"I don’t know…" he admitted. It was possible that he was just imagining things because of his fear to be deathly ill. He really couldn’t tell anymore at this point. But he actually managed to take a deep breath, a little bit soothed by the realization that even if he had fallen sick, they would hopefully be able to get help soon.
"Yeah, I think so. Maybe two days…maybe three." He hoped that a couple of days wouldn’t be too late.
"There you go, then. Just wait. If you're not sick, then you have nothing to be worried about. If you are sick, then we'll just have to hope that you can hold on until we find help at port. If we do." He gives a long-suffering sigh. "The worst that can happens is you die. Or we die. I'm not really sure what will happen if one of us dies and one of us doesn't."
This statement doesn't carry even the faintest prickling of alarm with it. "But you seem lively enough, so I don't think that's very likely. Isn't that other Destron a medic, too? He can probably keep you alive."













