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One of Rossa’s crew — the red Zaledian with the tail — is carrying a screaming Frankie off the ship. She claws at him, shrieking like a banshee. Another pirate is dragging a metal floating gurney across the deck, tossing it the last leg toward the Zaledian so that he can relieve himself of Frankie.
“Frankie!” I call, trying to get her attention so that she might calm down. She freezes, jerking her head. I nearly scream, but I bite my tongue. A patch of her hair above one ear is completely gone.
“Kaye?” She’s in disbelief.
“You’re safe now. I promise. I’m here, I’m real, and I’m gonna take you home, okay?”
She shakes her head. “We’re definitely dead, Kaye.”
I glance at the Zaledian. He grimaces, whispering to me, “It was an ugly scene.”
There are burns on his forearms, and a bit of his eyebrow has been singed.
“What happened to her?” I ask, tears filling at the sight of the many wounds. There are burns all over her—enough to make your stomach roil. The black shift she wears is nothing but scraps, fused to her in places and completely gone in others, exposing the skin that has received the worst of the heat. Thankfully, her face seems mostly untouched, but she gazes off into the distance, not in our reality.
“I don’t know,” says the red-skinned pirate with sincere concern. “I went to get her, and she was alone. It should have been easy, and I tried hard to be soft-spoken and kind like Rossa taught me, but she started flipping out. It seemed she had every intention of burning the place down. I had to physically drag her out of there, and she fought me the whole way. I’m sorry if I hurt her more, but I had to do it.”
He’s spooked by the experience; that much is obvious. He doesn’t want to look at Frankie, perhaps for fear of scaring her. She doesn’t acknowledge what he’s saying, seemingly not listening at all.
“Frankie,” I try, stroking her hair away from her face. “Sweetie, we’re taking you to the infirmary.”
“I didn’t want you to be here,” she murmurs.
I sigh, strapping her onto the gurney. Even my strong stomach turns at the brush of my skin against hers.She’ll be fine,I tell myself over and over again. But right now, she thinks she’s dead and that I’m dead with her. We can deal that later. Now’s the time to head straight for the med-bot.
When she’s safely on the floating gurney, the men dictate that the handy thing should drive itself to the infirmary, and we follow it. I hustle to keep beside Frankie, so she won’t feel alone. I fear that her trauma-induced visions of death will be confirmed by the fact that she’s floating through a silvery hallway with softly glowing lights. I’d hold her hand, but the worst of the burns are there, as if she put her hands straight into molten liquid up to her elbows.
We don’t have time to wait for the ship to settle into a steady hyperspeed. The world shifts around us as the pilot works on getting us to safety.
There’s no way of knowing how much time passes while I focus all my attention on healing Frankie. For minor issues, disease, and bleeding wounds, the med-bot can function on its own. But because the machine doesn’t have regenerative abilities, it can’t do much for third-degree burns aside from dictate directions for me to follow. A couple of the crew members stay with me to help, running to grab what I need according to the bot’s instructions.
Frankie flinches when any of them come within a foot of her, so they carefully stay out of her way, instead placing my materials on the floating table.
Working together, we’re able to hook her up to the bot for intravenous fluids.
“We have to get the fabric off,” I tell her. I hold up the liquid I was given to use. “This will dissolve it from your skin without harming you. Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll—”
“Do it myself,” she mumbles.
“But I’m here. There are others who can help so it will be quick. We’re going to give you a pain reliever—”
“No!” she screams. “I don’t want to be touched. I want them to leave.”
“The aliens…?”
She nods frantically.
“Go,” I urge them.
“Are you sure you’re ok—”
“Go!”
They run off at my word, leaving Frankie and me alone with the med-bot. I get to work quickly, knowing that my speed and care could mean her life right now. It’s funny how I’m the type to cry over anything, but right now, my focus is unshakeable, and my hands are steady.
“What were you thinking?” I breathe as more terrible burns are revealed by my efforts. “Frankie…”
“He deserved it,” she replies, surprising me with her coherency. “Deserved tosuffer…”
