“It’s Shy.”
“What’s wrong with her? The med kit could be anywhere in there.”
“It’s right where I left it last night!”
“No — it’s.” He tugged at a head feather. “An armory crate detached from the wall. Fehn had to use the aether to shield us.”
Tayel straightened, bracing for bad news.
“I’m okay,” Jace said. “He’s okay, but I think it’s starting to wear on him. It’s a mess in there, though. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find the medical supplies.”
“I’ll be fine,” Shy muttered.
“No,” Tayel said. “Jace, she’s bleeding. A lot.” She lifted her hand to show the blood.
He gawked. “Xite.”
Jace swearing? An echo of Tayel’s simple, far away life on Delta tried to urge a smile out of her. It would have been so meaningful back then — the butt of a weeklong joke. But now? Now it meant nothing, and she could see it in his hardened eyes just like she knew he could see it in hers.
“I got it.” He turned around, balancing himself against the walls of the crooked corridor. “Be right back!”
“Tayel,” Shy said, “Get me a mirror.”
“A mirror? In here?”
Shy pointed to the ground. A droplet of blood slid off her forefinger and landed on a wrench balanced against the dashboard base.
Tayel squinted. A half-open toolbox laid on its side next to the pilot seat. A dozen tools were scattered along the floor. She craned her head to the row of storage space above the console, where a cargo hatch hung open. Of course. The lock must have busted during the crash.
She got on her hands and knees, and searched the ground for a mirror, freezing at a glint of movement. She swayed back. The movement was her, reflecting off a thumb-sized mirror on the tip of a flexible extension tool. She snatched it and held it out for Shy.
“Thanks.” Shy took it in a shaking hand, and checked her wound in the reflection, wincing as she touched the purple skin on her cheek.
Tayel flinched as the blood flowed faster.
“Going to need stitches,” Shy said.
Tayel took the extension tool from her. “And you said you were dizzy?”
“A little.”
“You might have a concussion.”
“Oh, I definitely have a concussion.”
Tayel looked her over for other injuries, but found none. Nothing obvious, anyway. Not that a freely bleeding gash and a concussion weren’t enough. She wrung her hands. Shy was alive. Talking. Breathing. A crash wasn’t nearly enough to take her out, but Tayel’s nerves kept ramping up as Shy’s blood continued to flow.
“Here!” Jace jogged into the cockpit ahead of Fehn, breathing fast. He handed the med kit out, and Tayel snatched it out of his grasp.
“Is she okay?” Fehn asked.
“Just a scratch,” Shy said.
Tayel wasted no time saying what she was thinking: that a scratch and a gash were not two in the same. She poured through the med kit and found disinfectant and a cotton pad. Good enough to start. She dumped the bottle upside down onto the pad, letting it soak up the noxious liquid.
She met Shy’s eyes. “This is going to sting.”
Shy kept perfectly still while Tayel reached forward and patted the area clean. Shy’s eyes watered, but to her credit, she didn’t make a sound.
“There’s a suturing kit in there, right?” Tayel asked.
The floor rattled again, harder than any other time before. The walls groaned with the movement, and Tayel’s pulse beat against her ears.
Shy reeled back. “You’re not going to sew my face up in here.”
“Shy’s right,” Jace said. “We’re in serious danger here. We don’t even know where we landed.”
“You’re just going to keep bleeding,” Tayel warned.
“Not necessarily,” Fehn said. “It looks like there’s some coagulant here.”
Shy’s eyes went wide. “Yes. That. Use that.”
“Here.” Fehn tossed a metal canister no bigger than a fist toward Tayel.
She caught it. “What do I do with it?”
“Pull the tab and squeeze the stuff into her wound, Red. It’s not surgery.”
It may not have been surgery, but Tayel’s medical expertise only went as far as basic cleanup any magball game might require. They didn’t often require coagulant. And when they did, she wasn’t involved. Her hands shook as she skimmed the instructions on the can.
She took a breath, reaching halfway behind Shy’s head. “Do you mind?”
“Go for it,” Shy said.
Tayel reached the rest of the way and slid her left hand under Shy’s braid, cupping her palm around the back of her neck. She squeezed lightly, keeping Shy’s head steady while she pulled the tab on the canister and pressed the cap. Green gel oozed out of the plastic tube and into the cut. The gel foamed up on contact, making a seal.
The sensation of relief building in her chest was overwhelming. Shy’s gaze shifted to her arm. Tayel’s breath hitched. She drew her hand back, and the cold rushed in, leaving her fingers in pins and needles.
Shy caught her arm. “Actually, I’m going to need your help.”
“Time to go?” Fehn asked.
“Yes. Gear up first.” Shy lifted herself halfway out of the chair. “Tayel, can you crouch down?”
Tayel did, letting Shy’s arm fall over her shoulders before lifting to a stand.
Shy hissed. “This will be a lot easier if you…” Her fingers closed around Tayel’s wrist and pulled it to her side. “Tayel?”
“Right. Sorry.” She spread her fingers over Shy’s waist and pulled her close.
“Do you need me to carry you instead?” Fehn asked.
“Please,” Shy said. “No one is going to carry me.”
“Suit yourself. And watch your step.”
Jace led the way ahead of them all, keeping himself steady with his free talon. Tayel followed after him and Fehn, hoping to whichever deity would listen that Shy couldn’t feel how fast her pulse was racing. The timing couldn’t have been worse, but Tayel couldn’t help it. The proximity to Shy was maddening.
How many times had Tayel helped a fellow magball player off the field like this? Many times. A million times. But Shy felt different. Tayel couldn’t have been more nervous, and yet despite being pressed together in a shared walk through the corridor, she wasn’t close enough.
The ground shuddered under her feet, drawing her attention back to where it needed to be.
The hold was a mess with the contents of the armory crate spilled across the floor. Shields, arms, and ammo caches glinted in the soft light pouring in through the viewports. Her mag baton rested near the hall to the bedrooms, and when Shy crouched down to slowly gather her own things, Tayel fetched it, testing its weight in her tired arms.
She looked around while everyone else dallied through the hold. Buildings surrounded the ship outside, dome-shaped roofs and stout structures visible through the viewports.
She pointed at them. “Guys, I think we landed inside the outpost.”
“Looks like it,” Fehn said. “That will make finding safety easier.”
Jace offered his talon to Shy as she lifted herself off the ground.
“I’m okay,” she said. “The dizziness is wearing off.”
“Shy,” Tayel warned.
“Seriously. I needed a few minutes to walk around, is all.” She moved slowly to the door and stood on her tiptoes to look through the viewport. “Not confident I can fight right now, though.”
“What do you mean?” Fehn asked.
“There are people coming.”
Tayel squeezed her baton. “Raiders?”
“Looks like Varg,” Shy said.
“Are Varg friendly?” Fehn asked.
“We’ll find out. Everyone ready?”
“Here. Let me.” He stepped past her and tugged the door open.