Rescued Crewmember: I thought you said you couldn't do strenuous physical activity?
Human: I said I couldn't do strenuous or high impact physical activity without hurting myself.
RC: You just carried me, at a dead run, through the entire ship and to cover before going back for more.
H: And I have hurt myself.
RC: ... and we're still in danger.
H: I will need so much physical therapy after we get rescued. -- Escla
Human Quyl has been wearing her bracers more often. She has bound up her ankle with the special tape. When not in urgent motion, she places one arm in a sling. And on especially bad days, keeps watch over the emergency camp from a flat piece of wreckage that's high enough to survey it all.
It's not a bad planet to be shipwrecked on, honestly. If it were all Humans on board, they would have set up a colony and named the primary settlement after the wrecked ship. There are hazards, but most of them would be deemed tolerable by a pack of Humans.
Alas, we only have one. Human Quyl.
She has had a rough life, and some experiences leave permanent adjustments. The accident only made things worse for her.
She spends her days in reinforcing aids for her joints, and her nights 'hopped up' on painkillers. She spends her conscious hours doing her best for us, but it is always with a cost.
She was injured before we knew her, needing a leg brace and at least one wrist brace in her day-to-day duties. She warned us at the start that she could not endure high-impact physical activity.
She rescued us anyway.
As Quyl carried the last of us from the burning ship, we all heard her say, "This is gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow."
Adrenaline is one hell of a drug. It allows Humans to sail through things that would ordinarily stop them cold. The cost, of course, is that they endure the injuries anyway.
Quyl is in moderately good spirits, all things considered. She has saved all the crew and "keeps an eye out" for the hazardous animals in the area. She's a crack shot with her stunner, which is good for all of us.
We have enough to fuel everything, enough to survive. Enough, even, to keep synthesising the painkillers that Quyl needs.
We anticipate rescue, of course, but Quyl dreads it.
With rescue comes the greater torment of what Quyl calls... physio.
[Image by Owen Beard on Unsplash]
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