Otaku Translation: Carrying the Bases of Starcraft C132

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Chapter 132: What Can Save You

“Broad… Broad, can you hear me?” At that moment, the two figures who had been hiding in the water scrambled ashore and rushed to Tang Fang’s side. Without bothering with introductions, one of them grabbed his arm urgently. “How is he? How’s Broad doing?”

Tang Fang shook his head slowly. It took him a great effort just to utter the words. “6.7 Sv.”

6.7 Sieverts — what did that number mean? It meant death. A slow, torturous, agonizing end. White blood cell counts plummeting, lymphocytes rapidly vanishing, bodily functions deteriorating — hair loss, skin peeling, bone marrow failure, and a cascade of life-threatening complications.

Every day he remained alive would be filled with pain no ordinary person could fathom. And all while his comrades watched helplessly, watching him weaken, fade, and die piece by piece.

Neutron radiation had shattered his body’s ability to produce blood cells, ravaged his tissue, drained his vitality. There was no hope left.

“Broad… Broad, wake up!” Whether it was the desperate shouting or the warmth of hot tears rolling down his face, something stirred. Broad’s eyelashes fluttered open slowly.

“R-Ross… Guy…” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “You’re… okay… good…” He even managed a faint smile. But from the side, against his gaunt, ashen face, that smile looked unbearably painful.

“Stay with us, Broad! We’ll save you, I swear we will! Even if it takes everything we’ve got, we’ll find the best equipment, the best treatment—!”

“No… Ross… I know my condition.” With visible effort, Broad lifted his head slightly and turned toward Tang Fang. His voice was barely audible. “Brother… I don’t know who you are… but… do me one last favor… Use your gun… end it quickly for me.”

Tang Fang pulled out the rebel insignia and dangled it in front of him. “My gun is only aimed at enemies, not my own brothers.”

“Today, I’m pulling you back from the jaws of death — no matter what it takes.”

With that, he gently laid Broad down and walked into an adjacent warehouse full of spare parts. About a minute later, he returned holding a syringe. Through the transparent casing, a dark green liquid swirled ominously.

“You’re… a doctor?” Ross and Guy asked simultaneously.

“If you don’t want him dead, shut up,” Tang Fang snapped, yanking Broad’s arm and locating a vein. With practiced precision, he inserted the needle and began pushing the emerald-green fluid into Broad’s bloodstream.

As the mysterious substance flowed through his veins, color slowly returned to Broad’s face. The pained furrow in his brow eased, and his breathing deepened, steadying like the tide returning to shore.

“He’s getting better! Broad’s recovering!” Ross shouted joyfully.

Guy stared wide-eyed at the syringe in Tang Fang’s hand. Was it an anti-radiation serum? Antibiotics? Painkillers? Adrenaline? Or some kind of miracle drug?

As Broad’s condition visibly improved before their eyes, Tang Fang exhaled deeply, a slight smile breaking on his usually stoic face. Bone marrow failure? Then I’ll regenerate stem cells. Tissue necrosis? Organ failure? Then I’ll rebuild them. With the nurturing fluid from the Queen, even someone halfway to hell could be dragged back.

A long groan escaped Broad’s lips. Suddenly, his eyes flew open. He scanned the faces around him — Tang Fang, then Ross, then Guy. He flexed his arm cautiously, then clenched and unclenched his fist. With a grunt, he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“I… I’m okay?” No dizziness, no weakness, no stomach cramps, no cold chills. He felt stronger than ever — reborn.

“This… this is impossible. Absolutely incredible.” Guy looked from Broad to Tang Fang, stunned beyond comprehension.

As an underground miner, he knew all too well the risks of radiation exposure. Occupational training covered its dangers thoroughly. At a dose of 6.7 Sv, survival was practically unheard of without immediate access to advanced government-level treatments: stem cell transplants, tissue regeneration, and costly, state-of-the-art medical care.

Yet here Broad was — after a single injection — completely healed within seconds. It was nothing short of miraculous.

“I don’t know how you did it,” Broad said sincerely, “but thank you. My friend.”

“Talosal,” Tang Fang replied with a faint smile, murmuring just loud enough for himself to hear, “I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let you die right in front of me.”

“Broad Gaswell, Staff Sergeant of the Northern Sunaru Alliance Special Ops, reporting for duty.” Seeing the unfamiliar soldiers behind Tang Fang, Broad snapped off a crisp salute.

“At ease, soldier. I’m not your commanding officer.” Tang Fang clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “If anything, we’re allies… friendly forces.”

“And my lifesaver,” Broad added with a wide grin, the kind only a big-hearted man could pull off.

Tang Fang shrugged. “If you look at it that way, then the entire Northern Sunaru Alliance owes me their lives.”

“What?” Broad blinked, clearly unaware of what had happened at Makanda Arms Factory the previous night.

“Oh, and by the way… what exactly was that stuff you gave him?” Guy finally couldn’t hold himself back, interrupting rather impolitely.

“This?” Tang Fang flipped the syringe in his palm before tossing it casually into a storage compartment on his shoulder. “Family secret. Confidential.”

After waiting so long for such a vague answer, Guy deflated like a balloon, glaring with the deepest sense of betrayal.

“Anyway,” Tang Fang continued, turning to the three men. “What were you two doing here?”

“The commander sent us to investigate the control center of the ‘Heavy Armor Warrior,’” Ross answered quickly.

“Any luck?”

“No. We checked everywhere. Nothing suspicious.”

“I might have an idea.”

“What idea?”

Before anyone could react, Tang Fang motioned to his troops and strode purposefully toward a towering silver-white spherical radar dish atop a distant platform.

The three exchanged glances, then nodded silently and followed. They didn’t know his plan — but they trusted him now. After what he’d done, there was no question.

He had earned their respect, their trust, and perhaps most importantly — their loyalty.

To be able to fight beside a comrade like him was every soldier’s honor.

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