Part 10
"Pliers?" Apollo choked out as Starbuck pulled them out of his pack.
"It's either that or my teeth . . ." Starbuck quipped, once again adjusting the definition on his optical enhancer while fortifying his courage.
"Let me think about it . . ." Apollo returned dryly, his knuckles white as they gripped his thigh above the wound.
Starbuck nodded as he grabbed his weapon, adjusting the laser to its lowest setting, turning it into a makeshift sterilisation tool for the pliers. He blasted the metal jaws for a solid centon before he was satisfied. Then he placed his weapon down beside him, just in case he did need to use it for cauterisation.
This was it.
"Ready?" Starbuck asked.
"And if I said 'no'?" Apollo returned.
"Then I would have to conclude that shock and loss of blood have affected your judgement, and I would go ahead anyway." There was no going back now. "I'm pretty sure it's in the manual somewhere. Retreat is failure. Failure is death. Death is final. Finality is endless . . . Something like that, anyhow."
"The manual?" Despite his state, Apollo managed to dredge up a snort for old times sake. "You mean that barely thumbed book you tucked between your issues of Buxom Beauties and Triad Pro?"
"Oh. Is that where it is?" Starbuck tapped his temple dramatically. "Hmm. Are you the one who swiped Miss Septimus?"
"Starbuck! Get it over with!"
"Ah, now he's ready . . ."
Starbuck grasped the jagged piece of wood with the pliers, not daring to look at Apollo. His friend seemed to be holding his breath in expectation, which actually seemed like a darned good idea. It took but a micron to pull the wood out of there, and to Starbuck's pleasant surprise, there was no life-draining spurt of blood signifying a haemorrhage. Blood slowly pooled in the wound, and he irrigated it again just to make sure it was all right.
"Well?" Apollo asked.
"Looks okay," Starbuck returned, feeling at least half of his tension ebb with his words. "But there are still some small fragments lodged in there, buddy." He knew what would happen if they stayed and festered, but he certainly wasn't equipped or qualified to remove them. However, if he and Apollo could manage to get in and out of the Base without too many more complications, then Apollo would be back in the Life Station long before any serious infection could set in.
If it was any other two Colonial Warriors, he wouldn't bet on it, but in this case . . .
"Derma-Seal?" Apollo asked.
"Yeah," Starbuck nodded, reaching back into the med kit. Spraying the liquid adhesive bandage on to the wound would stop the bleeding, and temporarily seal it. A few centons later, the glutinous resin was already dry, and he was wrapping a sterile field bandage tightly in place. "Done."
Apollo nodded, gingerly bending his knee, and pulling his leg up towards him. "Nice job."
"I couldn't have done it without you," Starbuck returned, putting a supporting arm around the warrior to help him up.
"I guess not . . ." Apollo grunted wryly as he stood. He weaved slightly getting his balance. "Feels like half my leg is missing."
"Well, when it comes back it's going to hurt like Hades Hole on a hangover." Starbuck checked his chrono, then glanced back at his pack. His bulky, overfilled, stuffed-to-the-limits pack. Apollo had one just as big. It simply wouldn't work. "If we have any chance at pulling this off, we need to travel light and fast, Apollo."
"And?"
"One pack. On me. Essentials only." After all, up until now whenever they went on a mission, all they had needed were their instincts, lasers, scanners . . . and good looks.
"Essentials, huh." Apollo smiled slightly as he considered Starbuck. "What exactly do you consider essential?"
"Solenite. Lots and lots of solenite."