As Eliobuyazi spoke, he made to jump into the forge. Elliot hurriedly shouted, "Stop him!"
If he really sacrificed his flesh and became a mechanical spirit, muttering mystical nonsense in Elliot's ear all day, Elliot felt he would die of disgust even if it did not drive him mad.
The Machine Priests nearby hurriedly stopped Eliobuyazi.
Most of their prostheses were damaged too, but Eliobuyazi was in even worse shape. He had become a lump of mangled flesh that could only squirm.
"Treat him. Whatever you do, don't let him die here!"
Elliot's face was filled with distaste. He felt as though the entire ship had been sullied.
The Machine Priests answered in unison. Although practically all their prostheses were ruined, it was no great problem.
It might have been troublesome on the battlefield, but this was the rear. There were plenty of replacement parts.
Even without parts, it would be fine. Quite a few of these Machine Priests were master smiths. Making a few prostheses by hand was a basic skill.
Before long, they had repaired one another's limbs.
Eliobuyazi was rescued and immersed in a tank of repair fluid, with numerous electrode pads attached to his body.
He was still praising Elliot frantically. Even submerged, he refused to stop talking, sending a stream of bubbles gurgling from his mouth.
Pascal refused to let anyone approach the Difference Engine used for recording. He even glared away the colleagues who came to help repair his body. All by himself, he laboriously recorded the entire incident using a few fingers and his nose.
When Elliot saw him again, the imprint of a "p" had yet to fade from the tip of his nose.
"I unconsciously pressed a little too hard while typing just now. This is proof of my devotion!" Pascal