"Not yet..." Inessa grunted in response.
There was no doubt that she needed a medicae, but she pushed the thought aside. The others were already starting to file out of the room and she reasoned there was nothing a medicae without even clothes on his back could do. So, she gathered her strength and stepped away from the wall.
There was very little the medical officer could do for a patient that didn't want his help. "It's your funeral."He rasped. Steiner wasn't going to force it, especially with a soldier that had already expressed clear distaste for him. Franklin had better things to worry about at the moment than a corporal who might put a las bolt in his back if he took a single misstep. Rifle held tight in his aching, blood-caked hands, the aging sergeant tried to focus on his surroundings, ever mindful of the threats that lurked in the dark.
That didn't last long.
It felt as if there was another person with her, dragging her down with his weight, wrapping his arms around her chest and trying to squeeze the life out of her. She fought against him, forcing her legs to carry her forward. She made it only a few steps before her leg suddenly gave out beneath her as if she had been kicked in the back of the knee, and collapsed.
She landed badly. Her lasgun had been held in front of her and she fell with it pinned between her chest and the floor, pressing it hard into her cracked ribs. She tried to cry out but could only manage a choked gasp, and lay still in paralyzing agony for several moments.
The sound of a body hitting the cold deck of the Voidship was impossible to ignore, no matter how much Steiner might've wanted to do so. His harsh gaze shifted over to the Cadian woman. A handful of judgmental thoughts were pushed to the back of Frank's mind as he heard the corporal give a scratchy gasp. Though it pained him to admit it, the man hadn't quite lost his sense of compassion yet, driving him to cross the short distance between himself and the fallen Imperial Guardsman.
"Stay still, kid." Frank ordered, bending down at his knees beside her. Rifle placed on the ground, the Cadian's rough, bionically repaired hands wrapped underneath her arms. He prompted the soldier to let her own weapon go for the time being, hoping to get her up off of her chest and talking. She obeyed, not able to do much more than lie limp in his arms.
"Where's it hurt? What am I dealin' with, here?" If one expected the medic to be gently spoken, he was far from it; though the harsh tongue he had lashed out at her with earlier lacked some of it's previous edge.
"My...chest..." Inessa groaned and grasped weakly at her right side with a hand.
Her breathing was shallow, each inhale cut short by a knife of pain stabbing between her ribs. Up close, she looked as pale as the Kreiger, except where their captors had left their marks with truncheons and fists.
A grimace formed across the medical sergeant's visage. It didn't take an analytical genius to make out the harsh bruises that had formed across Inessa's abdomen and chest. The Guardsman had been beaten with clubs, based on the shape and size of her swelling injuries. Blunt force trauma likely meant broken bones, and had the potential for internal bleeding. "You havin' trouble breathing? If ya can, try to take deep, long breaths. It'll hurt like hell, but you'll thank me later when ya don't go brain dead because of oxygen deprivation."
Inessa nodded. Taking a deep, long breath sounded about as appealing as diving in front of a bolt shell, but then, so did suffocating. She forced herself to slow down and tried to take a deep breath only to be rewarded with another harsh lance through the ribs. She tried again, and again, pushing herself through the agonizing pain. She had to squeeze her eyes closed to hold back tears. Diving in front of a bolt shell started sounding a little better with each inhale.
"Right, well." Steiner sighed, his lips turned into a heavy frown. "Can't do anything for ya until I get some equipment." Major Bohman had mentioned that they were heading toward the armory. Though it wasn't guaranteed, Steiner hoped to find something useful there.
First, though, they actually needed to get there. And it was made clear that the corporal wasn't going anywhere without assistance. "Put your arm around my shoulder." The doctor ordered. "We gotta get to the armory." Spending too long in the claustrophobic halls of the Voidship was a bad idea. In here they were exposed and tightly packed, marking them as vulnerable to concentrated attack by the enemy.
She wrapped her arm around him. She had already proven to both herself and the medic she could not carry her own weight.
Their contingent arrived at the armory, passing over melted carcasses of dead men of malicious origin. The stench of rotting, chaos-corrupted flesh wafted through the air, intermingling with the scorched odor of that faithful servitor's divine retribution. Steiner half carried, half dragged his patient through the iron threshold. The two of them found a cramped corner in the armory where the other Guardsmen couldn't get in the medical sergeant's way as he went to work repairing the broken Cadian.
"Try not to move too much. Keep breathin', too." Steiner ordered, stepping away to find the equipment he sought. Rummaging through the standard equipment cache, Franklin retrieved a fresh medikit from the shelving before returning with a deal of haste to Inessa's side. Medical technology within the great Imperium was highly advanced, standing tall even compared to the near arcane devices used by the more ancient Xenos. Bioprobes injected deep into the human nervous system could dose even the worst wounds in highly effective chemical compounds that spurred on natural healing exponentially. The pain subsided as drugs rushed through Inessa's veins, allowing Steiner to- rather grotesquely- manually set her ribs back into place. From there, the probes and the chemicals would work to temporarily stitch marrow back together, until such a time as the bones healing on their own.
Crouching before the idealistic corporal, the dark eyes of the aging sergeant held harshly with hers. "Augmetic gel takes a few minutes to harden, so take it easy while you're gettin' your equipment." Steiner gruffly explained. Nothing about the rugged soldier was gentle; a frightening commonality among the supposedly righteous protectors of mankind. "How're you feelin' now?"
"Alright." Inessa confirmed, paying no heed to the gruff demeanor that was to be expected of veteran guardsmen. "My thanks." She added quietly after a moment. Despite her impersonal tone, there was a look of genuine gratitude in her weary eyes.
She looked as broken and tired as when the medic had dragged her half-conscious into the armory, but she felt significantly better. The stimms had quickly turned her pain into little more than a slight aching she might have felt after an hour or two of physical training. She could breathe normally again, albeit with a somewhat uncomfortable shifting sensation in her chest. She held her hand out for Steiner to help her to her feet. The drugs wouldn't last forever, and she didn't want to still be aboard this voidship when her injuries caught up to her again.
"Only thanks I need is you not shootin' me in the back." The old soldier replied. He looked down to the offered hand, hesitating for a moment before deciding to reach out and take it. With a strong pull, Steiner helped the corporal to her feet. A hard, steely gaze moved up toward the younger, more idealistic eyes of his fellow Guardsman. "I'm not your enemy, kid. We're on the same side. Always will be, Emperor permits." The tension between them earlier was not easily forgotten. Franklin could only hope her loyalty to her fellow soldiers did not waver in the face of the enemy.
Steiner paused, his ear turned upward as the telltale sounds of rushing feet upon the hull radiated through the ventilation system. "Sounds like trouble. You up for a fight?" The sergeant didn't wait for an answer, moving for the racks of carapace armor and Imperial fatigues. It felt as if he were back on his home planet of Markus Tillian, hastily throwing his old uniform on as the heavy klaxons warned of an encroaching Chaos incursion. It was almost a nostalgic experience, if Steiner hadn't grown cold to this war a decade ago. Harsh fingers finished strapping the last of the polished armor onto his chest, the helmet coming on last. As the medical sergeant stepped over to where the rifles were stocked, he turned his head around to check on the corporal.
She was standing before a rack of matte-black flak Armor, strapping a vest over the crisp black fatigues she now wore. The process was awkward as she tried to don the armor without putting too much additional strain on her taxed body, but she managed. Despite its superior protection, she avoided the carapace armor most of the others were donning. It was heavy and tiresome to wear, especially for someone of her build and doubly so with her wounds. Modest flak Armor had served her adequately for two campaigns now and, Emperor willing, would continue to do so.
She pulled on a black field cap to ensure her hair remained out of her eyes and walked over to the weapon rack beside Steiner. Picking out a lascarbine with folding stock, she slung it over her shoulder and slotted a handful of spare charge-packs into her belt. She'd be firing on max-power, the packs wouldn't last long. She glanced up at the Sergeant, now cutting an impressive figure in his carapace Armor. She had no intention in continuing their earlier hostility. She had been proven to be mistaken, after all, and he had proven to be a skilled and loyal medicae.
"Corporal Laen, Cadian Five-Ten." She said after turning back to briefly look over her carbine. She hadn't introduced herself yet. Perhaps he would stop calling her "Kid", but that was doubtful.
