stands on the far side of the bed, so that he can remain face-to-face with the creature as he places two fingers to the man's jugular vein, checking his pulse—slow but there, so much slower than his own. ]
no subject
By habit he reaches for the empty space on the bedside table where his gun should be, where it would be were he at home, the weapon still in his possession, and grasps air. There is no comfort to be found, no way to defend himself.
On the other side of the creature-occupied gulf between the two beds, the cosmonaut is unconscious, bleeding from the mouth, barely breathing. He hesitates, heart racing—then, in a moment of impulse, rises to stand on the bed and jumps over it, onto the floor, quickly dashing toward him. He stands on the far side of the bed, so that he can remain face-to-face with the creature as he places two fingers to the man's jugular vein, checking his pulse—slow but there, so much slower than his own. ]