by David Winnie
Red interrupted. “You use a bone stitcher and I’ll be right out of here tomorrow, right?”
“Nope,” he replied. “The ligaments will require surgery. That would have you down for several days at best. I spoke with your Proctor. You have a genetically enhanced bone structure that a normal bone stitcher can’t fix. Normal bone is more compartmentalized, which is what the stitcher can mend. But your structure is more fibrous, so when it fractured, all three bones splintered. While I’m in your knee fixing the ligaments, I will also have to wire the bones back together so they can heal correctly. You’ll just have to stay here for up to two months while the bones heal.”
“That is totally unacceptable,” Red stated flatly. “We are to depart next week to continue our studies elsewhere. There are more important things at stake here than your rudimentary skills. Doctor.”
Her emphasis on “Doctor” was sarcastic. But young Dr. Russolov didn’t rise to the bait. “Important or not, your opinion of my skills, or not, the facts are the fact, little one,” he said. “Barring a medical miracle, you will be guest in my facility for the next two months.”
“Well, we just see about that! I want to see my Proctor. Now!” Dr. Russolov’s smile was guileless as he opened the door and beckoned.
Her Proctor entered, a tall, thin black man with a long, narrow face. Typical for his position, he was hairless and dressed in a long, flowing robe that matched the color of his assigned file, red. “You wish to speak to me, Child?”
“Yes!” Red snapped, “This “doctor” seems not to have the requisite skills or equipment available to handle my injury. I demand we depart immediately for a hospital that is equipped properly so I can return to training immediately. Make it happen.”
“Indeed?” Her Proctor’s voice was smooth as his head. “I reviewed the doctor’s vitae thoroughly prior to our arrival and consider his skills more than adequate to repair your injury. I take it that you object to the course of treatment?”
“Of course, Proctor,” she replied. “He says I have to stay here eight weeks. That is simply not acceptable!”
The Proctor sighed. “It is indeed unfortunate,” he said. “We have changed our departure to tomorrow, as we have discovered a red giant star going into imminent collapse. It should be spectacular and provide an outstanding educational experience for the other seven.”
“But I must go!” she protested. “I’ve always wanted to see a red giant collapse. You must simply let me go!”
“Red, my child, I have often counseled you on the consequences of your actions.” Her lifelong Proctor’s face was sad. “Now you are getting first hand a valuable experience with consequence. I am sure you will not enjoy it, but it will be a lasting lesson for you.”
“It isn’t fair,” she pouted. “I, more than anyone, deserve to see it. If that stupid horse hadn’t stumbled…” her voice trailed off, then she had another thought, frightening. “What about schooling? If you leave me here, I will fall behind in my schooling! That won’t be fair. I’ll be too far behind if I’m left here for two months!”
“Ah, you are most fortunate there. Dr. Russolov is a scholar, as fine as any Proctor. He shall make you a more than adequate teacher while we are gone. As a doctor, he is qualified to maintain and administer direct your downloads.” The Proctor smiled, “Really, for you this will be the best possible solution.”
Red pouted while reaching out to scan the doctor. If she could find some weakness. But when she touched him, he wasn’t there! It was as though she were passing her mental probe through empty air. “Proctor!”
“Ah, you’ve discovered my secret,” chuckled Doctor Russolov.
The Proctor steepled his fingers. “Yet another reason for using the good doctor while I am gone,” he said. “He is esper blind. He cannot be touched, or scanned or manipulated by anyone with psionic abilities. For me, that makes him the perfect companion for you. Someone to whom you must listen and respond. It will do you immeasurable good.”
“How am I supposed to communicate with someone who is so stupid he can’t hear my mind?” she asked contemptuously.
The Proctor smiled. “You talk,” he said.
Surgery occurred the following morning. Red’s brothers and sisters visited beforehand, concerned for her but excited to be off to see the rare event. “We’ll send you images,” promised Blue. Orange gave her a surprise kiss on the cheek, and Yellow hugged her almost too tightly.
“We’ll see you soon, Sister,” whispered Yellow. The others held her hand for a moment, then hastened from the room.
“Wa-wa-water.” she croaked, in what seemed only seconds since she was wheeled into the operating theater... A hand slid under her head, a cup found her lips. “Shhh, just a sip for now,” came a calm voice. She took a sip, then another at the voice’s encouragement.
“More water,” she croaked. Again, the gentle hand held her head and put the cup to her lip. She emptied the glass. Soon she felt stronger and could open her eyes. Her leg was in a contraption that fastened to her calf and thigh. As it rotated, it lifted and bent her knee, then extended it again, all without pain.
“The surgery was very successful,” she heard. “Better than even I could imagine.” Dr. Russolov stood beside her, glass in hand. She recognized the electrolyte and reached for it. The doctor let her take it, but kept a hand close by as she drank. She felt stronger still.
“What is this thing?” she asked, pointing to her knee. “Is this why it doesn’t hurt?”
“I’ve placed a neural blocker on your leg for now for the worst of the pain,” he explained. “Pain is your friend right now. It will let you know you are pushing too hard. If it hurts, don’t try and bully your way through, understand? As for my little machine - it dates back more than a thousand years. It keeps your muscles moving and active, while reducing the pressure on your leg. Don’t worry, we’ll have you up within the next week.”
For you, now, for the rest of the day, the best thing is to sleep,” he instructed. She could feel herself getting drowsy. “We will talk later tonight, little Red.” Before she could reply, she was fast asleep. Each of the several times she awakened, the doctor decreased the neutralizer. By the third awakening, the pain was noticeable. By the fifth, it had started hurting. She told him and he backed it off, just a little. “That’s what we’re looking for,” he told her. “Just below where you realize it hurts.”
When she awakened the next morning, the machine was moving in a larger arch and slightly faster. Dr. Russolov brought her breakfast. And a pad. “You’ve shaken the anesthesia now,” he told her. “Your Proctor left a lot of school work for you. Best you get started now...”
With the anesthesia out of her system, she assessed this young doctor whose mind she could not touch. Tall and gangly, with a full brown moustache that was nearly dwarfed by a large, hooked nose. But his eyes were deep and empathetic, his hands perfectly formed and gentle. As for doctoring, perhaps he wasn’t so bad, after all. Red sighed and turned to her lessons.
Once an hour, Dr. Russolov would return and quiz her on what she had studied. She noticed that he wasn’t looking at the pad when she answered. Either he knew what she was reading, or he was being condescending. She decided to check. On one question, she answered incorrectly. Sharply, he corrected her, and without checking the pad.
The day went on that way, Red studying and then being questioned. He would occasionally accelerate the machine or reduce the neutralizer. Always she was on the edge of pain; he seemed to know the perfect setting. By the end of the day, the arch was near normal and the pace was brisk. She was pleased to hear him announce that her physical recovery was ahead of progress. But he warned her that it was just the ligaments that were healing quickly; the bones were not ready to bear weight and would not do so for several weeks. After supper, when she would normally expect more lessons, he came in and sat in the chair next to her bed.
They talked for hours. Just talked. He told her about growing up in New Russia on
his parents’ farm. She told him about her life as an heir. He chuckled at one point, saying, “Ah, so you are a little Red heired girl.” Her brow furrowed. Surely, he could see her hair was blonde, not red. Then she thought about it and laughed when she caught the pun. Finally, he bade her goodnight, dialed the machine to a slower pace and, leaving, extinguished the lights.
On the third morning, he disconnected the machine and had her sit up with her legs hanging over the bed. He placed a splint on her leg and allowed her to stand for a few minutes without putting weight on it. Red gritted her teeth, not wanting to admit how it hurt.
It was also the first day he performed the download. He wheeled the familiar teaching machine into her room. From experience, she donned the headset and began the download. Her eyes turned black, and moved side to side while her head jerked back and forth, up and down. After an hour, the machine stopped. She took the headset off and gulped the electrolyte and water he gave her. Then he took out his pad and began his questions. It wasn’t items that required thought or required calculations, just simple recitations of facts.
It was boring.
That evening, he brought a book. She was surprised; very few people, museums and the palace archives, had books these days. “It is poetry my great, great grandmother Annika gave me when I left for school,” Yuri explained. He read a poem which spoke of the grassland of the steppe, the grass waving as the sea. She stared dreamily as he read, seeing the endless lands of wavering grass. She imagined dancing to the rhythm of the wind, spinning about and falling to the ground like a seed.
After supper the following day, he brought a hoverchair and they went outside. The air was cooling and a light wind danced through the compound. A scrap of paper skittered about. Workers passed by and greeted Red. She enjoyed being out after having been cooped up for so long. Sitting with Doctor Yuri Russolov was pleasurable, too. They sat quietly and watched the suns go down.
Red found she was liking her young doctor. The conversations weren’t serious, discussion based debates. Rather, she mused, he talked to her like a friend, an adult! She found by not being able to read him, she had to listen carefully to what he said and depend on what he said to understand him.
And, she secretly admitted to herself, he was not bad looking. His shock of curly brown hair was too long, sticking up and about his head like tree branches. She didn’t much like the wiry moustache that hung past the edges of his mouth. He had an easy smile that showed nicely white teeth. But his nose. Oh, his nose! It was a great big honker, that nose!
Her physical rehabilitation was going well. After two weeks, the neutralizer was removed completely. Doctor Yuri (as she was beginning to call him now) escorted her to the small gymnasium for therapy. He presented her with a pair of crutches and she began to hobble around the station. Although her leg tired rapidly, she enjoyed stopping to rest and visiting with the scientist and workers of the terraforming station.
At fifteen, she found fascinating the variety of people she got to meet and talk with. They were all immensely proud of their work and eager to show it off, from the massive oxygen scrubbers to the composting pits that were supplying the natural fertilizer to help feed the young planet. “In twenty-five years, you won’t recognize this world,” the station master told her. “Already we’ve planted out first forest a hundred miles from here. We’ve achieved enough atmospheric stability now, so we are working with the polar caps and soon hope to be able to create seasons here. Imagine, perhaps in a few years, we might have snow for Christmas.”
Red had never spent much time on holidays. The eight heirs had studied holidays, of course. With one hundred and fifty worlds in the Empire, the future Khan would need to be at least familiar with the traditions of the people. Holiday messages to her subjects would be a requirement. For herself, the only day that would matter would be her Naming Day, when she hoped to be named the Crown Princess.
It was less than three years away.
Her Proctor showed up after the first month. He met with Red and Doctor Yuri in his office, going over the surgery and the progress she had made rehabilitating her leg. He sat and reviewed her downloads and studies, then gave her an examination. The results were, as to be expected, excellent. After the examination, the Proctor stared at his charge for several long moments. Red squirmed a bit, nervous as always at the line of examination she was expecting.
Finally, he spoke. “How are you feeling, Child?”
Red furrowed her brow. What a ridiculous question! How did she feel? “I don’t understand the question, Proctor,” her cross voice announced.
He sighed, “Red File,” he told her, “the question is quite simple. You’ve been away from your family for a month. You’ve missed an exciting scientific event you were anxious to see. You’ve been rehabilitating an injury while living with a group of strangers without…” he lowered his glare and continued quizzically. “I am assuming you had the good graces not to scan your hosts?”
Red was taken aback... Astounding! Since she had come out of the surgery, it had never occurred to her to scan any of the residents of the station. They had been so nice, so kind. They had welcomed her and made her part of their family. Becoming comfortable talking to Doctor Yuri, she had then talked with everyone else.
“I…feel…. good?” she answered, “Yes, good, I feel good, Proctor. Strange, I haven’t tried to scan anyone since I woke up. Did they do something to me?”
The Proctor’s smile was beatific. “Yes, they did,” he answered. “They taught you a lesson. They are showing you how to be human. You, in turn, are learning to live amongst humans.
“Of all this line of heirs, yours is the file that has created the most discussion and concern. We gave you a bigger, more complex brain. We had to do significant modification to your human form, borrowing from many Terran creatures and a few alien patterns. We have been concerned, though, with your emotional development. Frankly, there have been serious discussions over discontinuing you. But director Tahn wanted to see if you were capable of normal, healthy emotional development. I’m glad to see that you are making progress.”
Discontinuing me? Red thought. Not fair! I work harder than any of my brothers and sisters! I must! The file managers gave them more to work with! That wasn’t fair, either! And because of that, they discussed discontinuing me! Inwardly seething, she caught her breath and forced herself to show no anger.
Her Proctor departed the next morning. The station manager was there with Doctor Russolov to see him off. The Proctor was effusive in his praise for Doctor Russolov and the entire staff of the research station.
Meanwhile, Red focused on what she had been told. She had nightmares of doctors with long needles chasing her endlessly through the halls of the Giza Palace. Her dream siblings cheered them on, the Regent and her mother, the Empress, laid wagers with the staff on who would catch her first. Several times during the night she woke in tears.
Morning came. She didn’t want to get out of bed when the nurse came to rouse her, but eventually dragged herself out of bed and hobbled to the shower. The nurse admonished her for not using her crutches. Red ignored her and dressed sullenly. The girl complained of being tired and demanded the nurse take her to breakfast in the hover chair. The nurse did so, pushing the angry teen to breakfast. Red wasn’t hungry and resisted when Doctor Yuri checked her electrolytes. The nurse took the Doctor aside and described the actions Red had displayed that morning. Her electrolytes were low, so he made up the vile cocktail and insisted she drink it. She whined and complained, sipping it slowly. “You must have mixed it wrong, it tastes like glarpshite!” she admonished him. She had drunk half and he figured it would have to do; it was clear she was going to be obstinate today.
Morning class with the doctor was a disaster. She refused to don the download and flipped through the pages on her pad, not really paying attention to any of it. She sighed heavily when he asked her review questions. After an hour, she declared, “This is dumb. I don’t want to work anymo
re. I want to go for a horse ride.”
Doctor Yuri shook his head. “Out of the question. Your leg isn’t healed enough to safely ride. You’ll fall off and reinjure it.”
“I-DON’T-CARE!” screamed the girl, “This is stupid. I am bored, I want to go on a horse ride, NOW!” She threw her pad across the room.
Doctor Yuri sighed, picked up the pad and set it on the table before her. “We do not throw things here in my clinic,” he told her. “Now, pick it up and prepare for the review.”
“NO!” she shouted. “I want to go horseback riding.”
Dr. Yuri shook his head. “Your leg isn’t healed enough to go riding. And riding is a reward for good behavior.”
Red set her jaw, reached for her crutches. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked her.
“To the barn,” She stood and hobbled away. Doctor Yuri watched her back with caring eyes and a knowing smile on his thin face, followed her at a distance.
She picked up a saddle, but couldn’t figure a way to get it on a horse while on her crutches. Dropping the crutches and carrying the saddle didn’t work; she fell to the straw-covered ground. She growled and tried to regain her feet. “Help me,” she ordered her doctor, amused and leaning on the barn’s door jamb.
He shook his head. “No, you put yourself there, you take yourself out.”
Red would not beg. She humped her bottom across the floor, dragging her leg behind her, then used the wall to rise. “Hand me my crutches,” she demanded. Dr. Yuri threw them across the barn in the opposite direction.
“Get them yourself.”
“You’re MEAN!” she screamed, and attempted to walk across the dirt floor, but stumbled and fell again. Her bad knee was wrenched, so she crawled, grumbling all the way, to the nearest crutch. Standing with its aid, the angry teenager reached the other and fell again trying to pick it up. Sputtering and filthy, she screamed at the last straw. The fifteen minutes to lunch bell rang. And she was hungry.