Wreckers: A Denver Boyd Novel by George Ellis (ebook reader ink .TXT) 📕

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. He shot Batista in the leg, sending her tumbling to the floor. “Either you undo whatever she did, or I let your new best friend bleed out. Your choice.”

Batista shook her head, urging me not to give in, but I couldn’t just let her die.

“I guess I only have one thing to say to that,” I replied. “Holy fog, Batman.”

Everybody looked at me, confused.

“What’s a bat man?” Jeffries asked.

I cleared my throat. “I said holy fog, Gary!”

Just as the feds realized I was making some sort of move and not having a mental breakdown, the light in the airlock disappeared. It went pitch black and I could hear the desperate clicks of the soldiers’ weapons, which had been rendered useless by the EMP.

“What the hell?” Jeffries shouted.

The air vents hissed loudly, instantly fogging the room. I counted the thuds as all three men dropped to the ground, unconscious.

“Which part of holy fog did you not hear the first time?” I barked.

“I was asleep. If you think about it, it’s kind of ironic that you programmed me to go to sleep and then me being asleep almost comes back to kill you,” said Gary. “Classic goose-gander situation.”

“What?” I replied, confused. “Lights.”

The auxiliary lights switched on. Like the feds, Batista was also knocked out. Only she was bleeding.

Chapter 3

When it comes to fixing engines and mechanical systems, there’s nobody better in the galaxy than me. I don’t have the same touch with the human body, which left Batista in a tough spot. I’d seen enough injuries to know hers was bad. Like, she might only have minutes left to live, bad.

As the captain of my ship — yes, even a ship with only one crew member and a cat technically has a captain — my first priority was the safety of everyone aboard.

Luckily, once we undocked from the stalled 405, we were able to make a clean getaway. It couldn’t exactly follow us. Given the fact the crew tried to kill me, I wasn’t too worried about the ship’s fate. Still, I knew if things got desperate, they could jettison the escape pods and survive long enough (probably) for federation help to arrive.

The other bit of luck, as far as Batista was concerned, was that the Stang’s systems had encyclopedic knowledge of medical procedures. Gary might not be able to physically perform surgery, but even an AI as quirky as him could guide me through, say, repairing the femoral artery. That’s the big one in the leg, Gary explained.

“I think if I had a choice of being shot in the leg or the arm, I’d choose the leg,” said Gary. “You can always limp around, but good luck trying to get dressed with one arm.”

“You don’t even wear clothes!” I shouted.

“I did at one point, theoretically,” he mused. “I wore a lot of white sneakers. They were big at the time.”

“Her leg, damnit. What do I do?”

“Well I’m no doctor, but I think we should stop that bleeding.”

I gritted my teeth, ready to disconnect Gary for good, when he began walking me through the process of trying to stem the blood flow.

I cut away Batista’s pant leg to get better access to the wound. The bullet was still in there, but I knew enough not to try and remove it. Dark blood was pulsing from her thigh onto the floor of the cargo bay, where I’d placed her after carrying her in from the airlock. Crimson filled the small grooves in the metal lattice work of the floor. I applied pressure to both sides of the gunshot and held firm, hoping the blood would clot enough to wrap Batista’s leg.

It was a nice leg. I tried not to think about it, but there I was, admiring her muscular thigh and toned calf.

“Having a good time, are we?” Gary chimed in. I scowled back at the camera and kept pressure on the injury, trying not to notice her thigh again. I stayed that way for the next few minutes until the blood flow stopped. I looked around for something to wrap her leg with, eventually realizing my t-shirt was the best option. I removed my jacket and shirt, then snugly fit the shirt around her leg. For the final step, I ran to the med kit and grabbed a sterilization shot. I returned to Batista and jabbed it into her leg. The bullet was not coming out by my hand. But if I was lucky, the wound would stabilize and the bullet would, I dunno, be fine in there. I’d heard of it happening before.

Once the shot was done, I sat back on the floor and relaxed, watching for any seepage of blood through the shirt wrapped around her objectively gorgeous leg. After about 60 seconds, I was satisfied the bleeding had stopped.

“Her vitals aren’t the worst I’ve seen,” Gary said. “Your blood pressure is still high as usual, but that’s the deal we make with salty snacks. Not as good as the deal I made with the federation that you and your girlfriend absolutely ruined, but –”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” I replied.

“Yes, Denver, I am aware,” he said. “I know you don’t date.”

I laid back onto the cool metal deck of the cargo bay and closed my eyes. I just needed to rest for a few minutes.

I awoke to find Batista looking down on me. She had a knife to my throat. The blade was cold on my skin.

“Morning,” I said, trying to move my neck away from the serrations. “That’s a hell of a way to thank me for saving your life.”

“There’ll be time for thank you’s later,” she said. “First, rules. Rule number one: This may be your ship and you may even fancy yourself a captain, but I’m not part of your crew.”

“Got it. Not part of my crew.”

“Rule number two: You want information on your family, I’ll give it to you. In return for taking me