Chapter 7

  Salvage

  It was quiet in sickbay. No monitors beeped, no rasp of forced air. Just silence—the way Sarsha liked it. Hospitals were nosy places. Footsteps in the hall, some alarm trying to get attention, necessary but not helpful. She kept sickbay quite, a place for her patients to heal.

  Annalynn lay on the recovery bed, sleeping lightly. It was a wonder she’d made it back to the ship at all. Sarsha had been forced to drill into her skull to relieve the pressure—something she’d never have considered back in her hospital days.

  Of course, back in the hospital she would have had advanced medications, neural sensors, micro-lasers. Here, she was lucky to still have the clotting agent she’d dosed Annalynn with.

  At least the captain had listened when she asked for new medical scanners. Officially, they’d been justified as necessary for checking Zara’s implants. This time, they’d saved Annalynn’s life.

  Sarsha got up from her chair and walked over. Annalynn lay there, hair black, chest rising slowly. Sarsha didn’t know when she would wake or if there was any permanent damage.

  She picked up a hand scanner and ran it over her sleeping form. A broken wrist was the only other notable injury—lucky, considering how close she’d been to a rail cannon shot. That was something Sarsha could treat. She’d had to improvise to get the bones to fuse properly, but in the end it had worked.

  Reading the screen Annalynn was recovering well. The swelling in her brain had gone done dramatically.

  “Captain, when are you going to learn to slow down?” she said aloud. Annalynn didn’t stir. Sarsha hadn’t expected her to.

  Reassured that the captain was stable, she returned to her console. She still needed to finish calibrating Zara’s implants. It would be a lot easier if the girl would just hold still. But no—Zara had to work on the ship, had to prove she had value.

  The latest episode with the engines was just a continuation of Zara pushing beyond her limits. Pushing herself was fine, but she had limits, everyone did.

  When would she realize she didn’t need to? Her computer skills were the best on the crew—better than many trained professionals. Just because she had to rely on implants to walk didn’t mean she couldn’t carry her weight.

  What Sarsha really needed was a nerve scanner—something that could map the nervous system and show what was and wasn’t working. Unfortunately, those were expensive.

  Maybe they could find a used one. Equipment like that lasted a long time, and hospitals wouldn’t replace it unless they had to. Fixing was far cheaper than replacing. It was a good thing manufacturers couldn’t hide schematics.

  Enough wishing for things she didn’t have. Sarsha turned back to the reports. Zara’s implants were functioning, just slightly out of alignment with her nervous system.

  That was to be expected. Implants like hers stimulated nerves; they didn’t replace them. It was possible to upgrade, but that cost even more money. Finishing the last update, Sarsha summoned Zara.

  It wasn’t long before Zara arrived in sickbay. She hated her chair, but Sarsha helped her move from the grav chair into the one built for her here.

  This chair interfaced directly with her implants, allowing Sarsha to upload the update. “Remember—when your implants wake up, it’s going to hurt. If the pain doesn’t ease, you need to tell me.” Her tone was warm, but carried the edge Zara always obeyed.

  “I know, I know. This isn’t the first time,” Zara muttered, squirming as much as she could.

  “Alright, here we go.” Sarsha tapped the upload command. Zara winced, inhaled sharply, then exhaled in long, shaky bursts. She repeated the cycle a few times—in through the nose, out through the mouth.

  “I can feel my legs.” Her voice quivered. “The pain is really bad.”

  She sucked in another breath, chest rising sharply, then forced her eyes open. Her face was painted with pain, lips pressed tight as she struggled to focus on Sarsha. The effort alone seemed to drain her.

  Sarsha only nodded, steady as ever — a calm anchor against the storm. That was enough. Zara clenched her jaw, pushed through, and forced herself upright.

  “I’ve got you,” Sarsha said when Zara tipped forward too far. Her hands steadied the girl’s shoulders—gentle, firm, unshakable. “Easy now. You’ve got this.”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Zara took a small step. Whenever her implants went offline, it always took time to regain balance. She wobbled, then tried again.

  This time she was stronger. Sarsha let go, though her hands hovered close. Zara nodded, determination flashing, and kept walking. Slow at first, then steadier with each step.

  It was a dance they had repeated many times. Some sessions dragged, painful and slow. Others lightened quickly. This time, Zara moved with good pace.

  “Alright,” Sarsha said, satisfied. “I think you’re good to go. Just don’t overdo it.”

  “Me, overdo it?” Zara grinned, already slipping back into her usual tone. “You must be thinking of some other super-cute teenager on this ship.” She smirked as she walked out of sickbay.

  “Well, Captain, I think she’ll be alright,” Sarsha said, glancing toward Annalynn’s bed.

  “I think so too.”

  Sarsha froze. The voice was soft, but steady. Annalynn hadn’t moved, her eyes still closed.

  Sarsha rushed to her side, scanner in hand. “I don’t believe it. You were almost dead.”

  Annalynn’s hair flashed pink, then cascaded into red. “Your boyfriend needs to work on his aim.”

  “Captain, you shouldn’t be awake. You need rest.”

  “What I need is for us to get off this blasted moon. We still have a job to do.”

  “You really think the job’s still waiting for us? You, Roger, Zev, and Zara know combat better than me, but this feels like a setup.”

  Annalynn’s eyes opened, her hair fading from pink to black. “That’s what I thought too. But I overheard those pirates talking. I let them capture me. I didn’t think Zev would actually fire the rail cannon.”

  Sarsha blinked. “Wait—you let them capture you? Maybe I do need to examine you again.”

  She set her palm against Annalynn’s forehead, then shifted her hand to pull back an eyelid, peering into her eyes. “Well, I doubt the concussion helped, but if your judgment was that bad already, we should probably run some tests.”

  Annalynn waved her off. “Guys like that love to talk. They can’t help themselves. I needed to know who was paying them.” She pushed against the bed as if to sit up, but Sarsha’s hand pressed her shoulder firmly back down.

  “I would have been fine if Zev had aimed just a little further from me.”

  Keeping her hand steady on Annalynn’s shoulder, Sarsha leaned in. “I want you to stay here. You need rest. Don’t look at me like that—I know you.” Her voice was gentle but iron-firm.

  Annalynn didn’t answer. Her hair rippled once, colors shifting before finally settling into blue.

  “I get it,” Sarsha said softly. “Even you know you need to slow down. That’s what the blue means. Your body is telling you to rest. I can bring you the boys’ reports. That’ll give you something to do.”

  Annalynn didn’t answer. Sometimes her feelings tangled too tightly to sort on her own. Sarsha’s steady explanations helped, though Annalynn would never admit it.

  She finally let herself relax, eyes closing.

  “I’m glad you’re listening,” Sarsha murmured. “I literally had to drill into your skull to relieve the pressure. You shouldn’t be awake until tomorrow. Back at my hospital, we’d have kept you under even longer.”

  “If we were back in your hospital…” Annalynn’s voice was faint, but steady. “I might let you.” Her hair shifted through a wash of colors before settling on white.

  Sarsha knew she’d be asleep within moments. Annalynn had come a long way. Letting her guard down wasn’t easy—but she was learning.

  She began searching her database for TBIs. The files weren’t the most current, but the information was solid. Brain injuries were nothing new to medical science. Still, it took her a while to find what she wanted.

  Given the extent of Annalynn’s injuries, recovery should have been impossible this fast. As far as Sarsha knew, Annalynn was fully human. No known modifications.

  Her comm chimed softly. Sarsha glanced at it—a message from Zev. He wanted an update on Zara. They’d run into trouble with another ship’s computer.

  He could have asked Zara directly, but she’d only insist she was fine. Everyone knew she was the more stubborn of the siblings. Sarsha typed a quick reply: Zara was walking again, but not well enough to reach the ship on her own.

  If Zara insisted on going—and stopping her short of restraints was impossible—she’d need medical support. Sarsha began assembling a small kit of pain suppressors and stimulants. The suppressors eased the strain of pushing implants too far. The stimulants sharpened the nerves, making the implants more responsive—but too much could burn them out entirely.

  The trick was giving Zara just enough to survive a bad situation without letting her rely on them. Sarsha herself would stay behind with Annalynn and Mosley, so she wrote out detailed instructions for Roger. His advanced first aid training made him the closest thing they had to a field medic.

  With that done, she turned to building a remote data collector for Zara’s implants. Normally the implants spoke directly to the sickbay computer, but with the Wrath on low profile, the ship’s network stayed isolated.

  After about fifteen minutes she had everything ready and summoned Zara to sickbay. This time, the girl’s excitement was palpable.

  There were always mixed feelings about reactivating implants. The pain was severe, sometimes unbearable. In civilization, suppressors would be used to blunt it—but on the Wrath, every dose had to be rationed.

  “So, doctor lady, are you giving me the good stuff this time?” Zara asked, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh. She already knew the answer. They’d had this argument plenty of times.

  “No, I’m not giving them to you,” Sarsha replied, handing her a locked container. “Roger can open it. He’ll decide if you need any.”

  Zara’s smile vanished. Roger was even stricter than Sarsha. He always said he trusted pain—taking it away stole something from a person.

  “That’s not fair.” Zara pouted, her voice rising. “What if Roger isn’t nearby when I need them? You could at least give them to Zev.”

  “If I hand them to your brother, you’ll just con him into letting you have them,” Sarsha said. Her tone stayed quiet, but hard. “These are too addictive. Not just chemically. They make you feel too good. Too much like you were before the accident.”

  Zara’s face tightened.

  Sarsha softened, just slightly. “I love you. You’re my little sister. If I could take the pain away, I would. But I can’t. We both have to live with that.” With that, she stepped forward and pulled Zara into a hug.

  At first, Zara was stiff, but after a moment she relaxed. When Sarsha finally let go, her eyes were red and puffy.

  “Now, get going before Zev shoots something.” Sarsha gave her a quick pat as she walked out.