Warning. Warning. Malfunction in the atmospheric waste processing unit. Atmosphere will become unbreathable in approximately 500 b'Logan respiration cycles.
The computer's psychic warning sent immediate panic throughout the crew... all except one.
The human, of course, couldn't perceive psychic messages and needed it translated via visual symbols or vibrations in the air. Fortunately, the b'Logan Gra-lor had a translator unit and was able to make the human understand the danger.
"How long do we have?"
... "PROCESSING... The time until the atmosphere becomes toxic will take about five of your Earth minutes. We will not have enough time to repair the unit before we expire. We must say our last goodbyes now."
"To hell with goodbyes, I'm not giving up that easy" retorted Greg, as he grabbed Gra-lor and the translator unit, tucked them both easily under his arm, and began sprinting towards the atmospheric waste processing unit.
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, it is dangerous in there! Even now the crew members inside the waste processing room will be near expiration from the high concentration of toxic gases!"
"Then I'd better get them out of there, don't you think?" panted Greg, winded from unaccustomed exercise, as he punched in the code to enter the room. "So this atmosphere is now going to be even MORE toxic than what you normally breathe?" he queried as he left Gra-lor outside and strode in, grabbing two b'Logan engineers in each hand and quickly carrying them back into the hall.
Warning. Warning. Malfunction in the atmospheric waste processing unit. Atmosphere will become unbreathable in approximately 200 b'Logan respiration cycles.
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, the atmosphere in the room is 75 percent nitrogen, a negligible amount of carbon dioxide, and the rest is a corrosive toxin so potent that it can reduce ferrous material to a crumbling dust given enough time."
"Wait, what? Are you telling me the atmosphere in that room is now 25 percent OXYGEN?"
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, YES, that is what I am telling you."
"Well why the FUCK didn't you say so in the first place?" roared Greg, ripping off his suit's helmet.
Gra-lor gasped, then choked and sputtered on what he'd just inhaled. Greg, meanwhile, shut the door and locked him out.
Then, grinning broadly, he took in a huge breath of air, scanning the room, and then exhaling slowly over the gills of the nearest unconscious b'Logan engineer, who began to stir.
Taking another deep breath, Greg held it long enough to bring out another two handfuls of crew, then went back, again and again, until it was confirmed that he was the only lifeform left in the room. Then he sat and just... breathed.
Atmospheric levels of oxygen down to safe levels in the body of the ship. Down to 18.5% inside the atmospheric waste processing room. Human Greg appears to be losing consciousness...
As Greg's eyes started to close, he saw the b'Logan engineers, now in their own suits, flooding the room. Half of them were scrambling to repair the damage and the other half frantically dragging a hose towards Greg's mouth...
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, you are awake! I am experiencing such joy!"
"Thanks. Ugh, I've got the worst headache. Hey, I'm breathing without my helmet now, and you're wearing a suit. How's that happening?"
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, we have recalibrated the atmospheric waste processing system so that it now concentrates all of the oxygen and dumps it into your quarters, except for what is pumped into your suit's tanks. A stable 21 percent oxygen, slightly higher than what you'd normally experience on Earth. You will be able to breathe freely in here from now on, and we will be able to breathe freely everywhere else in the ship. Additionally, the waste processing system will be in less danger of being overloaded again since you will be processing a large percentage of the oxygen now. We all owe you our continued existences, Human Greg", continued Gra-lor.
"How did you little guys get me IN here? I'm as big as fifty of you!"
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, then it is fortunate that there are five hundred of us."
Greg bared his teeth, in what humans insisted was a "friendly grin" while every other known species, sentient or otherwise, did not view this as a sign of friendliness. But Human Greg was a fast learner, and lowered his head in the not-a-threat gesture that was more readily recognizable to non-humans.
"Then it sounds like I owe my life to all of you as well. Thanks, buddy" replied Greg, this time smiling with his mouth shut so his mouth-bones wouldn't startle Gra-lor.
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, it is strange to see you without your suit, and especially without your helmet. If you'll forgive my saying so, the effect is unnerving."
"Really? How so?"
..."PROCESSING... Human Greg, all over the rest of your body are disproportionately huge muscles covering the bones, which makes your appearance alien yet robust. But your head - aside from the jaw muscles it is mostly bone, covered only by a thin layer of dermis. It's like watching a skeleton speaking, as it breathes in death, and yet exhales life. It's... I believe the nearest equivalent concept in your speech is 'uncanny', Human Greg. Seeing you without your suit, breathing your natural atmosphere, I see why other species refer to yours as the Death Breathers. And yet, the uncanniness is... in an odd way, lovely. Not aesthetically, but as a sort of living poetry."
Greg laughed, another human behavior to which the b'Logan had never quite gotten accustomed. "Well, I've always thought you little fellas were cute in a hideous way too, since we're not being offended by each other's instinctive responses to the unfamiliar. I'm glad we can help each other to stay alive, and I'm glad that one being's poison can be another's breath of fresh air."
