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Hurts like hell right now, but the bullet's out. Shoulder'll be sore for a while, and stiff,
but if there's no more immediate missions, there's no reason to take me off actives."
He nodded, and his eyes fell to Tamia again. "I shouldn't have let her go in there
alone," he said, half to himself. "I should've been there."
Cat shook her head in wonder. "Lady's one helluva trooper, Rick. I heard that
com. She never even cracked."
Rick brushed his hand softly across Tamia's forehead, and felt the fever there.
Damn. She'd need Detox, too. To cover his worry, he answered Cat. "She was a
Trooper during the Divide. Lost her family in 'ninety-six, during the Reaver War. She
doesn't have anyone, except her grandfather, and I couldn't tell you if they speak to one
another anymore. I imagine they do, since he's all she's got."
"And you, Cat said quietly, causing Rick to look up, amazed at her
perceptiveness. "You were talking in the clear after the explosion, Rick. You've never
cracked like that before. She's special, isn't she?"
Rick's eyes were troubled as he looked back at Tamia. "Yeah, she's special."
Cat reached her good hand to squeeze his shoulder. "Take some advice from a
friend, Rick. Tell her that, when she's back on her feet."
Cat moved back to her seat then, leaning toward the forward cabin to say
something to Diamond. Rick didn't hear much of the conversation, his eyes focused on
Tamia's face, silently pleading with her to hang on for just a little while longer.
217
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rick paced a wide circle in Mount Sinai Medical Center s Operating Room
waiting lounge, a worried frown creasing his face. Damn it, what was taking so long?
He glanced at the clock again, noting that it was 2350. Tamia had been in surgery since
0800 this morning, and he d seen no one. No nurse with a progress report, no doctor to
say if Tamia had lived or died. He ploughed his shaking hands through his hair, wishing
he could smoke, to calm his nerves. But he d have to go outside the hospital to do that,
and he wouldn t leave until he knew Tamia was going to make it.
You finally found a way to stop me smoking, babe, he told her silently, and
laughed bleakly as he realized he d already started talking to her as if she was dead. The
laugh cracked, and he pressed his hands to his stinging eyes as tears slipped silently
loose. God damn it, he needed to do something, or he was going to totally break down!
He couldn t just stand around, waiting for someone who had no idea what Tamia meant
to him to determine her fate, and their future.
Rick drew a shuddering breath, his hands clenching in trembling fists. He needed
to see her, to hold her, so bad. Last time he d seen her had been through the glass
partition of the Isolation Room, and his heart had nearly shattered at the sight. She d
looked like Snow White in her damned glass coffin, her skin so pale it was translucent,
218
and her body wreathed in vine-like tubes. He d wanted to pound down those walls and
carry her off to somewhere far away from the taunting machines she hated so much and
the white-clad wraiths that hovered over her, so that they couldn t take her away from
him. Instead, he d stood there, helpless, as he d watched the only thing he d ever really
wanted in life slip away from him.
 Commander Carinson?
Rick whirled at the sound of a voice addressing him, to find a blonde woman in
blood covered scrubs standing just inside the lounge. That was Tamia s blood on her
clothes, his mind registered as his heart clenched, and he felt sick with fear.
 How is she? He demanded, surging across the space toward her.
The woman frowned in concern as she studied his face.  Commander, I think
you d better have a seat.
Ice plunged through Rick, and his heart stopped beating altogether. No. Tamia
wasn t dead. She couldn t be dead, damn it!
 Just tell me, he begged the woman, his voice a croaking whisper.  Please.
 Let s sit. She took his arm, steering him toward a cluster of chairs.
Rick slumped into a seat as his eyes stung and his heart splintered. Oh, god.
He d been right. Nothing had ever hurt this bad before. He couldn t do it; if Tamia was
dead, he didn t want to go on.
 Please, Nurse. Can I&  he swallowed hard, battling his pain, and steadily losing
ground.  Can I at least see her?
 I m not a nurse. I m Dr. Maria Matnes, Captain Kuan s regenerative therapy [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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