by Pirateaba
“We’re sticking together on this. Each one of us. We’re a team, and a lot of the others are decent sorts. The Centaurs are right bastards, the Dullahans are stuck up, and the Lizardfolk love killing cute things, but they’re all like us. We’re a company and we’re not going to abandon each other.”
There was something wonderful about what he said, and also…Ken felt drawn to what Daly was saying, but he shared Luan’s horror. And he agreed with Luan. It was one thing to risk his life, but for this? To haul dead bodies away so more people could fight? That was senseless to Ken, more than the call of staying with the company was.
Ken and Luan didn’t just ask Daly of course. Aiko was asking some of the girls she knew, but the answer was the same. The others wouldn’t join up with Geneva, who they’d never met. They were going to stick together, to keep working. They’d been shaken by the executions of that morning, and they had seen the truth in what Quallet had told them. Only one of them had died so far while clearing the undead. But those who had fled had died. True, Johanas and the others had only been a fraction of the American group, but no one, including Ken, thought the others had survived.
In a strangely perverse way, the executions had brought the rest of the Humans, the rest of Gravetender’s Fist closer together. They were a proper company now. Only Luan, Aiko, and Ken couldn’t be part of it.
“We’ll be watching for you lot. If you survive the fighting…well, we’ll see then, won’t we? Watch how you go.”
Daly shook Ken’s hand, as did the others. That left Ken, Luan, and Aiko to march up to Quallet’s tent as night began to fall. Ken wondered if they were doing the right thing. Johanas and the others had fled without a word. What would Quallet do if Ken told him to his face that he wanted to quit?
Stare. That was the answer. The [Mercenary Captain] was getting ready for the night’s work. Now he turned and stared at the three.
“If you go, you’ll be deserters. You saw what happened to deserters this morning. Why risk it? And why tell me?”
“Because we want to be honest about it.”
Luan met Quallet’s eye. The Captain eyed him back and nodded to the forest.
“So you’ll just run off and pray you don’t get spotted by a patrol? Because if you do—”
“No. we will go to the [Doctor].”
Quallet paused.
“The [Doctor]? Why—”
“We know her. She’s…from where we are.”
The Captain frowned. He looked at Ken, then at Aiko, and then Luan. But it was Ken his eyes settled on, and Quallet remembered his promise to give Ken a bonus. He shook his head.
“I won’t stop you. But if you leave my company, you’ll be on your own. That [Doctor] seems competent, but she has no company. She’s got a handful of soldiers protecting her, and she won’t have enough healing potions to do her job forever. Not at the way this war is going. What makes going with her better? She’s one person. A single [Doctor]. Alone.”
“She’s not alone.”
Aiko was the one who said it. Ken and Luan closed their mouths and looked at her. She stared at Quallet, eyes still red from crying, but resolute. She spoke carefully, forming the words in English.
“She is not alone. We are like her. We are not…not soldiers. She is like us. She does not kill.”
“Neither does my company. We fight undead. We dispose of the dead. What makes her work any different from the work we do?”
“She saves lives.”
Luan spoke. Quallet opened his mouth, and then Ken interrupted him. He looked at Quallet, and a slight suspicion made him speak.
“Captain Quallet. May I ask a question?”
“What?”
“You are a smart captain. You are experienced as a leader. You heard us arguing. So…”
Ken hesitated. He looked at Quallet.
“…Did you tell the Dullahans that our friends would try to run away last night?”
Aiko gasped. Luan’s eyes widened. Quallet just stared at Ken, and then he turned away. Ken stared at his back, and then he walked out of the tent.
1.05 D
Once, Geneva had been terrified for her life. She had been a new recruit in the Raverian Fighters, a soldier; for all that she’d been a [Doctor]. She had faced her worst fears, treating her fellow soldiers and enemies alike. She had…failed…so many times. Failed to save lives.
At some point, that feeling had eclipsed her regard for her own life. She just couldn’t muster the same feeling, the same fear of dying as she used to. Everyone was dying. Everyone on the operating table was a life. What did Geneva have to fear from an arrow or a sword in the gut? She faced her worst fear every time she saw light slipping from the eyes of the people she treated.
She had lost her fear. Only, she’d found it again. Now she was afraid. Geneva had woken up after another of Okasha’s enforced naps to find three more souls in her camp. Three more bodies among many. Only, these ones were special.
Kenjiro Murata. Aiko Nonomura. Luan Khomala. Three people from her world. Now, under her care.
Geneva had no idea what to do with them. She had spotted them approaching, waving a white flag, across the edge of the valley. Twice, groups of soldiers had raced towards them and there had been a tense moment where swords had been drawn. Only, Ken had talked them down both times, pointing towards Geneva’s camp.
Now they were here, eating food, talking quietly among themselves. They had a haunted, shell-shocked look, that of people who’d seen too much, too quickly. Geneva understood the feeling.
She was talking with Calectus, who oversaw the other Selphids that had volunteered to be her assistants. Geneva had thought it was odd at the time, that so many Selphids should want to help her. But she’d had volunteers from other soldiers before and hadn’t had the time to worry about it.
Now she knew it was because the Selphids wanted her to help them. That was fine. Geneva’s purpose was to help people. She didn’t care. But she wondered if Calectus believed in what she did, or if he thought all her struggling to save lives was pointless. What did Selphids think about the living, anyways? They inhabited dead bodies. They would have wanted Geneva to fail more often.
But there was a living, mortal compassion in him. Geneva had seen him comforting the dead, and he had spoken to Ken as well. He had dead eyes, literally. But the thing that used the dead eyes was living. The Selphids understood loss just as much as anyone else. They also understood danger, more acutely than Geneva did. They were soldiers, and knew war.
“These three are deserters, Geneva. They will be killed if they leave your camp.”
Calectus gestured at Luan and the others. Geneva nodded.
“And if they stay in the camp? Can you protect them?”
The Lizardman’s face grimaced.
“As much as I can protect you. You have no company—but you are known as the Last Light.”
“Yes.”
Geneva hated that title. The Last Light? It was too fitting, and not at the same time. She was not some kind of quasi-goddess, the guardian who stood between life and death. She was just a [Doctor], and not a fully-trained one at that. If a true heart surgeon had come from her world, or a decent anesthesiologist, or someone who knew how to make—make penicillin or any one of the things Geneva so desperately needed—how many lives could they have saved?
“My reputation is the only thing keeping us alive, is what you’re saying.”
Calectus bared his Lizardman’s teeth.
“That, and the fact that we don’t stray from our camp. I can make sure the three are safe, but that only is true if they stay within the boundaries of the camp.”
Geneva looked around. The ‘camp’ was little more than a collection of tents in a clearing. It was not a large area—a space had been cleared for the wounded to lie on pallets before going into her operating tent. There was a place for her to sleep, tents for the Selphids and the wounded who would rest, a tent filled with supplies and the healing potions she had, no
t to mention extra bandages, scalpels, needles…and that was it.
She sighed. It wasn’t a good place for people to be cooped up in, but it was better than nothing. She nodded at Calectus.
“Okay. Just…give them space. It’s not hard to feed them, and we have room.”
He nodded, and Geneva went over to talk with Ken and the rest. They looked up as she approached and smiled at her. Geneva tried again, but a smile wouldn’t come out. She stood awkwardly in front of them, aware of the dried blood on her clothing. She didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t really spoken to anyone for a long time. She just did her job.
“Calectus says you’ll be safe, so long as you don’t stray. I can’t offer you protection outside of the camp and maybe not in it. I’m not part of any company.”
She blurted out the details. Luan nodded.
“We understand, and we’re grateful for all of this, Geneva. You didn’t have to do this. We won’t leave the camp.”
“I—you’re welcome.”
It felt strange for him to thank her for anything. Geneva looked around, trying to say something, anything. Condolences for the friends that had been executed? She didn’t know their names.
It was Aiko, the young Japanese girl with red eyes who spoke up.
“Um, Miss Geneva-san…”
“What?”
“If you are not a company, why do you have that…flag?”
She pointed and everyone turned to look at the banner over Geneva’s tent. Geneva stared up at a crude pole of wood, atop which sagged a white flag with a red cross painted in the center.
“That? It’s not a company banner. It’s a symbol. I use it to tell soldiers that I’m not a fighter.”
Ken stared at it. The banner was too limp in the lack of a breeze for the red cross to be too visible, but he figured it out after a moment.
“The symbol for hospitals. The red cross.”
“It’s also the symbol of the Red Cross organization. They’re an international organization that does…does work like this.”
Geneva had seen the parallel, although she felt like she was stealing the identity of that group with her symbol. Ken nodded excitedly.
“Oh! Yes! I have seen them on the news before. Do people in this world know the symbol?”
“Some have associated it with me. But it’s not something that will protect you.”
“Sort of hard to see.”
Luan commented neutrally. Geneva shrugged. It was a flag. She didn’t need that, but it helped sometimes. She heard a shout and her head snapped around. Someone was running, galloping towards her camp. She saw Ken and the others tense, but it wasn’t soldiers coming for battle.
Four Centaurs raced towards the camp, supporting a fifth Centaur between them. Geneva saw more soldiers rushing behind them, taking the opportunity to find a gap in the fighting and head their way. She raised her voice, turned, and found Calectus striding towards her.
“Calectus, I’m going to triage. I need you to wake up one of the others and get them ready for operating. You lot—”
She turned. Ken, Aiko, and Luan had already backed off to a respectable distance. Geneva nodded at them. The first wounded body came in, a Centaur who was missing a leg and had some kind of javelin buried in his side. It was barbed and would have to be cut out. As Geneva began to work, calling out to Calectus to bring another healing potion, she lost track of her newest guests.
—-
Diagnosis. Incision. Cut away damaged flesh. Suture. Use healing potions. Geneva was grateful for her limited supply of potions. She didn’t have much—most of it had been donated to her by people she’d saved, or come from Calectus and the other Selphids. Geneva rationed it, using the dependable sutures where healing potions weren’t necessary. She had to stitch people up, save them. Making them well enough to walk out of her camp and keep fighting wasn’t her goal.
It was tiring, backbreaking work. Surgery could be precise as grafting onto a heart, or as crude as sawing through bones. Or sawing through a Dullahan’s armor to get to their damaged innards.
Maneuvering a Centaur around on her table was just as hard. Geneva and her helpers had to do lifting at times, and it was just as well that some of Okasha’s Skills made Geneva’s right arm far stronger than her left. Too, Geneva could concentrate solely on her left hand while Okasha operated her right, as well as her legs if necessary.
Small blessings. Geneva was busy wiping down her table, removing blood, scat, and urine that her latest patient had covered the surface with, when someone timidly entered the tent. Geneva looked up, expecting the next patient, and instead found Aiko.
“Is something wrong?”
“I—”
The young Japanese girl opened her mouth, inhaled the scent of the urine and feces, and gagged. She took a moment to collect herself while Geneva swept it all off the table and washed it all away with soapy water.
“I want to help. I would like to help you. If I can.”
Geneva blinked at Aiko. She stared at the young woman’s pale face.
“Why?”
Aiko hesitated. She looked at Geneva, and then at the blood on the table and paled, but when she raised her head, there was determination in her eyes.
“I am not brave like Ken or Luan. I…I do not like fighting. But I have been sitting in camp, and I see so many hurt people…I want to help them. Do you think I can?”
Her question struck Geneva in her heart. It was a reflection, an echo of what Geneva had thought as a girl. She stared at Aiko, and then nodded. It wasn’t just the determination that swayed Geneva, made her take a chance on Aiko. It was the compassion.
Aiko was breathing heavily as she looked at the blood. She’d been pale-faced staring at the wounded. She looked at Geneva, wavering.
“I am sorry. I know I am a coward—I am afraid of blood and guts—”
Geneva reached out. Her hand was covered in blood and she stopped. But then she reached out and touched Aiko lightly on the shoulder. The girl’s eyes turned to the blood, but she didn’t flinch away.
“Unwilling to fight doesn’t mean ‘coward’. If you have the stomach for it, I’d welcome a second pair of hands.”
“I will try.”
Geneva nodded. Something…she felt like she had met another Okasha, perhaps. Other soldiers had come, the Selphids were able assistants when it came to holding the wounded down, but few had the temperament to be part of the operations, to see the horrific injuries and try to fix them. Perhaps Aiko had what it took, perhaps not. But she could certainly try.
“What should I do?”
What could she do? Geneva blinked, thought for half a second, and then thought of all the things a surgical assistant would do, all the things that Geneva had to do herself.
“Thread the needles, sharpen scalpels…hand me objects. Make sure the healing potion is ready for when I need it. If you can handle the first hour, I’ll teach you how to sponge blood away properly and see what else you can do.”
She was showing Aiko how to put everything close to Geneva so Okasha could grab it when the tent flap opened and a screaming man came in. He fainted as the Selphids put him on the table. Aiko was shaking, but she didn’t run or faint as Geneva inspected the gaping wound in his upper thigh. Geneva nodded to the two Selphids, one a female Dullahan, the other a male Centaur, both with pallid skin.
“They’re here in case the patient wakes up. If they do, back away. I’ve had them try to cast spells, stab me with hidden daggers…we have no anesthesia and they sometimes wake up as I’m cutting into them.”
The words should have terrified Aiko. They would have terrified Geneva had she heard them before she’d come to this world. But the girl had lived on the battlefield at night for over a week now. She’d carried corpses, stabbed undead, risked her life and gone through it all. A coward? No. Cowards ran, froze up, and didn’t act. Aiko could act. Her hand was steady as she held a suture and towel in both hands. Geneva nodded to her.
“Le
t’s get to work.”
—-
Aiko was brave. Ken knew it, Luan knew it. They sat together, watching bodies enter and leave Geneva’s tent, and both of them thought the same thing. Only Luan gave voice to it.
“Ken, I feel worthless.”
“I feel the same way.”
They saw Aiko appear outside and hurl a bowl of—was it crap?—out of the tent. They’d seen her working with blood and worse on her clothes, and yet she was still in there. Helping Geneva save lives.
Ken and Luan weren’t in there. They hadn’t thought of going in and offering to help. When Aiko had said it, Ken had wanted to go in with her. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t face the horror of what he saw outside.
Just the thought of seeing Geneva operate, of watching her slice into someone and being asked to hold them down, or sew something shut filled Ken with mortal dread. He couldn’t do it. It wasn’t just about bravery; it was about being able to look at that without freezing up. Luan couldn’t do it either.
“I’m ashamed to say it Ken, but I feel like we’re useless here. I think we were right not to keep going to Gravetender’s Fist, but…”
Ken nodded. But they were doing nothing here, and that was worse. Worse, because when you stopped to stare at what Geneva did, there was no helping but feel small.
She saved lives. Soldiers came in, wounded beyond belief, carried by friends who begged her to save them. And she did. Sometimes she failed, but Ken had seen bodies go in, pale-faced Humans and Centaurs who he would have sworn were dead come out, weak, but alive.
It was humbling. And more, it made Ken question what he’d been doing. He’d put down dead bodies. Why hadn’t he spent his time saving them?
“What can we do to help?”
“I don’t know.”
Luan shook his head. He was staring at the flag over Geneva’s tent again. The red cross was barely visible behind the white folds of the flag. He muttered to himself.
“She really needs a banner. Or a sign.”
“Why? So everyone can see?”