The survivor’s eyes fluttered open and blinked at Tink, red-in-amber. The movement was sluggish, like someone just waking up...or like someone who was in imminent danger from lack of oxygen and warmth. It was risky making assumptions about unfamiliar species but Pedro was willing to bet that much.
"What species?" Sirc demanded over the radio. "Diagnostics run faster if I can key it in."
Pedro exchanged a glance with Tink, a brief flicker of blank shrugs and shaken heads. “None that I’m familiar with, Sirc. Falcor, are you getting a visual feed?” Maybe one of his crewmates back on the ship would have a better idea.
“[CONCERN].” Zya’s voice sounded, serious despite its high pitch. “Are they capable of movement and geared for void travel? If not, relay the co-ordinates and I can come over with a spacer’s stretcher whilst you two continue to search for survivors.
Pedro placed his tongue in his cheek, looking again at the gas monitor on his arm. They had already opened the outer doors once, and the air left was mountain-top thin. Luckily Tink had thought one step ahead and brought along a spare exo-suit. It was sized poorly for the small alien, though they didn’t seem to have much of an alternative.
“We've got a spare suit.” he counteroffered. “We’ll float them back over to you.”
If we can get them into it.
He pulled his way along the wall and floated down to Tink and the alien, gently shaking its shoulder to get its attention, and then trying to make himself understood with gesture, tapping the suit strapped to Tink’s back.
“I know you probably can’t understand me, but we need to put you in this suit to get you somewhere safe. Is that okay?”