Aftermath

McLean watched the globules of blood drifting in front of him. The outsides were already coagulating into a flaky brown. They must have closed the airlock and restored atmosphere, he thought. He tried to raise his right arm to open the faceplate of his helmet but pain shot up and down his left side and he gasped. Everything started to fade for a moment but he bumped into the port bulkhead and a new wave of pain brought him back. He remembered the explosion now, slamming in to a bulkhead hard and rebounding against another bulkhead before losing consciousness. He tried to turn his head. He saw marines moving past him to the airlock. One bumped another floating marine and he drifted close enough for McLean to read the name above the helmet’s faceplate. It was Gardella. “We did it, Ennio,” he said as Gardella drifted close. “We pushed the bastards off the ship.” Gardella kept drifting away.

McLean felt a gentle tug on his leg and he was spun over and he watched a medic plug a medi-scan unit into the data port in his vacc suit. The medic opened the faceplate of McLean’s helmet. “Easy, marine,” he said. “We got you.” The medic looked at the readout and McLean heard him as he talked into his headset, “Concussion, broken ribs, broken collarbone, probable internal injuries. I’ll need a backboard to secure for transport to sick bay.” The medic undid McLeans helmet and put a hypo to McLeans neck. McLean said, “Wait, help Ennio. He’s hurt bad.” He could feel himself drifting off from the hypo and just before he lost consciousness he heard the medic say, “Sorry, he didn’t make it.”