by Erik Wecks
Kolas turned to leave the bridge, beckoning for Jo to follow. “Welcome to Korg Haran. It means ‘safe air.’”
Exiting the freighter, Jo noticed the smell first. Every atmosphere—station, ship, planet, or moon—had its own unique odor, but Korg Haran’s stood out among them. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, although the musk of unwashed humanoid made up a large portion of its waft. There were other smells as well—spicy food and the aroma of machine oil and hot electronics mixed in. Safe air, she thought. I wonder if that was meant ironically.
Stepping off the freighter, Jo momentarily flinched as a chill ran up her spine. If what Kolas said was true, she was walking into the hot zone of a very infectious and deadly disease. You know, Jo, it’s the doctors who die in these situations.
Jo didn’t have time to think long on the topic, because the commander started off at a brisk pace into the waiting mass of vessels. She had to work hard to keep up with his long stride.
They entered the enormous promenade of the derelict luxury liner, which had been converted into a bazaar. Jo guessed that the bazaar accounted for much of the smell that greeted her. The commander walked confidently through the tangled mess, threading a path across the floor. Timcree were everywhere, and not all of them looked the same. The commander and his companions seemed to be the tallest of the lot, and perhaps the least human, but Jo had little time to observe, as almost all her concentration was focused on keeping herself safely in the captain’s wake.
On the freighter, she had seen no weapons. Those taken on the raid on the Gallant had been quickly stowed and not retrieved during the flight. Now she noticed the crew each wore a rifle slung on their back, and as she trotted along, they took up positions around her.
The thought occurred to her that she might be a prisoner, and her heart started beating faster.
They got halfway across the open space before anyone really noticed her. The first cry came from a food vendor to her right.
“Gravlander!” she exclaimed.
Her neighbor also took up the cry. “Gravlander! Kash’y! Gravlander!”
And now the cry of “Gravlander” rang out over and over again as word spread throughout the bazaar. A crowd started to follow them.
The commander picked up his pace.
At first, Jo wondered at the excitement. She wasn’t completely unprepared. She had guessed that her presence in a Timcree camp would cause a stir, similar to the presence of the Timcree on the fleet—except she was an invited guest—but the crowd’s intensity surprised her. Soon they were shouting other unintelligible things, but it wasn’t until one of them started shoving some of Kolas’s crew that she understood their clear hostility toward her.
Despite the surrounding crowd, the commander forced his way forward, making for the nearest exit from the chaos. They had almost reached their goal when a group of well-armed Timcree in pinkish-red jumpsuits brought their progress to a sudden halt. In front, a Timcree, similar in build and height to Kolas, stood with his long arms at his side. Behind him, a group equal in number to the crew stood in a line, weapons at the ready.
Jo understood nothing of the argument that followed, although the word “Gravlander” came up frequently. It all seemed so calm. In fact, Jo would have hardly recognized it for a disagreement if it weren’t for the weapons pointed in her direction. Understanding the situation to be highly dangerous, she stayed still, trying to appear calm and unthreatening.
Without warning, a knife appeared in Kolas’s opponent’s hand, and he lunged. Jo screamed.
5
Kolas's Confession
At the sight of the knife, Josephine jumped back. Kolas, however, wasn’t caught off guard. He deftly allowed his opponent’s thrust to push past him to the left. Grabbing the knife-wielding wrist, Kolas pivoted his body until he was standing almost back-to-back with his opponent, holding the knife out in front of them both. It proved to be a serious mistake. The other Timcree wasn’t about to allow Kolas to deter him so easily. With a loud grunt, he twisted the blade downward and stabbed Kolas in his exposed thigh. The commander screamed and collapsed to the deck.
Silence descended over the crowd. With her benefactor writhing on the ground, Josephine waited for the attacker to turn his attention toward her. She crouched down, ready to bolt.
The attacker bent down and tugged his blade out of Kolas’s leg, causing the commander to scream again. Jo cringed and started to look away, not wanting to see, not wanting to hear, but she froze, unable to turn from the knife that she feared would soon be aimed her direction.
The end for Kolas never came. Instead, his opponent stepped back and stared down for a few seconds, face impassive. Then he turned away, dripping knife still clutched in his hand.
Breathing hard, Jo grabbed at her jumpsuit, staring around wildly at the crowd. Apparently sated, the vast majority of the Timcree followed the attacker’s lead, dispersing to their stalls and returning to their shopping. Slowly the hum of conversation returned to the bazaar. Jo stood there for a moment longer, just trying to gain some composure.
Then, as if some spell had suddenly cut her loose, she rushed forward. Seeing the amount of blood pooling under him from the wound on his leg, it was immediately clear to Jo that Kolas was in trouble. The wound had no doubt cut an artery. Unless something changed, Kolas would bleed out. Already he was barely conscious.
Desperate to be of use after seven days of boredom, Jo practically shouted at the man. “Don’t you die on me, Commander.”
Reaching into the pocket of her still-stocked medical jumpsuit, she pulled out a tourniquet and was about to apply it when Tanith put a firm hand on her shoulder and said aggressively, “You not help him.”
Jo looked at Tanith, her brows knitted together into a single line. “What?”
Tanith shook his head and said again. “You not help him.”
Her training took over. She tried to speak calmly. It didn’t work. “Like hell I won’t! He’s going to die! I have to help him!”
Tanith blinked slowly once while his forehead wrinkled. Jo could tell he was struggling with words. More than his expression or speech, his vicelike grip on her shoulder told her how much he wanted her to listen to him. “You help him, they kill him. Think Gravlander bad spirit, not good. You no touch.”
Josephine continued through her first-aid procedures at breakneck speed. Kolas was bleeding out in front of her. There was no way he would live long enough to be murdered if she didn’t help him, but something in the way Tanith spoke, and particularly his hand, pulled Jo up short.
She hesitated. Her stomach felt like she had just dropped into freefall. With one hand, she tried to free herself from Tanith’s grip. “If I don’t help, he will die. I’m the doctor! Kolas brought me here to help with your medical care.”
Tanith squeezed her shoulder harder. “You no help. You help, they kill him.”
Angry to the point of almost turning purple but helpless all the same, Jo put the tourniquet down on the ground and stood up. She pointed at Tanith. “Then you put it on him.”
It took a second, and he gave no sign with his reserved expressions, but then Tanith seemed to understand. He slowly knelt down next to his dying commander. Jo continued to point. “Okay, now take the bandage and wrap it around his leg.”
Tanith looked at her and didn’t move.
So frustrated she almost couldn’t speak, Jo pantomimed what she wanted Tanith to do, and he seemed to finally get the point.
Jo tried to instruct him as he wrapped the automated bandage. “Make sure it’s nice and snug, and then connect the two ends like this.” She again acted out what she wanted Tanith to do. Progress seemed glacial. All the while, Kolas bled. His grayish skin was now almost pale blue. He seemed translucent.
Tanith gingerly finished his work, much too slowly for Jo’s liking.
By the time the task had been completed, the commander had lost consciousness. The sudden pressurization of the bandage brought him back briefly, and he ga
sped.
To Jo, things didn’t look good. She had been on a team in the ER that had lost a patient from blood loss about a year ago. He had been an engineer whose gravity belt failed. He fell two decks before breaking his fall on a railing. Miraculously, he didn’t die on the spot, but in the end, it hadn’t mattered. The railing turned his liver to jelly, and he had bled to death internally before the nanites could stop it. Jo didn’t want to have that happen here.
Kolas’s color told her she had little time. She pointed at one of the other crew and said, “Medicine! On the ship! Get medicine.”
The crewman just stood there staring at her, uncomprehending, and perhaps, Jo thought, angry.
Tanith seemed to understand, however. In Kree, he gave several orders. At his command, the crewman nodded his large head and ran off toward the ship. Two others, including the mechanic, headed in a different direction.
“He needs blood.”
Tanith nodded slowly.
Jo had no idea if he understood her or not. For the next five minutes, she could only watch helplessly. She couldn’t even tell for sure if he was breathing. She stood there, shifting her weight from foot to foot as her anxiety continued to grow.
I’m the fucking doctor. That’s why they brought me here. If I can’t fucking doctor, why am I here?
Her medical knowledge was much greater than those around her. She ought to be the one in charge. Her only hope was that when they got Kolas out of the bazaar, they might let her treat him.
The two who headed away from the ship came back first, with a makeshift stretcher that amounted to a sheet attached to a couple of metal poles. They weren’t alone. The Timcree who returned with them talked quietly among themselves as they loaded the commander. One of them, a woman, knelt at Kolas’s head as they worked, keeping up a constant stream of conversation. Jo guessed she was somewhat younger than Kolas. She didn’t cry, but Jo found her constant stream of words unusual for a Timcree.
As soon as they had Kolas loaded, they started moving.
“What about the medicine?” Jo asked.
Tanith turned to her and grabbed her none too gently by the arm. “Not safe! Come.”
Jo let the matter drop and started running behind the stretcher.
Within just a few seconds, she was hopelessly lost in a maze of corridors and passageways. The way seemed narrow. They were running down a dark residential corridor that Jo guessed had once been well lit and opulent. On each side, doors led to staterooms. Jo noted that almost all of them had been painted brightly, a contrast to the remnants of the stately decor. Then, coming to the other end of the corridor, the party stopped, and one of them went forward, making sure the coast was clear. When it appeared that all was in order, he signaled for the rest to cross. The group had just assembled on the other side when the missing crew member caught up, toting a gravpallet with Jo’s boxes of medicine.
Now the group moved as quickly as possible, stopping occasionally to make sure no ambush awaited them. The only sign that the Timcree were nervous about an attack was from their careful movements. Otherwise, their faces showed little fear.
Jo lost track of how many airlocks they crossed and how many ships they passed through. She had the sense they were moving away from the edge, into the center of the mass. Eventually they passed into a little freighter. Here, one of the Timcree was left to stand guard by the door, which was quickly sealed behind them. Kolas was carried into a room nearby. Jo made to follow but found her way blocked by the same female Timcree who had been standing at his head. Jo could now see that she was with child, her belly already well distended. Jo wondered if the child was Kolas’s. It would explain much.
The Timcree woman towered over her. The veiled threat was hard to see, but Jo felt it.
Jo was about to press the matter when Tanith, who had been carrying the litter, came back and intervened. Once again, he used a firm grasp on her shoulder to communicate.
He was about to move her away from the door when frustration finally won out. She was here to help. She hadn’t come to be shoved aside. She pulled her shoulder out of Tanith’s arms and, stepping toward the woman, she started to push past her. “Now, you listen to me! I’m the doctor here! I can save his life, and you will let me in that door!”
The seriousness of Jo’s error only became apparent when one of the other Timcree standing nearby turned and punched her in the jaw. Jo landed hard on the deck, spitting blood from where she bit her cheek. In shock, Jo scooted away across the metal plating and wrapped her arms around her knees.
The Timcree started to step toward her when Tanith stepped in front of him, facing Jo. This time he spoke. “Up.”
Jo complied, and when he led her away by the shoulder, she did not object.
A short way down the passage, Tanith kicked open a door that led to a small room. Jo entered without resistance. Tanith locked the door behind her.
Several hours later, Jo lay curled up on the bed, still locked in the dim room, which was lit only by one small light in the corner. She’d hardly moved. She couldn’t sleep, so she lay there watching the door. Her mind repeatedly ran over the events of the last few days, trying to suss out some hidden detail that would make sense of it all. It felt futile, but her only other option was to give up, and that felt worse.
For the thousandth time, she wondered again if she was a prisoner. The shock had worn off, and she was left with a gnawing sense of her own vulnerability.
When her internal dialogue finally wore itself thin, all she had left was staring at the space surrounding her. The quarters clearly belonged to someone. Jo thought it most likely to be Tanith’s.
Sitting up and rubbing her eyes dry, she looked around. The room was jammed with all sorts of items, none of which seemed to be in complete working order. In one corner, a small but neat pile of electronic components lay stacked and organized. In another sat a group of old-style e-paper books. Jo briefly considered reading one of them, but it felt like too much effort. Books like those—at least English books like those—were the kind of thing you could find in any junk shop anywhere in the galaxy. Elsewhere the room was piled with various bits and pieces—holo players, mechanical things that Jo didn’t recognize, and even a sickly looking plant.
A small desk, colored bright green, sat next to the bed, and above it hung a simple map of the local system. The desktop itself seemed to provide the only serenity in the whole room. It was empty.
Jo slumped back, looking at the rusting metal ceiling and wishing she had been allowed to bring her Ghost Fleet tablet with her. That had been—rightly so—deemed a security threat. Her heads-up had been stripped of its entangled particle connection to the fleet. It was almost useless, except to activate the transmitter in her arm. Even her uniform had been removed of all its patches.
Jo reached over and pressed on the lump under her skin. She could go home. Her useless heads-up was tucked in a pocket. All she had to do was turn it on and tell it to have the fleet rescue her.
She grunted away the thought and sat up. You’re not that fragile. Don’t be stupid. You don’t give up so easily.
Jo got out of bed. She needed a distraction, or she was going to go mad. She looked again at the stack of books in the corner and then squatted down next to them. Cautiously, she started to sort through the stack. Most of them looked like novels of some sort, but there was one book titled Psisteriker ken Kree. After flipping through the book, Jo guessed that the title had something to do with Timcree history. Jo picked up the last book in the stack and was surprised to see the title, Iglishes/Kree Wortendar Puch. Jo had a suspicion she knew this book. She flipped it open and was rewarded with Kree words laid out next to English words. She was just about to return to the bed with her two newfound treasures when the door opened unexpectedly. Jo turned and looked over her shoulder.
Tanith entered. Seeing her squatting next to the books, he stopped. His lips pressed into a thin line.
Jo stood and stepped back, instantly on alert. Sh
e had already made one major mistake today. She hoped she hadn’t made another.
Tanith said nothing but stepped forward, looking at the two books she had separated from the pile. He stared hard at Jo, stooped, and put them back at the bottom. He turned toward her. “You the books like, yes?”
It took Jo a second to understand what Tanith was trying to say. When she did, she nodded.
Tanith didn’t say anything else but walked to the door. “The commander talk you now.”
Surprised that he was still alive, let alone talking, Jo stepped into the corridor behind Tanith.
Kolas lay in a bed, under heavy covers. His face still looked pallid but some of the life had returned. The female Timcree, whom Jo now guessed to be his spouse, sat in a small chair by his head. She was talking with her stoic husband when Jo entered the room, but now she became silent, staring at Jo and blinking slowly. She sat up to her full height, straight-backed and stiff.
Tanith stepped forward in front of Jo and spoke a few words in Kree.
The commander slowly opened his eyes. Seeing Jo, he licked his lips to wet them and spoke. “Thank you for my life. Tanith tells me that I would have bled to death without your help.” He tried to shift a little in his bed and grimaced as he did so.
The woman next to him clicked her tongue, and her eyes narrowed as she watched Jo.
At least her feelings appear clear, thought Jo. She only spared the woman a quick glance before returning to Kolas. “I’m not sure what I did. Tanith stopped the bleeding using my tourniquet, but I am surprised to see you alive, let alone conscious and talking.”
Kolas kept his face as impassive as ever. A small wave of his hand dismissed the thought. “We are a tough people, Surgeon Josephine, and we have some knowledge of medicine.”