Furnace (Hunter-Killer #1)

Chapter 13 - Earning Wings

When Ryke clambered back into consciousness, the first thing he felt for what seemed like an age was a low throbbing pain that seeped through the entire left side of his face. He winced and tried to focus. The light above him was a tepid off-white; he could smell unfamiliar chemicals in the air. Blinking, he tried to sit up.

A hand touched his shoulder.

"Easy there, kid," said a voice. He sluggishly turned his head to focus on her, and found a woman in the cool cyan livery of the medical cadre, her dark hair tied back into a tight bun, data slate glowing softly in the crook of one arm. With the other she held out a hand, her index finger up. "Follow my finger – look here, and here." She swept her arm back and forth slowly and Ryke tried to follow the motion.

Seemingly satisfied she then flipped out a tiny torch, shining it into his face. "Look at the light, please." He did, and she made a small noise of approval, clicking the torch off and returning it to a pocket. She straightened up with a smile. "Pupil response is good. Welcome back to the world, Mr. Vannigan."

Then she stepped aside and he found himself looking up at the survivors of their first, fateful encounter with the Scraegan menace. Some already stood while the others scrambled from nearby chairs in the ward – Brigg, Jarrko, Amelia, Thaye and Preese, all looking down at him, faces etched with pure, joyous relief. They'd already lost four companions to this war – they didn't want to lose a fifth.

He felt a hand on his arm and blearily tried to focus.

"Hey there," Amelia said softly, smiling a smile that could light up the world. "How're you feeling?"

"I..." Ryke started to speak but his voice trailed off. Something didn't feel right. Half of his face felt...heavy. "Mmmm...I'm okay?" He tried to raise a hand to touch his face but Amelia caught it.

"Don't," she told him. "The medics say it needs a week to set properly."

He frowned. "What does?"

"That cannon shot busted your jaw up real good," Brigg put in. "It would've taken months to heal properly and even then you might never have had full use of it again. So they took out the broken parts and replaced them with some nice big hunks of metal."

"I've got a metal... jaw?" He looked at them blearily. Eventually Thaye put him out of his misery, grabbing a mirror from a nearby trolley and holding it up to his face. His eyes widened in surprise.

Brigg had made no exaggeration. From just below his cheekbone and curving down, a dull grey slab of metal replaced almost two thirds of his lower jaw on his left side, teeth and all. The edges were speckled with blood where it had been grafted to his face, the skin cauterised. He lolled his head from side to side to get a better angle, examining the blocky contours of the metal maw and gently testing the motion. His jaw moved from side to side without pain, but it still felt decidedly odd, like someone had tied a brick to one side of his head.

"Gonna take some getting used to, eh?" Jarrko chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, it makes you look interesting. Girls like scars." He glanced at Amelia. "Don't they?"

"Oh, shut up." She gave him a withering look. Thaye just smirked.

Ryke tried a smile himself. The left side of his face felt tight, unwilling to respond. In the end he simply sighed and shrugged, looking up at his companions.

"How much did I miss?" he forced out.

"You've been out for the better part of week while we fixed you up," said the medic, standing off to one side and watching proceedings.