The Pilgrim was determined that the only reason why he had fallen against the sides of the ship's corridors was Arai's struggle to get the ship airborne and even; it shifted from side to side several times. Most of the time, he was perfectly fine with keeping his balance - he was a long-time martial arts student, after all - but these shifts must have been more like bucks, because they sent him jolting into the wall every time.
Finally, he made his stumbling into the cockpit...and he was no longer able to fool himself. The room was spinning; he couldn't catch his breath. The more that he tried, the more his chest locked up...he could feel his eyes starting to bug, hear himself wheeze...
The kolto. Thank the almighty Creator he had thought to bring some with him! But his hands were shaking, and he fumbled with the clasp of the belt-bound pack for several seconds. "Shot," he gasped out, talking more to himself than to Arai. He heard her say something, but he couldn't discern what the words were. As the wheezing turned to coughing, and that coughing became a fit, he managed to get the needle out...but it dropped out of his fingers almost immediately. He couldn't hang onto it.