Chương 125: 48. Strategy 48-2

Before first watch started, Maki reworked everyone's dressings. When she taped D's leg, he tried and failed to play it down.

"It's not that bad. Tomorrow I—""If you want to drag a wrecked leg out of the rainforest tomorrow, I'm not stopping you," Maki said without looking up.

"But if you go down, none of us is interested in carrying your shield." D shut up. Roy was in worse shape than he looked—hands running hot, lips pale, textbook heat exhaustion stacked on top of a brain strung too tight. Maki forced two electrolyte pouches down his throat. He looked like he wanted to throw them right back up.

"I really can't—""Drink."

"But—""Drink." Watching from the side, I thought: if Maki ever graduates into an instructor post, absentee rates are going to plummet. Not from respect. From survival instinct. When she got to me, she grabbed my right shoulder. The moment she pressed, I nearly shot into orbit.

"Ow ow ow—""Pain means salvageable."

"Your comfort scripts are completely deranged."

"Your threshold is low." She stripped the old tape off and rewrapped the joint, then moved down to disinfect the knee. The sting of alcohol on raw skin made my whole body jolt. Harvey watched from across the room, looking delighted.

"Captain's like a cat being tortured."

"You keep watching and you're next."

"No need. I have absolute faith in Maki's ability."

"That's not faith, that's fear," Jess said.

"Is there a difference with her?" Harvey shot back. … No. No, there wasn't. Once first watch started, the bunker finally began to settle. The roar of the firestorm faded into background noise. Lights dimmed. The thermal blankets hung down like a very poor excuse for a border. Everybody lay down wherever they'd chosen. Not fully asleep, but at least eyes closed, pretending rest was possible. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I'd expected mixed sleeping arrangements to keep me up out of sheer awkwardness. Turned out it wasn't gender that made sleep difficult. It was breathing. One, two, three… eight in total. Some deep, some shallow. Some uneven. Some threaded with held-back pain. In the cramped space, the sound compressed, folding close—close enough that if you reached out, it felt like you could touch someone else's exhaustion. It was strange. Yesterday, we hadn't even been on the same team.

There were people here I still couldn't say I fully trusted. But in this metal box, with everyone breathing in the same recycled air, it hit me: At least for tonight, nobody had walked away. I closed my eyes, thinking I might actually sleep. My shoulder started throbbing within minutes—slow, persistent pulses.

And once my brain had a quiet moment, it queued up every scene from the day: Jess going down; the second Jäger (Hunter) stepping out; gun barrel lifting; my HUD bleeding red; me launching forward like an idiot. Perfect. Body wrecked. Brain wide awake. Moments like this, I really wanted to drag the academy staff in here and ask: do you file this under "survival training," or is this the psychiatric-break cultivation track? I rolled over; my shoulder protested immediately.

"Hh—" A few seconds later, a low voice reached me.

"Awake?" Maki. I turned my head. She was already sitting up, holding a small glowstick, the light soft enough to just sketch out shapes. She'd probably just finished another injury check. A few strands of hair had fallen loose. The usual ice-cold look had softened a fraction in the dark—not much. Just enough to make her feel less like a surgical instrument and more like a person holding one.

"Thought you were third shift," I whispered.

"Wounds don't follow duty rosters." She held out a hand.

"Sit up. I'll change your dressing."

"Now?"

"Or you can wait until you rub the tape loose and can't lift your arm tomorrow." I wanted to say I don't cry. Then remembered the bathroom and decided to keep that particular lie to myself. I pushed myself up slowly, careful not to jostle Jess beside me. On the far side of the blanket, D's breathing was heavy but steady. Harvey, against all odds, wasn't snoring—one of the better surprises of the day. Maki gestured for me to tug my collar down over my right shoulder. We're both girls. She's just doing med work.

Still, for no good reason, I stiffened. Maybe because it was too quiet. Maybe because when you're this tired, your nerves do stupid things.

"Relax," she said.

"Easy for you to say."

"What's difficult is your head. Your shoulder is just collateral." When she peeled off the old tape, I sucked a breath in between my teeth.

"You did that on purpose."

"No. That's the bill for you charging in today." She disinfected, applied ointment, and set a fresh strip of support tape. Same efficient hands, no wasted motion, but lighter than during daylight. I watched her, noticed the faint shadows under her eyes.

"You haven't slept either," I murmured.

"If the medic goes down, the squad turns into a group of idiots yelling 'you can do it' at each other," she said.

"Harsh. I at least can give orders."

"The clearest order you gave today was 'no.'""…Is it necessary to remember that so well?"

"As medical personnel, I have a strong memory for trauma scenes." I made a low, unhappy sound. Her hands paused for half a second, then she added, quietly:"You did get one thing right." I blinked.

"What?"

"You admitted the mistake." She smoothed down the end of the tape.

"Most people start by building a case to prove they weren't wrong. That's worse than the original error." I didn't know what to say to that. Maki's mouth was usually lined with poison. So when something like this came out, it felt like someone had shoved a small, hot stone into my chest by mistake. Uncomfortable in a different way.

"…Thanks," I managed. She shot me a look.

"Don't get sentimental. That doesn't mean I forgive you for charging in."

"That's more like you."

"I agree." She packed away the supplies and, almost as an afterthought, brushed a stray lock of hair away from my forehead. The movement was so casual that it took me a second to register it had happened at all. By the time I did, she was already moving on to the next person. I sat there, for no good reason aware of heat in my ears. …Ridiculous. It was just changing a dressing. What, now I'm embarrassed about being treated like a kid by a teammate? Fourteen is a pathetic age for dignity, apparently.