"Its just a scratch..."

[Shane 0]

The noise of the engines in the Qob's cramped engineering room continued to climb higher and higher until it the roar consumed all other sounds, from the pings of gunfire on the outer hull to the sounds of Shane's heavy breathing. The big cyborg was sitting with his back leaned against a bulkhead, his robotic arm laying immobile and useless at his side. The color of his face was a sickly pale, his usually stony expression now turned to a drowsy, almost delirious state. His eye's moved down to the sliced hosing on his bionic, still dripping blood from the worn auto-shutoff seals.

 

The seals had turned on in time to keep the big man from bleeding out completely, but not in time from to keep him from losing a significant amount. A feeling of annoyance came across him as he glanced about engineering. Red covered the floor, dripping from the control panel he had been working on, staining his shirt and pants. It looks like a freakin' war zone in here. Gonna be a heckuva mess to clean up.

 

Sometimes Shane questioned the wisdom of rebuilding the arm to operate on organic fluids, but it had its perks. He didn't have to worry about finding power to recharge it all the time, giving him much more flexibility. But it obviously had it's disadvantages as well. Especially when he didn't have enough fluid for both his hearts to pump efficiently.

 

The room started to spin a little. "Whelp," Shane mumbled as he stood uneasily, steadying himself on some railing with his good hand, "time to find that blasted doctor." Slowly, he started to make his way out of engineering.