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It crossed his mind to ignore it, severe injuries could not be treated with the tools at hand, and the Polar might slow them down trying to care for or carry what was now surely dead weight. Lorza stormed into the room though, her ears swiveling erratically as she tried to track the sound.“Do you hear that? Someone is alive! I think it’s Alexei!” She called his name and they heard him reply, Lorza hurrying to the source of the voice. She tapped against the wall but couldn’t find any compartments or breaks, deducing that he must be on the other side, and dashed into the next room over. Boyd followed, peering through the door to see Lorza pulling the man from a crash couch, the harness having miraculously kept him intact despite the room around him having essentially disintegrated. He looked bad, he was unresponsive, delirious. She dragged him into the hall and then out into the snow, lying him down and cradling his head in her giant hand. She seemed upset, and so Boyd kept his. She flicked the loud-hailer to intercom, set it to buzz at Jenny’s bunk—she’d better be there, thought Margarethe, alone, or it’s tie them up and lay about them with the cat. The sleepy little-girl voice answered ‘Yes, Mistress.’ ‘You’re on watch, Jenny Wren. Should have woken you sooner. Rinse your mouth and come to the wheelhouse. Your Mistress will bring you your tea.’ ‘Yes, Mistress, coming now.’ Jenny appeared in a clean jumper and long trousers. It was getting colder, and Margarethe didn’t want to use Diesel for the VanDerBeeke generator to start the heating. The engine heat would do for now. ‘You’ve got the con, pussy’ said Margarethe. ‘I’ll get you your tea. Unless you want cocoa.’ ‘Mistress, thank you, I’d love cocoa.’ Margarethe went to the galley, bracing herself against Dread Sovereign’s sharper movements. One hand for the ship, one hand for yourself doesn’t hold here, she thought. Robin had actually washed, dried and secured his tea things—fuck me, will wonders never.
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