Anger lanced through him, and he had to grip his thighs until it had passed. What had those idiots been thinking? He tried to brush it off as frustration at the bounty hunters’ unprofessionalism, but even he wasn’t that good at lying to himself. The anger, the fear, was too raw. Someone he cared about had been hurt, and now they were relying on him to fix it. Again. It made his hands shake, something he couldn’t afford in the moment. Reflexively, he tucked a hand in his pocket and stroked the scrap of name-tape there.
He squeezed his eyes shut, searching for messages in the flare of color against the backs of his eyelids. After a slow breath he opened them. As always, the exercise helped him focus on the injury at hand. It wasn’t Meja. Just a person that needed to be healed. Just trauma and resolution.
He gloved up and peeled away the torn fabric he’d left in place. Blood oozed from the wound as he disturbed it. A soft, furred head bumped his elbow, and he looked down to see Collins, free of the pack and swaddle, watching him with interest. “Hicks? Can you collect Collins?”
“On it, sorry.” The pilot jogged back from the bridge to collect the feline into her arms. “I’ve got us in line for a liftoff space.”
Good. Better to not be on the ground in case the authorities came calling. “Let me know when we’re about to lift off. I’ll need to stabilize her.”
“Can do.” Hicks glanced past him to Meja’s injuries, then turned away again and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “You got this.”
The touch was unexpected but also reassuring to know that the pilot had faith in his abilities. He leaned over Meja’s body as Hicks took the cat away. “I’m going to apply a local. You’re probably still going to feel this though. Let me know if it’s too much.”
“I feel like I should make a joke,” she whispered, voice ragged.
“Please don’t. Save it for later. Right now, just stay quiet and try to keep your breathing even.” He sprayed a surface local from the kit before injecting hylacaine into several spots around the injury. Meja hissed but nodded for him to continue. Hopefully, it would be enough of a block that she wouldn’t notice anything else.
At least he’d left the basic instruments in the kit. He picked the largest pieces of rubble out of the wound, before another round of irrigation. His first assessment was correct. The bullet wasn’t deep, but it was a bad location—there was a chance for some kidney damage, though he wouldn’t know for sure without getting her into the scanner back aboard the Sentinel.
Layth forced himself to focus. If it hit the kidney, it was on the lateral margin. Fewer big blood vessels to damage, but there could still be a lot of blood. He checked the position of the slug again, then carefully pulled it free. Punching through the rock and plaster had deformed the bullet badly, flattening it out, but that meant it had torn its path through the flesh rather than punctured cleanly. Fixing it would take work he didn’t have time or supplies for.
There was gauze but no SkinSeal in the kit. Though looking at the wound, it wasn’t the best candidate for sealing—the edges were too ragged and far apart to seal easily. Clamp or suture would be a better solution, but of course the kit had already been raided for those. When this was all over, he’d restock both the shuttle’s emergency kit and the medical bay as best he could. He was tired of making items stretch.
“Baker and Zion are aboard. How much longer do you need?” Barr leaned over the bench, focused on his face, and Layth was surprised by the concern he saw there. He hadn’t thought the security officer capable of caring for anyone before Sheri had come aboard the ship. Maybe she really was softening the security chief’s rough edges.
He thought back to the viciousness Tyler had displayed on several occasions, including as recently as within the last hour. Okay, maybe not.
“Give me five minutes,” Layth said. Barr nodded sharply and headed to tell Hicks.
Another rinse of the wound brought more sluggish blood to the surface, but he didn’t see any other foreign objects in the open injury. He packed sterile gauze into the injury as tightly as he could, covered it with a layer of protective bandage, and leaned into it as heavily as he dared.
Meja hissed, and he lightened the pressure incrementally. “I need to keep pressure on this through liftoff, or you’re likely to start bleeding again. I’d rather not have to redo all my hard work if it’s okay with you.”
He’d say she was pale, but she always looked so pale as to be washed out. She managed a thin smile as she turned her head. “Not exactly how I expected to get extra touch from you, Doc.”
A rush of heat brushed his cheeks, and he shoved it away. Not the time or the place. “That’s the painkillers talking. How’s this for pressure? Too much?”
She shook her head quickly, but he could see the tightness around the corners of her eyes. He loosened as much as he dared as the shuttle rumbled to life around them.
Her back hurt, but her head hurt worse; her mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton and left to dry. Meja opened her eyes and managed to rasp out the word “Water.” Sitting up was a terrible idea, and she immediately laid back down with her head on the pillow. A heavy weight settled into her lap and began purring, so she reached out to pet whichever feline it was making the noise.
“You shouldn’t exert yourself. You’ve lost some blood, and you have a fair few stitches to deal with.” Layth’s hand cradled her neck enough to bring her lips to a straw, and she drank the cool water greedily. He pulled it away. “Not too fast or too much. Your right kidney has had a bad day.”
If she had the energy, she’d have happily punched him to get the water back, but even the idea of energetic movement left her exhausted. Plus, it was at odds with the warmth she felt at his being the first face she saw when she woke up. “I don’t remember much.”
He smiled and patted her hand. “There’s not much to remember. You lost consciousness during liftoff, and Barr carried you into the medical suite. I was able to put you back together there. And scan your kidney.”
“You said it was damaged?” Her pulse was too loud by half. Getting a replacement kidney printed was expensive. With the proceeds from the cats, money wasn’t exactly going to be a problem, but she wanted to save where she could.
“Bruising. I’d say nothing major, but it’s a kidney. The scan looks like you’ll make a full recovery without my having to go inside and do anything, which is the best option. Expect some hematuria though.” He must have recognized the look on her face as confusion because he appended the statement. “That’s blood when you go to the restroom.”
She nodded. As bad as her back hurt she’d be surprised if her whole kidney didn’t just fall out. If he said things were okay, she believed him. She shifted her grip so her hand was on top of his and gave it a squeeze. “You waited by my bed to see me?”
His lips tightened slightly, and she thought he blushed, but it could have been the light in her room. “I had to. There’s no monitoring equipment in your quarters and the only place in Medical designed for an overnight guest is currently a cat playground.”
“So, you’re just doing your job.” Amazingly, she could still sound sarcastic while held together with what felt like giant staples. She’d consider that a win.