AGP- 1/2 Marine

Unlike Gravis, there wasn't much confusion over whether the Scout was dead: he'd started to go runny. It's not like all of him was melting, just a sort of expanding area around where he'd been speared. Said area included both the upper and lower chest though. In the name of medical science, Doc poked at the mushy corpse with a probe, then jumped backwards with a girly shout when it started to hiss and melt too.

>Emperor...  I swear he wasn't doing that earlier. Is this like a Space Marine thing? Do they melt when they die?

Ewww, don't think so, would make it hard to re-use the armor. Bethcha it's a Nid thing, does yer Big Book-o-Pseudoscientific Medical Bullshit have a section on Tyrant bioweapons?

>Umm, umm, umm, Tyranid, tyrant, umm, umm, bonesword, scything talon, TOXIN SACS!

Huh, neat, what's it say?

>If in fully stocked field hospital… laboratorium... quarantine… here! Battlefield instructions! "Smear area with counterseptic, administer oral De-Tox, scan and apply indicated Toxin Wands, give Plasma, pray to the Emperor." I CAN DO ALL OF THOSE!

Wait, like plasma from a gun or a bag? And what about the geneseed though?

>Screw your geneseed, if we can keep him from melting until the shuttle arrives we can ask the pilot. Now take these and go to his bottom half.
...

Doc's panicked medical treatments were of rather dubious usefulness, especially the part where he fed a De-tox tab to the nearly-dead Space Marine. That stuff is nearly enough to kill you on its own, and it made the big guy flail around and spurt some nasty stuff out the end of his torso, which at least it proved he was alive despite the whole not-really-breathing thing. Also, Doc put more fluid back in, and sealed off most of the leaky, exposed torso area, so it was probably a net gain for Gravis.
...

He fussed around the upside-down Space Marine torso with his medical scanner and Tox Wands, and shouted questions about Astartes biology and Power Armor automated medicae systems at the Pilot. There was some rather confusing talk about Illicit Kidneys, Biomedical Cogitators, and Cellular Regenerator reservoirs, which the rest of us ignored, because Tink's part of the job was a complete shitshow.

Whatever was on the Flyrant's sword, when it got going, it REALLY got going: Gravis' lower half went from fine to melting from the wound down, in mere seconds. It's hard to say whether Tink's response was best or worst one available, but it was certainly the most disgusting. In an effort to slow down the process, he unbuckled the power-armored legs, and flipped them upside down. The smoldering bandage immediately gave way and dumped a horrible combination of meat-juice, xenos toxins, and extremely powerful acid onto the seat. The smell was beyond vile, and all of us had to put on our rebreathers just to stay conscious, which was lucky considering how many airborne toxins were found in that shuttle when we landed.

So after the spillage started dissolving the seat, the rest of us became very interested in helping Tink. Of course none of us knew jack about biochemistry, so we were only able to offer what might be called Mechanical Solutions to the acid problem, and most of those suggestions were absolutely terrible. In the end we settled on the traditional Occurrence Border technique of shoving it out the airlock, and hoping it needed oxygen and heat to keep doing whatever.
...

 Gravis' legs and, to Tink's horror, Spot were immediately pried off the hull, crammed into said giant pickle-jar, and hauled off before we'd even made it out of the shuttle.

Doc was the first one down the ramp. With Tink's help he deposited Gravis on a waiting gurney, then turned to his girlfriend and went for a hug and a quick kiss, he didn't get either. Instead she screamed at him to keep his rebreather on, hosed him with a chemical sprayer, and then ordered him to go through a full decontamination and meet her in the medbay. Doc stood there and dripped for a second, and then dejectedly jogged after his departing girlfriend.