Wait

A slap on the cheek rouses you. Your eyes flutter open. Cortez is kneeling over you, face tight with concern. “There you are. Thought we were going to have a problem for a moment.”

You cough and wet your mouth. Ribs hurt like crazy, and your head is pounding, but you’re alive, and that’s what matters. You feel your side. Bruised and burned, although your jacket managed to stop most of the laser blast. The extra layer of light-diffusing fabric you paid for just saved your life. That and the strange figure that had intervened on your behalf.

Another cough, and you push yourself up onto your feet. Cortez helps steady you with a hand on your arm. “Do I need to go to sickbay?” you ask.

He hesitates. “I’d be remiss if I said no.”

“Put it this way: am I about to keel over, Doc?”

“You should be fine, but I’d really like to give you a thorough exam. There’s a risk of clots if you’re bleeding inside. If you—”

“I’ll be fine,” you say, stepping free of him. On your overlays, you tab a slug of Norodon, and almost immediately, the pain starts to subside.

Cortez isn’t the only person with you. A half-dozen Marines and other personnel have cordoned off the aisle and are currently scanning the scene of the crime. At least it looks like they haven’t disturbed anything. Good.

All you really want to do is go back to your quarters, get a stiff drink, and zonk out for the rest of the night. But time’s ticking, and the people who attacked you can’t be that far away. You’re hot on their trail; you can feel it. Now’s the time to press your advantage, and press hard.