Imperial Edge
Page 14
Miranda sighed letting go of her aggravation. If she punched her battle buddy there would be no break time on the Seventh day. She wanted her break time. She’d never wanted her break time more than she wanted it now that she was a soldier in the imperial army. Her arms demanded it.
“Ok,” the medic was back with a container that looked a lot like her mother’s makeup jars. He unscrewed the lid. Miranda scrunched up her nose. The smell hit her hard. She felt like she might pass out.
“A little warning,” Farmer said turning his back to her and the medic. The medic shrugged.
“Hazard of the job.” the medic stuck two fingers into the jar and took out a large chunk of the paste from inside. He took Miranda’s hand and scraped it off onto her palm.
“Strip off your shirt and rub that into all reddened skin.” Miranda struggled to comply. Her uniform jacket was hard to get on without holding onto a large handful of goo that was melting at her body temperature. After what felt like forever, she was finally able to escape her jacket and shirt. She wished, not for the first time that things were thought through here. He could have handed her the jar, or told her to strip first. No, shirt off with goop in hand. The imperial way. Her breast band is the only thing between her and the room full of men and women.
At one time she might have cared. She might have worried that someone was looking at her. But not anymore. Everyone here was either too tired, too hurt, or too busy to care about her nakedness. Given that she was all three right then.
She slapped the stinking glob onto her shoulders and neck, down her front, and as far along the back of her neck and shoulders that she could reach. She had to get a second handful. There was so much skin.
“Here,” the Medic said when he noticed that she was out of the paste.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Farmer said standing up from the cot.
“Through the double doors on the left,” the medic said handing Miranda a third scoop for her arms. Farmer nodded and headed down the hall. She wasn’t supposed to ever separate from her battle buddy, but Miranda was glad to see him go. She watched the doors swing shut.
Too late she asked, “Should I go with him?”
“It’s fine,” the medic said. “Once you are on the ward you don’t have to stick that close,” he gave her a wink as he scraped the last of the medication from the container.
“Here,” he said, “finish putting this on your back.”
He tossed the jar in a trash can to the left of the bed. Miranda hoped that if she had to stay here for long the smell would dissipate given showers weren’t for two more days.
The medic pulled a long string of key cards out of his pocket and tapped one against the smooth metal stand to the right of the bed. A drawer popped out exposing an array of bandages in all shapes and sizes. He got to work cutting and arranging them over the areas she’d lathered with the goo.
“You can put your shirt on now,” he said. She rubbed the last of the medicine into her hands before reaching for her military issued shirt. The brown fabric slid over her bandaged back and shoulders, the sting already dissipating.
“No showers for two day,” the medic said, handing her a sheet of instructions. There were other things like a restriction on night patrols and staying out of the sun for twenty four hours. Miranda nodded.
“Give that to your drill instructor,” he said, “stay here until your buddy comes back then you may return to duty.” The medic got up off the bed and turned his back to her to help the next patient.
It wasn’t until that moment that she realised she hadn’t read his name plate. She hit her head against her palm. All soldiers wore name plates. It made calling everyone something easier for a person like her. And she hadn’t even taken the time to look.
“Oh well,” she thought, “next time.” She went to lay back on the bed when her battle buddy Farmer chased through the double doors into the room.
“Dead,” he screamed. Every head in the room turned towards her battle buddy.
“He’s dead!” he screamed again.