“Dormo. Sleep med.” Jess-the-medic glanced at his original patient, the woman who had Jess-the-man tied in knots. Thanks to Pitt’s idiocy, she was now the lower priority patient for emergency transport to the regional medical center, but she still needed treatment. He rose to his feet and helped Bhalodia guide the capsule as close as they could get behind Pitt.
“Castro,” said Jess-the-medic, squatting down in front of her again. “Pitt needs to go to the medical center. Now.”
Castro shook her head stubbornly. “No. He’ll be good after some inhib.”
Jess-the-medic shook his head and started to speak, but Bhalodia beat him to it. “Okay, okay, good. You do like always. He die, we get new medic. Not chem addict. ” Bhalodia walked to the far side of where Kerzanna lay and lifted her outstretched arm to cross it over her, in preparation for lifting her, then gave Castro a sharp, sly look. “I bet we get new constable, too.”
Once the medical center confirmed the kwiksloe, which was illegal on Branimir, Pitt’s career as a medic would be over. If she didn’t let him go for treatment, he’d die, and her career in enforcement would definitely be over. Castro’s star lane choices were rocky, but she’d made her own star chart.
She glared at Bhalodia with all the hate and resentment she should have been directing at her addicted lover, but she relaxed her arms to let go of Pitt.
Jess-the-medic told Bhalodia to make sure the capsule stayed grounded, then scooped up Pitt’s quivering body and climbed to his feet. Fortunately, Jess was a big man, taller even than some Jumpers, and Pitt was short and thin. With Bhalodia’s help, he got Pitt into the capsule, entered what little data he knew about the patient, and sent it on its way. Medevac capsules had extensive built-in diagnostic and treatment capabilities, plus real-time communication with the medical center, so Pitt would probably live.
Jess-the-medic returned to kneel beside Kerzanna. He opened the medic kit wider to root around through the haphazardly arranged contents until he found the scanner. He directed it toward her chest and the suspected lung injury. Thankfully, although the scanner showed a cracked sternum, her ribs were only bruised and her spine was normal. Her residual Jumper reinforcements, plus the cybernetic right ilium and femur of her hip and thigh, had probably saved her from worse damage. The concussion was another matter. “We’re going to need the autodoc in Pitt’s office.”
Castro stood and brushed the tan prairie dust off the back of her dark uniform pants. “I can’t let you in without Pitt there. Just because you had first-responder training doesn’t mean—”
Jess rose to his feet and invaded her personal space. “Yes, you can.” He didn’t like using his two-hundred-centimeter height to intimidate people, but Castro was endangering Kerzanna. He let his eyes reveal a bit of Jess-the-bomber, the man who’d laugh while his enemies died in a fire, as he stared at her unblinkingly. The pain in his head doubled, and he let her see that, too.
Castro stumbled back two steps before she caught herself. The fear in her expression gave way to stubborn challenge, and her hand drifted toward her needler, but she nodded once. “I’ll escort you.”
Jess-the-medic turned and squatted onto his heels to close the medic kit. He looked around for Bhalodia and smiled when he saw his neighbor bringing an antigrav loading cart from the flitter port lobby. Not the most dignified of gurneys, but Kerzanna weighed too much for even Jess to carry her very far. She was slender and fit for her size, but she was only about ten centimeters shorter than he was, and she had biometal-reinforced bones.
As gently as he could, he lifted her onto the cart, which dipped alarmingly until they got her weight centered. From the smell, the cart has last been used to haul fresh compost. He slung the medic kit’s strap across his shoulder and pushed the cart’s handle to get it moving toward the walkway. Pitt’s medical clinic was close, and staying outside would be faster than going through the port building. Markalan Crossing was small enough that most everything was only a block or two away.
Bhalodia started forward, then hesitated. “I get bag. Meet you soon.” He turned and walked toward the port office.
Jess didn’t have time to wonder what Bhalodia was up to. Gravcarts were finicky and hard to control over irregular surfaces like old outdoor walkways, so he concentrated on keeping it level. Kerzanna was lucky to have stayed unconscious for so long, because she’d obviously taken a beating when trying to keep the flitter on course for a survivable landing, and the rough cart ride wouldn’t be easy on her.
Castro let him into the town medical clinic’s treatment area and helped him lift Kerzanna up and into the autodoc that took up most of one wall. The room’s garish gold-accented purple color scheme was courtesy of a previous medic with absolute zero design sense. Jess-the-medic arranged Kerzanna’s arms and legs so the unit could treat her more easily, glad it was long enough to fit her comfortably. When the town’s old autodoc had finally come due for replacement, the farming families in a fifty-kilometer radius had contributed extra funds to get a modern, upgraded model. It was their best defense against Pitt’s incompetence. Jess quickly entered the patient history he remembered and his suspicion about the Stage 3 of waster’s, then sealed the lid and started the treatment cycle.
Jess-the-medic turned to look at Castro, expecting questions. His head was pounding, but he couldn’t leave until Castro did. Jess-the-man wouldn’t know what to say.
Castro entered a sequence on her right wrist gauntlet as she subvocalized into the earwire she wore along her jawline, then gave Jess a hard, resentful look. “How much longer?”
Jess-the-bomber stabbed his way into Jess’s brain. Don’t give her a professional opinion! Jess covered the sharp pain by turning to look at the autodoc’s readout. “It says nine minutes for the initial report. After that, it’s anyone’s guess.”
Castro bit her lip and rocked back on her heels, her eyes darting between the autodoc, him, and the front door.
“Someone should be here when she wakes up,” said Jess-the-bomber, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Any news on Pitt?”
His words had the desired effect on Castro. “No. I need to be… I can’t stay.”
Jess-the-bomber shrugged, as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “I can, at least until you get another medevac here.” He tilted his head toward the sealed autodoc. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Castro frowned, clearly torn. At last, she turned and took a step toward the door, then turned back and glared at him. “If anything is missing, I’ll be targeting you first.” Her attitude said she’d be targeting him, regardless, if only because he’d called out Pitt’s negligence.
Jess-the-bomber shrugged again. “You know where the farm is.” The clinic had nothing of interest to him.
Castro hesitated a moment longer, then strode out the door.
Jess-the-man made Jess-the-bomber and Jess-the-medic retreat, leaving him with a splitting headache and stiff shoulders, a room full of painkillers that didn’t work for him, and a deluge of powerful memories all centered around the woman in the autodoc. A wave of icy nausea chilled him.
He staggered outside into the sunlight and leaned against the side of the clinic, dragging in deep, cleansing breaths of fresh air.
Read more: Jumper's Hope (Central Galactic Concordance Book 4)
Pico's Crush Page 29
