Wincing at Light

<– Chapter 23 / Chapter 25 –>

They started with the beds first, selecting the dead Liston identified and transferring the bodies from the med bay to second level storage. Of the twelve that had been, seven remained. The recovery of the sick would take longer, at least in theory, and Liston determined they could be safely moved to the rec area where the others had slept the night before. Pallets were transferred, followed by the bodies to occupy them and portable monitoring devices patched up to the main med bay console. Then the beds were stripped and new linens retrieved and the room returned to some semblance of sanitary order.

By then it was afternoon. Ashburn and Whitney prepared a light lunch of sandwiches and fruit in the commissary, which everyone ate, but no one with anything like zeal. Vernon informed them that as a potential last meal, it more or less sucked, but he was grateful for the effort all the same. Some of them laughed, but only with the same enthusiasm with which they had eaten.

When they returned to the med bay, Liston awaited them. The vials had been loaded into injector guns, and the guns themselves placed beside single syringes on small trays which extended above the beds. The blankets had been turned down and the lights muted except for brilliant pools projected into the spaces where Liston would stand while administering the therapy. And there was music, serene and pleasant, the volume so low it could hardly be heard. But Brett detected woodwinds and gentle drums. He couldn’t have named the composer.

The doctor stood in the middle of the room, a few paces to the right of the rows of beds. His hands were pressed together in front of his chest, and he smiled.

“Now comes the difficult part,” he said. “We’ve made all the arrangements. There aren’t any more distractions to keep us from the matter at hand. Someone must find the courage to go first, and it isn’t an enviable position, I know.”

He bent his head toward Brett. “And it can’t be you, Commander. You would lead by example, given the opportunity, but that won’t work. If this procedure is to have the stamp of legitimacy, you have to go last, after everyone except Ilam and myself.”

Djen stepped forward. She squeezed Brett’s hand a final time and then released it. When she reached Liston, he placed his arm around her shoulders and led her to a bed on the far side of the room. He helped her move the tray, then held back the sheet as she sat down, removed her boots, and climbed in.

Without having willed himself to do it, Brett followed. He took his place on the opposite side and knelt so that his face and Djen’s were on the same level. She saw him and smiled, but here eyes were dark in the dim lighting. A darkness that wasn’t pleasure like he had seen before, but fear. He stroked her hair and she tried to wink at him, but failed. He saw that her lips trembled.

“Roll onto your side,” Liston said.

He pulled a pair of surgical scissors from the pocket of his lab coat and split the her shirt up the back. Djen shivered, then giggled.

“You lecherous old goat,” she said.

Liston didn’t pick up the syringe until he seemed certain she couldn’t see him anymore.

Djen lay with her arm beneath her head. With the other, she touched Brett’s chin.

“Hello, stranger,” she said.

“Not strangers yet. Not for awhile.”

“I’ll remember. At least I’ll try.”

She wouldn’t, but Brett didn’t say so, because she was trying to be strong. Instead, he whispered, “Just be well.”

Liston waited until they had finished, then began to speak. He spoke in a friendly voice, what Brett thought of as a pleasant clinical voice. It was the same one he had used a few days ago when it had been Brett in the bed and Djen beside him and he wanted everyone to know that things were going to turn out just fine.

“I’m going to give you a shot first, Djen,” he said. “You’ll experience some discomfort from the needle, a little pinch to the left of your spine, but it’s a topical anesthetic so that won’t last long. I’ve had to use a larger gauge needle on the injector than I’d prefer in order to pierce the spinal column, so this first injection is designed to spare you that pain.”

“You’re very thoughtful,” she replied.

“I try to be, my dear. I’m afraid my former wife didn’t think so.”

He gave the shot then, while she was distracted. Brett watched him, heard her gasp between her teeth, and then it was done.

Djen grinned at once. “That wasn’t so bad. And since when did you have an ex-wife, Liston?”

“Since about ten years ago. I don’t believe I’ve told anyone here. Don’t you feel special?”

“It’s always easy to tell secrets when you know the listener won’t remember them in the morning.”

Liston laughed, though Brett saw it was to cover the sound he might make when he set down the syringe and lifted the auto-injector.

“I had thought of that,” he said. “Did you feel my finger just now against your back?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m lying. I’d really like you to give me a shot between the vertebrae when I can still feel it.”

Liston lost none of his humor, but said, “Be serious a moment, please.”

“It just feels cold.”

“That’s normal. I’m going to proceed with the insertion.”

Brett held her free hand in his, kept the other one on her head, tangling his fingers in her hair.

“I think you should grow it long,” he said. “It would be beautiful with all those curls.”

“I will, if you promise to take me away from here. Someplace where there isn’t so much sand and dry air. That’s murder on the ends.”

It wasn’t what she wanted to say. He could see it in the way she shifted her eyes away. She wanted something else, something more meaningful.

Brett knew what it was, and he said it for her. “I love you.”

Liston noisily cleared his throat, then proceeded in his hypnotic, clinical voice. “I’d like you to pull your knees up toward your chest, that is, get into the fetal position. There you go. The remainder of the procedure mimics a lumbar puncture, so we’re having you extend your spine, except for the fact that we’ll be inserting material rather than removing it. Are you ready?”

Djen nodded, but did not speak.

Brett watched him, and Liston met his eyes momentarily. The doctor’s expression was unreadable, but he quirked the corner of his mouth, as though to pass along a reassurance. Then he looked away and prepared the injection. The auto-injector made a low buzzing sound, then a click.

Liston said, “That’s it, my dear.”

“I didn’t feel anything.”

“That was the plan.”

She chewed her lip. “What happens now?”

Liston returned the injector gun to its tray and rubbed his hands together. “You’ll begin to feel drowsy in the next three or four minutes. You’ll be unconscious within five. The nanomechs have already begun to work. Assuming all goes well, you’ll begin to recover from the sedative in about six hours. Since you were the first implanted, you’ll be the first to awaken. If Ilam and I think of it, we should have sandwiches and tea waiting for you.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a pat. “You’ll be fine, Djen. I fully expect that.”

She offered her thanks, and Brett could hear that she tried to sound sincere, though it wasn’t particularly convincing. The memory of Micah was still too fresh. But she knew better than anyone the work that had been done and the sacrifices Liston had made to prepare the therapy, and Liston seemed to understand. He gave her a final squeeze, then moved off to recruit his next patient.

After he had gone, Djen whispered, “I’m starting to wonder if this was such a good idea.”

“Too late for second thoughts.”

“Have you noticed how terrible he looks? He and Ilam both?”

“Don’t worry about them. I trust them, and I think you do, too. It’s okay to just be scared.”

Her eyelids drooped, and she popped them back open. Djen blinked in surprise. “That little bastard. He said two or three minutes.”

“He didn’t want you to be fighting the medication.”

“He lied to me.” Her words came out slurred, and her eyes slipped closed again. “I’m not ready to sleep yet. There’s so much to say. Markus–”

He shushed her, then stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “An unconscious patient is a happy patient. A wise man said that.”

She smiled at him. “You said you loved me. That was the first time.”

“Would you like me to say it again?”

“Please.”

“I love you.”

Djen’s smile broadened. Her breathing slowed, became a regular, sleeping rhythm. Her lips moved in slow, lethargic motions, some last thing she meant to say, but she made no sound. Brett rose, though he didn’t initially let go of her hand. She hadn’t pulled herself out of the fetal position, so he straightened her legs and rolled her onto her back. He did what he could to make her comfortable so she wouldn’t be stiff when she woke.

Last, he bent over her and kissed her, not knowing if she sensed it, but certain she wouldn’t remember.

#

Ilam and Liston were a formidable team, Brett decided. It took them less than half an hour to perform the procedure on those who remained. After watching Djen quietly slip off to sleep, the rest went in orderly fashion. Vernon, Attler and Ashburn even located their own labeled injectors and climbed into the assigned beds. Liston worked quickly but kindly, giving variations of the same explanatory speech he’d offered Djen. His careful delineation of the details seemed to calm them. He mystified them with the pleasant spell that everything was under control. Ilam cooperated with gentle touches and humor and a smile that was fixed but sincere.

Brett stood apart and watched them work, admiring their manner. He should have assisted, he realized, but Djen had drawn out all the compassion he possessed. With the others, he would have come across as harsh.

Finally, they were done and all but Ashburn asleep. Liston moved from patient to patient attaching wires and calibrating monitors, setting alarm parameters. Ilam joined Brett by the counter. He dispensed with his bedside jocularity, and his face seemed to sag as the sullen weariness returned.

“That was well done,” Brett said. “You two are to be congratulated.”

“I’d wait until we see the results before making speeches,” he said in return. “Liston isn’t completely honest with himself. He believes everything will work out fine enough, but Cassandra projects we’ll lose three more of the initial round and maybe as many as two from this group.”

Brett wasn’t in the mood to judge him. “That’s better than losing them all. At this point, I’ll take what I can get.”

“Unless you’re one of the five who doesn’t make it.”

“I suppose that’s true enough.” He steered the conversation away to safer topics. “Are you going to be up to supervising all of the sick? You and Liston both, I should say. Not that I mean to offend, but you two look like hell.”

Ilam nodded. “The good doctor and I have developed a reasonable regimen of prescription amphetamines to get us through the rough times. The fatigue doesn’t seem so bad now, but we’ll pay for it later. I expect you’ll be understanding.”

“If everything works out.”

“Never one to make a free assumption, are you?”

“Too many assumptions are what got us here in the first place.”

Ilam considered him thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“We made some basic assumptions about the nature of life, the nature of living organisms when we set off to colonize the universe. We assumed Archae Stoddard was sterile because our technology told us so. We assumed we would have the ability and the tools to combat any problems which might arise. We assumed it was our destiny as a species to inherit the stars. We assumed we could be gods.”

Brett left it there. It was more than he had wanted to say as it was.

“You’re becoming philosophical in your advancing age, Chili,” Ilam said.

Liston approached them, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the coat sleeve. He held the last injector gun in his fist and glanced toward the last open bed, the one nearest the door, which had been prepared for Brett.

“That’s all done,” the doctor said cheerily. “Everyone looks well enough. Their measurements are good.”

Ilam chuckled. “That’s his way of saying it’s your turn, Commander.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of adjusting your sedative dosage. I assumed you would prefer to be the first to awaken.”

“There’s that word again,” Ilam said.

Liston frowned at him, confused, then went on. “I know what I promised Djen, but rank has its privileges as they say, and its responsibilities. You should be up and about twenty to thirty minutes before the others. That will give Ilam and I a chance to brief you thoroughly. Reorient you to the situation, as it were.”

Brett said, “You can save it. I’m not taking the therapy.”

The pause lasted three full seconds.

“Excuse me?” Liston said. He looked down at the injector gun as if he might leap forward and jab Brett with it anyway. “You can’t refuse the therapy. Everyone gets it, sick or not. That was your order.”

“I’m changing my order.”

“You’ll die. You’ll die like Tappen and the others, comatose or raving.” Liston cast a pleading look at Ilam, attempting to enlist support. “If it’s the safety of the procedure you’re concerned with–”

“I have perfect faith in your procedure,” Brett said, his voice flat. “I’m just not taking it. I know the risks. I know the situation. I even have a fairly good idea of the consequences. I’ll log my decision into the computer so everyone will know you did what you could to convince me.”

Liston stared at him, dumbfounded, and Brett thought he was probably attempting to gauge how insane he might be, and whether or not he would be justified in forcing the treatment because Brett had proven himself unfit. Whatever he saw was apparently not enough.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t afford it right now.”

The doctor swiveled to Ilam, his eyes wide. “What is he talking about? Can you tell me what he’s talking about?”

Ilam shrugged, then crossed his arms over his chest. “The commander is a man who knows his own mind. I’m not going to question his decision.”

“You’re both insane!”

The support for his decision was surprising, but Brett didn’t stay to examine it, and he didn’t remain to argue. He pushed the two men aside, strode to the door of the med bay and let himself out into the deserted station.

<– Chapter 23 / Chapter 25 –>

Filed under: From the Hands of Hostile Gods | Tagged: blook, Darren Hawkins, From the Hands of Hostile Gods, science fiction