“The only other thing the diagnostic tagged was your thigh. Is that right? Are you hurt anywhere else?” she asked.
“Just my thigh.”
“Looks like the bolt went through clean, so I just need to irrigate it and coat it in gel and you’ll be good as new in no time.”
My left foot was already starting to burn as the regeneration gel did its thing. My thigh would be far worse. I briefly considered asking for stronger pain meds, but without whatever specialized blend Gregory used to use, it wouldn’t do much. Somehow, he’d tweaked my nanos to counteract painkillers. If I was a less charitable person, I’d say he did it on purpose because he was a sadistic bastard.
Wait, I was a less charitable person.
“Is it okay if I cut your dress?” Aoife asked.
The dress was soaked in Ian’s blood. I wouldn’t be wearing it again, no matter how much I liked it. When I nodded, she slit the fabric up to my waist.
“This may sting,” she warned. The antiseptic wash did sting, but it was so mild when compared to my feet that it practically felt good. She probed the wound, checked the diagnostic scan, and then grimaced at me. “The gel needs to fill the wound, so brace yourself.”
With that she pressed a thick syringe of regeneration gel to the wound opening on the front of my thigh and depressed the plunger. Now that stung. I blinked away tears as she wrapped a snug, waterproof bandage around my leg.
Both feet now felt like I’d propped them far too close to an open flame. Little tingles of pain shot up my nerves, making it difficult to hold still. But the second I moved, the pain tripled. In another minute or two, my thigh wound would burn like the sun.
I tried to speak but my voice came out in a pained hiss. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Would you mind asking Alexander if he could carry me to my quarters? I hate to bother him, but I don’t think I can walk.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Ian said. “Not until you’re healed.”
“Lie down,” Aoife said, her tone half exasperation, half command.
“Do not remove Lady Bianca from the medbay until she is healed,” he demanded.
“Please, Aoife,” I begged softly. I was going to break under the pain and I didn’t want an audience.
“Ian’s right,” she said at last. “You should stay here in case there are complications. But I’ll move you behind a privacy screen.”
Hysterical laughter tried to rise, but I shoved it down. Without a silencer to hide behind, I would just have to endure the agony. The next few hours would feel like an interminable hell.
With a button press, the diagnostic table rose a couple of centimeters and Aoife slid it into the little private nook along the wall. She drew the curtain and draped a blanket over me. The blanket’s pressure on my feet sent sparks of pain lancing up my legs, but I just clenched my jaw and ignored it.
She paused and peered at my face. “You’re still in pain. The painkiller should’ve kicked in by now.”
“I’m slightly resistant, but I’m fine,” I said.
“Do you want me to try something else?”
“No,” I bit out. I closed my eyes. That was rude, but the pain in my thigh had begun to climb. “Thank you for your help. I am fine. Please leave.”
I winced again because that hadn’t exactly been polite, either, but it was all I could do to lie still and not scream.
“The table will keep an eye on your vitals, but call me if you need anything,” she said.
“Thank you.”
She nodded and blessedly disappeared behind the curtain. I heard her murmuring to Ian, but I couldn’t make out the words.
Seconds trudged into minutes and sweat broke out along my forehead as my lower body was engulfed in fiery pain. I counted the ceiling tiles, the eyelets on the curtain, and finally, when the pain became overwhelming, the breaths drawn through clenched teeth.
The curtain’s sudden disappearance distracted me and another mortifying whimper slipped past my control.
Ian stood hunched next to me, his eyes silently scanning me from head to toe. I had little hope that he’d missed my clenched fists, sweating brow, and taut frame. He proved me right by asking, “What’s wrong?”
I unclamped my jaw. “You should not be walking around,” I whispered, avoiding the question.
“You shouldn’t be in pain,” he countered. “Didn’t Aoife give you an anesthetic?”
“She did. I’m resistant. Please leave.” The words were gritted out between breaths. Focusing on the conversation meant I had less focus dedicated to ignoring the pain and it bloomed around me in cascading waves.
“Your feet will heal quickly, but the hole in your thigh will take at least half a day. You can’t stay in pain that long. Do you know of any painkillers that work?”
“Some do, but I don’t know which,” I said, wishing he would go away so I could suffer in peace.
“Do you trust me?”
I glanced at him. “In what way?”
He grimaced, and I realized that question had likely been answer enough. “I don’t need pain meds often,” he said, “but when I do, I use a special blend.” His lifted eyebrow asked if I caught the meaning. I nodded. He wasn’t going to admit to being a member of the Genesis Project outright, but he was strongly hinting in that direction. “It might work for you. I could give you a quarter dose and see.”
I tried to weigh the pros and cons, but the pain made thinking difficult. “Try it,” I conceded at last. Anything had to be better than this.
Ian disappeared for so long that I figured he wouldn’t return. I decided I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to stay here like a bug under a microscope. My brother had been sold to MineCorp and I needed to find him before the job killed him. If I could make it back to the privacy of my quarters, I could start searching for information.
Sitting up took an age and jostled my leg enough that I thought I’d pass out, but I made it. I waved away the diagnostic table’s alarm and hoped Aoife hadn’t been paying attention.
Moving a centimeter at a time, I slid my legs over the side of the table. Now for the tricky bit. I needed to slowly slide off the table so I didn’t land too hard on my injured feet. Unfortunately, my arms trembled as much as the rest of my body.
Before I’d worked up the courage for the drop, the medbay door slid open and Ian staggered inside, followed carefully by Aoife. She didn’t look at all surprised to see me trying to slip off the table. “You two are going to be the death of me,” she griped. “This one takes a walk with a hole in his gut and you decide to stand with a hole through your leg. You are perfect for each other.”
“I told you, I’m fine,” Ian said. “I’ve had worse than this.” He crossed the room and pressed an injector into my hand. “It’s set for a quarter dose,” he said quietly.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I pressed the injector against my exposed thigh and pulled the trigger.
“Yes,” Aoife said, still arguing, “but you seem to forget that you’re not in some godforsaken hellhole where you have to keep going or die. Fortuitous has an excellent medbay that would get you up and going faster, if you would just stay put.” She jabbed a finger at me. “And you, what’s your excuse?”