Kelsoe shut her eyes, unsure what to say. “Am I going to live?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” G’Fleuf grumbled. “I need a vacation.”
Kelsoe laughed and then began to cough; and a deep wracking pain tore her side. “I feel like shit.”
“You should.” The Drugud replied unsympathetically. He knew that saccharine sympathy would be wasted and unappreciated by Kelsoe, who was tougher than most.
“How…how is Donovan?” She asked, swallowing her fear.
“Alive.” G’Fleuf replied bluntly. “Both of his legs were so badly mangled that Mia’s medical pod couldn’t save them, and they had to be removed above the knee.”
“Oh no!!” Kelsoe wept.
“Hush. Now that you are awake and more or less functioning, you can infect him with the Abreeza Vector, and hope for the best.” Kelsoe heard the Drugud let out a sad little laugh. “The Vector, from what I’ve seen, is capable of amazing things.” He paused. “Donovan absolutely hates the hoverchair he’s stuck in. He has been here every day for the past two weeks to see you, if you want to know.”
“Mia told you about the Vector?” Kelsoe asked in a small stunned voice.
“She did, and we both watched you very carefully while you were in the medical pod on the way back here. It is our verified opinion that you were healing at a rate three to four times that of a normal human.” His golden eyes regarded her solemnly. “You were dead for almost fifteen minutes. By all rights you should have stayed dead.”
“What about Séamas and Jasmina?” Keloe asked to move away from the uncomfortable subject. “How did you put Donovan and I in the medical pods when they were already occupied, and did you send them back to Wecarro with Mia?” Kelsoe’s questions were tumbling over one another in her hurry to get them out.
“Mia and I relocated Jasmina and Séamas into free berths, because at that point they really didn’t need the medical pods to keep them alive. Those two are doing just fine, and wouldn’t hear about getting sent back to Wecarro when YOU were still here, fighting for your life.” The tinny speaker sighed. “They want to grow up just like Aunt Kelsoe.” Kelsoe groaned. “I’m afraid I had to change your plan a little.”
“What else is new? My plans always seem to fall apart.”
“Be nice. The Vector you infected Séamus with will probably infect Jasmina almost immediately, just to keep her on parity with her brother. One or the other will be ready to infect Horatio when he arrives.”
Kelsoe shut her eyes, wondering what she had done. In trying to save them, had she just killed herself and the entire Smith family? She opened her eyes and looked around her strange room. “We’re on the Wrecker’s Moon, in the old Den?”
“Yes. The navy crews and the Marines all moved in a week before we arrived. Things are actually getting a little crowded.”
Kelsoe frowned at the leaning walls, with the kite shaped door and window casings, and wondered for a moment at the shape of the original owners of the vessel. Then she shrugged. “This room will do.” She said softly.
G’Fleuf laughed. “You spoiled child. This is just a small room in the medical wing. We have a suite of rooms in Officer’s Country.” That brought a wan smile to Kelsoe’s face, who really couldn’t picture herself as an officer.
“Can I get something to eat, and maybe a glass of water?” She murmured in a small voice, suddenly feeling her energy level plummeting.
“Of course, there’s a call button on the edge of your bed. Unfortunately, you will be on porridge for the next week, or until your system gets back on track.”
“What did you two do to me?” She asked, with no little perversity.
“Replaced several feet of intestine, your left hip, lung and parts of your heart.” G’Fleuf replied bluntly. “As I said before, you were officially dead. Mia had you on full life support for a week before you were stable enough for major repairs. It was a very near thing. ”
“After all that effort and pain, did we succeed?”
“It appears that you did, for some strange reason.” There was a tinny titter of laughter. “A courier pod arrived from Admiral Bacheva several days ago informing us of recent events, and of your message. It seems that the Vonuborg Armada has put their invasion on hold for the moment, while they lick their wounds and fight off the admiral’s pestering attacks. Events are developing for the main confrontation between Fleet and Armada to occur in two or three months. Unsurprisingly, it seems that Task Force Seven in addition to this deployed portion of the Task Force, is loyal to the Smith line and has happily accepted you as Primus.”
“Loyal to the Smith line?” Kelsoe laughed quietly. “According to Fleet records that Mia pilfered, most of this part of the Fleet is composed of the Smith line. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got elected Primus for my sins.”
The door to her room swung open, and a small crowd of doctors and attendants, all drawn like flies by her use of the call button, piled in, all intent on asking her how she felt. She gave them a cold glare and pointed to the door. “I’m feeling fine and all of you, except the person with my food, can leave.” A young orderly who looked like a toddler to Kelsoe but probably was her same age set the tray down by her bed, raised her up to a comfortable sitting position, fluffed her pillow and departed quietly. As she began to eat the surprisingly good porridge, she realized that she hadn’t even gotten the young man’s name. She was only halfway through her porridge and glass of water when she fell asleep. The young orderly, noticing on her medical monitor that she was asleep returned to her room and silently removed her tray and lowered her bed.
“She looks so young.” He whispered, shaking his head as he turned for the door.
A week later Kelsoe was strong enough to transfer to her new apartment suite, and was mortified when a half dozen strapping Imperial Marines in immaculate battle uniforms, led by Lieutenant Justus Rehn, showed up to assist. The only comment made by the Lieutenant as they floated her bed, with her in it, down the wide corridor was to the affect that she should have taken the Marines. He finished by declaring; “You and Captain Smith did well.” From him it was high praise indeed.
“Thank you, Justus.” She replied with a cross little smile. “Next time I will know better.”
He gave her a stern look. “Next time you will appoint a team to go INSTEAD of you, Primus. You are too important to us all.”
Her smile turned playful. “I’ll bear that in mind, Lieutenant.”
Donovan Smith was waiting in her apartment when she arrived, floating a foot off the floor in his hoverchair, a blanket draped across his lap to hide his missing legs. Like Kelsoe, he had lost significant amounts of weight, and looked like the survivor of a concentration camp in his wheelchair. His arms were achingly thin, and the circles under his eyes nearly black. His smile, however, was wide. “It’s good to see you out and about.” His grey eyes were shining.
She laughed. “The good Lieutenant is floating me around like a load of groceries.” Her face fell. “I’m so sorry about your legs.” We might as well get this over with the sooner the better. She murmured to herself.
“What?” Donovan asked, frowning. She’d forgotten how sharp his ears were.
Kelsoe motioned to Donovan to come closer, and when he did she leaned over and gave him a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for helping me.” She said in a small voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” The drop of blood on Donovan’s cheek disappeared before he could even notice it.
“And you almost died dragging me to safety.” Donovan’s voice was ironic. “Let’s call it even.” He threw the departing Lieutenant a quick salute, and Kelsoe gave him a wave and a smile.
Kelsoe turned her smile on Donovan. “Well, we can call it even…now.” She murmured, leaning back on her pillows, and barely concealing her satisfaction.
Donovan frowned for a moment. “Now?” He thought about it for a moment or two. “Now!!” He tried to glare at her. “You just inf
ected me with one of those…things?”
“I did.” Kelsoe admitted blandly. “I have high hopes that you will be up and dancing in six months, on your own legs.” She didn’t know why she’d said such an outrageous thing, but somehow it felt…right.
It was Donovan’s turn to blink. “Really? What are you, a magician?”
She smiled at him, and held his eyes. “Trust me.” She waved her finger at him like it was a magic wand.
His smile tentative at best. “I’m not sure at the moment, but I think that I may wind up thanking you for your gift in the future.” He admitted, not looking her in the eyes.
Kelsoe chuckled, and then turned to take in her new room. The walls were light blue, and there were scattered paintings of alien landscapes. On a side table sat a small vase of fresh flowers and Kelsoe could smell their fresh sweet scent in the air. “This really is very nice.” She admitted, admiring the view of the crater out of her window. “Do you know if this place has a shower?” She asked, wrinkling her nose. “I haven’t had a shower in ages.”
Donovan laughed. “I’m sure it does. On my way out I’ll send a female nurse in to help you.”
“Thank you Donovan.” She said with a warm smile, as he floated out the door.
“You’re torturing me!” Kelsoe complained as the therapist forced her to do another lap on the treadmill.
The female corpsman, as big as Donovan and built like an Amazon, folded her arms under her breasts and smiled. “The torture actually begins when we move from here to the weight bench.” Kelsoe groaned as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with a handy towel. “Come on, just another mile.” The corpsman smiled and actually seemed to be enjoying watching Kelsoe’s pain. “Look at it this way, if you’re having trouble, imagine what it will be like for Commander Donovan Smith when he begins range of motion therapy in another two months.” Kelsoe put her head down and ran.
She was lying draped across the weight bench, dripping sweat on the floor, when a young naval courier burst into the Physical Therapy room, and came to stiff quivering attention as he stared at Kelsoe. “Communique from Captain Descartes.” He was so nervous his voice squeaked. “The Captain said to inform the Primus that the Fleet Survey Ship Wyvern is on final approach to Charybdis.” All the Fleet personnel had decided, en masse, to begin calling their new home Charybdis rather than the oft cursed, Wrecker’s Moon. Although they might salvage the occasional ship, the officers of the five Fleet ships had announced in no uncertain terms that the members of the Fleet WERE NOT wreckers, and the name Charybdis was official, after all.
Kelsoe opened one eye and focused it on the smiling Physical Therapist. “Lieutenant, will you please do something about THAT!” She waved a wobbly hand at the wide-eyed courier.
Still smiling, the woman in medical whites took two long strides to reach the courier, picked him up by the collar with one hand and turned him to face the door. “You should know better than that, crew…man.” Her deep voice was deadly.
“Staring at the Primus, you mean?” The young crewman asked, his own voice squeaky as he blushed beet red.
“For staring at a woman who has been working as hard and sweating as hard as she has.” She lowered her face to his ear. “If you should ever do it again, young man, things will be—unpleasant.” She released his collar. “Go!” He went. She glared at the retreating back before turning back to the PT Room, where she stared at Kelsoe as she slowly struggled to her feet, towel wrapped around her sweaty neck.
“How do you do it, Primus?” The corpsman asked slowly.
“Call me Kelsoe, please.”
“Kelsoe then. I repeat my question. You are three weeks out of a coma. You shouldn’t be out of bed yet, let alone doing laps on a treadmill and pressing weights.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at the smaller woman.
“Would it make you feel better if I were to tell you that I’m not entirely human anymore?”
“It wouldn’t make me feel better, but it wouldn’t surprise me either.” The corpsman muttered, looking at Kelsoe’s vastly improved muscle tone that was evident in her snug tank top. She hadn’t had muscles to speak of a week earlier, to say nothing of body fat.
Kelsoe gave her a speculative look. “Have you ever heard of Kran-Chak?”
The therapist blinked at the rapid change of subject. “I’m a brown belt myself.” She finally admitted.
“I just made Black Belt a short time ago.” Kelsoe admitted with a calm face. “Perhaps I could get a workout with you sparing. I’m certain that Lieutenant Rehn has a space set aside.” She smiled at the corpsman’s surprised face. “I’m looking for a personal guard, by the way.” Kelsoe announced, holding out her hand.
The corpsman looked at the hand as if it were a live snake, and then slowly shook it with her own. “I accept, Kelsoe; Second Lieutenant Dashtra Varoshi at your service.”
“Good. There is an extra bedroom in my suite. You can move in at your convenience.” Kelsoe’s head cocked slightly to the side, and for a moment she looked like a bird-of-prey about to strike. “Who’s your boss?”
“Lieutenant Justus Rehn.” Dashtra admitted after a moment.
Kelsoe smiled, imagining what the grim faced Lieutenant would say. “Would you like to tell him, or shall I?”
Dashtra straightened her back. “I’ll tell him, Ma’am.”
Kelsoe grimaced as she turned for the shower. “That sounds almost as bad as Primus.”
The faintest touch of a smile graced the corpsman’s face. “All that respect is one of the perks of the job, Ma’am.” Kelsoe just groaned and kept walking.
All she wanted to do was to go back to bed after her shower, but instead Kelsoe changed into her Fleet blacks and headed for the Wyvern. Parked outside the crater with the other five Fleet ships, the two hundred foot in diameter saucer looked the smallest of the lot. Kelsoe left her EVA suit hanging in the airlock and stepped into the small corridor to come face to face with Mia, also dressed in black. Mia reached out and took the young woman’s two arms, and Kelsoe was shocked to see tears in her sky blue eyes.
“Tears?” Kelsoe asked, instantly regretting her words.
“There is more of your mother in me than you can imagine, Kelsoe.” Mia’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “G’Fleuf and I fought a long battle to keep you alive.” Mia pulled Kelsoe closer, her arms wrapping the young woman in a warm hug as she kissed her cheek. “Welcome back.”
Kelsoe swallowed the sudden lump in her own throat. “It is very good to be back, Mia.”
The AI pushed her back, to hold her at arm’s length. “You look terrible. You must be thirty pounds underweight.”
Kelsoe laughed as she turned to the wardroom. “You should have seen me three weeks ago. I’m positively fat now in comparison.”
Mia’s reply was flat. “I did. I’m afraid that I made a terrible pest of myself with G’Fleuf to a point where he sent me off to Wecarro.”
“Wecarro!” Kelsoe blinked. “Did Horatio come back with you?”
Mia smiled. “He did, along with his wife, Donovan’s mother. Like Jasmina, Sahdina is gravely ill and will probably require a special touch, if you’re willing. They are both waiting on the command deck.”
Kelsoe chewed her cheek. “It has been a few weeks since I infected Donovan.” Kelsoe muttered to herself. “It shouldn’t be a problem.” She looked up at Mia, suddenly uncertain. “I hope I’m not infecting my family with some incurable alien disease.” She stopped suddenly as a scary though came to her. “Did you tell Horatio and his wife about Donovan?”
“I mentioned that he had been injured and was recovering. That is all.” Mia returned.
Kelsoe sighed. “One of the perks of leadership. Giving the family bad news.”
Horatio looked up as Kelsoe entered the command deck, a wide smile splitting his face as he stood. “It is very good to see you again, Kelsoe.” He went to take her hand, but was surprised when she disregarded it and hugged him warmly.
“It g
ood to see you too, Horatio.” She murmured.
He waved at the tall hollow-cheeked woman standing beside him. “This is my wife, Sahdina.” Her hair had, at one time, been a lustrous black but now was grey and thinning visibly. Dark bags hung under her eyes. Kelsoe took her offered hand in both of her own.
“It is very nice to meet you.” Kelsoe gazed into the woman’s warm sad brown eyes.
“And you.” Sahdina’s mezzo-soprano was soft and pleasant, with the barest hint of a foreign accent. Like her eyes, her voice held more than a suggestion of sadness. “Horatio has told me much about you.”
“Tell us about our son.” The older man said without preamble. “Your warm greeting says that things didn’t go well.”
If he wants blunt. Kelsoe thought. “Both Donovan and I were injured in the raid.” Kelsoe began. “He lost his legs.” She said brusquely. Horatio whitened, and Sahdina collapsed into her seat. Kelsoe smiled. “It has been rumored by unconfirmed sources that he will be up and dancing on his own two legs in six months.” Two faces stared at her, wide eyed.
“And my grandchildren?” Sahdina asked in her soft voice.
Kelsoe rolled her eyes. “Your grandchildren are making pests of themselves, racing around the corridors on their hover-skates always in constant danger of crashing into someone. Please—take them!” She begged, in a totally false voice. “Everyone is spoiling them rotten.” She watched curiously as Horatio fought a losing battle for control of his widening grin. Shadina was weeping quietly.
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