“Her vitals bottomed out before we even got her on board,” Warner said, eyes downcast. “And we couldn’t find any kind of medbot—or even just a damn transfusion kit—anywhere in this cluttered mess.”
Adequin’s gaze drifted across the ransacked state of the counters and cupboards. They’d clearly done their best to try and find help in time. Though plenty of cartridges and a handful of biotools lay strewn around the small room, synthesizing blood was one thing a biotool could not do.
Warner gave Griffith a wary glance, then looked back at Adequin. “I’m sorry, sir.”
She shook her head and gave his shoulder a firm grip. “You did all you could.” She lowered her voice. “Take a couple of others and … just wrap her the best you can. Make room in cold storage in the mess. We’ll do a proper send-off once we’re back on Kharon.”
Warner nodded. “Yessir.”
He motioned to Erandus and the two oculi from the Tempus, and together they carried Ivana out of the medbay.
Adequin cleaned up Jackin’s burns, then stuck him with a painkiller syringe and sent him and the other oculi straight back to the helm.
The door to the medbay had barely sealed behind Jackin before Griffith had his arms around her. He hugged her close, and she leaned into him, letting the embrace sieve out some of her residual tension. “I’m sorry about Ivana.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said, then cleared his throat. “And we’d all be dead if it weren’t for you. Not a ship captain, my ass—that was some damn fine captaining.”
“That was just flying.”
“No, that was leading. And technically there was very little actual flying.”
“You helped. Which you shouldn’t have.”
“You’d have rather I let Eura sit copilot?”
“Jack could have done it.”
“Sure, but I think it was a damn good thing we had him on weapons. I can’t say I could have pulled off what he did with those guns.”
“Void, tell me about it,” she agreed. “Was he a gunner at some point?”
“Not that I know of.” Griffith let out a quiet rasp and tried to mask a wince. He glanced down, gripping his temples between his thumb and forefinger.
“Come on,” she said, taking him by the elbow. “We need to do a full scan.”
His eyes flashed up, bloodshot and dry. “I’m fine. It’s only a headache.”
She leveled a flat look at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed all your grimacing and wheezing. You survived that deceleration against all odds, but you’re still plenty hurt. You need to rest.”
“Me?” he asked, eyebrows high, his gaze skimming over her cheeks. “Between that shiner and those half-healed burns, you look a wreck compared to me.”
“Nice try. You’ve been overdoing it since the second you woke up.”
“Just give me some apexidone, I’ll be fine.”
She set her jaw, pointing curtly to the exam table. “Scan. Now.”
He scratched his chin. “Okay, okay, if it’ll make you feel better. But first … sorry, I have to know…”
She quirked an eyebrow. “What?”
“Did you really name a ship the SGL?”
She gave a weak shrug. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“Really? Nothing else?” he said, voice high with skepticism. “’Cause I can think of a hundred different names right now just off the top of my head.”