by Sharon Rose
Metchell slit her nav suit open and exposed the wound: a long, jagged gash, sluggishly bleeding. He glanced at the image on his handheld med scanner.
Ghent endured several long seconds before saying, “You could talk, Metchell.”
“Three ribs are broken. There’s bruising over her diaphragm and on her neck, which explains breathing difficulty.”
Metchell secured a gel bandage over the open wound and reached for a chill pack, which he formed around her neck. He frowned at his med scanner as he moved it down her limbs.
“Her left forearm is broken.” When he finished checking, he said. “A few more bruises, but no other serious injuries.”
She still looked terribly pale, but at least her chest was moving in a steady rhythm.
Metchell eased Kena’s left arm into an immobilization cuff, forming it around her wrist and hand. Then, he filled a syringe.
“What’s that for?” Ghent asked.
“She’ll wake soon. I’d rather keep her unconscious for now.” Metchell finished the injection and met his eyes. “She’ll be all right, Ghent. They’re painful injuries, but I won’t let her feel any more of it. There shouldn’t be any problem with healing.”
Ghent let out a long breath, taking as much comfort from Metchell’s unworried face as from his words.
Metchell glanced around the cockpit, lines edging his eyes. “What’s that awful smell?”
“Two smells, really,” Ghent said. “Charred insulation and fire suppressant.”
“I’ll never understand how you can differentiate odors. Support her so I can recline the couch and get a brace behind her back.” Metchell slid the re-formable frame into place, then engaged the energy field to secure her body. “Help me lift her out. I’ll take her legs. You lift by the frame.”
Kena woke in the medical section. She took a quick look at her surroundings and murmured, “Not again.”
Metchell walked over to her. “What’s wrong, Kena?”
“I’m spending…far too much of…this trip in med section.”
Metchell feigned an offended tone. “I thought you liked me.”
“Sure, I do but…can’t we just…chat in the dining hall an’…skip this part?”
“Not this time. Have you ever had bone regenerated?”
“No. And I don’t have time…for it now.”
“Too true. I’ve accelerated the process. You probably know that’s excruciating. I’ve completely numbed several nerves in your chest and arm. You’re going to have to put up with that for at least a day. You won’t be operating anything for a couple days, but Ghent seems to want your brain back on duty.”
“Actually, my brain is…operating way below light speed. Can you give me something…to pull me out of this fog?”
“No. You’re off duty.”
“Quite. That’s the problem. I need to be on duty.”
“Kena, it’s third shift. You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“Oh.”
“I only let you wake up so I can get some food into you. I’ll just confirm that pain control is complete first. Take a deep breath.”
She did as he asked, or rather, she thought she did.
“A deep breath,” he insisted.
She tried again.
“Come on. You can pull in more than that. Imagine you’re going to yell at me long and hard for being such a pest.”
She managed a shaky laugh and a replenishing breath that satisfied him.
“Do you feel any pain with that?”
“No. Breathing feels very one-sided.”
“Good. You are breathing with both lungs, though. It probably felt like your left lung was seriously injured, but it wasn’t. Sit up now. I’ll help you a little, but I want you to use your muscles.”
She strained to pull herself up as he raised the couch’s back.
“That’s enough,” he said.
She relaxed. Not that she wanted to, but her weakness left her no choice.
He reviewed internal images of the motion then stared at her face. “The scan looks fine, but that frown doesn’t. Did it hurt to move?”
“No, I just don’t like feeling so weak and awkward.”
“Accelerated regeneration consumes a lot of energy. You’ll tire easily. Ghent knows your condition, so if you need a break while you’re on duty tomorrow, just say so. It won’t cause any problems.” He slid an instrument across her left hand and asked, “Can you feel that?”
“No, nothing.”
“Good.” He turned her nerveless arm over and pushed the sleeve back, revealing a narrow cylinder filled with a milky fluid.
One end of it tapered to a thin tube that disappeared into her bruised skin. The other end held a pressure device that forced the contents slowly into her arm. A clear cast covered the tube and her arm from elbow to palm.
“You have three more of these tubes on your rib cage. I’ll wrap your chest when you’re up moving around, but I can’t immobilize it as firmly as your arm. You’ll need to move carefully, since you can’t feel.”
“All right.”
Metchell picked up a glass from the counter. “Here’s your midnight snack.”
The beverage was thick and filling—more than she really wanted, but she forced it down without comment. He took the glass from her and handed her another small one of clear liquid.
“I’m full,” she muttered.
“Drink it.”
Kena met his eyes. He wasn’t going to take no. She drained it. Metchell began lowering her couch. The movement felt strange. She tried to set the glass down, but the side table seemed to be moving.
Metchell caught her wavering hand and took the glass from her. “Go to sleep.”
“Oh.” She sighed. Lassitude overwhelmed her. She closed her eyes and let the drug carry her to oblivion.
Chapter Twenty
The next morning, Kena shoveled a heaping spoonful of hash browns into her mouth as Hrndl walked into her room in the med section.
“Feeling better?” Hrndl asked.
“Uh-huh.” Kena swallowed, drank some juice, and said, “You picked a terrible time to visit. Metchell’s treatment has got my appetite pretty near insatiable. I can’t get the food in fast enough, so you’re likely to be disgusted.”
“I’ll survive. I’ve eaten in the same room as Prednians, after all. It can’t be worse than that.”
“I certainly hope not. Speaking of eating, why aren’t you?”
Hrndl took a step to the side, as though she needed to distance herself from something. “I left early so I could visit you.”
Kena consumed a close imitation of scrambled eggs and cheese before responding. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy your company, but shouldn’t you spend what little free time you have with the other Grfdn?”
“Why should I? I already know far more than I want to about the incredibly complex task of converting various types of waste into useful resources.”
Fortunately, the next spoonful hadn’t yet reached Kena’s mouth. She broke into weak laughter, and Hrndl’s eyes tilted upward. The tension in her face eased for a moment, but then the tilt of her eyes sagged.
Hrndl gave her head a little shake. “I do have another reason to be here. I’m to brief you on the latest developments.”
“Ah, good. Have the scientists come up with anything more yet?”
“Nothing definitive,” Hrndl said. “They’re all pondering unrecognized chemical signatures that are showing up on the scans. Not that I blame them. The signatures are incredibly strange! It appears the substance morphs into something else and then back. Or maybe it just fades into and out of existence.”
“That must be driving Netlyn crazy.”
“It’s certainly causing her difficulties. Speaking of Netlyn—Giddech was disrespectful to her. Jealous of her promotion, I suppose. He’s not likely to make that mistake again. She’s so universally pleasant, I wasn’t sure she could do firm authority, but she accomplished it quite thoroughly.”
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Kena said, “Excellent,” between mouthfuls.
“Getting back to this peculiar substance—it’s estimated to be present in about 15 percent of the objects, but there’s none in the crust samples you and Delf retrieved.” Hrndl extended the display of her computer and used it while she talked. “Netlyn has confirmed that the objects she has been tracking are, in fact, remnants of the small moon. Unfortunately, it’ll be risky to get near them.” She showed Kena the image she’d pulled up.
Kena frowned at it as she chewed then waved it away.
Hrndl clipped her computer to her belt. “We now suspect that this system once had a close encounter with another. We’re trying to determine which one. There’s an unusually broad, elliptical asteroid belt, fifty-six degrees off the planetary orbital plane. Overall, the system is very cluttered. To use Delf’s phrase, it’s swarming with dirtballs.”
Kena finished her juice and said, “That sounds like Delf. Is he all excited to get out in it?”
“Not as much as you’d expect.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Morale in the nav section is about as low as it can get.”
Kena frowned. “I suppose. Three accidents already, and we haven’t even done anything difficult yet.”
“That’s the common thought,” Hrndl said.
“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”
Hrndl shrugged. “I’ll leave that to you. The Grfdn aren’t known for morale-boosting effervescence.”
“Actually, I’m not likely to score high on effervescence today. Metchell says I’ll tire easily, but I’ll do my best to hide it.”
“That won’t be hard,” Hrndl said. “You, Netlyn, and I are going to be in the astro section today. I expect Ghent will be there as much as possible, too. Everyone else is flying sims through the debris field or taking a turn in nav command.”
Metchell walked in, just then, with a thermal mug in his hand. He gave it to Kena and said, “Delatin came out of the kitchen with this and asked me to bring it to you. He said to tell you that it’s ‘fresh brewed from real beans.’ Whatever that means.”
Kena made a fumbling attempt to unscrew the lid. “Such fun it is, to have one arm that’s as useful as a block of wood!”
Hrndl reached over and opened it. “What is that?” she asked, her nose crinkling as she stared at the dark brown liquid. “It smells horrible!”
Kena raised the cup and inhaled the aroma. “Ahhh!” She exhaled, making a show of ecstasy. She sipped it and said, “Delicious! This is so kind of Delatin.”
“What is it?” Hrndl demanded again.
“Coffee. I’d offer you some, but it contains a stimulant. It’s a restricted drink to all races but mine.”
“Why?”
Metchell answered her. “Drugs don’t necessarily work the same for all races, particularly if they affect the brain.”
“Too bad, Hrndl. No coffee for you.”
“What a shame,” Hrndl said, lacing her words with feigned regret.
Kena chuckled and sipped her coffee, while Metchell checked the progress of bone regeneration.
When he finished refilling the tubes, he said, “I’m going to need to do this every few hours, but you needn’t come here. I will come to you.” He re-secured a stiff chest-wrap. “There are motion sensors in this. The top band will vibrate if you’re getting close to injuring yourself. If you feel that, just straighten your torso.” He pulled her tunic down, covering the wrap. “You can go now, but remember, move carefully.”
“I will,” she said, sliding her legs over the edge of the couch and standing. Raising her pitch, she added in his language, “Coo en la!”
Metchell smiled and performed the Dantokrellie gesture of acknowledgment, bringing his fingertips together. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you would thank me in my own language. Get to work, you little charmer.”
Hrndl walked out with Kena and said, “You’re amazing.”
“Am I? How so?”
“You have some very surprising friends. I heard that you stayed at the Prednian gala through the music of every single race.”
“Why not?” Kena asked. “What Human isn’t interested in music? Besides, Prednian music has complexity and nuances that Humans particularly like.”
“Yes. So much so, you and Delf danced one of their jigs in double-time.”
Kena grinned. “Well, who else on this ship could keep up with me, except a Veet?”
Hrndl glanced over her shoulder. Making sure the hallway was empty? “The point is, you won’t go near the Prednians in the dining hall, but you do attend one of their endless parties.”
“But of course. Prednians don’t serve food at their parties. There was no chance of having to watch them paw food into their mouths.”
“An apt description,” Hrndl said. “You find their manners as disgusting as I do. And yet, the Prednian chef prepares a drink especially for you and ensures that it’s delivered to med section. If you’re going to explain why that is not surprising, spare your breath. Then, there is Metchell. It’s hard to decide whether he treats you as a favored niece or merely a friend of many years. You’ve even learned some of his language.”
Kena used an apologetic tone. “All of it, in fact, but that was a few years ago.”
“Do you really like him as much as you appear to?”
“Of course, I do. Is there some reason I shouldn’t?”
“No particular reason,” Hrndl said as they turned down another hall. “But he is so four-dimensional, after all.”
Kena chuckled even though this disparaging comment was an old joke. Navigators used it to describe those who couldn’t grasp the fifth and sixth dimensions. “Actually, Hrndl, I suspect he is three-dimensional.”
“Oh?”
“The first day I met him, he used the terms twists and eddies in relation to flying a spatial rift.”
Hrndl snorted. “My point exactly.”
Kena chuckled again but defended Metchell. “I admit, he’d never be able to hold his own in the astro section, but he’s as good at his profession as we are at ours. Besides, it’s easy to make him laugh, and that’s always a plus in my view.”
Hrndl fell silent, and Kena stole a sideways look at her. Now what had she said to make Hrndl scowl? Still—she’d scowl too if she had to choose between Rnl and Frdn. They were certainly no more than three-dimensional either. And they had no redeeming qualities that she’d ever noticed. Why didn’t Dhgnr pursue her?
“You forgot to mention my most surprising friend,” Kena said.
“Who? Me?” Hrndl glanced at Kena’s teasing grin and said, “That one is too bizarre for words!”
“Quite!” Kena chuckled. “Thank you, by the way, for bringing me fresh clothes.” She ran her good hand around the hem of her tunic.
Hrndl shrugged. “Not much effort. You startled me, though, with the way you have your sitting room configured. I thought for a second I was in the wrong quarters.”
A few crewmembers hurried up to them from an intersecting hall. They greeted Kena with far more exuberance than seemed necessary.
Hrndl fended off a Tenelli, who approached from behind with the apparent intention of hugging Kena.
They finally reached the astro section, and Kena murmured, “Safety, at last. I had no idea the hallway would be so fraught with danger.”
The morning was long and frustrating. Kena struggled to stay alert. Breaks didn’t help much, and having only one useful hand made work cumbersome. It was almost time for second meal when she finally admitted she couldn’t function without a nap. Kena turned to tell Ghent but paused, for he was staring at Netlyn.
She jabbed at console buttons, activating screen after screen with multiple views of a tumbling object. “Oh, no!” Netlyn exclaimed, stabbing at a few more buttons. The recorded images that she had assembled appeared in the 3-D display area. “You were right, Kena. A probability of 5-10 percent wasn’t nearly high enough.”
The r
ock tumbled before them, viewed from all angles. No other debris approached it. Then, without warning, it burst apart, flinging remnants in all directions.
Kena muttered, “I could’ve done without being right.”
Ghent joined Netlyn, helping her target the easiest fragments to collect. Without looking back, he said, “You two get something to eat. We’ll wait until you come back.”
Kena sighed. “Sorry about the timing, but I think I need to sleep.”
“Take as long as you need.”
Hrndl searched Kena’s face. “I’d better walk you to your quarters in case I need to protect you from more of your fans.”
When they reached their destination, Hrndl followed Kena inside without waiting for an invitation, then ordered two meals.
Kena barely seemed to notice what Hrndl was doing. She said little while she ate and then went to her sleeping room.
Hrndl took her time finishing her own large meal. She should leave. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, surveying the images that covered the sitting room walls. A hilly, Terran forest surrounded her, complete with audio. Branches swayed in a fitful breeze. To one side, a stream gushed between brilliantly flowered bushes—rhododendrons, Kena had called them. The stream splashed over rocks and cast droplets up to flicker in the patchy sunlight. Hrndl closed her eyes and listened to rustling leaves, birdsong, and a gurgling brook. In spite of the sounds, or perhaps because of them, the room was blissfully quiet. Hrndl relaxed, drawing deep, soothing breaths.
Several minutes later, the door signal and Metchell’s voice interrupted her. Hrndl’s eyes tilted upward—a forest with a comm system. She reached lazily for the door control and opened it.
Metchell eyed her for a moment before asking in his gentle way, “What are you doing here?”
“So many people are delighted by Kena’s recovery; I felt it would be best if I made sure she reached her quarters and had the opportunity to eat and sleep. She went to the other room about ten minutes ago, and I stayed to relax before returning to duty.”
Metchell’s gaze held. Finally, he said, “While I approve of the support you provide her, the fact that you linger here worries me.”