Rachel DycekSeeing Cora’s ragged breathing, her wide, gasping mouth, Rachel swung out her med kit, checking over the woman’s injuries as she lay on the ground outside Lowell Base. She found a great deal of moderate trauma, heavy bruising, cuts and scrapes, maybe a cracked rib or two. She would not be able to tell if there had been severe internal damage until she got Cora into the medical module. “Dr. Pchanskii, would you help me get her inside, please?”
Silent and obviously in turmoil, Pchanskii cradled the adin woman as gently as he could, dragging her toward the airlock chamber. “We’ll have to take at least two or three hours to pressurize,” Pchanskii pointed out. “Otherwise the air inside will kill her even faster than her injuries would.”
Steinberg shook her head with a sour express
