[What Hei thinks is irrelevant; no decent Starfleet officer with even the most rudimentary medical knowledge would leave someone to die if there's a slim chance of saving them (or so Chekov thinks. In truth, the possibility of violating the Prime Directive and unlikelihood of making a difference would deter many sensible officers).
Chekov ties the tourniquet high on the leg, nimble fingers slipping as blood pours out of the gaping wound. By the time it's secure and the flow of blood has been reduced to a trickle, the kid is unconscious. He's too pale, too far gone. The odds of him waking aren't good. It would be a kindness to stun him, maybe, but Chekov can't bring himself to entertain the thought. There's nothing else to do.
The Russian sets off after Hei, the dying kid's blood drying into a tacky mess on his hands and forearms. There are other casualties who might be saved, but not without falling too far behind.
Korra, focus on Korra.
He catches up to Hei and falls into step behind him without a word.]
no subject
Chekov ties the tourniquet high on the leg, nimble fingers slipping as blood pours out of the gaping wound. By the time it's secure and the flow of blood has been reduced to a trickle, the kid is unconscious. He's too pale, too far gone. The odds of him waking aren't good. It would be a kindness to stun him, maybe, but Chekov can't bring himself to entertain the thought. There's nothing else to do.
The Russian sets off after Hei, the dying kid's blood drying into a tacky mess on his hands and forearms. There are other casualties who might be saved, but not without falling too far behind.
Korra, focus on Korra.
He catches up to Hei and falls into step behind him without a word.]