Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Can you stand?”

Cal rolls halfway to sitting before collapsing backwards with a groan.

“Hold still, why don’t you?” Dutch growls. He squints, sprays more biofoam on her head injury. “Jesus, it’s bad.”

Cortez jabs a needle in her neck, pushes the plunger down. “Anti-nausea, anti-dizziness meds.” He stabs her with a different needle. “For the pain.”

Cal reaches behind her neck, pulls a memory chip out from her silky strands of hair. “It’s the data—on the ruins.” She places it in Cortez’s palm, her massive hands engulfing his. “Tell them—” She gasps in pain. “—to get it to Halsey. She’ll know….” Another gasp.

Cortez stares at the chip for a moment, wide-eyed, before regaining his composure. “No.” He curls her hand around the chip. “You give it to her.”

She gives him a doubtful look but takes the data chip back without further comment. O’Brien realizes he’s been holding his breath while watching the exchange. Willpower might be the only thing keeping her alive now.

He flinches as those pale-yellow eyes shift to him. “Nice shot, O’Brien.”

“Y-yeah….” Lamely, “Best shot this side of Eridanus….” She smiles amusedly.

Dutch wraps a stretchy bit of fabric around the back of her neck. “You have a spinal neck injury.” He taps a button. The black fabric expands, becomes rigid. “This’ll keep it from getting worse, but you ain’t gonna be able to turn your head no more.”

Her eyes start to glaze, drooping a bit as the meds kick in. She murmurs a slurred affirmative. Her eyes flutter shut. Cortez inhales sharply, afraid they’ve lost her, before sighing in relief at the sound of her shallow breathing.

He glances between the two of them. “This is bad.”

“What do we do? We can’t carry her; she weighs a literal ton!” O’Brien frets.

“And the lifting gear is over half a day away…” Dutch adds.

“What do we do? They’re gonna find us soon!”

“O’Brien, calm,” Cortez orders. “It’ll take them a bit to find us.”

“How do you know?” O’Brien points to the massive corpse drying in purple blood. “That brute found us, didn’t he?!”

“O’Brien, calm down,” Dutch soothes. O’Brien huffs, storms off a little ways. “Do we break comm silence and request for evac?”

Cortez considers. “Evac’s at 0930, but I don’t know if she can last that long without medical attention…”

“…let alone move to the rendezvous point.”

“You’re right. I’m calling it.” Cortez slings his bag off, begins to pull out his long-range transmitter.

“No.” The three look to Cal. “We can’t risk exposing our location.” She stands, ignoring Cortez and Dutch’s protests. “Gather your gear. We move to the rendezvous point.”

“Yes, ma’am.”