The Entanglement

7

A rapid two-tone alert warns Cira that Brakes' status is changing. She rips her eyes from her second medical textbook of the day and watches the ICU's readouts. Everything is stable. Brakes' breathing starts to deepen. His mouth parts and breaks the seal of his lips. Then his eyes open with the murky awareness of a newborn.

He spots her. His mouth opens and closes, but only a creak of air escapes. A lot of emotions cross his face. Too many for her to decipher.

Cira waves her holographic reader aside. "Welcome back."

He groans. "How am I still alive?"

"Spite, mostly." Cira slides off her bed and brings up the ICU's holographic scans. "Your prognosis is good. Congratulations on not dying."

Brakes shuts his eyes, but his mouth hitches up at the corners. "Thanks, doc."

She waits a beat. "How's your pain?"

"I can manage."

"My hero." Cira brings up the IV's pump and schedules an increase in Lyradol. "There, that should help."

He groans again in gratitude.

"If you need help and the pod doesn't make the call, press that." She points to a red button mounted unobtrusively by his right hand. "And you better by dying, because if you call me and you're not, I'll eject you into space."

"Your bedside manner is shit."

"Blow me."

That wrenches a laugh out of Brakes. He stiffens and hisses in pain. His brave face won't last much longer.

Cira glances at the doorway, then gently taps the pod's glass with a fist. "Now sleep, idiot."

He smiles for real, his eyes already dim from Lyradol, and taps back.

It's not long before he slips back into sleep. The ICU reports everything is within acceptable parameters, but she activates a beeper in her headset anyway. Then she sets a password linked to her biometrics in case Ara gets any ideas. Xe might be able to punch holes in walls, but xe can't punch through the ICU without setting off a suite of alarms. If xe does?

Well. It'll be an interesting day.

Cira checks her equipment one last time and heads for the door. It doesn't open. The keypad is dark. Must've failed. Just like on Grenadier. She shoves the memories aside, but a shiver rattles through her anyway. The manual override is nestled underneath the keypad. She opens the panel and pulls the release.

Again, nothing happens.

No obvious damage. Could be Ara's doing or damage from the firefight that she can't see. It's beyond her expertise. That much is clear while she studies the release. No miraculous skill-set bubbles up into her consciousness. No sudden insights. She kicks the door out of pure annoyance. Her boot slams into the bottom panel. The metal squeals in fatigue and buckles outward.

Cira stares at it for a solid three seconds. "Huh."

She digs her fingers into the door's edges and feels it yield like foil. It won't slide back. Something on the track must be wedged against it. She opens one of the top panels, but the panel inside is dark, too. There's only an anonymous bundle of tubes underneath coded by colors and symbols she doesn't understand. Best not to mess with it. She braces her foot against the frame and pulls the entire door forward and at a slight angle.

Something clicks and releases and—the door is in her hands.

It should be a lot heavier than it is. Cira sets it down and examines both sides. No marks. Sabotage or malfunction? Either way, it's useless. She glances back at Brakes, unconscious within the pod. The door is a formality at this stage, but he looks completely unprotected without it. Naked to whatever malevolence Ara has up xer sleeve. She steps into the hall and wedges the door back onto the track. The damn thing's lopsided, but it'll give her time to rush back on behalf of her patient.