Chapter 7 Dax
Dax
Lacy didn’t fight me as I carried her to the medical facilities. It wasn’t a long walk and we reached the small room located amidships quickly. Two patient beds took up most of the room, with cabinets for scanners and other medical supplies tucked along the walls.
I set her down on the first bed.
When I’d purchased the ship, it had been important that it have a med bay, but once that item had been ticked off the shopping list, I hadn’t spent additional time here. That was a mistake. Now that I needed it, I didn’t know where anything was. Or even if I had the necessary supplies.
I tried to recall the ship broker opening and closing cabinets on our tour. My shoulders loosened with relief. Yes, there were supplies. Now I just needed to find the right ones.
When I opened my eyes, Lacy was watching me closely. She tilted her head and paused, as if she was considering her next words carefully.
Then she gave a brisk nod. “Center drawer on the right-hand side.” She pointed.
My eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re looking for the handheld diagnostic scanner, right? It’s so much easier to use, compared to the full-body scanner.”
How would she . . .
Curious, I followed her instructions. There was nothing on the outside of the drawer to indicate its contents, but when I opened it, there it was, nestled in a formfitting case. Extra supplies, from batteries to probes, each in a designated spot.
I grabbed the scanner and turned back to her slowly, curiosity morphing to wariness and suspicion. “How did you know where the scanner was? Were you in here earlier?”
“What’s your name?”
Her out-of-nowhere question distracted me. “What?”
She laughed softly. “It’s not a hard question. You know my name. It’s only fair I know yours.”
I wasn’t sure there was such a thing as fair with a woman who knew more about my ship than she should. But there was a kernel of truth in her statement too. It was only civilized to know the name of one’s . . . enemy?
“Dax,” I said. “Dax Cooper.” I didn’t offer my hand.
“Captain Cooper.” Her nod was as regal as a queen. It should have been out of place on a stowaway, but somehow . . . it wasn’t.
Then my brain caught up to what she had said. “Dax,” I corrected quickly. Captain didn’t sit quite right. Was that what I was now?
I’d been a sergeant in the space corps. Captains were the brass. Part of the command hierarchy. The title felt heavy, especially since the squad hadn’t decided on roles. Or anything past buying a ship, really.
“Okay, Dax. Call me Lacy.”
I hid a smile. It was cute the way she thought she had any control over this situation. I held up the scanner. “Ready, Lacy?”
With a sigh and an eye roll, she nodded. “Fine.”
She sat perfectly still as I ran the scanner over first her left side, then the right. Then I passed it over her head, neck, and back. Her front torso and over her legs.
The machine processed all the data, then spit out a diagnosis. “Good news,” I said, reading off the screen. “Nothing is broke—”
“I told you I was fine,” Lacy interrupted.
I glared at her and went back to the diagnosis. “Nothing is broken—it’s mostly bruises. But,” I said loudly when she looked ready to interject again, “your left shoulder is partially dislocated.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “No wonder it hurts so bad.”
“Yeah, that would do it.” Sympathy warred with exasperation. I’d dislocated my shoulder in training and it hurt like a motherfucker. The fact that she was still standing, rather than moaning in pain, was impressive. “We need to pop it back into place.”
She paled. “Shit.”
I didn’t envy her the next few minutes. “Yeah, it’s going to hurt, but then it will get better.”
She swallowed audibly. “Fine. Do it.”
I winced, hating what I was about to say next. “We’ll need to get your coverall top down. It could get in the way of resetting. You’re, um, wearing something under that, right?” Way to sound like a creeper, Dax.
“Do we have to?”
I nodded.
“Fine, let’s get this over with.” She braced her left arm on her stomach and grabbed the zipper with her right. The dark fabric of the coveralls parted, revealing a white undershirt. When the one piece was undone to her waist, she started to shrug out of it but gasped in pain.
“Do you want help?”
“Yes, please.” Her words were clipped.
I circled to her right side. “This side shouldn’t hurt as much.” I grabbed her right sleeve and pulled it away from her body. She bent her elbow and pulled her arm out, revealing smooth pale skin and subtle muscles.
Easing behind her, I gently moved the fabric as close to her shoulder as I could get. “I’ll go as slow as I can,” I warned her as I moved back into her line of sight, “but getting the sleeve over your elbow and wrist is probably going to hurt.”
“Stop talking and just do it. The anticipation is making it worse.”
“Gotcha.” Keeping my touch light and my actions professional, I slid my fingers under the sleeve at her shoulder and guided it down her arm. She tensed as I dragged the fabric over her upper arm, but didn’t complain.
When it reached her elbow, I braced it with my other hand and, as gently as I could, scooted the sleeve over the joint. Still holding her elbow, I grabbed the fabric at her wrist and guided it over her forearm, until only her hand was still covered.
Keeping tension on the empty sleeve close to her wrist, I shifted her elbow back slightly.
A pained sound in the back of her throat was her only outward sign of discomfort. I was impressed, because I’d seen marines cry with the same injury.
“And done,” I said as I guided the last of the sleeve over her hand. Grabbing the two empty sleeves, I double-knotted them around her waist.
“You okay?”
“Just peachy.”
“Perfect. Now on to the fun part. Lay back,” I directed.
Her brows furrowed and she studied me uncertainly.
“It’s the easiest way to do it. I promise.”
“What about the autodoc?”
I shook my head. “If we were on one of the big hospital ships or a troop carrier, they might have the med tech to take care of it. We’re kind of limited in a med bay this small.”
Her lips pursed. “Right. I forgot.”
Wondering what exactly it was that she’d forgotten, I only said, “Do you need help?”
Though she winced, she shook her head. Shifting her weight, she swung her legs up onto one end of the bed. Right hand hooked behind her right knee, she lowered her upper body down to the exam table slowly.
“Ready.” Her voice was steady.
Not wanting her to be surprised, I talked her through the next steps.
“I’m going to hold your wrist and slowly bring your arm out to shoulder height.
” I raised my arm to demonstrate. “Then I’m going to bring it closer to your head.
At about this point,” I held my arm out at about a third of the way between my shoulder and head, “your shoulder should pop back into place. Any questions?”
Lacy stared at me with wide green eyes. “No,” she whispered.
“Great. After we’ve popped it back in place, I’ll put it in a sling for you, then get you some pain pills and some nanos. Any allergies?”
She shook her head.
“Great. Let’s get started.”
When her arm was in a resting position at her side, I wrapped both hands around her wrist and started to shift her arm, all the while moving it in small circles.
Her breath hitched, but I didn’t let up. I couldn’t, not until we’d taken care of her shoulder. After a minute or two, her arm was up to shoulder level. I glanced at her to see how she was doing.
Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but she hadn’t said a word.
“You’re doing great,” I said. “This part is going to hurt, so we’re going to go on three, okay?”
“Okay.” Her voice was as tense as the rest of her.
“One.” I kept my movements slow and steady, continuing the circles as I brought her arm up further.
“Two.” Rather than wait for three, I shifted her arm the last bit. I barely heard the soft pop as the shoulder settled back into place because Lacy screamed.
“Fuuuuck!
“You okay there?” I gently settled her arm over her chest.
Her eyes glared daggers at me. “You said three!” She tried to sit up.
“Stay down.” I glared right back at her. “You were too tense.”
“I hate you.” Her eyes drifted shut.
“Fair enough. Let’s finish getting you taken care of.” Hopefully it wouldn’t take me too long to find the supplies I needed.
“Slings are in the bottom drawer on the left,” she told me. “Meds and nanos should be in the wall cabinet.”
“Thanks.” The only reason I didn’t think she had read my mind was that I had mentioned next steps. But once again, her instincts on where to find everything were eerie as fuck.
It took me a moment to gather the supplies, pausing every moment or two to glance over at her. She was a mystery . . . and a problem.
When I was back at her side, her eyes flickered open and she stared up at me. Tension lines still bracketed her lips, but she didn’t complain. “Pills or bots first?” I held up each label so she could read them.
“Bot shot first,” she said.
I pressed the nano dispenser against her left biceps and slowly pulled the trigger. There was no way to see the bots being dispersed, but a little green light on top of the dispenser flicked on when the nanos had been delivered.
The pain pills were the dissolvable type, so I handed her the sealed packet.
She studied it a moment. Smart.
It took her two tries and I was just on the verge of offering to help when she ripped the package open with her teeth and tilted the pills into her mouth.
“Guuuhh.” She grimaced and made a choking sound. “I can’t believe you gave me the fake grape flavor. That’s the nastiest.” Lacy handed me the crumpled packaging for disposal.
“Second worst,” I argued. “The fake watermelon is grosser.” Though beggars couldn’t be choosers. I’d been in enough hairy situations that I could tolerate any of the lab-made flavors.
Not wanting this to devolve into an argument, I held up the sling I’d found in the supply cabinet. “Ready for this?”
“How long do I have to wear it?”
“The system says overnight to give the bots time to work without having to continually repair the same injury over and over as you move the arm.”
Her sigh echoed around the room. “Fine.”
It was easier to maneuver her into the sling than it had been to remove her coveralls. Easier for me, at least. By the time we got her arm in place and the sling secured, she was yawning.
I wasn’t letting her fall asleep just yet. My quest for answers kept being put off as I handled the problems caused by her presence. “So, Lacy Dupree. Why did you steal my ship?”