Wounds, Book 1 by Ilsa J. Bick Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ilsa J. Bick
spare. “Yes,” she said, wondering for a second if that meant she’d cinched her own execution as a Kornak spy or soldier or terrorist, or whatever and whoever the hell a Kornak really was. “But even if I didn’t, even if I had only a passing acquaintance with using antiseptic and old-fashioned bandages, you don’t execute people who get hurt doing their job. You don’t throw people away like garbage. You people, you’re out here, running around with those,”—she gestured toward Mara’s rifle, an antique with a long barrel and a gas suppressor—“you get shot at and you don’t have a medic, anyone with training?”
“Our medic is dead,” said Mara. Her face was twisted with rage and nearly the color of a fresh bruise. “I have some training but not enough, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. We barely have supplies to treat minor injuries, much less major ones. Anyway, why should a Kornak worry her head about one more dead Jabari? The only thing you’d care about was that you couldn’t harvest him—”
“You shouldn’t do this,” Lense said to Saad. “I don’t care what your customs are. You’re their leader, not their judge and executioner.” When he said nothing, she said, “For crying out loud, let me look at him! What can it cost you? You’ve already said you’re not going to let me go. If I’m a spy, what more can I learn to compromise you than I have already? Maybe I can help this man! At least let me try.”
He stared down for a very long time, though it was probably only a few seconds. Then he turned to Mara, and there must have been something in the set of his face because she huffed out an exasperated snort and said, “Wonderful. I’ll get whatever supplies we’ve got.”
“Good,” said Saad mildly, but Mara had already stalked out, ducking into an adjacent tunnel. Saad turned back to Lense. “All right. I will let you examine these men.” He wrapped a hand around her left bicep, and his grip was firm. “And let us see whether or not you can buy back your life.”
Chapter
8
“O h, this is just perfect.” Enraged, Kahayn dodged around the security director and made for the gurney. The suited figure was still writhing, but she couldn’t see who or what was inside. The faceplate, which she assumed was clear, was shiny with a thick layer of soot that had an astringent smell and smeared like oil when she touched her finger to it.
Cursing, Kahayn snatched up a large square of gauze. “Give me a hand here,” she said to the tech as she leaned down hard on the patient’s right arm and started scrubbing at the faceplate, “grab that other arm, get it out of my way. The rest of you, I need a crash cart, stat, and get me an ET tube. As soon as I get this clear, I want this guy wired for sound. Call anesthesia, get them down here, we’re probably going to intubate.”
“Stand down, Colonel!” said Blate. His bullish face was a mottled purple. “That’s an order!”
“You don’t outrank me, Blate.” Kahayn threw the nurses a look. “Go.”
This seemed to be all the nurses were waiting for; they moved fast, one nurse racing off for the crash cart, and the other whirling toward a wall-mounted comm.
“Arin.” Kahayn craned her head over her shoulder. “Did you check for explosives?”
“Colonel Kahayn!” Blate, again. “You are ordered—!”
“Shut up, Blate.” Kahayn tossed aside one stained gauze and wadded up another. Residue’s sticky like tar, like he’s been in a chemical fire, maybe a fuel depot that went up—but this suit, I’ve never seen anything like it. “ Arin, what about it, is he packed? What about contamination?”
“No.” Arin came alive. Taking the distance in three loping strides, he relieved the tech, leaning down hard on the patient’s arm. “Get me restraints,” he ordered, and then to Kahayn: “No explosives, and the suit’s not radioactive as far as we can tell.”
“What about scanners?”
“Colonel,” said
“Our medic is dead,” said Mara. Her face was twisted with rage and nearly the color of a fresh bruise. “I have some training but not enough, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. We barely have supplies to treat minor injuries, much less major ones. Anyway, why should a Kornak worry her head about one more dead Jabari? The only thing you’d care about was that you couldn’t harvest him—”
“You shouldn’t do this,” Lense said to Saad. “I don’t care what your customs are. You’re their leader, not their judge and executioner.” When he said nothing, she said, “For crying out loud, let me look at him! What can it cost you? You’ve already said you’re not going to let me go. If I’m a spy, what more can I learn to compromise you than I have already? Maybe I can help this man! At least let me try.”
He stared down for a very long time, though it was probably only a few seconds. Then he turned to Mara, and there must have been something in the set of his face because she huffed out an exasperated snort and said, “Wonderful. I’ll get whatever supplies we’ve got.”
“Good,” said Saad mildly, but Mara had already stalked out, ducking into an adjacent tunnel. Saad turned back to Lense. “All right. I will let you examine these men.” He wrapped a hand around her left bicep, and his grip was firm. “And let us see whether or not you can buy back your life.”
Chapter
8
“O h, this is just perfect.” Enraged, Kahayn dodged around the security director and made for the gurney. The suited figure was still writhing, but she couldn’t see who or what was inside. The faceplate, which she assumed was clear, was shiny with a thick layer of soot that had an astringent smell and smeared like oil when she touched her finger to it.
Cursing, Kahayn snatched up a large square of gauze. “Give me a hand here,” she said to the tech as she leaned down hard on the patient’s right arm and started scrubbing at the faceplate, “grab that other arm, get it out of my way. The rest of you, I need a crash cart, stat, and get me an ET tube. As soon as I get this clear, I want this guy wired for sound. Call anesthesia, get them down here, we’re probably going to intubate.”
“Stand down, Colonel!” said Blate. His bullish face was a mottled purple. “That’s an order!”
“You don’t outrank me, Blate.” Kahayn threw the nurses a look. “Go.”
This seemed to be all the nurses were waiting for; they moved fast, one nurse racing off for the crash cart, and the other whirling toward a wall-mounted comm.
“Arin.” Kahayn craned her head over her shoulder. “Did you check for explosives?”
“Colonel Kahayn!” Blate, again. “You are ordered—!”
“Shut up, Blate.” Kahayn tossed aside one stained gauze and wadded up another. Residue’s sticky like tar, like he’s been in a chemical fire, maybe a fuel depot that went up—but this suit, I’ve never seen anything like it. “ Arin, what about it, is he packed? What about contamination?”
“No.” Arin came alive. Taking the distance in three loping strides, he relieved the tech, leaning down hard on the patient’s arm. “Get me restraints,” he ordered, and then to Kahayn: “No explosives, and the suit’s not radioactive as far as we can tell.”
“What about scanners?”
“Colonel,” said