COMPETE: The Atlantis Grail (Book Two) - Preview

CHAPTER NINETEEN (draft)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The medical deck area is located in Residential Deck Four. There's supposed to be one in each Quadrant, but this one's closest to my residence, so Logan gets me there.

There's a line in the front waiting section when we arrive. Teens with minor injuries wait while those who are seriously hurt get seen first—typical triage. I see a few with bloody scratches, and several scorch wounds from the laser guns, but most are simply badly traumatized. There are quite a few Atlantean crew members among the more seriously injured.

A young boy hyperventilates. A girl Cadet is wheezing with an asthma attack. Two young kids babble incoherently about being betrayed by Earth, and how there's more secret terrorists coming for us, and how we're all doomed to die before we even make it to Atlantis. . . . The doctors and med techs move rapidly, taking us through to the back where the examination rooms are, but it's still at least half an hour until I get seen.

"A concussion," the no-nonsense young Atlantean medic says, shining a light in my eye and making me follow his fingers. He's another older teen, and I stare at his neatly trimmed short metallic hair and his angular chin, while he passes some kind of scan gadget over my forehead and then there's a tingling heat sensation along my skin.

"I've taken care of the worst of it. Now, get some rest, and have someone wake you every two hours," he tells me at last, turning off the machine.

"Oh?" I mutter. "I thought if you have a concussion you're not allowed to sleep at all, or you fall into a coma or die, or something?"

The medic shakes his head. "A myth, for the most part. Your symptoms must be watched, but otherwise rest is good. Set a timer and have someone wake you to make sure your symptoms do not get worse. You are free to go."

I figure, this med tech has a huge line of other more seriously injured people to deal with. So I vacate the room, and Logan's waiting for me outside.

"I'll watch you tonight," he tells me, as we head back to my cabin on Command Deck Four.

I glance up at him, despite the heavy dull ache in my head that's aggravated by every movement. "No, Logan, that's crazy, you need your own rest," I say. "You've been in battle!"

But his hazel eyes are warm and he smiles lightly. "You make it sound so awesome. But, no, I'll stay with you tonight. That is, if you are comfortable with me being there, you know, alone with you in your cabin. Just you and me—" And he wiggles his eyebrows meaningfully, following it up with another slightly tired, slightly flirty smile.

"Oh, you—you, silly." I blink weakly, attempting to smile also, and both of us stop at the doors of my cabin.

Inside, Logan turns his back while I threaten to hit him if he peeks, and hurriedly undress, wash up, then pull on my sleeping shirt and pajama bottoms. I lie down and he makes me comfortable on my bunk bed cot, covering me with the sheet and blanket, arranging it around me gently. Then he turns to the wall clock, which shows a little after midnight, and sets the alarm for two-hour intervals. I look at him as he sits there, watching me, soon almost nodding off in the narrow hard chair near the wall, just two feet away. Did I mention the cabin is a tiny closet?

"Logan," I mutter softly, as the cabin lights fade due to our motionless inactivity.

"Huh?" In the twilight I see him barely open his eyes, as his head is lolling to the side.

"Logan, get your butt here. . . . There's plenty of room for you to lie down."

He blinks, the glitter of his eyes more alert than it was a second ago. "Are you sure?"