Tabitha Chirrick - Overshadowed

“No!” Shy yelled. She struggled with the yoke, eyes widening. “No! No! No!

“What—? What’s—?” Tayel couldn’t find the air to form a full sentence.

Shy toggled a switch, but nothing changed. “EMP! Just—just hang on, okay?”

A lump formed in Tayel’s throat. The ship picked up speed and started to spiral.

“Xite, xite xite xite. Tayel, press your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”

“W-what?”

“Do it, and bite down. Don’t open your mouth!”

Tayel did so. Shy gripped her armrests and closed her eyes, and Tayel understood. Shy couldn’t save them, not this time. No amount of hoping this was all a nightmare stopped the snow from coming up to meet them. The ship roared on impact, and everything went black.

The ship settled, but the tremor of impact lingered in Tayel’s bones. The sound of grinding metal still rang in her ears, and her breaths came out in shudders, her heartbeat a racing thud against her insides. Dull explosions echoed outside, but there was little way of knowing how close they were, save for how hard the ground shook afterward. Dirt and snow caked the cockpit window entirely, and only dim blue lights lining the floor allowed Tayel to see.

Her harness dug into her left side, where all her weight pressed against the straps. The ship had come to rest tilted; the co-pilot’s chair sat at an angled, higher elevation than the pilot’s — than Shy.

Tayel shook her head, clearing the haze. “Shy?”

Shy groaned in response, and Tayel rolled her head to the side. Shy held her face in her hands, her bared teeth visible through the gaps in her fingers. Glistening dark liquid dripped down her wrists. Blood.

A crack of cold fear shot Tayel fully awake. She lifted her legs — planted her feet on the console. She tugged at the right release strap and swung her arm out of the hold, shifting to keep balance, but the left release wouldn’t budge. She pulled it again, wincing as her sore, bruised muscles strained. Nothing. With a tremendous tug, she freed her arm from the harness, but toppled forward, catching herself by the gut against Shy’s armrest. Tayel’s eyes snapped shut at the lance of pain.

“What are you doing?” Shy sounded groggy — disoriented.

Tayel caught her breath. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m — no. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. There’s blood.”

Shy’s jaw set.

“Just — let me see,” Tayel said.

She swallowed the taste of bile and reached forward, gently grabbing Shy’s wrist. Warm blood stuck to her fingers as she moved it aside. Pressure alleviated, blood flowed freely from a gash stretched from the edge of Shy’s cheekbone to her jawline — right beside her ear. Even in the dim lighting, it already looked discolored. Tayel winced.

“What?” Shy asked. “How bad?”

“Keep putting pressure on it.”

Shy put her hand against the wound. She tried to stand, but collapsed back into her seat.

“What are you doing?” Tayel asked.

“I’m dizzy, but—”

“Just stay put, Shy.” Tayel drew her hands back and ran them through her own hair, trying to tug the stress out of her scalp.

“Tayel!” Jace cried. Light footsteps echoed from the corridor.

He arrived at the cockpit unscathed, his wing still held at ninety degrees in his sling. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Jace! Can you bring me the med kit?” Tayel asked.

“Why? Are you okay?” Another dull explosion rattled the ship, and he took hold of the archway. “Did something happen?”

“It’s Shy.”

“What’s wrong with her? The med kit could be anywhere in there.”

“It’s right where I left it last night!”

“No — it’s.” He tugged at a head feather. “An armory crate detached from the wall. Fehn had to use the aether to shield us.”

Tayel straightened, bracing for bad news.

“I’m okay,” Jace said. “ He’s okay, but I think it’s starting to wear on him. It’s a mess in there, though. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find the medical supplies.”

“I’ll be fine,” Shy muttered.

“No,” Tayel said. “Jace, she’s bleeding. A lot.” She lifted her hand to show the blood.

He gawked. “Xite.”

Jace swearing? An echo of Tayel’s simple, far away life on Delta tried to urge a smile out of her. It would have been so meaningful back then — the butt of a weeklong joke. But now? Now it meant nothing, and she could see it in his hardened eyes just like she knew he could see it in hers.

“I got it.” He turned around, balancing himself against the walls of the crooked corridor. “Be right back!”

“Tayel,” Shy said, “Get me a mirror.”

“A mirror? In here?”

Shy pointed to the ground. A droplet of blood slid off her forefinger and landed on a wrench balanced against the dashboard base.

Tayel squinted. A half-open toolbox laid on its side next to the pilot seat. A dozen tools were scattered along the floor. She craned her head to the row of storage space above the console, where a cargo hatch hung open. Of course. The lock must have busted during the crash.

She got on her hands and knees, and searched the ground for a mirror, freezing at a glint of movement. She swayed back. The movement was her, reflecting off a thumb-sized mirror on the tip of a flexible extension tool. She snatched it and held it out for Shy.

“Thanks.” Shy took it in a shaking hand, and checked her wound in the reflection, wincing as she touched the purple skin on her cheek.

Tayel flinched as the blood flowed faster.

“Going to need stitches,” Shy said.

Tayel took the extension tool from her. “And you said you were dizzy?”

“A little.”

“You might have a concussion.”

“Oh, I definitely have a concussion.”

Tayel looked her over for other injuries, but found none. Nothing obvious, anyway. Not that a freely bleeding gash and a concussion weren’t enough. She wrung her hands. Shy was alive. Talking. Breathing. A crash wasn’t nearly enough to take her out, but Tayel’s nerves kept ramping up as Shy’s blood continued to flow.

“Here!” Jace jogged into the cockpit ahead of Fehn, breathing fast. He handed the med kit out, and Tayel snatched it out of his grasp.

“Is she okay?” Fehn asked.

“Just a scratch,” Shy said.

Tayel wasted no time saying what she was thinking: that a scratch and a gash were not two in the same. She poured through the med kit and found disinfectant and a cotton pad. Good enough to start. She dumped the bottle upside down onto the pad, letting it soak up the noxious liquid.

She met Shy’s eyes. “This is going to sting.”

Shy kept perfectly still while Tayel reached forward and patted the area clean. Shy’s eyes watered, but to her credit, she didn’t make a sound.

“There’s a suturing kit in there, right?” Tayel asked.

The floor rattled again, harder than any other time before. The walls groaned with the movement, and Tayel’s pulse beat against her ears.

Shy reeled back. “You’re not going to sew my face up in here.”

“Shy’s right,” Jace said. “We’re in serious danger here. We don’t even know where we landed.”

“You’re just going to keep bleeding,” Tayel warned.

“Not necessarily,” Fehn said. “It looks like there’s some coagulant here.”

Shy’s eyes went wide. “Yes. That. Use that.”

“Here.” Fehn tossed a metal canister no bigger than a fist toward Tayel.

She caught it. “What do I do with it?”

“Pull the tab and squeeze the stuff into her wound, Red. It’s not surgery.”

It may not have been surgery, but Tayel’s medical expertise only went as far as basic cleanup any magball game might require. They didn’t often require coagulant. And when they did, she wasn’t involved. Her hands shook as she skimmed the instructions on the can.