“Sergeant…”
Mike flinched from the topic. “Doctor, what else can you tell me?”
Hesitation and a muffled conversation between the Envoy and Doctor David occurred. Liam shifted on the bed, a restless twitch of arms and legs.
“The gene therapy is proceeding well,” said the doctor.
Mike almost fell over. “Gene therapy?”
They’d slipped a tweak into the equipment’s chemical soup?
Why the space-shit hadn’t he been told? Temper flashed though him, fast and bright, like a meteor’s pass across the horizon.
“I wasn’t apprised of that.” That he hadn’t roared the words constituted a victory in his book.
A soft smile filled the doctor’s expression. “Why would you be, Sergeant?”
Why indeed? He was a grunt, one with a bigger bag of duties, yes, but still just a grunt. Decisions of this caliber wouldn’t pass over his data unit. Wait. They’d included gene-tweaking chemicals into the mix of the Urilqii equipment without telling him so he could prepare Liam? Who the fuck did they think they were?
“You did the same thing at the dance,” the Envoy reminded him.
What would blow first? The vein that throbbed in his temple or his cool?
“It was just a kiss,” he hissed. He belatedly remembered to add, “sir.”
“A small but beautiful gesture that has changed many lives and, indeed, a planet.”
A steam-like pressure built behind his eyes. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t think. He was about to choke and about to kick some ass.
Doctor David broke into the upcoming storm. “Take this out of the recovery room, you two. Otherwise, end it.”
The Envoy glanced away from Mike and gave a cultured nod.
He wrapped himself in his own thoughts and went quiet.
Doctor David focused on the patient in the bed. No one said anything for moments. Mike fought an impressive battle to rein in his indignation. When the doctor folded the blanket out of his way and applied a sensor to the left side of Liam’s chest, Mike had to chain the urge to deliver a right hook to the guy’s face.
“I appreciate your restraint.” A smile twitched the doctor’s lips.
His jaw protested the strength he used to shut his mouth.
::What else can you tell me, Doctor?::
“Mr. Sinclair has shown, from the moment of his arrival, a vibrant awareness to mind-link communication. Now, however, mind-link nearby makes the volunteers nauseous, which is why we’re using verbal speech on the ward. I expect full immersion will be painless once he adapts to the changes in his body.”
Such a simple statement, yet so loaded at the same time. The chemical adjustment of the human volunteers hadn’t come without a price. According to the report, four had been felled from his flight detachment, twelve from the vehicle group, and three from Steve’s liquid teams. The volunteers who hadn’t been affected had, for all intents and purposes, failed the one and only test.
As for full immersion, it approached like an oncoming landslide. Would the volunteers accept that world-changing shift?
Or would entrenched teaching hold them back? If the human volunteers refused the final, necessary step, then a chemical vaccination would be necessary and all memories of their time on the base irretrievably wiped.
That was never an enjoyable task, not for the wiper or the wiped.
What would Liam do? If he stayed, he’d have to bond. That meant Mike would see Liam link with another, watch Liam live and love with another Urilqii. That was what he wanted…wasn’t it?
“I’ll be reassigning Mr. Sinclair to the motor pool, specifically to the tankers,” Mike stated.
“What?” He’d succeeded in shocking the Envoy. He’d also succeeded in disgusting both Doctor David and Steve. Fuck them both.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but the most important thing we need to do, other than saving this planet, is to give the native species a way to protect themselves from the Targolt.”
“Well, yes, but—” the Envoy began.
“Liam is not comfortable airborne. I had warning of this before we went aloft, but”—guilt surged inside him like a toxic tide—”I missed the obvious. It would be cruel to put him up there again, and unnecessary.”
“What?” the Envoy tried again.
“The determined way he clings to his ground is telling.” How could it be so obvious, yet so overlooked by these two esteemed members of his cabal? “Not all of these humans will be comfortable in three-dimensional fluidity regardless of their ability to mind-speak and bond. This one is not.”
::His name is Liam,:: Steve reminded him, a bite to his mental voice.
Liam twitched and groaned.
::Be silent, :: he snapped back. ::Mind-speak hurts the volunteers right now.::
Steve went quiet, but he couldn’t conceal his shock.
Mike was a trainer of men. He knew how to locate the strengths of his command and to utilize them for maximum effectiveness. The doctor healed men and the Envoy tried hard to keep men from becoming injured in the first place. So, it wouldn’t kill him to explain.
“We don’t understand humanity’s dependency on the left and right directional levels. Most go up or down, but only face first,” he said. “We don’t have this plane of reference and neither do the Targolt.
“Humanity’s affinity with their planet’s surface, their innate understanding of that hard boundary, does puzzle us somewhat but I guarantee it will frustrate the enemy. The Targolts’ malleable bodies are not equipped to handle the strength of rock and that will be the road to humanity’s victory.”
“Ah.” The Envoy nodded. “The Targolt will attempt to bring battle in a more familiar arena. Using the three-dimensionality of air or water.”
‘That’s true,” said Doctor David. “I’ve never seen a human simply drop down. Not by choice anyway. On the cross-shaped paradigm of direction, they don’t appear to have any affinity with the Y axis.”
Mike nodded. The doctor got it. “Also, I’ve no doubt humanity doesn’t need to be aloft or submerged to maximize their innate affinity with stone.”
He glanced at Liam, whose hand still clung to the unmoving bed rail.
“This inborn connection between these people and the rock beneath their hands and feet is deep and strong. I doubt it can be easily broken and shouldn’t be ignored. The tankers won’t let that happen. In their hands, it will be a weapon.”
He could almost see the thoughts that flew through the air inside the room. But since Liam showed no sign of agitation, Mike knew his audience was deep in individual deliberation. The doctor had the first question.
“How will this affinity offer victory?”
Mike twitched the blanket back into place, covering the area the doctor had revealed. Then he caressed Liam’s cheek with a gentle, respectful gesture.
“Unfortunately, sirs, we’ll have to wait and see.”
CHAPTER 10
Liam awoke to the undeniable sensation that something was wrong. His head felt like he was still in the middle of a bad ecstasy trip. That feeling didn’t make a lot of sense, especially since, if he was right, he was in the infirmary.
A bed, threadbare blanket and a plastic wristband that displayed his name, rank, and serial number was his first hint. The taste in his mouth resembled seven different pairs of old gym socks. The beeping machines on his right, an astringent burn of medicine in his nose, the passing of muted voices and the hush-hush of occupational shoe soles on the floor tiles all screamed “hospital.”
So, why then did he fret over a closed window?
He shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the fuzz filling his brain. No change except for the idea he’d become more alert. In fact, some kind of weirdness amplified his alertness. A low noise filled the background of his hearing, like a flock of birds around the corner.
Unnerved, he labored into a seated position and swung his legs off the bed. A wave of dizziness threa
tened his stability and his dignity. His stomach gave a sharp twitch of warning. His legs felt gummy, like they’d been replaced by overcooked spaghetti. Then the floor tiles began to revolve.
“What the hell?” He grabbed for his head, but that didn’t help.
He seized the bed frame. That stilled the floor tiles, but didn’t negate the nausea. “Christ…”
“Ah, you’re up.”
Liam turned to the sound of the voice and squinted enough to bring the Urilqii in the lab coat into focus. He swayed for another moment and fought to remember the face. He didn’t, but the nametag on the left chest pocket said Doctor David.
“Welcome back.” The doctor came to a stop beside the bed.
Liam wobbled and his vision doubled.
David cupped Liam’s head and a shoulder and eased him back down. He tweaked the blanket back over his legs and didn’t try to dislodge his hand from the bed frame, which was a good thing because Liam would have fought the idea. That seemed to be the only thing that kept his head on his neck.
“How long was I out?” Liam asked.
“Three days. We’re at Friday night. How do you feel?”
The doctor touched his forehead and the hollow of his throat with a small tube. Lights flashed colors he’d never before seen outside of his dreams and in a combination he didn’t know how to interpret, but the expression on David’s face showed happiness.
Hopefully, that meant he wasn’t about to kick it anytime soon.
“Okay, I guess.” He lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “Like I’d expect to feel when in a hospital—puny, dizzy, and wanting to puke.”
Compassion filled David’s expression. “That’s never fun.”
Liam agreed. The doctor tugged on hospital gloves, and rumbled through the table drawer beside his bed. He withdraw a small square, then pushed the drawer closed with his knuckles. The outer package was tugged open to reveal a white medical patch, about the length of Liam’s thumb and covered in a viscous orange gel.
The doctor aimed it for his chest.
Liam fought the urge to cringe.
“What’s that?” Liam managed not to whine.
“This will combat your dizziness and nausea,” answered the doctor.
“Okay…good.”
In the next second, the doctor smoothed the patch onto his left bicep with a few quick, efficient movements. He stripped off his gloves as he stepped back.
“The symptoms you report will ease in moments now that the medicine has been—”
Liam gave a sudden roar. The patch was sinking into his skin!
He clawed at it, horrified, only to discover the thing was already untouchable.
Doctor David caught his hand and pushed it away. “Take it easy, Mr. Sinclair.”
“It’s…it’s…”
“Doing what it’s supposed to do.” The doctor had that calm and soothing tone all doctors seemed to have. “It’s a trans-dermal unit. The medicine enters through the skin and is, therefore, delivered directly—”
“We have trans-dermal patches,” Liam shouted. “I know what they’re supposed to do and they’re not supposed to do it that!”
Doctor David squinted, as though puzzled. “Your patches are not absorbed into the skin?”
“No, they…” Something caught his attention. “Wait a minute.
You’re trying to distract me.”
Delight radiated from Doctor David.
“Well done, Mr. Sinclair,” he said, robustly. “Now let’s talk about that.”
Had the guy taken a turn into crazy town? That wouldn’t be in any way okay.
“Talk about what?” He heard the healthy addition of suspicion in his own voice, but the doctor didn’t seem to mind.
“Let’s talk about sounds,” said the doctor.
“Uhh.” So maybe the guy had taken the wrong turn on the freeway of reality. “I’m hearing okay. I mean, we’re talking, aren’t we?” But wait. “Yeah, there’s a ringing in my head, if that’s what you’re asking about.”
“You’re hearing the sound of bells?” Doctor David’s eyebrows rose across his forehead. “That’s unusual.”
“Not bells,” Liam corrected. “Buzzing, like those big-ass bugs that’re always flying around this place.” The doctor’s smile widened. “Or birds. Yeah, like a flock of seagulls on the beach. Noisy as hell, except…” he fell silent.
“Yes?”
“They’re about a block away.”
“Huh.” The doctor pulled out a tool from his lab coat pocket. It looked like the hand-held flashlight medical personnel used to beam lights into a guy’s eyes.
No, he hadn’t lost his mind, for fuck’s sake.
“I mean that in regards to distance.” He rushed the protest.
“Not that they sound like birds or bees or anything like that.”
True to form, the doctor tilted Liam’s head back and beamed a bright light into his left eye. The light was the same weird dark orange of the goop on his skin patch. That alone bore witness to the fact he was in an alien hospital. Human doctors didn’t use orange for anything. Right?
“Uhhh.” It was a bit concerning to note how long David stared into his eye. “I’m seeing okay. There’s nothing wrong with my eye.”
“I’m not looking at your eye.” The doctor switched his attention to his right one. “I’m looking through the optical orbit. Tilt your head up a bit more.”
He did. “Why?”
“I’m checking to make sure there’s no bleeding or bruising in a particular area of your frontal lobe.”
“Whoa…what?” Liam jerked away from the light and Doctor David. “Bleeding or bruising? Why would I have either? I didn’t get a hit to the head.”
Or did he? Would he remember that? Wasn’t retrograde amnesia a follow-up to a brain injury?
“What the hell?” Suddenly, he wanted to be anywhere but this army base. “Do I have a traumatic brain injury or something? Is that why I’m puking and dizzy? What hit me?”
Doctor David folded away his tool and returned it to his pocket.
“No brain injury and nothing hit you. No bleeding or bruising either, which is an excellent sign.”
Why didn’t that sound comforting?
“For what?” The healthy amount of wariness had returned to his tone.
The doctor adjusted his footing and dropped his hands into the pockets of the lab coat. “For adaptation, Mr. Sinclair.”
“A-dap-tay-tay-tion.” He stuttered the word. Oh, Christ, he’d been experimented on? Fucking doctors, and this one deserved to be painted by Liam’s lunch…except he wasn’t nauseous anymore.
Fucking alien medicine.
“I didn’t sign up for that.”
“Yes, you did, Mr. Sinclair.” The doctor’s smile eased across his expression. “Those bees that have been buzzing around your head since your arrival? The flock of birds you hear calling in the near distance? They are neither bees nor birds.”
“What are they?” Hell, did he really want to know?
“Those are the voices of the Urilqii.”
“What?”
“Our people are both telepathic and empathic. That is our preferred communication style.”
“No way.”
Doctor David adopted a scholarly expression.
“It is that talent that gives us such facility with your languages,” he said. “In a clearest sense, language is merely the translation of thought into communicable sounds. We merely tapped into the language center to learn the sounds necessary to deliver our thoughts verbally to you, since it was immediately evident your species doesn’t utilize thought transmission to communicate.”
His tones were rich and weighty. Yeah, lecture mode.
“You expect me to believe that? You guys talk out loud. You’re trying to make me believe this is some bullshit science fiction movie and—” He shut his mouth.
A bullshit science fiction movie was exactly what this was, except for the fact it was real life. Lia
m was in an alien hospital talking to an alien doctor and discussing “adaptation.” Could things be any more sci-fi Saturday afternoon than that?
“Yes, that’s how we normally communicate.” The mad doctor nodded, as if he hadn’t delivered a mind-altering statement of…something mind-altering.
“Usually in our own cabal, as that is the socially correct thing to do. One doesn’t push into communications that are not of one’s cabal. It’s not done.”
Great. Now he was being lectured on Mrs. Manners’ rulebook, alien style.
“Furthermore,” the doctor continued, “we communicate verbally when other species…er…” He cleared his throat. “When your people are nearby. For reasons of manners, of course, but even that is situational.”
He didn’t know what to say. He was numb from his head to his feet.
Doctor David, however, didn’t require an answer and moved onto his conclusion.
“Of course,” he said, “you and your fellow volunteers will be coached in the proper ways of mind-speak. Accommodation for your newness will be given. A learning curve, so to speak.”
“Thanks.” Indignation surged with a startling suddenness.
“What did you do to me?”
“In reality, very little, Mr. Sinclair. You and a handful of others displayed sensitivity to mind-speak upon the first moment of your arrival. Remember the complaints about the low-flying bug bombers?”
He did.
“You’re telling me those were not bugs, but”—he could barely say the word— “thoughts?”
“Communications, yes,” said the doctor. “The chemicals that infused your body from our equipment did nothing but speed up the process. You were already well on your way to full immersion.”
Steve had used that term as well. Remembering that conversation reminded him of Mike, and he suddenly felt much better about things. Getting into the mind of Gorgeous would be a pleasure, especially if he could share a fantasy or two.
Then Liam remembered a problem he’d almost forgotten.
“So…” He was probably going to sound like a king-sized doofus for asking this question. “If my mind has been expanded, what’s with the closed-window feeling?”
The doctor’s pleased expression dropped away. His mouth parted as he took in a startled breath.
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