Dolphus breathed at least a partial sigh of relief. He was alive, if barely… But that produced an even more complex dilemna. What could be done to save him? His back, his arm? Was he doomed to never walk again? To relieve himself only with assistance? To remain a cripple, all the rest of his life?
…What have I done?
This man was horribly wounded in several ways. Unless they had some kind of miracle magic on board the Caelin’s Hand, which could undo spinal cord damage, this young man might have been better off dead. Perhaps his failure to kill him was a mistake after all…
Before that self-destructive train of thought could get very far, however, the wounded marine decided it would be an excellent idea to knock all the color out of Dolphus’ face. He knew - somehow, this young marine KNEW.
Had his friend known? Could he have been reasoned with? Why did he allow Ari to kill him? Oh, why did he allow him to die like that, with barely a whimper for mercy?!
Karl’s introduction forced his consciousness back into the scene. The horribly bruised back of the marine was obscured from Dolphus’ vision just enough by his height, but the only thing truly keeping him from viscerally reenacting the spinal damage in his own mind was the reassurance of Ari that somehow, this was the right thing to do.
Somehow.
Somehow.