Part 26

    Crawling toward Graves wasn't a long trek, but in his mind it took forever. Everything hurt, every minor movement, every slow stretch toward the next bit of forward momentum, every breath, was like knives being thrusted into his flesh.

    This was not how he thought his day would go...

    Finally, reaching Graves he assessed the damage. Bone had snapped and now protruded from the masticated muscle and torn flesh. To fix this, if it could be fixed at all, they would need a full medical suite and a surgeon. The latter they had no access to at the moment. They have to find one when they landed Earth-side. For now...

    Kevin unclipped the rear admirals belt and removed it, quickly wrapping it above the remains of his arm. He cinched the belt tight above the wound. Evidently this part of his medical training was a core memory, or something unconscious, because he had no no flashes of memory from when he learned it. Which was honestly fine, he couldn't afford to zone out at the moment.

    Graves cried out as the belt tightened around his arm, passed out for a moment, came back to, moaning from the pain. Then he laughed, a pained sound, but a laugh nonetheless.

    "What's so funny sir?" asked Kevin.

    Graves sighed and winced as the laughter died. "The fucker ate my gun." He chuckled again, wincing again." Ain't that some fucking luck."

    Kevin chuckled, gripping his own aching ribs.

    "Go get that message sent," Graves said. I'll wait here, maybe take in the scenery." He gestured at the corpses and mushroom stalks with his good arm. "Maybe write a poem. Paint a picture or something..."

    Kevin stood and asked if he was sure. When he was met in the affirmative, he started trudging his way towards the nearby comms room.

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