Emerald Flight: “Star Wing” (continued)

Full awareness eluded Rusty. His head ached, from his brain outward in all directions. His skull felt several too small.

Must have been some party . . .

He became aware that he ached all over. His entire body was a dull, steady throb of pain.

Musta been quite a night. Hard drinking and a tussle.

After spending several seconds, trying to move, he surrendered when no part of his body seemed willing to answer his call. He had suffered more hangovers in his life than he cared to count. This felt nothing like any of those. The bruises, though, those felt familiar.

I wonder what kind of shape the other guy—guys?—are in.

He mentally sank back and waited for his mind to try to reorder itself.

It had not been a bar, he remembered now. He was on board a ship. He had been on his way . . . where? To see a short little alien chick about . . . what?

He remembered now a prescient flash of an explosion of some kind, pushing her aside as . . . what?

Confusing glimpses of wings and flying bits of . . . what danced across his thoughts. He had become one of those flying bits, he remembered now, slamming hard into something. After that, things fell on him as he shielded . . . who? the alien? with his body. There was a lot of shouting, but he did not think any of it came from him.

He had tried to rise, to crawl, but had been trapped by . . . something. With effort, he had tried to turn. His head rocked from the impact of something new.

And there he was here.