Blaedergil's Host by C.M. Simpson (reading well .TXT) 📕

been fortunate that his interests aligned with our own, or we might not have made it back to the ship. I wondered if we’d signed anything else before we’d left... or after we’d arrived aboard. I figured we were pretty safe after getting here, given that Doc had taken over, and would have kept us from doing anything particularly stupid.

And speaking of which... Movement outside the door caught my eye, and I tried to prop myself up, only to find a band of pressure across my chest and others over my hips and knees. What the...?

“Storm finished, Cutter?” Doc asked, coming into view, and I stared at him.

What storm?

He read the puzzlement on my face, and his body lost some of its tension.

“Well, well. Welcome back, Cutter. How do you feel?”

Now that he mentioned it. He caught the shift in expression as my stomach rebelled, and had released the bands, and put a bowl in front of my face, before I started dry heaving the nothingness in my stomach. Halloran appeared behind him, and handed him a drink bottle.

I eyed it uncertainly, given what the last bottle had contained, but Doc was glaring, again, so I accepted it and took a cautious sip when he passed it to me. Sweet, green-tasting liquid passed over my tongue and sank into my stomach, easing the cramping, until I didn’t feel in imminent danger of losing what I hadn’t had for lunch. I kept sipping, wary of taking more than a tiny amount, each time I lifted the flask.

Doc watched me, until we heard Tens groan.

“Stay there,” he said, stepping past me, and moving out of sight.

I heard Tens mutter something, and then start retching, but I didn’t shift an inch. I didn’t even turn my head to look. On top of the roiling nausea in my gut, my head felt like it wanted to break apart, and I didn’t want to move, in case it decided to do just that.

“Easy,” Doc said. “You need to lie down for a bit longer.”

From beyond me, Tens muttered a protest, and Halloran came through the door carrying a syringe. I yelped and recoiled, but stayed on the bed, tucking myself against the wall as he passed. I heard a flurry of movement, and then Tens sighed. Doc echoed him, and then he and Halloran came back into view.

I eyed them warily, but there wasn’t a syringe in sight, so I slowly uncoiled.

“Mack?” I managed, still not quite able to string a sentence together.

“He’s better than he has any right to be,” Doc growled. “You need more rest.”

I nodded, eyeing him carefully, while trying to keep a weather eye on Halloran. Doc managed a mirthless smile.

“No needles,” he said. “You just need to lie down, and close your eyes, and you’ll be fine.”

Whatever had been in that drink bottle had settled my stomach, so I nodded, and stretched out. Halloran moved out of sight, only to return with a light-weight blanket that he and Doc draped over me, as I closed my eyes. The sharp sting of a syringe going into my shoulder caught me by surprise, but the weight of a broad set of hands rested on my chest and side, and I couldn’t find the energy to move.

“Lying bast...” I managed, as sleep took me under like a wave, and I wondered what Doc would have made of that kind of undertow being on board a perfectly dry starship.

I didn’t get to ask him, though, because it was Mack who was standing over me when I woke up, and I recoiled so fast he almost didn’t grab me before I fell off the other side of the bed.

“Where the Hell do you think you’re going?” he asked, taking a firm hold of my shoulder, which was about when I realized who was standing in front of me.

“Mack,” I said.

At least this time, I didn’t throw up—although the results would have been entertaining.

“What’s up?”

“Briefing,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

Of course, there was a briefing. What else would there be?

“When?”

He wrinkled his nose.

“After you’ve showered and changed,” he said, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I slipped off the edge of the bed, and he stood back to give me room. I didn’t blame him. If he could smell what I could, he had every right to keep his distance.

“I’ll catch up,” he said. “I have to check on Tens.”

Tens. Right. I turned to see how Tens was doing. I half expected to see him still flat out and comatose, but he was slowly pushing himself upright, and rubbing his eyes.

“How are you?” I asked, and he gave me the finger.

I just laughed and headed for the door, happy to let Mack deal with him.

As I went, I linked into the ship’s system, and checked in on Delight and Pritchard. They were still locked in their rooms, and I had to wonder why. Pritchard seemed to be taking it well; he was running through training kata in the center of his room. He paused, when I looked in, glancing towards the camera, before continuing—and I wondered how he’d sensed me.

Delight was also running through training kata, and she flipped the camera the bird as I came by. Anyone would have thought she resented being locked down. I snickered, and left her to it. Maybe next time she wouldn’t have a hissy fit and shoot the guy with the only ship in-system willing to pull her ass out of a jam.

“I had it under control,” she said, and then left my head, again.

Right. Implant. Party Line. No nicking off when Mack and Odyssey needed me around. Fuck that for a joke. As soon as this mission was done, I was off, and they could both forget about me returning.

Delight was back in an instant, and she wasn’t playing nice. The footage from when Bendigo had shoved me into an airlock to get me to comply to a room change, rolled through my head, accompanied by