It had been twenty-four hours since the promenade attack. The adrenaline and battle drug had worn off enough to leave Jessa nursing a headache. It was the remains of a severe concussion but with her nanites, her healing rate had fixed it to a mild one. What would be more interesting was the large black and blue patches all over her back, arms, and chest. The concussion from being slammed into the forcefield she erected to contain the blast had prevented any real injury but there was bruising. If the nanites had not been directing all their healing powers on her concussion, she would have looked perfect but without a fresh dose of nanites, she was stuck healing much much slower.

“I don’t know why we are here. This is stupid. I am not going to let you use veeches or hoodoo magic on me,” Jessa said frustrated as she and O’Neill passed the pneumatic doors of sick bay.

“You are being stupid,” O’Neill shot back with the same tone he used with his own sons when they were irritating him. Moving to the nurses station, he waited for someone to approach.

Jessa Novar