“Why’d they bother off-loading the supplies?” Jackin asked. “Why not take the whole ship?”
“Engines are shot,” Griffith said. “And you know how Drudgers are.”
“Can we fix the engines?” Adequin asked.
“Hard to say.” His jaw flexed, eyebrows pinching together. “And my mechanic got stabbed by a Drudger.”
“Ivana?” Adequin asked.
Griffith gave a grim nod. “Last I saw, Eura was dragging her into the torus chamber. Not sure if she made it or not—or if any of them did for that matter—nexus comms have been down. Have you guys been to the command deck?”
“Not yet,” Adequin said.
“Then they must still be locked in there. I’m not sure they’ll be able to figure out how to unlock the doors without officer codes.”
Adequin looked to Jackin. “Go get them out. We’ll meet you up there.”
Jackin and Warner nodded their understanding, then took off into the hallway.
The biotool beeped, indicating its completion. Adequin pushed her hair out of her face with a heavy sigh, then took a look at the readout. Though there were a few lesser fractures and strained muscles, it showed no indication of serious injuries. She let out a sharp breath. The results should have reassured her, but the knot of worry bound even tighter in her chest.
Griffith gave a pained scoff. “Can’t be that bad, Quin. My Imprints took the brunt of the trauma.” He looked down at his bare forearms. The silver and copper squares shuffled wearily as he stretched his hand. “I might have broken them…”
He grimaced and closed his eyes, sweat beading on his wide forehead. His teeth clenched, brow furrowed in pain. She’d seen him hurt before, badly at times. Countless stray bolts that his Imprints weren’t able to shield. Third-degree burns from not quite making it out of the blast radius of a grenade. And once, a knife slice across his neck that, if a medic hadn’t been there to immediately cauterize it, likely would have bled out in seconds. Unfortunately, that didn’t make it any easier to see him in pain now.
“I can give you something for the pain,” she said quietly. “If you want it.”
“Can’t hurt,” he agreed.
She unstrapped his vest, then unbuttoned the shirt underneath, revealing thick muscles marred with garish purple lesions. A few Imprint squares remained, marooned among the sea of bruises. One copper square skipped back and forth along the same short path over and over, trying to pass back to its default location, but unable to make the journey. Maybe he really had broken them.
She picked through the collection of cartridges, hoping he couldn’t sense her deepening worry. She’d seen Griffith’s Imprints take the impact of a point-blank electromagnetic bolt without so much as a minor glitch. If this crash had caused them this much damage, she could hardly believe he’d lived through it. She couldn’t imagine how bad the deceleration could have been if he hadn’t had Imprints to protect him.
She found a localized painkiller, then loaded the cartridge into the biotool. He gritted his teeth as she carefully injected a portion near his sternum, then moved to the left, then right side.
She got to her feet and called on her Imprints to assist as she helped him stand. He towered over her, leaning heavily on her shoulder before settling into a semi-stable position. She kept hold of his forearms as he steadied himself. He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.
“You sure you’re up for this?” she asked. “I can just take you straight to the ship.”
“Just tired, don’t worry. Hey…” He opened his eyes and swept the hair out of her face. “Aevitas fortis.”
She gave him a tired smile. “Aevitas fortis.”