looked ugly, like some beast had chewed a chunk out of her muscle. Blood dripped off her limp fingertips onto the slick floor. He had to stop her bleeding before they both passed out.
Pressing a hand to the wound on his thigh, he limped to her and lifted her good arm over his shoulder. She accepted his help without protest as he opened the bulkhead door to the living quarters and helped her to a bed.
“We don’t know if they’re all dead,” she stated, closing her eyes briefly, then shaking her head and blinking as if trying to wake herself up.
He wiped his thumb over her forehead, smearing a trickle of blood there. “Tuz will take care of them. Are you wounded anywhere else?”
The ship shifted beneath his feet, and he nearly fell over. His limbs ached, his head screamed, and amidst all of it, a choking feeling clenched in his chest. He didn’t have time to wallow in ugly memories. He had work to do.
Using every milligram of mental strength he had, he focused on the task at hand.
“I’m okay,” she insisted.
“That’s a load of shit.” With a knife, he sliced Yara’s shirt away from the gaping wound. The torn and singed muscle wouldn’t pull together and heal easily. He’d have to use a knitter. “This is bad.”
He had to stop the bleeding fast. He threw open one of the lockers and swiped all the contents onto the floor. He found his med kit and tossed it onto the bunk, then opened one of the cases and pulled out a large jug of kiltii water.
“Drink as much of this as you can,” he insisted as he pressed a bandage into her wound and then poured some of the water on it. He tied the bandage as tight as he could, then found his cup and filled it with the water.
“Are we safe?” she asked before downing the glass of elixir and coughing. The jarring cough made her shoulder bleed worse.
“Don’t know.” He inspected a cut at her hairline then let her wispy hair slide through his bloody fingers as he reached for his med instruments.
He took a deep breath, then let his mind loose. Shifting through the waves of information flowing through his consciousness, he plucked out the relevant medical data on repairing flesh wounds, and brought it to the forefront of his mind.
“Bug, are they following?” he asked.
“ Pip! ”
“Let out a cluster of mines just in case.” Cyn grabbed the med sterilizer. His leg throbbed.
“The next time your cat decides to drop into a crowd of bloodthirsty pirates, could he at least be considerate enough to get hurt, too?” Cyn grumbled. He had to keep her focused on him. “At least there’s some good news.”
“Yeah?”
“I think your lag is gone.”
She huffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
He took a quick drink of the kiltii water himself and shuddered as a rush of heat poured through his body. The plant extract in the water healed injuries quickly, but not quickly enough if he couldn’t stop her bleeding.
He filled the cup again. “Drink it,” he commanded.
“What is it?” she asked as she drank more of it and groaned.
“It speeds healing.” He filled the cup one more time and handed it to her before untying the bandage. The raw flesh looked pink for only a second before blood seeped out of the torn tissue. He ran the sterilizer over the wound and grabbed the knitter.
“I’m sorry, Pix. This is going to suck.”
Holding her as tightly as he could, he initiated the knitter. The small instrument glowed bright blue in his hand as he touched it to the wound. The skin around the knitter turned white and sizzled as the smell of burnt blood filled the room.
Yara screamed.
Her hands gripped his thigh and arm, squeezing so tight, her nails cut into him through his blood-soaked jeans.
“Hang on, baby,” he whispered, holding tight to the knitter even as her blood flowed over his hand. Every muscle in her body had contracted with the pain. “It’s almost over.”
He felt a forceful thump at his back, as knifelike claws dug into his
Pressing a hand to the wound on his thigh, he limped to her and lifted her good arm over his shoulder. She accepted his help without protest as he opened the bulkhead door to the living quarters and helped her to a bed.
“We don’t know if they’re all dead,” she stated, closing her eyes briefly, then shaking her head and blinking as if trying to wake herself up.
He wiped his thumb over her forehead, smearing a trickle of blood there. “Tuz will take care of them. Are you wounded anywhere else?”
The ship shifted beneath his feet, and he nearly fell over. His limbs ached, his head screamed, and amidst all of it, a choking feeling clenched in his chest. He didn’t have time to wallow in ugly memories. He had work to do.
Using every milligram of mental strength he had, he focused on the task at hand.
“I’m okay,” she insisted.
“That’s a load of shit.” With a knife, he sliced Yara’s shirt away from the gaping wound. The torn and singed muscle wouldn’t pull together and heal easily. He’d have to use a knitter. “This is bad.”
He had to stop the bleeding fast. He threw open one of the lockers and swiped all the contents onto the floor. He found his med kit and tossed it onto the bunk, then opened one of the cases and pulled out a large jug of kiltii water.
“Drink as much of this as you can,” he insisted as he pressed a bandage into her wound and then poured some of the water on it. He tied the bandage as tight as he could, then found his cup and filled it with the water.
“Are we safe?” she asked before downing the glass of elixir and coughing. The jarring cough made her shoulder bleed worse.
“Don’t know.” He inspected a cut at her hairline then let her wispy hair slide through his bloody fingers as he reached for his med instruments.
He took a deep breath, then let his mind loose. Shifting through the waves of information flowing through his consciousness, he plucked out the relevant medical data on repairing flesh wounds, and brought it to the forefront of his mind.
“Bug, are they following?” he asked.
“ Pip! ”
“Let out a cluster of mines just in case.” Cyn grabbed the med sterilizer. His leg throbbed.
“The next time your cat decides to drop into a crowd of bloodthirsty pirates, could he at least be considerate enough to get hurt, too?” Cyn grumbled. He had to keep her focused on him. “At least there’s some good news.”
“Yeah?”
“I think your lag is gone.”
She huffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
He took a quick drink of the kiltii water himself and shuddered as a rush of heat poured through his body. The plant extract in the water healed injuries quickly, but not quickly enough if he couldn’t stop her bleeding.
He filled the cup again. “Drink it,” he commanded.
“What is it?” she asked as she drank more of it and groaned.
“It speeds healing.” He filled the cup one more time and handed it to her before untying the bandage. The raw flesh looked pink for only a second before blood seeped out of the torn tissue. He ran the sterilizer over the wound and grabbed the knitter.
“I’m sorry, Pix. This is going to suck.”
Holding her as tightly as he could, he initiated the knitter. The small instrument glowed bright blue in his hand as he touched it to the wound. The skin around the knitter turned white and sizzled as the smell of burnt blood filled the room.
Yara screamed.
Her hands gripped his thigh and arm, squeezing so tight, her nails cut into him through his blood-soaked jeans.
“Hang on, baby,” he whispered, holding tight to the knitter even as her blood flowed over his hand. Every muscle in her body had contracted with the pain. “It’s almost over.”
He felt a forceful thump at his back, as knifelike claws dug into his
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