The grip on his shoulders released, then Rake’s arm crossed his chest and pinned his back to her.
“I panicked,” he said, then realized he was wheezing.
The ire fell away from her tone. “Try to breathe.”
“I’m sorry. I panicked.”
“I know.”
“How did you do that?” Grabbing onto him like that should have sent her into the same rotation.
“I counteracted your spin with my thrusters.” She let out a long breath. “Fuck. I knew I shouldn’t have given you an MMU.”
Cavalon had to agree. That one was on her.
“Sir?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
Rake sighed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Adequin pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand and lightly patted Cavalon’s back with the other as he buried his face in the latrine and expelled the contents of his stomach. Again.
The poor guy hadn’t stopped throwing up since they’d repressurized. At least he’d made it that far. She’d thought for certain he would hurl in his suit on their way back to the ship.
“He’ll be fine,” Emery assured quietly. The oculus had offered her support upon hearing him vomit for the tenth time. “Probably a combo of nerves and zero-g. His body’s just not used to it.”
“Thanks, Emery,” Adequin said. Cavalon heaved again. “Do we have anything we can give him that might help?”
Emery shook her head. “Nothing for nausea. Bone knits, apex, saline.”
“Saline’s better than nothing, I guess. It’ll keep him from getting too dehydrated. Mind grabbing a few cartridges for me?”
“Sure thing, EX.”
Emery left the sequestered washroom through the staggered doorways. The light from the brightly lit common room flashed across the darkened crew quarters as Emery exited, leaving Adequin alone in the latrine with the vomiting prince.
“Sorry.” Cavalon’s voice cracked, raw and haggard, echoing in the metal bowl of the toilet.
Adequin knelt beside him. “I bet this isn’t the first time you’ve found yourself hunched over a toilet, huh?”
Cavalon laughed. Then hurled again. He spat into the latrine, then sat back on his heels with a resounding sigh. She passed him a towel. He wiped his mouth as he crumpled backward to lean awkwardly against the wall. Dark bags hung below his bloodshot eyes, his skin ghostly pale.
“I think that might be it,” he said, then hiccupped. “All my insides are in there now.”
She flushed the toilet and tried to smile reassuringly, but it came out a sympathetic grimace. “Sorry, Oculus. Believe it or not, I’m not trying to get you all injured or killed.”
“It’s not your fault. I think I just overdid it a bit. With all the zero-g, and the panicking, and wearing out my Imprints earlier.”
“Imprints?”
“When we were leaving Kharon Gate.” He coughed into the towel. “With the Drudgers.”
“You participated in that?”
He shrugged. “I, uh … threw a door at them.”
She nodded slowly. “Of course you did.”
Emery appeared with a sealed pack of saline cartridges and a biotool, a Legion-issue medical multitool that provided a whole host of functions from disinfection to cauterization.