Maccabeus released his hammer and let it clang onto the troop-bay floor. This was the Fist of Rukt, an ancient weapon passed down from one Chieftain to the next for generations of Maccabeus' clan.
It deserved greater care. But Maccabeus was too worried about Licinus to stand on ceremony. His ancestors would have to understand.

"Vorenus! Hurry!" he bellowed, muscling Licinus upright. The Spirit shook violently as it hurtled back into the hazy sky, and even the mighty Chieftain had a difficult time propping his wounded
pack member's unconscious bulk against the bay's inner wall. Vorenus stumbled down the bay, hefting a portable aid station. He set the octagonal box by Licinus' feet then held him steady while Maccabeus fastened restraining bands around his legs and arms.

Sangheili Spirits had sophisticated stasis fields to keep their warriors upright. But Maccabeus had been denied this technology as well, and he'd had to make do with a more basic solution. "Give me a compress!" Maccabeus peeled off Licinus' breastpla-
te. The armor had a crack down the middle that oozed dark red blood. Once the plate was free, Maccabeus smoothed his wounded pack member's brown fur, probing for two whistling holes in his chest. 

The aliens' weapons had penetrated one of Licinus' lungs, forcing its collapse. Vorenus handed Maccabeus a thin sheet of bronze-colored mesh. Properly affixed, the material would form a partial seal over the wounds, allowing air to escape as Licinus exhaled but keeping it out as he inhaled; as long as the lung wasn't too badly damaged, it would reinflate. The mesh also contained a coagulant that would help keep the young Jiralhanae's remaining blood inside his body. When they made it back to Rapid Conversion, Maccabeus would let the ship's automated surgery suite do the rest.-Chpt.15