by S. L. Viehl
I certainly would have looked ridiculous if I’d been obliged to hop instead of walk.
“Would it kill you to rest for another forty-eight hours?” he asked, watching me dress.
“No, but your life expectancy would be seriously abbreviated.” I checked my reflection in the mirror of the wall vanity unit. I should have looked like death warmed over, but I practically glowed with health. Courtesy of my loathsome immune system. I went back to packing my sojourn case. “Besides, you know you’ll be happier to have me out of your gildrells. I’ll round up Vlaav and we’ll head back to the Perpetua.”
“That is the other problem I wish to discuss with you before you leave.” Squilyp went over to close the door to my room, and leaned back against the panel. He was tall and rangy, and his pink derma looked great in the white-and-blue physician’s tunic. He’d earned that, working for me. “The Saksonan has expressed a wish to remain on board the Sunlace and serve as a surgical resident in Medical.”
I whirled around. “He what?”
“Dr. Irde wants me to take over his training.”
“You’re pulling my leg, right?” The Omorr shook his head. “I don’t believe it. That ungrateful little snot.” I slammed the lid down on my case. “After all I’ve done for him.”
“Judging by the fervency of his request, I suspect you have completely terrorized him.” Squilyp made an impatient gesture. “Don’t glower like that. You have never been successful at terrorizing me.”
“That’s only because you’re as conceited and arrogant as I am.” I didn’t want to admit it, but I was hurt. What had I ever done to Vlaav, other than give him the finest training a surgeon could ask for? “Is it because of the simulator runs?”
“He did not cite objections to a specific task.”
“I only made him do two per shift, you know.” I started to pace the deck. “My resident trainer used to make me do four. And I didn’t yell at Vlaav when he messed up.” Squilyp’s expression of disbelief put me on the defensive. “Okay, so I yelled at him, but not very often.”
Squilyp folded his membranes. “Cherijo, I’ve served beside you for more than a year. You are, without a doubt, the most gifted and competent surgeon I’ve ever worked with.”
I arched a brow. “High praise.”
“You are also short-tempered, demanding, and extremely hard to measure up to. That I can also attest to from personal exposure.”
I scowled. “It isn’t a competition. As for you, you know exactly how good you are, so don’t hand me that ‘I-don’t-measure-up’ waste.”
“I measure up. Vlaav doesn’t think he will,” Squilyp said. “As far as skill goes, it’s always a competition. You’ve simply never been in a position to worry about your own competency. You were the best surgeon in your training facility on Terra, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you became the best surgeon on K-2 as well?”
I glared. “Yes.”
“I can tell you, you were the best surgeon on the Sunlace. You’ve always known you’d be the best, wherever you go. You’re the epitome of confidence.”
I threw up my hands. “But that’s part of the job! How else are we going to have the nerve to cut people open and rearrange their insides on a daily basis?”
“Perhaps you’re right. I don’t know how else one can be a surgeon. I’ll tell you what I do know: That young Saksonan will never be half the surgeon you are.”
“Of course he won’t!” I yelled. “He won’t train with me!”
“If there’s ever a chance of him coming close, he can’t train with you. Did you know he’s gone without adequate sleep intervals for weeks, studying your methods, trying to emulate your techniques?”
I had noticed how tired Vlaav had been acting lately. Residency demanded a lot. Still, I would never have guessed he was losing sleep, trying to please me. Trying to imitate me. “Okay, maybe I’ve been a little too hard on him.”
“A little?”
“I’ve praised him, too. A few times.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling sheepish. “Not enough, apparently.”
“He is losing confidence in himself, Cherijo. I think he’s afraid of going back on the simulator. He puts it off, says he can’t clear his thoughts. He must be constantly second-guessing himself.”
A luxury a surgeon never had time to indulge. “Squilyp, I honestly didn’t know it was that bad.” And all my fault. Like everything else.
Squilyp accurately read my expression. “It’s not your fault. He didn’t air his concerns, and I know how busy you are. Vlaav admitted he couldn’t bring himself to ask you about the transfer. The boy idolizes you.”
Or was scared to death of me. That didn’t make me feel better. It made me feel like Joseph Grey Veil. “Not much of a role model for him, am I?”
“Let me work with him for now. When he’s got his focus and confidence back—”
“No. You take over his residency from here on out. It’s for the best.” I felt like banging my head against the nearest hull panel. “You can use the extra hands, anyway.”
“Have you talked to Reever yet?”
“No.” I picked up my sojourn pack. “Don’t go behind my back and tell him, either.”
“I may not have to. The man is a telepath, Cherijo.”
“I’m not telling him now.” I held up a hand when he would have argued the point. “Stay out of this, Squilyp. It’s personal.”
The ship suddenly lurched, and shuddered. We grabbed each other to keep from falling on our faces. The ship slowly restabilized, and the Omorr hopped over to the room console and signaled the helm.
“Are we under attack?”
“No, Senior Healer. We passed through a small meteor swarm, but sustained no significant damage. Jorenian alloys are impervious to such bombardment.” The ship’s Operational Officer glanced at me. “We were able to shield the Truman, but I regret to report the Perpetua was not as fortunate.”
I shuttled over to the now-crippled Perpetua, which looked like it had been put through a molecular sieve. I went directly to Medical, and walked into total chaos. Patients were yelling, nurses were shouting, and orderlies were running back and forth fetching supplies.
I put two fingers in my mouth and whistled to get everyone’s attention. The room fell silent. “Triage nurses, report.”
Three of my nurses came over and delivered the stats on the injured. Most of the crew members had reported in with only minor assorted lacerations and fractures, but at least a dozen were going to require surgery.
I got on the console and signaled the Sunlace. “Squilyp, I’m going to need a full med-support team over here. You and Vlaav, too, if you can be spared.”
“We will shuttle over and be there in a few minutes.”
A nurse appeared at my side. “Doctor, we’ve got a complicated spinal injury over here you’d better look at.”
“On my way.” I pulled on some gloves. “Surgical team, prep and ready! Two minutes!”
My spinal injury case turned out to be three broken vertebra compressing the patient’s convoluted spinal cord, according to my first scan.
“Fifty cc’s of prednisyone,” I said, and performed a second pass. “Looks like we’ve got three fractures between C-eighteen to T-fourteen in the cervical.”
The patient was unconscious, so I had to rouse her. She was one of the Tingaleans we’d rescued from Catopsa, and strongly resembled a large snake with six pairs of stunted limblets.
“Can you hear me?” I glanced at the nurse. “What’s her name?”
“GySikk.”
“GySikk,” I said, and patted her leathery cheek. Slowly her triple-lidded eyes opened. “You’ve had an injury to your spine. I’m going to probe your abdomen and lower body now. I want you to tell me if you can feel it touching you.”
“Yes.” She was slurring her words, but that was normal for a Tingalean.
By probing, I determined that GySikk’s legs and a third of her trunk were paralyzed.
She had trouble keeping her second eyelids from drooping, too.
“Upper ten limblets reactive, lower two nonreactive. All webbing nonreactive to probe.” Another scan showed the tissue around the fractured vertebra was swelling, despite the corticosteroid drugs we’d administered. “Set her up and wheel her into room one. She’ll be my first.” I leaned over and put a hand on the Tingalean’s triangular brow ridge. “GySikk, I’m going to operate on your spine, to relieve the pressure and repair the broken vertebra.”
GySikk tried to look down at her body, but the restraints strapping her to the spinal support board didn’t allow her to lift her head. “Will I … be paralyzed?”
“No. Your spinal cord is intact.” I smiled down at her. “Just relax and let us take care of you now.” I waited and watched her vitals until the sedation kicked in, then went to the cleanser to scrub.
The assisting nurse popped up beside me. “Doctor, what about her blood?”
I thrust my hands into fresh gloves. “What about it?”
“It’s extremely poisonous. Lethal upon skin contact.”
I nodded and put on another pair of gloves over the first. “Analyze a sample and set up the whole blood synthesizer to duplicate it. And don’t spill any on yourself.”
Squilyp came in with Vlaav and a team of Jorenians just as I headed for surgical suite one.
“I’ve got a spinal cord compression I’ve got to work first,” I called over to him. “I’ll be an hour, maybe two.”
He nodded. “I’ll take the next one. Vlaav and Adaola will cover triage. Go.”
I kept my hands up and backed into the surgical suite. The team had the Tingalean rolled over and her back prepped and sterilized.
“Everyone in double gloves and full face visors? Good, let’s get moving.” I powered up the laser rig and positioned it over the upper half of the snake-woman’s body. “Okay, GySikk. Let’s see if we can’t get you back up on your belly.”
The spinal procedure went smoothly, and I was able to repair the fractures and relieve the pressure on the patient’s cord. If all went well with her post-op recovery, GySikk would be slithering around the ship again in no time.
When I finally got a chance to access a console, I tracked my husband down in Engineering. He was too busy to talk, though. Once we finished treating the injured and performed post-op rounds, I went down there to find out how bad the situation was.
Reever was working three consoles, accessing ship schematics on one, consulting with the Senior Engineer on the second, and receiving updates from work crews on the third.
When there was a brief lull in the madness, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Captain. You’re earning your paycheck today.”
“I do not receive compensation for my position.” He glanced at me. “You should be in Medical on the Sunlace.”
“What can I say? I got bored.” I sat down beside him and studied the latest transmission of repair estimates. “Whoa. Looks like the ship got slammed pretty good.”
“The hull could be restored, if we had engines to get to a more advanced system. We don’t. Damage from the residual debris is our primary concern at the moment.” He accessed one console, and brought up an interior view of the stardrive section, which was deserted. “The drive initiators are offline, main fuel cells have ruptured, and radiation levels are climbing.”
Radiation was never a good thing. “Can you get anyone in there to purge the cells?”
“No, the exposure would kill them in a few minutes. It’s not coming from the cells, but from radioactive fragments lodged in that section of the ship. Even if we had propulsion and could land safely on Te Abanor, it would take weeks, possibly months to remove all the debris.”
I doubted the Meridae would want us to expose them to that much radiation. “Can the Lok-Teel help us out?”
“They would try. Unfortunately, the radiation would Drove fatal to them as well.”
I gnawed at my lower lip. “So basically the ship is unfixable.”
“For want of a better word, yes.” Reever sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.
“We can transport everyone over to the Sunlace temporarily.” I looked at the upper deck, mentally tallying the number of former slaves and crew members left on board. “It would be cramped for a while, but the Torins will be glad to help us out.”
“There is another possibility.” He steepled his fingers. “We can inspect the Truman, and see if it will serve our needs.”
“Bad idea. Knowing Joe, he’s got it rigged to send a signal beacon to the nearest mercenary base the minute we step on board.”
“You know we have already performed several scans, and found no weapons, beacons, or explosive devices on the ship. The computers remain offline and can be fully reinitialized. It appears harmless.”
“Yeah, that bowl of porridge is just right.” His expression didn’t change, and I rolled my eyes. “Another joke I’ll have to explain to you someday, Goldilocks.”
“Since the Meridae’s native resources were incompatible with the Sunlace‘s power core and dietary needs, the Jorenians are presently running low on both fuel and supplies now. They can’t sustain the additional demand of extra passengers on their equipment for longer than a few days. The only other alternative would be to strand us on Te Abanor while the Sunlace replenishes their supplies at the nearest non-League planet. That would be BiTned, which is more than three weeks away.”
Three weeks marooned on a planet with little oxygen, animal flesh for food, and dwellings sculpted from fecal matter. “Okay, we take a look at Joe’s gift horse.”
“I think that would be best.”
“Just you and me, though,” I said. “There’s no reason to risk anyone else until we know it’s safe.”
“It will take several days to inspect the vessel.”
“So we’ll evacuate everyone to the Sunlace, then pack some clothes and take Jenner with us.”
While I assembled what we’d need for the trip in our quarters, Reever sent a signal to the Sunlace and made arrangements with Xonea for the evacuation, then notified the crew. Squilyp agreed to supervise the medevac and cover the patients while Reever and I took care of checking out the Truman.
I checked on Alunthri, who thankfully had been working on the Sunlace when the meteor swarm hit, and made sure it hadn’t been injured. “I am well, Cherijo.” After I told it what we were going to do, it added, “I hope you and Duncan will be careful. Your creator is a devious individual.”
“Don’t worry. If I see so much as a recording drone hovering around us, I’m setting the ship on self-destruct.”
I ended the signal and started to pack. Fifteen pounds of silver-furred Tibetan temple cat jumped up, then sprawled out beside my case on the sleeping platform. Indignant blue eyes inspected me with mild hostility. I could guess what he was thinking.
You left me again. Alone with that blond guy who never pets me and those disgusting blobs.
“Hey, pal.” I gave him a thorough scratching around both ears and under his chin. “Miss me?”
Please. He yawned and closed his eyes. I have a full schedule of naps to take.
“I’ll bet.” I finished folding my garments, then went to Reever’s side of the storage container. It still felt odd, handling his clothes, picking up his grooming items. The intimacies of married life. “How would you like to take a little trip?”
Jenner’s head lifted, and his whiskers twitched. About as much as I like getting wet. One of the Lok-Teel flowed past him, and he gave it a single, disdainful sniff. And these things.
I saved bringing out the animal carrier for last. By now Jenner knew exactly what it meant when that appeared. Fortunately for me, he’d gotten too fat and lazy to run very far or fast.
I caught him and carried his struggling body over to the platform. “Come on, come on, you know the drill.”
I put a handful of dry mackerel treats in the carrier to placate him. He immediately kicked them out through the vent
slots and yowled.
Do you really think you can bribe me?
“I tried.”
I met Reever in the nearly empty launch bay, and handed him the garment case as I climbed in the shuttle with Jenner. Strapping the carrier in only made my poor pet’s yowls get louder.
“You are injured.” Reever took my hands and extended them.
“Just a couple of scratches. Jenner doesn’t like taking trips.”
He eyed my darling feline. “I will never understand your attachment to that irate creature.”
“You love me,” I pointed out.
“You do not scratch me when I transport you.”
“I don’t? You sure have a short memory.” I patted his back in a particular place. “Everyone get off the ship all right?”
“Yes.” He went to the helm, and initiated the flight shield. “Come and sit with me.”
Normally I would have sat beside Jenner and tried without success to soothe his shattered nerves, but I had the feeling Reever wanted to talk about the baby. I’d been successfully avoiding the subject since the miscarriage. But it wasn’t just my baby, and I was sure he needed to vent.
Don’t think. Don’t talk. Just listen.
Slowly I went up and strapped myself in beside him. I also put up the mental walls that would keep my husband from accessing all my thoughts. I’d been doing that since the miscarriage, too.
We flew out of the launch bay and into space before he said anything. “I regret the loss of our child, Cherijo.”
I stared through the view screen at the looming outlines of the Truman. Squilyp was right, I did have an obligation to tell him. “Duncan, how would you feel if we could never have any more kids?”
“I have you,” he said, as if that was all that mattered. “We made this child. We will make other children together.”
For once I hated the fact I was female, and I had the uterus. “What if I can’t? What if I can’t and you find out I’m not enough?”
I knew how difficult it was for Reever to express himself emotionally. So it didn’t surprise me that the words that came from him were slow, and drawn from a place he was still getting acquainted with.