<USS Banshee> Eyes, Part 2

  • From: LtJvanDnalls@xxxxxxx
  • To: ussbanshee@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Thu, 19 Sep 2002 16:04:36 EDT

Finally when it looked like death would gracefully step in and finally stop 
this agony, they stopped.  A different one came in, this one carrying a med 
kit.  The concern on her face was hard to make out threw the blood that 
washed over his eyes as it trickled from his hair.  At one point, she made 
eye contact with him.  Why was she so different?  She was urgently trying to 
fit his wounds.  She stopped the bleeding as he tried to focus on her face.  
It was impossible; the pain that seared his nervous system demanded far too 
much attention to allow any sort of concentration.  Why?  Why was she being 
so kind?  Was it possible that one of the cold blooded things was 
compassionate? Did she care on some level?  How?  It must be a trick.  They 
are trying to trick me into trusting her.   I can't.  I won't!  She is one of 
them, and they were going to kill him just like they did the other 11 men.  
He was dead, only problem was that these sick #!%@&  had yet to have their 
fill of amusement.  
"Enemy" He managed to half whisper, half gurgle as the woman looked shocked 
as he spoke.  She was fairly sure that he was not even aware of her presence, 
much less able to speak. 
"Enemy!" This time the whisper turned into a sharp growl.  Luckily they were 
alone at this point.
"I am not your enemy; I am trying to help you.  There is a chance they will 
release you.  I am sure the Obsidian Order would rather trade you back to 
your people for a few of their operatives then kill you.  It took me 15 
minutes to convince those blood lustful madmen to let me in here.  They would 
have rather let you bleed to death." She explained slowly as she worked, a 
skeletal regenerator slowly rebuilding his right thumb.
"It's a trick, you're a trick." He spat the words at her in disgust.  She had 
to know that he was not going to buy into her 'helping hand' routine.  He was 
tough, one of the toughest men she had ever seen.  He did not become this 
tough by believing everything he was told.  She continued to work, silently, 
as she gave him pain suppressants and rebuilt his bones, and closed his 
wounds.  After another ten minutes or so, she seemed to have him well on the 
way to recovery, and he thought that maybe, just maybe she was what she said 
she was, not a trick at all.  

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