Part 17 (1/2)
”Could you scold me later?” Kris said. ”The pain is nasty, and I doubt that horse doctor will give me anything until he's had a chance to see all my black-and-blue spots.
”I heard that and you got it right, Your Highness” came from across the part.i.tion.
”Let's get you out of that dress,” Abby said, reaching for scissors. ”I'm not going to tell you how much you paid for it.”
”Somebody will get a bill for this,” Kris said darkly.
”No doubt. Now hold still. I don't want to cut nothing off you that you can't afford to lose.” The dress came off in pieces. The darts held it solidly in place, not letting go from where they had dug themselves into the reactive section of the ceramic body girdle. That girdle had done its job; it and all the darts came off together. Only from the inside could Kris see the cracks and spalling. It had held-but just barely.
Peeling off the bodystocking was almost work as usual, except that every time Kris twisted or turned to work the spider silk down her body she wanted to scream.
Her right side was an ugly line of black and blue where the rounds had hit, been stopped, but demanded payment for the energy they gave up from the soft flesh beneath. At least the ceramic armor had done a good job of spreading the energy.
Spider silk stopped a round. As far as its energy went, that was a matter not mentioned in the promotional material.
When the bodystocking was down to just Kris's right leg, Abby wrapped her in a modest blue gown and said. ”Doc, when you can pry yourself away from that hardheaded Marine, this Navy type is ready for a look-see.”
”Sorry, Princess, but you'll have to wait. You aren't nearly as interesting a collection of bruises and contusions as this fellow I've got in my clutches right now.”
”What?” Kris yelped, and tried to roll off the table. That produced another yelp. A very real one.
Abby made sure that Kris laid back down, then called over the curtain. ”Jack, you decent? Mind if I let this nosey neighbor of yours at least look at your ugly mug?”
”I'm not sure if I'm decent or not. They kind of got me locked down” came back in a way-too-shaky voice.
”Abby, open that curtain,” Kris demanded.
”I could point out that only family are allowed in here,” came back from the doc.
”I drafted him. He's head of my security team. Doc, open up,” Kris almost pleaded.
”Well, since you put it that way. Open the curtain. She drafted you, boy, and you're still speaking to her?”
”Seems that way, Doc.”
So a corpsman slid the curtain aside.
And Kris swallowed the first five things she tried to say.
Jack's dress uniform was in shreds on the floor. No, on closer examination, it was in distinct pieces. Apparently, whoever designed armored dress uniforms made allowances for taking them apart after heavy use.
But that wasn't what held Kris's eyes.
Jack was splayed out in some kind of traction. His back, his neck, and his skull were surrounded by things that held him. It looked like he was being eaten by a huge metal spider.
They had stripped him down to the bare nothing, revealing a back and b.u.t.t that was a sickly gray in the few places it wasn't livid black and blue. His minimum modesty was preserved by a towel someone had thrown over the vitals.
Kris finally emitted something like a gasp.
”Does he need all that?” she whispered.
”Most likely not,” the doc said, stepping away from Jack. ”But you ever met a doc who don't like to play with all his toys when he gets a chance. Especially when someone else is picking up the tab.” The doc had gray eyes that sparkled and white hair that gave him the look of a father everyone could use. Only the lines around his eyes showed worry. At the moment, those lines were etched deeply as he took in Jack.
”I can't look all that bad,” Jack insisted feebly. ”You sound like I'm dying or something.”
”More like the something,” Abby put in. ”I don't think the doc here would let you out of his care that easily.”
”He ain't nearly tortured enough,” the corpsman put in through a smile.
”So much for your performance rating,” the doc grumbled, but with too much smile to make the threat real. Then he turned to Kris and took her still-stockinged leg in hand and turned it gingerly. The creases around his eyes failed to soften.
”Corpsman, you keep an eye on what that jarhead claims is his brain,” Doc said without looking back at Jack. ”If that meatloaf starts to swell any little bit, I want to know about it before it happens. You hear.”
”Loud and clear, Your G.o.dhood,” said the unconcerned medic.
”Now, Your Highness, let's see what you've done to your perfectly usable collection of flesh and bones.”
”It's been in better shape,” Kris agreed.
The doc struggled to pull one dart from where it had buried its point in the spider silk. ”Nasty little thing. And it does like where it's at. Captain, quit holding up the wall and bring your strong right arm over here. n.o.body's going to commit a.s.sault and mayhem in my clinic. I won't allow it. Already writ the prescription agin' it.”
Captain DeVar came over from where he'd established himself, able to observe both casualties and keep a weather eye on the entrance to both the emergency room and, through the window in the door, the clinic's front door.
”Grab a pair of pliers and see how much work it is for you to pry one of those darts loose. Pull it straight out.”
Even the Marine ended up grunting from the effort as the first dart came out.
”That's just the way it is. My second wife always complained that I had those strong surgeon hands for cutting someone open, but hand me a jar of pickles and forget it. Officially, young lady, I'm declaring you a jar of pickles.”
”Or olives,” Abby added dryly.
”With very nice stuffing,” the doc said, not letting a mere maid get in the last word.
”Would you two quit it,” Jack said. ”I'm in enough pain without you trying to get me laughing.”
”Ain't you heard, laughter's great medicine,” Doc insisted.
”Not just now it isn't,” Jack and Kris said in harmony.
”Patients,” the doc spat. ”Don't know why we let them in the door.” But for someone who didn't seem to have much use for patients, the doc was very reluctant to let them out of his sight. ”Commander Malhoney will just have to find someone else to drink with tonight,” he said when he was done with Kris.
”You two look fine, but then, I've buried a few patents who were, or claimed they were when they walked out on this old sawbone. So settle in, get comfortable, and get ready to pay attention to my whole collection of horrific patient stories.”