CHAPTER 20
The distance seems a lot longer
than it actually is.
I remember Vel
mentioning there might be traps laid, so we proceed with care. I
try to stay to the edges of the hallway. My shoulders ache from the
strain of holding him upright. He’s not helping much anymore,
moving on sheer determination.
If he goes down, I
don’t have the strength to get him on his feet again, so we have to
keep shuffling toward Med Bay. Or where it ought to be. My PA sulks
in my right front pocket; I don’t think she quite grasps the
urgency of the situation.
The silence troubles
me. I send a few experimental thoughts toward March, but I get
nothing back. It’s more than his lack of response, though. The
station itself seems oddly still. Could be my paranoia, I suppose.
Maybe nothing’s left but us.
When we turn the
corner into the last hallway, a web snaps down toward us, but we’re
not quite in range. We stagger back a few paces while I try to
control my heart rate. Lucky they placed the trigger off a few
centimeters or we’d be finding out firsthand what became of March
and Jael. I suspect they let themselves be taken . . . because it’s
more comforting than the other options.
Why would they do
that? I can’t even speculate, unless it sprang from some heroic
urge to take on the rest of the Morgut without endangering Vel and
me.
I spare a moment of
gratitude that the med center is where 245 predicted. As I
suspected, it’s unmanned. Vel collapses on a cot while I commandeer
a workstation.
“Power on.” I hope
these aren’t coded to require certain voice patterns. Then again,
that wouldn’t make sense, given the budget for these
outposts.
Pure relief surges
through me when the screen lights up. “Access emergency medical
database. Seeking treatment for an Ithtorian suffering from
multiple bite wounds and blood loss.”
“Accessing.” This AI
sounds cool and collected, which is reassuring in a medical system.
“Recommend sonic cleansing and immediate application of liquid
skin, type four. Contains antibacterial agents and macrobiotic,
further intervention is not required unless patient exhibits signs
of infection. Augment treatment with a transfusion of synthetic
intravenous fluid, program med-bot to use type 1345AB.”
Liquid skin. Med-bot. Vel’s gone under again, which
is probably best. Thankfully the station provides some guidance as
to where I can find things. My hands tremble as I carry out the
instructions.
They keep the med-bot
in a cupboard, charging until he’s needed again. He powers up at my
voice command, and I’m able to program him with treatment
instructions that way as well. In efficient, mechanical motions, he
handles the infusion, which should help Vel stay conscious.
As for me, I suck
down a packet of paste. Won’t do any good if I pass out. I’m
fucking exhausted, and I ache all over. For good or ill, we’re
holed up here until we both feel better. I hope to Mary that March
and Jael are all right, but I can’t save them. I just can’t. When
they disappeared, I chose to stick with Vel.
That’s a fucking
agonizing decision.
I love March.
I feel like I’m
abandoning him, but presently he’s not my lover; he can’t be, or
I’ll go nuts. As my captain, he gave me an order: Guard Vel’s back. I’ve never been much for
authority, but I trust his judgment. So I force my worry down,
compartmentalize it. I’m an old pro at that.
I’d kill to get
cleaned up. That’s when I notice the san-shower, probably kept in
here so the doc can wash up after dealing with messy
injuries.
I hesitate only a few
seconds. “Do you have a quarantine protocol?”
“Affirmative.”
“Activate it and
secure the doors. Require my voice imprint to override.”
“State the name of
the attending physician and the nature of the infectious illness
for station records, please.”
Shit. I wrack my brain, hoping it won’t check my
name against a credentialed list of physicians. Then I solve the
problem. I hope.
“Saul Solaith,
logging a case of advanced Jenner’s retrovirus.”
The machine pauses,
which suggests I was right about the database. “Acknowledged, Dr.
Solaith. Activating quarantine. Outside access to medical facility
will require your authorization.”
Heh. Technology often
manages to be both brilliant and wonderfully stupid. It apparently
doesn’t care that I’m the wrong gender, or maybe it doesn’t
register pitch and match it against official records. They run on a
shoestring budget in places like Emry, and they wouldn’t have the
latest innovations, luckily for me.
I take a look around
Med Bay, most specifically at the ceiling. It lacks the access
panels to the ducts that we encountered in the maintenance room. In
here the vents are tiny, not big enough for anything to drop down.
I decide it would take a cutting torch to get to us.
Vel appears to be
stable, and the med-bot stands ready, monitoring his vitals. That
frees me up to rummage. There’s no point in washing, if I have to
put this filthy jumpsuit back on. To my delight I uncover a spare
pair of scrubs. If I’m impersonating Doc, I might as well go all
the way, right?
Before I hit the
shower, I fiddle with the terminal a little. The comm channel
doesn’t respond, however, and I can’t reach the ship. Not that I
expected to.
It seems insanely
mundane to strip down and step into the stall, but why is it better
for me to sit around covered in blood? If I go running around the
station, looking for March and Jael, I may only succeed in getting
myself killed. Plus I leave Vel vulnerable. We’re safe here, and we
need to stay that way.
I refuse to do
something stupid. At least that’s what I tell myself as I wash up.
I’m just being smart. Aren’t I? I can’t sort good sense from
cowardice at this point. Guilt weighs me down too much.
One thing’s for sure.
I’m beating the shit out of March for putting me through this. When
he finds us.
After stepping out of
the san-shower, I dress quickly in the castoff clothing. Coming
around the partition, I see that Vel has struggled to an upright
position. I interpret the clicking of his claws as agitation. The
movement slows when he registers my presence. I don’t say anything
because I’d freak if he disappeared on me, too.
“You have become a
medical professional? How long was I out?”
“Not more than an
hour.” I check the med-bot to confirm.
“Any word from the
others?” Trust him to strike at the heart of the matter.
“We might be the last
people left in the universe for all I know,” I answer quietly.
“Nothing on the comm channel; it appears to have been disabled. And
I haven’t heard a peep from March or Jael since you passed
out.”
“You did a nice job
patching me up,” he says, ignoring the rest for the moment.
I shrug. “Anyone
could’ve done it. I just followed instructions.”
“Anyone did not.” His
rounded eyes glitter as he regards me. I’m used to his natural face
now, just wish I could read him better. “You are a constant
surprise to me.”
Not sure what he
means, if he thought I’d dump his unconscious body, first chance I
got. No fucking way—while the Morgut can’t eat him, they can sure
as shit kill him. I could spout some shit about responsibility, but
it’s more than that. I need to acknowledge it.
“We’re friends,” I
say softly. “You’d do the same for me.”
He ignores that as if
he doesn’t know what to say. “You look done in, and you must be
worried about the others. I will stand watch for a couple hours,
Sirantha. Get some rest. When you wake up, we will decide our next
step.”
I hope he doesn’t
suggest a purge again. I can’t permit that without knowing the fate
of the other two. Yet at the same time, I don’t like the thought of
what might be growing within Emry’s bowels.
“It seems like we
need to head for the systems-control room. See if we can get the
bay doors open. We need to warn the others. They can bounce a
message to New Terra, explaining the situation and requesting a
cleanup crew.”
“Later,” he says with
gentle insistence.
“There’s paste in my
jumpsuit.” I lie down at last, feeling the tension in my joints pop
in celebration.
“I would rather
die.”
Though we’re a bit
more comfortable now, this occasion reminds me of the cave, where
we relied on each other once before. Life or death, no second
chances.
I love March, but Vel is something else entirely.
He’s one person I’d trust at my back, no questions asked. Funny how
that worked out, considering the Corp hired him to hunt me. I
relax, and the minute my eyes close, I’m gone.
Darkness
wins.
