DOCTORING

© Dana W. Paxson 2009

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DOCTORING

61

Miriam couldn’t move; she could only listen as the screams stopped, and the music segued, softly now, into a lullaby. A horrific lurch, and little by little the weight lifted from her. The debris shield had been dumped off ahead, and the ship’s spin was now being backed down.

At about a gee and a half, she worked her way clumsily across the frames between the bunks, and found them both still alive. The woman had vomited, then had tried to turn on her side, dislocating her hip. The man had landed on her, breaking his lower left arm in two places, and ramming the jagged end of his ulna through her right forearm. The two of them lay in a blood-soaked tangle.

By the time they were weightless again, Miriam had them patched up. She floated them to the ship’s skeletal clinic, went back to her bunk, and collapsed into exhausted sleep.

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