Page 55 of Tattle Tail
It only took seconds before a similar noise sounded outside the airlock. Clicking. Banging.
“Stars, they’re like something out of a nightmare,” Joseph said.
“They cannot penetrate the hull,” she said, though it sounded more like a question to her ears. Logically, she knew there were several layers of ship between her and the outside world: the outer shielding, insulation, the inner hull, and the final layer that kept the ship airtight. She knew this, yet it seemed as if a thin layer of metal was all that separated her from the monsters.
“The patches will hold,” he said. “The floor grating can withstand entry into the atmosphere. What’s a few claws banging on it?” He slumped against the wall, leaving a smear of blood and mud.
“Cleansing room. We need to get you clean,” she said. He leaned against her as they limped into the cleansing room. Each step felt raw and burned, reminding her that she ran barefoot through the trees. She wondered how badly she cut up her feet, but it could wait.
The shower stall was not large enough for them both. Joseph stood under the spray, and she stood half-in, half-out of the stall. Blood and mud rinsed off him. The shower cycled again and again, but the water would not run clear.
He continued to bleed. She wrapped a towel around his arm, trying to stop the bleeding. While his arm took the worst injury, his legs and feet had several lacerations. Thankfully, they did not appear deep.
Satisfied that he was as clean as possible, she guided him to a chair in the cabin. His injured arm was wrapped in a towel. A scarlet stain blossomed across the cloth. She did not like how freely he bled.
“Where is the medical kit?” she asked.
“The corridor. Red. Can’t miss it.” He cradled his arm to his chest.
Mornclaws were venomous. A basic medical kit should include an antivenom unless he failed to upgrade the medical kit to meet Corravian regulations. Or the kit had expired.
She tore open the kit, scattering bandages and small items on the floor. Frustrated, she dumped the entire thing out and searched for the autoinjector of antivenom.
There. White with a noxious green warning label. She ripped at the packaging, nearly sending the autoinjector flying.
Be calm. Haste will not help.
She took a deep breath.
“You gonna jab me?” he asked, his eyes heavy and dropping.
“The venom is causing you to bleed.”
“Is not so bad.” His words were starting to slur.
Rather than argue, she pushed the needle into his upper arm. He yelped in surprise.
“Were you bitten anywhere else?” she asked.
“Nah.”
As an afterthought, she read the instructions on the package. Without knowing how much venom the mornclaw injected into Joseph, the dosage was imprecise. The package recommended administering a second dose if the bleeding did not slow.
Of course there was not a second injector.
Focus on what you can do.
To give the antivenom time to work, she started from the bottom by cleaning the cuts on his feet. Fortunately, the medical kit had several tubes of ointment and enough gauze to swaddle Joseph from head to toe.
Finally, she removed the towel. He hissed as dried patches of fabric pulled away bits of skin and hair. She picked out stray fibers and cleaned the area.
Peaceable frowned at the gash. “The wound is deep. The knitting gel will not be strong enough to hold it closed.” The wound sliced through the epidermis layer into the muscles. Joseph required a medic.
“You know, on Earth, they use needles and thread to sew deep cuts together,” he said.
“Interesting,” she murmured, barely listening. Carefully, she spread the gel over the wound.
He hissed. “Tell me you’re horrified at how barbaric and backward Earth is, Peaceable. Lecture me about modern medical care. Because, right now, the fact that you’re not is worrying me and I might think that this little scratch is serious.”
