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Half propped upright, B had a direct line of sight on Rann’s face just as his expression twisted. It was only a fraction of a second and if she hadn’t been trussed up like a prize turkey with nothing to do but stare at him, she would have missed it. His mouth tightened.

She frowned. What was that? It wasn’t really panic, or concern. The expression had flashed across his face too quickly for her to make it out. Then he noticed her looking and his expression smoothed out again as he stood.

“You okay there, beautiful?” he asked in a low murmur.

She nodded, embarrassment washing over her so fast it made her want to swear. Ridiculous. Utterly bloody ridiculous.

Why would she care what he thought about seeing her strapped down like this? He was another crew member. Nothing more. She didn’t mind Layla seeing her being carted off after an incident. She hadn’t minded Stevie. Half the people aboard had seen her bloodied, greasy, exhausted, or wedged arse-first in a maintenance shaft. So why did the thought of Rann seeing her helpless make heat creep up her neck?

She stared at him as they got the stretcher through the door. He looked away first, ducking his head under the frame and then she lost sight of him.

Noticing her silence, Layla leaned over her, concern creasing her forehead.

“How you doing there?” she asked, quickly attaching whatever gadgets and gizmos she needed to Blythe’s chest, wrists, and ankles.

Cold sensor pads stuck to her skin as the wrist cuff inflated with a soft mechanical whine. Another strip went across her temple, right where the bruise had started throbbing again.

She snorted. She’d never felt more like a defective engine in her life. “Peachy. Just peachy.”

“Any headache or double vision?”

“There was when I first woke up. I had a headache, but I’m good now.” She turned her head, trying to see Rann again, but the room was too small. All she could see was Layla and Stevie as they moved around each other.

“Did you see the impacts?” Layla asked, looking up toward the door.

Blythe followed her gaze as far as the forehead strap allowed. Rann filled most of the doorway, one shoulder against the frame, arms at his sides. He’d pulled on a dark shirt at some point, though the collar sat crooked and there was a smear of something black across one sleeve.

Probably grease. Hopefully grease.

“There was at least one impact on her side,” he said. “Didn’t see anything to her head.”

She frowned. Her side had hurt like hell when she’d tried to sit up, but she didn’t remember anything hitting her there. The blast had thrown her, then everything had become noise and spinning stars and Rann’s arms around her.

“I didn’t feel the one in my side,” she said. “Something hit me in the leg, though.”

Layla nodded, fingers moving over the little screen at Blythe’s wrist. “Quiet for a minute while the scans run.”

Blythe’s mouth flattened, but she nodded and lay back.

The ceiling above the medbay cot had a water stain shaped a bit like a dog. Not that there should be water stains in the ceiling, obviously, but this ship had been old when they’d bought it and every repair seemed to uncover three more things that needed fixing.

The medical scanner hummed and something at her wrist bleeped. Another machine gave a longer, more irritated chirp. She’d replace the ceiling panel first, even though the dog was kinda cute.

Layla was quiet for way too long. Blythe tilted her head, ignoring the protest from her bruised temple, and studied her friend’s face. Layla’s mouth had gone tight. Which was not good. Layla usually had a face like an open book, especially when she was annoyed, horny, hungry, or pretending she hadn’t dropped something expensive.

“So what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Blythe asked.

Layla didn’t answer straight away, and that made the knot in B’s gut pull tighter. They really didn’t have time for this shit. Not with the damage to the ship.

“I need to get out there and start repairs.” She shoved at the cot and started to sit up with a groan. Her ribs lit up with pain, while her thigh felt like someone had driven a bar through it.

“Not a fucking chance,” Layla said.

Stevie turned from the wall screen to glare at her. “Seconded.”

“We have repairs. I need to get started.”

“We’re at a complete stop at the moment until we figure out what the fuck happened,” Stevie said, shaking her head.