(Note: I wouldn't classify this chapter as explicit, but it does contain descriptions of medical procedures. If that makes your tummy sad, proceed with caution.)

The Z-1 is designed to cope with punctures and loss of pressure. Like the Orlan-M, it boasts a Leak Compensation System that pumps up air pressure in response to falling psi. Because every spacesuit leaks to some degree (there's too many joints and o-rings to make a perfect seal) it's a matter of what the LCS can cope with and what it can't. Aula feels the increase in air flow as she's lowered from the MAF's platform. It's embarrassing, but her vision is almost completely compromised. She keeps her head straight, though her whole body feels like an overtaxed elastic band. If she keeps her mouth perfectly still and swallows without using her tongue, the pain is manageable. Whatever foreign object is in her helmet lodges itself near her chin. Its chill is softening in the ambient warmth of her suit.

Her boots hit regolith. She stands up using the tether to steady herself. She needn't bother. Bauer frees her and hooks his arm with hers. Harvey does the same on her left side, which still aches. They half carry, half guide her back to one of the SEVs. SEV-2 is closer, but she's lost all sense of orientation around the site.

Bauer gives her little nudge. "How you doing in there, Reed?"

She groans.

"I thought as much."

"I've been on the internet a while," Harvey chimes in. "Of all the things people imagine you doing on a pole, this isn't one of them."

It hurts like nothing else, but she makes the effort to speak. "Ash'oh."

Shaping syllables is difficult while blood and saliva dribbling down the new valley through her lips. They're trying to assess her level of consciousness, especially since they can't clearly see her face, but it doesn't mean she has to like it. They stop. Bauer lets her go and presumably starts climbing one of the SEV's ladders. She can't see much besides the suggestion of shapes.

"Lift your arm if you can, Reed."

She raises her arm as much as the Z-1's torso will allow. Bauer grasps her hand in both of his and draws her forward. The SEVs aren't that high off the ground, but he must be leaning precariously far over to reach her. It takes two tries for her to put her boot on the first rung. Harvey releases her other arm and she's free to climb somewhat under her own power. Three steps up, however, leave her winded. It's as if someone emptied out all her innards and replaced them with dirt.

Hands press against her rear and shove her up. She grunts her displeasure, but keeps climbing.

"I'm gay," he says. "It doesn't count."

"Teh Rosh 'at."

Harvey laughs. It's weak, but he laughs. "Got her, Ben?"

He hauls her onto the SEV. "Yup."

Bauer takes both of her hands in his and steers her around. She walks backwards until her PLSS hits the airlock. He gently grasps her shoulders and turns her to the left and back. The suit-port plate locks neatly with the SEV's hatch.

His hands drop away from her. "How's pressure looking, Houston?"

"Holding steady at 0.27 atmo," Hinton replies.

"Good." Relief is clear in Bauer's voice. "Ready to dock."

"Go when ready."

"You ready, Reed?"

If pressure in her suit drops too low, reentering the SEV would give her the bends. Having gas in her bloodstream bubble out of solution would be the icing on the cake. She gives a passable thumbs up. Bauer engages her suit's hatch and she feels cool air rush in across her back. Although the leak in her Z-1 isn't catastrophic, exposing the rest of the SEV's atmosphere to it makes her uneasy. She struggles to manoeuvre herself out of the suit, but she only succeeds in brushing her chin against the cold object in her helmet. The contact is brief but painful. She gasps involuntarily. A wet, sick sound over comm.

"Hang in there, Al." Harvey's voice is fatally soft. "Ben's coming in."

Vibrations shiver through the SEV's hatch, into her suit, and over her skin. She waits for the hiss, then the thump and rasp of Bauer stepping back out of his own Z-1. His hands slide under her arms and pull her out like he's pulling a snail out of its shell. She leans back and her head fits neatly into the crook of Bauer's neck. There's a hint of aftershave. Or maybe it's her imagination. Her legs slide out of the Z-1's soft lower half, but it's the torso that grabs her attention. Blood forms thick rivulets that keep slipping towards her boots. She looks down at her LCVG and it's stained, too. The Liquid Cooling and Ventilation Garment is designed to draw moisture off her body so it absorbs both easily.

Bauer props her up against the wall and finally looks at her. His face is frozen in a non-expression.

"SEV-2, Houston. How's she looking?"

He blinks twice and stands up. "She'll make it, but we better go." He seals the hatches of both their suits and keeps his back turned to her for a second too long. When he turns around, his expression is back to neutral. "Let's get you patched up."

Every vehicle attached to ILUB-2 has its own Emergency Medical Kit. The EMK is small, but covers most first-aid treatments to get them back to base. Bauer drags out a deceptively compact white and navy pack and sits it on the floor.

"ILUB-2, SEV-2. Areza, you there?"

Silence floods the cabin. Then, "I'm here."

"Got a nasty case of split lip for you."

Aula raises her middle finger and his mouth quirks upwards.

"How bad is it?"

Bauer hesitates. "Bad."

"Bad is not a medical description," Ward says blandly. "I need to see."

He looks at Aula apologetically. "We have a backup digital."

She gives a barely discernible nod as consent. He digs through the SEV's equipment compartment and turns around with a small rather expensive looking digital camera. He kneels down and aims it at her. The flash makes them both wince. It's incredibly bright after hours in darkness. He begins to move away, but she grabs the camera. Bauer's not expecting it and she's able to wrench it around to see the display.

"Jesus, Reed."

Aula stares at her photograph. Her skin is white and shiny. Rivulets of blood dry around her eyes and forehead. Her entire face is smeared and mask-like. A cavernous wound splits her top and bottom lips. Part of her mouth is missing. Her teeth and gums are visible even with her mouth closed. The wound's border is the bright red of an uncooked steak. She looks like an extra from a zombie movie.

Her hand drops into her lap. She starts the math. The last LunX shuttle swung by two months ago. Another one isn't scheduled for another six months. That's if they don't call an emergency transport to haul her off. She'll have some time to prove she's still a valuable asset to ILUB-2. Face or no face.

"Hey." Bauer grabs her shoulder and speaks in a voice he must use to reassure his children. "We're going to look after you, okay?"

She grunts.

He squeezes her shoulder, then stands up. He plugs it in to the SEV laptop and clicks several times to connect with ILUB-2.

"I see," Ward says, suddenly businesslike. "I need you to inspect the wound, Bauer. See if there are any injuries to her tongue and the inside of her mouth. Check if her teeth are chipped or missing."

Bauer grimaces and kneels back down beside her. "This'll hurt."

Aula glares at him.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it. You're a badass fighter pilot."

He opens the EMK and rips a small packet of disinfectant soap. It's a gel that smells strongly of alcohol. He lets it dry for 20 seconds before snapping on a pair of blue gloves. When he touches her face, the latex is already warm. He grabs a small light while she opens her mouth as much as she can stand. Tears begin to prick at the corners of her eyes, but she doesn't flinch when he gently pulls the uninjured part of her lip down.

"Looks clean. Teeth are good, soft tissue good, no lunar dust that I can see."

"Fortunate. How's the pain?"

She makes a so-so gesture.

Bauer looks unimpressed. "Pretty significant."

A hiss suddenly comes from outside. They both look towards Aula's suit. Harvey and Kalashnikoff must be doing a MUM.

"Risk of contamination is too high for nerve blocks." Ward sighs heavily, which makes the comm crackle. "You'll need to use topical anesthetic before irrigating the wound."

"I'm on it."

He removes a small round container and a pack of q-tips. The container looks like something for a take-out order. He opens both one after the other and dips the q-tip into the anesthetic, which has the colour and consistency of raspberry jam. He gently dabs around the wound site. Her skin immediately cools and numbs. The pain is still present, but it takes the edge off.

"Alright, Reed. How's that?"

She nods again and another gob of saliva starts dribbling down her neck. Bauer unpacks a small bottle of saline and the barrel of a particularly large syringe. Metal clicks and grates from the outside. They both turn when the SEV's hatch is activated and a sweaty back appears accompanied by a fresh wave of body odour. There's nothing quite as ignoble as an astronaut emerging rear-first from their suit. She watches him hang it all out before slipping out of the upper torso. Harvey leans back before hauling himself out of the lower half, one leg at a time.

"Did I miss anything?"

"Not much," Bauer replies.

He looks at Aula, his expression a carefully guarded blank. "Let's get home."

"Keep it smooth, man."

Harvey sits down in the driver's chair and straps himself in. "Smooth as a baby's ass."

The SEV's engine whirs to life. They begin slowly moving forward. He starts reporting their progress to Kalashnikoff and Hinton, then quiets when Ward calls in.

"That's long enough for the anesthetic. You should be able to proceed."

"Alright." Bauer wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his sleeve. "Better brace yourself, Reed."

She swallows what little saliva is left in her mouth. He uncaps the saline, opens the syringe, and draws a full 60 cc's into the barrel. He flicks it a few times just like on TV so any bubbles are dislodged and can be plumbed out. She grabs the basin with one hand and wedges it between her jaw and shoulder. Blood and saliva start to drain into it instead of all over her LCVG.

He takes a deep breath and hikes his shoulder. "Here we go."

The saline solution is sterile and room temperature, but it feels like boiling water on her face. She slams her fist on the floor. He waits for her to look at him before continuing. The pain is so sharp, it skewers her entire body. She can feel it all the way down in her knees. Nausea returns full force. Though she tries to keep her right arm steady, the basin begins to shake.

One of the cadets in her squadron once described extreme pain as red. But to her, it's white. White, spidering, and incandescent as sheet lightning.