Chapter 1 - He's dead
"Priscilla. Hey, Priscilla. You can stop now. He's dead."
Someone yanks my shoulder, hard too. Damn him. I open my eyes and seeing the white sheet I realise where I am. Why do I always have to zone out like that? The smell of the operating room fills my nose. I have no choice but to look at the man I am holding. Well, his hand. And that's no use any more as he's dead.
"Are you okay?" It's doctor Holden's voice.
I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for not entirely dislocating my shoulder," I say as I rub my face with both hands. "I need a coffee. Or something stronger. What went wrong? And since when is the scent off-limits?"
The doc shakes his head. "Same thing as so often, he was in too late. Bar fights are mean things and people with burst-guns and rip-knives are the worst ingredients. He was on the wrong end of too many."
With a simple movement one of the nurses covers the dead man's face. "Get lost, Pris, you done four now. You guys are allowed three a day tops. Move or I kick y'out." Lorna's her name. "You were in so deep, you didn't smell the bottle."
I get up, my knees and back aching and cracking, everything popping back into place. "You guys need guys like us-" I start to lecture her but Lorna grabs me by the arm and drags me to the door.
"Scoot or I'm a go kick your ass!"
Before I scoot I ask her why she's so obsessed with my butt, then I quickly leave. I know she will kick me and she kicks hard. Once outside the operating room I lean against the wall and rest my head against it. I should not have been so stupid to do four people again today. It's going to kill me but there are not many menaces. I shake my head at the stupid name but it's shorter than mental anaesthesiology assistants.
"Hey, Prissa."
Tom comes walking up. Tom's alright, he's a safety guy. One of the few allowed near the operating rooms. "You look like you need some cheering up."
"I'm fine, Tom," I lie, "did not overdo it today and only one died, so that's a good thing I guess, right? How are you and the wife and kids? No more problems with the neighbours?"
He hooks his arm around mine and with a grin he pulls me away from the wall and towards the cantina while I keep talking. I always keep talking. Tom is one of the few who never tells me to shut up and just breathe, he's not much of a talker. He pushes me onto a chair and gets coffee.
"Here. Drink. This is strong," he simply says as he puts the mug in front of me. While I try to sip the hot, black stuff he tells me about his family and that the problems with his neighbours are almost dealt with. "Just hope Josh lays low," he ends his account.
Josh is Tom's son, a bright little hothead who is always on the barricades when there is something that smells like injustice. And Josh has a nose for that. Gets him in trouble a lot because there's plenty injustice going around everywhere.
"Are you out gaming or stuff again tonight?" he asks me while I burn my lip.
"Ouch, damn. No, games are off tonight, it's Flyer night, remember?" I remind him. "I'm going over to Bashir's, the others are too but we're not sure if Dolores will make it. She has to work."
We're all looking forward to the new episode of the Black Flyer, a really kick-ass superhero show. Bashir has the biggest video-wall of us all so we usually horde his place.
"Bashir? Is he off duty? I saw his name on the roster for night shift." Tom's eyes twinkle. That always gives him away but I decide to play.
"What? Are you kidding me? We can't have Bashir on duty, we need his vid-wall!" I slam the mug down too hard, a puddle of coffee jumps from it and hits the table. And my hand. Good thing it is not that hot any more but it still burns.
