A resistance warship flies into battle against the Conglomerate, a mecha-company conquering planets for minerals and slave labor. When the ship crashes above the plains, the five people on board battle for survival across their world, pursued by th...
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"Do you have enough strength to prep us for takeoff?" The Gunner asks as they reach the rows of Conglomerate landspeeders. Long lines of craft gleam in the light, each a miniature of the ship they crashed on, covered, but with limited capabilities, making them ideal for skimming over terrain but not for atmospheric or orbital battle.
The Double tries to hike herself up higher on the Gunner's shoulder to see the crafts before a wet hacking cough racks out of her, forcing the Gunner to stop her brisk pace and brace the wounded woman as she braces nearly double. The Recruit hovers helplessly but keeps his eyes and pistol up to cover them. Carefully the Gunner probes the Double's sides. "Muckrudders," the bigger woman swears. "I think one of your fractured ribs may have punctured a lung." The Double coughs again and tears stream down her face in pain.
"Get me...," the Double wheezes. "Get me... to a cockpit-t-t." She is starting to shiver violently, shock finally registering to her body. "S-strap me...in... I'll... start us... up." Her breathing is growing more labored by the moment and the Gunner fears if they don't let her rest soon they'll lose her.
"Okay," The Gunner manages simply. "I'm going to carry you, you need to save your energy. Stay awake." She instructs and the Recruit is surprised to hear the Gunner say the Double's name, the river of worry in her voice a rushing rapid's worth of emotion.
The Gunner scoops the Double up in her arms and hustles the Recruit with her over to the speeders, selecting one with full fuel tanks and an aft gun turret. They hurry up the gangway and gently settle the Double into the co-pilot's chair, doing their best to pad her injuries with jackets before tightening down the seat restraints to put pressure on wounds and mitigate any jostling. The Double looks half dazed as they do so, allowing them to move and arrange her limbs as they wish. It is the placidity that scares them both the most although neither of them voices any fear aloud.
"Go and find oxygen masks," The Gunner instructs the Recruit as she disables the vehicle's tracker and tears open a roll of adhesive field sutures with her teeth and applies them to the weeping, reopened laceration on the Double's forearm. "I'll patch her up as best as I can with what we took from the medbay. If she does have a collapsed lung, we can provide oxygen to her good one for the time being." The Recruit nods and hurries to ransack the speeder's supplies.
"Hey," the Gunner says, using two fingers to tip the Double's lolling head up. "Eyes up. The Senator would be appalled by your posture right now," she tells the Double as she applies a compression wrap to the Double's torso.
The Double tries to smile, a grimace winning in the end. "True," she manages to rasp. Even that word seems to greatly tax her. "You're.... Bossy." She slurs a bit but the light in her eyes is still there, dim, but there.
The Gunner gives her a rare smile. She guides the Double's hands to the console and is almost relieved to see the Double's piloting skills instantly return. The woman's hands are riddled with small cuts and battered from fighting but they find each control nonetheless with pinpoint accuracy. The Recruit comes back with an oxygen mask they strap onto the Double's face. It only underscores her fragility and they have no way to drain any excess air from her abdominal cavity but it will have to do.
