“I can’t just let him die, Wally. I’ve got to help him. I have to do something.” She started to head to the storage area.
Wally scooted around the victim and blocked her way. “No, Jenny! You can’t! Not only that, I can’t let you. The law says that I have to stop you. You do this, and it’s not only your career that you throw away, it’s mine too.”
She gave him a strange look. “I have no medical career anymore, Wally. I’ve been deluding myself. I’ve given it all away. I have nothing to lose anymore.”
“What do you mean that you have no medical career anymore? You keep talking about going back to South Dakota, and getting your nursing degree, then continuing to get your MD.”
She gave her head a small shake. “You wouldn’t understand. Let me help him Wally. Please. Look at what I was reading behind the counter. I just finished studying a chapter on vascular surgery. It’s still fresh in my mind. I can do this.”
“No you can’t. It takes years of learning and practice to be a doctor. Reading part of a book —.” The screaming of the heart monitor caused them both to rush back to the victim. “Full arrest.”
“I’ll start CPR,” Jennifer called out. “Get the paddles ready.”
“You can’t! His chest is crushed. You perform CPR, the bone splinters will pierce the heart wall.”
“Then zap him! We can’t let him die!”
Reluctantly, Wally pulled the paddles and placed them into position. “Clear!” he shouted.
“I’m good. Do it!” Still the monitor screamed. “No conversion. Hit him again —. Wally! Hit him again!” The paddles were once again pressed onto the man’s chest. “I’m clear! I’m clear!”
Nothing.
“Do it again, Wally! It didn’t work!” Instead, he turned off the monitor, and started stowing the resuscitator. “No! Zap him again! You can’t just let him die!” Her eyes and her voice were frantic.
“Jenny, he’s dead. He was dead when the car left the road. His body didn’t get the memo until now.”
She started wailing. “How can you let him die like that? Without bothering to try everything possible? Don’t you have a conscience?”
Wally’s head jerked up. “Listen, little girl. One of the first things you learn, whether it’s answering calls here in Nebraska, or over in Iraq, you’re not going to be able to save everyone. There will always be times where you will do your best, and the patient will still die. You’ve never really lost at anything before. Not anything important. People will die. People will die no matter what you do. No matter how hard you try. They will still die. Until you learn that lesson, Jenny, you’ll never be able to survive in an emergency setting. Don’t lecture me about not caring. I’ll go home tonight, and drink two shots of scotch before I even say hello to my wife. He’s dead. Even if you had opened him up, he’d still be dead. Deal with it.” With that, he stormed out of the clinic.
Jennifer stood there, tears running down her cheeks, trying so hard to process what had happened, and what he had just said. I couldn’t help him. There was no way that I could help him. No matter how good I might become, no matter how skilled, no matter how intelligent, no matter how wise — I will still fail. I will lose. As a doctor, if I failed, it would cost one life each time. As Mother of the Empire, if I fail, it will cost hundreds. Thousands. Millions. How can I do this?
Wally came back into the clinic. “The chopper has been notified. They’re heading back to Grand Island.” He edged past the stretcher and gently caressed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jenny. I spoke too harshly to you. All you wanted to do was to save a life.”
Tears continued to trickle down her face. “He was part of a group of men who, it’s believed, were — are — planning to attack the Wakira. To kill as many of them as possible and me along with them. And here I am, crying because he died and I did nothing. How dumb is that?”
He pulled a tissue from the box on the counter and started drying her eyes. “It’s not dumb. It’s beautiful. It’s you. Who you are. You were willing to give up your dream of becoming a doctor, just to save this guy’s life. Someone who would have gladly killed you. It’s a credit to you, Jenny.”
Jennifer thought she felt her skin tingle, but put it out of her mind. “The army is going to want the body, Wally. They’ll want to ID this guy, in hopes of finding out who his accomplices are.”
“We’ll wheel him over. I’m sorry if I hurt you, Jenny. I couldn’t let you do something that you were going to regret later.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference. Like you said, he was dead already. I’ll need to toughen myself up before — well, soon.” She took a deep breath and drew her shoulders back. “Take care, Wally.” She threw her arms around him, catching him by surprise. “You’ve been a good friend to me and the clinic.”
Wally pulled back and looked at her. “It sounds like you’re saying goodbye.”
“Yeah, it does. Doesn’t it?”
Chapter 14
As she arrived back at the intersection of Thicket and Emerald, just inside the perimeter set up by the army, she was met by a Wakiran male who was carrying an honest-to-goodness file folder. He handed it to her saying that it contained the images she had requested while she was at the clinic. Jennifer quickly perused the 8 images, recognizing the 4 that had visited the clinic a week earlier, including the victim of the car accident. She pointed out the duty sergeant and instructed the alien to hand over the images to him, and to tell him that they were the pictures the general wanted to see “ASAP”. He seemed briefly confused at the acronym, but responded with “I obey.”
When Jennifer entered at the ship after having supper with her father, Poke got a shocked look on her face (or at least what Jennifer thought was a shocked look) and asked Jennifer to pull up a sleeve of her top. Despite being confused and taken aback by the request, Jennifer pulled up the sleeve as requested, all the while staring at her Wakiran friend.
“Jennifer,” Poke said seemingly dumbfounded. “You’re orange.”
“I’m what?” She looked down at her left arm. “The symbiote has changed color. Why would it do that, Poke? What does it mean?”
The alien continued to look dumbfounded. “This is impossible. This should not happen for at least another 15 ninedays. Or more.”
“What has happened? I take it that there’s some sort of significance to the color change?”
Poke forced her mouth shut and tried to at least look professional. “Jennifer, when you and the symbiote joined 6 of your days ago, we said that it had accepted you.”
“I remember.”
“The color change indicates that the symbiote has now approved of you. It has declared that you are worthy of becoming the next Mother of the Empire.”
“So soon? She hasn’t really had a chance to get to know me. How can she have approved of me already?”
“As I said, it is impossible. The period between the joining and approval is half a standard year or more — about 5 of your months. The time between approval and appointment is normally 3 or 4 years. That is when the candidate becomes our Mother. Your approval should not have happened until a half-year after we arrived back at Homeworld.”
“Impossible? This whole affair has been nothing but impossibilities, Poke. Myka bonding with me being the first.”
“The first improbability was sending the heir to this planet at this time to do a survey. The first impossibility, at the risk of upsetting you, was all 5 females going into cycle prematurely at the same time. We know within 2 days when we will enter and exit cycle. I entered 16 standard days early. With respect Jennifer, mine was the first impossibility. Yours, while not first in occurrence, was first in importance. And now, this. If I hadn’t looked at your feet and seen them clad in orange instead of pink —.”
Jennifer walked over to where Poke was sitting and sat down beside her. “What does this all mean, Poke? Does this change anything at all?”
“Many of the Wakira will start referring to you as the
Chosen. Those who are not already calling you Mother, that is.”
“That was only Medahso. His fears had caused him to be confused. Or, he wanted to be able to trust someone, and he felt he could only trust the Mother.”
Poke snorted her version of a laugh. “It is not just that poor male. A number of the mission staff are now referring to you as Mother. They are in awe of you, Jennifer. Just as they would be were you already our Mother. As far as I know, this has never happened before either.”
“Crap, Poke. I don’t want Myka’s mom to think I’m trying to push her out the door, so to speak. I still don’t think that I’m capable or suited to do the job you say that I’ll be expected to do.”
Poke patted her on her knee. “Your symbiote thinks otherwise. We don’t know how they know things. Or how they can determine what will be needed in the future. But, we have every reason to believe that they do, in fact, know. So, it knows. And that is why it has declared you to be approved.”
“Will this make things easier for Myka? For when his dad arrives?”
Poke tilted her head, and locked gazes with Jennifer. “You must stop worrying about the bonding. Neither of you had wanted it. It happened. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did. To keep blaming yourself is foolish, Jennifer. It is what it is.” She rubbed the top of her snout. “But yes, it probably will. Any doubts that the Emperor might have about the bonding and the joining will be — shot down? — upon his arrival. The fact that the approval came far earlier than could ever have been expected will give added emphasis to the — rebuttal? I don’t think that that is the correct word.”
“I think you mean refutation. But I knew what you meant. Just as long as Myka doesn’t get verbally abused by his dad over what has happened. It wasn’t his doing. Who can understand any of this?”
“Just as it was not your doing either. If you feel that Myka should be spared any condemnation or criticism for the bonding, then you should feel the same way about yourself. Ahhhh,” Poke added, “further confirmation of your being approved. The weapon has appeared.”
Jennifer looked down where Poke was directing her gaze — Jennifer’s left hip. A long-barrelled weapon of incomprehensible design was visible through her scrub bottoms. “So now I’m a pistol-packin’ mama.” She wanted desperately to giggle at the pun, but couldn’t. Poke didn’t understand the reference and said nothing.
“Let me guess, Poke. We don’t know where this weapon comes from, how it knows who the candidate is, where the candidate is, or exactly what it can or can’t do. And it is of a technology that the Wakira don’t have or even know. Am I right?” She stood and peeled off her scrubs, the bottoms coming off even though the weapon seemed to be attached through them to her left leg.
“We don’t know if the weapon is part of the symbiote, or is a separate entity. We do know that it is at least semi-intelligent. You can make it appear and disappear just like you can with your mask. But yes, you are right. We know precious little about it, except that it can kill at great distances of its own accord. The incident that Myka told you about is proof of that. We can duplicate some of the things that it can do — like your weapon, we have weapons that can stun, fire hypersonic projectiles, and fire bursts of explosive plasma. However, your weapon, like the one Myka’s mother possesses, can both see through and fire through obstacles. Though I don’t suggest you do so, you could point the weapon at the wooden seats opposite us and destroy some of them without having to step out of the ship. We don’t know the limit that it can see through and fire through, but it is believed that it is less than one-tenth of the distance between your planet and its natural satellite. We know that the weapon is at least semi-intelligent because it can activate itself when it feels that it is near hostiles. And it can control the movement of the — barrel? This has been made apparent when the Mother attempts to fire at a long distance. Normally, any small hand tremor would cause the plasma or projectiles to miss the target entirely. It will keep the barrel steady for firing, when necessary.”
The evening was spent familiarizing Jennifer with the weapon, including the ability to see through bulkheads, walls, and other obstacles. She learned how to make the weapon attach itself to her left arm (by slapping her leg and saying or thinking the word “weapon”), how to get it to detach itself from her arm (“disarm”), and how to get it to disappear entirely (“hide”). After commenting to Poke how strange it was that she could use English words rather than the Wakiran equivalents, Jennifer struck a pose in front of a full-length mirror — masked, with the weapon attached, and its base resting on her hip. “Now I look like a warrior queen,” she commented, while trying to look both sexy and dangerous. “Well, except for the safety orange color.”
When she arrived Friday morning, Barb told her that she had had a sleepover — their expression for someone who had stayed overnight at the clinic. One of the farmhands from the area had gotten drunk and had had an altercation. A friend of his dumped him at the clinic, saying that he couldn’t risk getting into trouble with the MPs again. He had told Barb that someone would come around to pick him up around 7:30. The two of them walked to the back room and peeked in. He was still out cold on the bed. When the two women got back to the front desk, they looked at each other and said in unison “I hate sleepovers.”
Jennifer paced the front room after Barb left. She hated being alone with someone in the back, unless it was someone that she knew well. She had only seen this guy once or twice before. Knowing he was back there gave her the willies. The ninety minutes she had to wait until he would be leaving couldn’t go by quickly enough.
At 7:20, she went to the back to rouse him. She stuck her head through the doorway and saw that he was still curled up, facing the wall. “Hey buddy,” she said softly. “Time to get up. Your ride will be here any minute now.” There was no response; not a moan nor a twitch. She stepped into the room and raised her voice slightly. “Hey buddy. Time to get going. Your workday is just about to start.”
Still no response. There’s no way Barb would’ve just let him sleep it off without doing some sort of preliminary check of his condition. She could see his chest moving, not evenly like it should’ve been if he were sleeping, but at least he wasn’t dead or in a coma. She stepped over to the bed. “Buddy,” she said at normal volume. “Time to get moving. Shake a leg, dude. This ain’t the Hojo, y’know.”
He suddenly turned, and Jennifer saw something in his right hand move quickly. Instinctively, she jumped backwards. She heard a strange hum, and felt something touch her side. “What the hell—!” she exclaimed.
He rolled out of bed, and dropped down in some sort of bizarre attack stance. She finally saw what was in his hand, some sort of electrical stun weapon. She backed up; unfortunately, her choice in direction was away from the door. Jennifer watched the sparks fly from one terminal to the other. “Hey buddy, we don’t have any drugs here. You’re outta luck.” Her eyes remained fixed on the weapon.
He feinted twice. Jennifer forced herself to keep her arms down. No point in presenting an easy target for him to zap. She tried to step towards the door, but he blocked her way. Another feint and then a lunge. She jumped back and it missed. “Why are you doing this?” she asked him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“No,” he responded. “But I’m going to hurt you, you traitor.” He lunged again, and caught her off-guard. She felt the metal prongs press into her side, but felt nothing. He looked surprised. She grabbed his right wrist and started pushing the device in towards his chest.
In between grunts of effort, she said, “I’m stronger than I look, buddy. You get that way shifting 200 pound former soldiers from beds to wheelchairs and back again.” Without him realizing it, she had managed to manhandle him so that his back was pressed up against the wall. The prongs of the device were now facing him. She leaned into him, using her legs to drive her body forward — to drive the stun device ever closer to his body.
Stupid idiot won’t take his finger off the tri
gger, she thought to herself. Nimrod!
The prongs inched their way closer to the attacker. He grew more and more desperate. He spat in her eyes, trying to get her to take her hands off his wrist, but she ignored it. Using her legs, she pushed hard into him. Jennifer’s hands stung as the prongs found their target. Crap!” she exclaimed, letting go of her grip and the man. He slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Jennifer wiped the sputum from her eyes, and the sweat from her forehead. She could sense that she was about to have a panic attack. She felt sharp twinges in the center of her chest. She started having trouble breathing — she was beginning to hyperventilate. Panting, she struggled to get her heartrate down to something approaching normal.
She heard the door to the clinic open. His accomplice! she thought, panicked.
A female voice called out. “Jenny? Jenny are you here?”
She tried to call out to the voice, but had to clear her throat first. “Who is it?”
“Trudy Jensen. Ronny’s sick. It’s been 3 days. I was hoping that you could help—.”
Jennifer was still panting. “Trudy. Go get some MPs. I think somebody just tried to kill me—”.
The MPs arrived moments later, and dragged the attacker away. Jennifer had Trudy and Ron go into Room 1 and wait. She used the time to try and regain her composure. Focusing on a patient — just getting her mind off of what had just happened — would help her push the panic caused by the attack to one side, she decided. She had started her examination of Ron Jensen by the time the general had arrived.
“Miss Hodges!” he called out. “Miss Hodges! Where are you?”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, General. I’m examining a patient,” she called out through the closed door. After looking into the boy’s mouth, it was plain to Jennifer that he had come down with a case of tonsillitis. “Normally, Trudy, we would take a culture of his throat to determine which bug was causing the infection. Some doctors would then prescribe antibiotics. If we had any samples left, I would give you a sample pack of something to help kill the infection, but we don’t get salesmen come anymore, since we don’t have a doctor for them to sell to.” She then gave her a list of possible home treatments for the disease, and told her that if his fever worsened, or if the pain increased, they should go to a proper hospital and seek treatment.
And What of Earth? Page 15