by Brandon Hill
“Fascists,” Sar’vana fumed mildly as she led me along towards a door at the end of what was otherwise a dead-end hallway. There was a red Felyan symbol emblazoned upon it that I did not recognize.
It opened to a room of drab colors, a striking difference from the more or less vibrant earthen hues of the corridor. Uniform tans, blacks and grays were the general color scheme in this expansive room, and crystalline panels were set upon the wooden walls. A row of medical beds separated by outgrowths of the wood that formed partitions, lined the expanse of the far wall. Each was surrounded by what looked like glass panels in their individual alcoves. The lights overhead against the high, domed, black ceiling were much brighter than those in the hallway, like miniature versions of the cluster of sun lamps at Blue Point.
Sar’vana brought me to one of the medical beds and, after placing my clothes upon a nearby table, helped me to sit as another Felyan arrived, stepping out of a partition far to my right. She was An’Kya Felyan, with a veritable lion’s mane of brown hair and dressed in a frock of white with a tan leather sash about her waist. Her feet were clad in sandals, also made of the same color leather. She took one look at my shoulder, and her golden eyes widened.
Sar’vana, having hurried to the doctor’s side while she was halfway to me, explained what had happened in Felyan so rapid that I had a difficult time understanding. Once at my side, the doctor hurriedly grabbed one of the crystal panels, and it came alive in her hands. Felyan calligraphy scrolled before her, trapped within the panel’s clear surface, and she touched an icon that appeared in the panel’s center. Like flower petals, an image of my shoulder unfurled, showing its inner workings, layer by layer: skin, muscles, and bone. The doctor’s eyes fluttered over the schematics and writing, and then she sighed in relief.
“Only a flesh wound,” she said in English, and smiled my way. She spoke the language well, but with an accent that was similar to mine, rather than Sar’vana’s. “You were shot, Lady Sar’vana tells me?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just grazed me. A flesh wound, like you said.”
“I can see that.” The doctor grinned pleasantly and tapped the panel. The images vanished and she placed it back into its framework above the bed. She then slid her fingers against the wall behind me. Its tan surface partitioned off, and several trays extended outwards, holding an assortment of items: gauze, scissors, several unmarked canisters of varying sizes, as well as various other devices that I could not identify. The doctor reached over onto one of the trays and removed a silver cylinder.
“This will numb the area while I work on it,” she said as she shook the cylinder. “It seems to make humans itch terribly at first, but don’t scratch. It will pass in about a minute.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I said, truly grateful, but my voice had betrayed a very dismal, almost sarcastic tone. I hated itching in every way, and would have preferred a needle directly to where it hurt the most over that sensation. But I took some comfort in the fact that she had at least given me advance warning. So I braced myself.
The spray from the canister stung at first, burning like alcohol as it entered the already throbbing wound, but then, true to the doctor’s words, the pain transformed into a prickling sensation that quickly erupted into an itch more terrible than a thousand mosquito bites. Reflexively, my hand went to my shoulder, or it would have, had Sar’vana not stopped me.
“Jules, no!” she exclaimed, and held my hand at bay. Chagrined at my initial reaction, I loosened my muscles and braced myself, struggling to endure the terrible itch that screamed for relief. Seconds felt like hours as I sat there, muscles rigid, and with teeth clenched. I felt Sar’vana rest her free hand gently on my back. And distantly, I heard her purring. “Endure it just a little longer, my li-ah,” she said in a gentle voice that provided some comfort against the burning itch. I looked up once and saw the doctor cast an endeared look at us. If I hadn’t been in such agony, I would have been perhaps a bit embarrassed at the attention.
I felt beads of sweat forming at my forehead as the itch raked at every raw nerve ending, tormenting me with the urge to scratch, but Sar’vana held my right arm steady, and the powerful clawed hand of her body guard, at her behest, held my left arm down securely. I think I was on the verge of tears when the itch at last began to fade. And as if in apology for the discomfort it caused, it faded away quickly and completely in a cooling relief as if the last few moments had been little more than a bad dream.
“It … it’s going away,” I said breathlessly, and still trembling from the stress of my bout with that terrible itch.
As if not believing me at first, both Sar’vana and the guard looked questioningly at the doctor. When she nodded, they released my arms at last. Sar’vana smiled apologetically to me, and I touched the soft fur of her cheek with a forgiving grin.
“Does this hurt?” I heard the doctor say a moment later.
“Does what hurt?” I said, and turned towards the doctor to find that she had inserted a sharp metal clamp into the wound. Gauze patches were at its edge, soaking up the blood that was leaking out.
I gasped deeply at this sight and the doctor eased back. “Does it still hurt?” She said with alarm.
“No.” To my initial confusion, I felt absolutely nothing. “I didn’t mean to scare you; the sight of the clamp just startled me, is all. You work fast.”
“So I’ve been told,” the doctor replied, her statement for some reason, causing Sar’vana to shake with an amused giggle.
“Jules, I’m going to go and get father,” she said. “He needs to know what you’ve told me. I’ll be back in a moment.” I nodded and she kissed my cheek before turning to one of the guards.
“Gar’sheskathu, come,” she said in Felyan, and one of the duo of guards ambled off on all fours at her side, like a giant black and gray dog, leaving me alone with the remaining guard and the doctor.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” the doctor said, indicating the clamp that was still buried in the wound. “But the blood had already begun to coagulate and form the beginnings of a hard scab. I had to open it slightly in order leave less of a scar when I seal it.”
“As long as you can keep me pretty,” I said with a chuckle.
“Oh, it’s too late for that, I think,” the doctor quipped back, and continued her work in a comfortable silence. Some minutes later, she broke it with a question. “So you and milady are mates?”
I felt myself turn red with that question. I was not ashamed at our relationship, but I still, for some reason, found such a blunt and personal inquiry more than just a little off-putting. The doctor’s laugh of amusement was, at least, sign enough that she knew the answer.
“It is very rare,” the guard said, and I recognized her voice as that of the one who spoke to Sar’vana in the hallway. She ended her sentence with a growl that I could not tell communicated happiness or anger.
“Incredibly rare,” the doctor added.
“I already know that,” I said.
“You actually know very little about it.” The guard’s heavy accent and rough English made her statement sound almost rude.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your names,” I said, suddenly realizing my lack of manners, in addition to being a bit taken aback by what I perceived as mild condescension.
“I’m Calia,” the doctor said, not looking up from her work.
“And I am Sara’sheskathu,” the guard said, tapping her large, furry hand to her chest.
“You’re … related to the other guard?” I said to the guard, noting her name.
“Gar is my brother,” Sara said. “My kya are often born as twins.”
“And you both work for Vani?” I asked.
The guard and doctor exchanged glances with an expression that I could not decipher, and then the doctor spoke. “Not for milady, no ... at least not me. But we do take orders from her if they’re given. Well… Sara takes them more than I do; she and Gar are servants of her household. I work fo
r the government, myself. Every ship is required to have medical staff, after all.”
“Then you, being a doctor would know, if it’s so rare, why Vani and I were attracted to each other,” I said.
“Yes, I would,” the doctor replied with a smile. She had taken the clamps out of the wound and was now sewing it up. Unfazed by the sight of blood, much less my own, I watched on, fascinated by her skill, until I realized that she had said nothing more than the simplest of answers for my question.
“Care to tell me?” I asked in an attempt to prompt her.
“That is a private matter,” the doctor said. “It’s not my place to discuss such things.”
“Mates are always a family matter,” Sara explained.
They spoke with such finality that I decided wait until Sar’vana returned in order to learn more. The doctor finished her work, sewing the wound, and then injecting a strange blue liquid into my skin. She then cut the fibers of the stitches, and then, too quickly for me to protest, removed them from the newly-sewn wound. To my surprise, the wound did not reopen, but it still bled a little. She stanched the flow with more gauze, and then injected a second vial of blue liquid into the wound, and sprayed it with an aerosol from another can. I watched in amazement as the wound faded into a pale scar.
“All done,” she said, and placed the used gauze and instruments into a separate drawer. “It’ll be a little tender for about a day when the spray wears off, but you should be fine.”
“Thank you,” I said, testing my new arm. My shoulder, still completely numb, felt like it was floating away from my arm, but I could move it, and there was no wound.
“Let me attend to your bruises,” the doctor then said, and proceeded to remove a can of an odorless salve from the drawer. She had me remove my hospital gown, something I was at first loath to do, as I had been otherwise naked. The fact that Felyans did not regard nudity in the same light as humans, and the passive, disinterested gazes of both the doctor and guard made me feel somewhat less awkward. Thankfully, my apprehension overrode what would have been my body’s natural reaction to the sight of the doctor, who, like most of her kya, was quite attractive.
The doctor removed the bandages and proceeded to place a thin coat of the salve to all my cuts and bruises. I watched with amazement and satisfaction as they faded and healed. As the doctor had warned me, they still were slightly sore, but the worst of their pain had been extinguished.
Relieved that Sar’vana had not arrived yet, I got dressed in my normal clothes while the doctor set to work cleaning up the area. As I unfolded everything, I noticed a shining silver object fall out of my shirt. I caught it before it reached the floor, and gasped.
The necklace! My hand went to my neck, and I realized that in the confusion of the past hour, I had forgotten all about it. Hurriedly, I clasped it around my neck and pulled my shirt on to cover it up. My plans, initially foiled by my unfortunate run-ins with Keisha and the police, would have to wait until later, I surmised, as I was unsure of what was going to happen next.
I had finished dressing when I saw the doctor and Sara stiffen to attention. They bowed lowly in a style I had seen among traders from Hana IV, but it was not directed at me. I turned in the direction of their bows, and saw that Sar’vana and Gar’sheskathu had returned. The Re’Kya Felyan that accompanied them was instantly familiar to me.
I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat. Felyans had always produced feelings of mixed awe and resentment within humans, and I was no exception -at least with the awe part, but this Felyan was the only one who had ever made me afraid.
His fur was as black as Gar’sheskathu’s, and he matched me easily for height. His red eyes were piercing and hypnotic, making him appear almost devilish. He wore the fanciful robes that males of his kya often wore, with the jerkins, coats and breeches reminiscent of pictures I’d seen from 18th Century Earth paintings, and in an array of colors that were contrastingly bright on his dark features. His cravat was impeccably white against his fur; his outer coat was a light blue velvet which fit over a tan jerkin and tunic of silver, as well as a black leather belt, and breeches that were such a rich brown, they were almost like gold.
“D … director Agura Van,” I said, my voice faltering somewhat as he approached me. I bowed the same as the doctor and Sara had, and I felt Sar’vana come to my side, slipping her hand into mine.
“Jules, please … there’s no need for such formalities with me,” the director said warmly. He laid his large hand heavily on my formerly injured shoulder, and guided me to stand up straight. The numbness was beginning to wear off, I noticed, as I had felt some of that grip, combined with a distant feeling of soreness. I was eye to eye with the director, my mind going back to the first time I saw him when Sar’vana had introduced us. He had been so intimidating from my child’s point of view that it was all I could do to keep myself standing still as he spoke in his loud, boisterous tone. Despite the kindness in his eyes, I had seen him as something that was almost demonic. “And it’s just Agura. You’re no longer a child, and a friend of my family, after all.”
“Yes, sir … Agura,” I said, straightening myself up. He was still modestly intimidating, his presence still powerful. But now, being an adult, and on somewhat equal terms with him, I found that I could look him in the eyes without fear.
“Still nervous at the sight of me?” Agura chuckled as he patted my shoulder, bringing further discomfort. “Well, I guess that is to be expected. I used to give you a right scare as a child. You’ve certainly grown, Jules; has anyone told you that?”
I nodded, and his smile, already wide upon his broad muzzle, softened.
“And you’ve stolen my little Vani’s heart. I can’t say that I’m surprised, you know.”
“Actually, she stole my heart first,” I said, unable to help but smile.
“Well, now ... I see you’re a bit braver than you were the last time we met.” Agura said, sounding very much pleased. “At least you’re able to speak to me now without stuttering. And so tell me, Julius Galway, just how did such a relationship between yourself and my daughter come about in a society as, if you’ll forgive me, provincial as yours?”
I stood silent for a moment, debating within myself as to whether or not I should answer his question. On one hand, being human, I regarded such an inquiry as slightly personal; on the other hand, I remembered that Sar’vana thought the world of her father, and, as it seemed, he thought very highly of me as well. And I had no wish to sour our relationship with being stubborn. I mused over his question, weighing my thoughts one against the other, until I came to what I felt was an appropriate response.
“With all due respect, Agura,” I said, my voice low and discreet, “before I answer that, how much do you know of our relationship?”
“More than I believe you’d be comfortable to hear,” Agura replied, raising an eyebrow at me. A curious grin lay at the edge of his large mouth.
All my apprehension at that moment was siphoned into a void of embarrassment. God, what had Sar’vana been telling him? Were Felyans that frank with their immediate families when discussing matters of intimacy?
“You’re surprised that I know such things?” Agura chuckled from deep within his throat. “What else is a father to think when his daughter spends almost a month talking about a her closest friend whom she hasn’t seen in ten years, and then vanishes for the better part of a week? I had no idea of her whereabouts until the doctor let slip that she had snuck into the infirmary, looking for riss!”
“Father!” Sar’vana said in a reproachful tone, and Agura winced slightly.
“Well, it seems that it’s not my place to continue,” Agura said. His words, hurried though they were, trembled with laughter as his hand again came down on my newly-repaired shoulder. Another flash of mild pain broke through the dissolving numbness, and I bit back the urge to yelp. “But in all sincerity, Jules, what have you to say to my first question?”
“I really don’t know,�
� I said, feeling a bit more comfortable with the director, but still without a suitable answer. “It … well, just sort of happened.” I looked at Sar’vana and all the love I had held for her was reflected in her violet eyes. “But I believe that I’ve always loved her … perhaps that we’ve always loved each other. She is my li-ah, and I am hers.”
“I believe you,” Agura said in a low, sincere voice. “You’ve nothing to fear from me, Jules. You will find in me someone who unconditionally accepts and supports your relationship. I just wanted to hear the truth of things from your mouth. If you’ve described my daughter as your li-ah, then you know that that is not something that is said lightly among our people.” His hand squeezed my shoulder, and I winced at the reflexive pain, now worse than before. Thankfully, the doctor noticed my discomfort, and spoke with an alarmed tone to the director. I did not understand all the words, but Agura made things clear when he quickly removed his hand, and apologized.
“I believe now, we need to talk about less pleasant matters,” the director said in a grave tone, and nodded towards the exit door. Thanking the doctor for her fine work, he then led the way with Gar and Sara at either side. I followed hand in hand with Sar’vana as her father guided us back through the ship’s wooded corridors.
We boarded an elevator that was merely a floor with no discernible cables or magnetic rails. It descended several levels down a shaft that was lit with veins of the ubiquitous glowing algae, and then stopped at a doorway that led to a luxurious office. The same as in the infirmary, the wall was entirely made of the unbroken wooden shell, and featured a décor that was both cozy, and, by the standards of my people, at least, excessively opulent. Real wood being scarcer than unmarred surface life, the walls alone would have, of course, cost an obscene fortune on Zynj. There was a large vitriplas and steel table in the office’s center surrounded by chairs with leather cushions. Orbs of soft white light hung from a chandelier that provided additional illumination amidst the flattened baubles of glowing algae that lined the room’s corners.