Blood Impulse

Part 24.1 - THE WOUNDED

Argo Sector, Battleship Singularity

At first, grabbed from her quarters and dragged again to the medical bay, Amelia had been furious. The senile old doctor had gone so far as to shove Ron, Anabelle, her and her son in his tiny office and forget all about them.

But, as the ship had trembled around them, shuddering and groaning, the deck bucking beneath her feet from either outgoing or incoming fire, she'd understood. As the smell of smoke hit her nostrils, wafting under the door, she'd understood. And, as they brought the wounded in, screaming and sobbing while she watched through the office window's bent blinds, she'd understood.

Even now, in the seemingly disproportionate silence, she could feel the throb of her racing pulse in her veins. She felt so small, so useless, and so terrified. It was horrifying to know that nothing she did now would matter. If the tactics of the one in charge failed and if this machine broke apart around them, torn open to the void, death was the only certainty, and it was all she could do to sit and wait.

The whole experience gave her a new respect for those men and women on the crew. Combat was terrifying, especially here, below decks, where the outcome was completely out of their hands. Who would choose this life? Who would choose to face danger like that?

People braver than her, she supposed.

Watching the crew tend to their duties, they were focused, perhaps not calm, but at the least, focused. Even Ron was calmer than she at the prospect of combat, knowing that ships out there were trying to tear their own apart.

But when it was all said and done, after the nauseating FTL jump left her nearly vomiting on the doctor's cluttered desk, Ron still just calmly sat there, Anabelle's head in his lap. "Weren't you scared?" Amelia asked him.

"Not much we can do." Of course, serving as a Marine, he was used to that fact. He had considered offering to help defend the ship, but knew it would only blow his cover. He doubted the Singularity's forces would be pleased to find one of the Olympia's Marines in their midst, traitor or not, so he settled instead for comforting his daughter, grateful to find her healthy.

The pills the ship's doctor had prescribed and provided left Anabelle stronger and more energetic than Ron could remember. Her skin was colorful, her hair vibrant, and the dark rings under her eyes were finally gone. Now, he could only feel guilty that he hadn't sought help sooner.

Amelia didn't read too much into Ron's calm. He was clearly braver than she was. That had been obvious in the moment he'd pulled a shotgun on a group of soldiers in the shipyards. "Do you think we can come out?" The office was a little stuffy, and the medical bay beyond looked to have calmed somewhat.

"I'd wait. They might still be putting down the boarding forces." He hadn't heard any announcement that the ship was secure, so it was probable, even likely, that there was still ongoing fighting.

She sighed, but resigned herself to wait. As horrible as the FTL jumps continued to make her feel, they also still knocked the kids out pretty good. It earned a few rare moments of rest. Her son, Harrison, was incessant about touring the ship and seeing everything there was to see, but it all looked the same to her and it didn't help that the Admiral seemed content to avoid them both.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, watching the man himself walk into the medical bay, two young women in tow, one of them obviously bruised and bleeding.

Ron looked up, surprised and concerned. There was only one reason he could think for the ship's commander to be off the bridge this soon after a battle. "The Admiral's hurt?" In their situation, they were surviving by his skill. If he were injured or killed, then they were major trouble.