Coup de Grace (by Soora & Ethan)

[Ethan Neufeld 0]

Maybe it’s been said before, but there’s nothing like staring certain death into a standoff and being swept away to safety by the cavalry. The sound and embrace of that transporter was unlike any other; an inexpressible sense of relief that would have left a healthier man euphoric, pent-up and restless until he crashed sometime later. But Ethan, running on fumes just to survive, didn’t have much left beyond an exhaled breath. Crashing seconds after the transporter had released them, Ethan slumped to sit on the deck as his surroundings blended into a haze.

 

“Doc--” Ethan heard his voice trail off before he registered it happening. His hand heavy, he slapped it to the pouch on his chest and fumbled to open it, retrieving a vialed sample of the black substance that he had collected earlier. He passed it to Soora, brushing hands with her as he let his arm fall and heavy eyes close.

 

 

“Chief?”

 

Ethan belatedly drew his eyes from the black bag the ship’s medical staff was carrying away to the delicate hand resting on his muddy forearm and then to her face. “Yes, sir?”

 

The young Ensign withdrew her hand, blue eyes searching the hardened expression and distant gaze he unconsciously wore. “The Captain wanted me to tell you debrief can wait. Please get yourselves to sickbay,” she said, gentle but firm.

 

“Aye, sir.”

 

“I’m sorry, Chief,” she added, getting a quiet nod in reply before Ethan left the busy flight deck.

 

 

"Stay with me," Soora urged.

 

"Trying," Ethan replied shakily, exhaustion evident in his voice as he blinked away the urge to sleep. A wave of dizziness threatened to tip the compartment on its side and he put a steadying arm to the deck.

 

Soora looked down at him, a thousand emotions burning through her mind- pity, guilt... Among others. She closed her eyes for a split second, getting herself back under control, before opening them again and reaching into her bag, getting out an anesthetic hypo, injecting it quickly, not giving him time to respond against it, before getting out some bandages for the move down to medical.

 

Ethan instinctively cringed at the sound of the hypospray and sat compliantly, struggling to simply remain alert much less resist medical treatment and surviving this infection was the least of his problems. He stood on desperate ground in more ways than one. Even if he recovered, he now owed the Qob a considerable debt and Gabriel had thrown Ethan under the bus in his coup de grace. But Ethan, in his current condition, could scarcely contemplate damage control or who would believe him.

 

Soora called for a cot as she bandaged up his wounds quickly. She would be more thorough down in the bay, but for now she just didn't want any blood--or other substances-- loose. She took in a deep breath as she saw the extent of his injuries, but quickly exhaled it. Some random crew member gave her the cot, and she lowered it with a quick movement, studying his form before sitting up the back so he could continue to stay sitting up. "I'll do most of the work, but you're going to need to help a little," she said, just loud enough for him to hear her.

 

“Okay,” Ethan replied with a faint nod of his head. He did his best to help carry his weight without complaint as he moved, but he couldn’t check a grimace or the jaw-clenched hiss that escaped as he settled on the stretcher. He started to lose it, threatening to pitch off to the side.

 

"Woah there," she said, steadying him. "Could have waited for me to lift you." She ran a hand through his hair, a sly move to get a manual read on his temperature while providing some kind of-- could she call it comfort? She didn't let her face change as she felt that he definitely had a fever-- a bad one. "In any case, its an easy ride from here." She popped the cot up so she could push it with ease. "After that little pop, anyway," she said, asking that someone bring down Alex as well.

 

“Mm,” Ethan minimally acknowledged, confused by what she meant and unable to keep his eyes open any longer.

 

Soora called for the crew in the way to move it, and wheeled him out of the transporter room, and into the nearest TL, impatient to get him to a proper room, where she could put her knowledge to some actual use. She then wheeled him into the abandoned--and dusty-- sick bay, frowning before setting in the groove of beginning to heal him, the vial of black goo ever present and as pressed against her mind as it was her leg.