by Ann Wilson
alive! He wentto the spring for water, put some on the lamp to heat, then bracedhimself and knelt beside his patient. Tarlac's wounds were oozingthick greenish-yellow fluid that would have to be cleaned off, as oftenas Dave could force himself to endure the sight and rotten-cabbagestench. At least the medikit had surgical gloves, he thought as he puta pair on, so he wouldn't have to touch the stuff or risk getting thepoison into his own system through a cut or hangnail.
Tarlac woke to a smell so bad it made him gag, and eyes that felt gluedshut, so he couldn't see whatever seemed to be scrubbing his chest witha metal brush dipped in acid. He started to protest, trying to sit up,but the only result was a wave of dizziness and nausea. When he gaveup on that and tried to rub his eyes, the scrubbing stopped and handsgrabbed his wrists.
"Don't--you'll just make it worse." Dave was unpleasantly surprised athow easy it was to restrain his patient. "Your eyes are all crustedover--I'll need to soak them to soften the crusts." He put a warm, wetcloth over the Ranger's eyes, then went on. "I'll finish cleaning youup while those soften. I did your back while you were asleep."
The scrubbing started again, and Tarlac let out a yell.
Dave stopped. "I'm being as careful and gentle as I can, sir. I don'twant to hurt you, but I do have to get you clean." He frowned. "Itwon't make you better, though. All it'll do is keep you from gettingworse as fast--but there's nothing else I can do."
Tarlac sighed, managing not to groan. "Your best is all I can expect,Dave. I'll try to be quiet about it."
"Yes, sir." Dave went back to work, grateful that the injuries, bad asthey were, were limited to the Ranger's upper body. If Tarlac had beenbeaten all over with the poisoned whip, he probably wouldn't havesurvived the night. This way, he had a chance of lasting until he couldget real medical help. Not much of a chance, Dave thought grimly as hebegan cleaning his patient's eyes, but a chance. "There," he said atlast. "You should be able to open them now."
Tarlac did manage, though it took most of his strength. His vision wasblurred at first, but blinking soon cleared it enough for him to seethe strain in his rescuer's face. Well, he probably wasn't looking toogood himself, he thought--and that stink! "What's the smell?"
Dave grimaced, pulling a clean blanket up over Tarlac's shoulders."Stingweed poison, sort of. You don't want to see what it looks like."He shrugged. "It does have one advantage, though. It'll heep animalsaway, so that's one thing we won't have to worry about."
"I can certainly understand that," Tarlac said dryly. "I'd certainlykeep my distance from a prospective dinner that smelled this bad."
Dave managed a slight smile. "So would I, actually. Especially sinceit's probably the only thing that'll keep away any owner of a cave thisnice." He hesitated, then decided he might as well go on; they were inno position to worry about luxuries like privacy. "The medikitinstructions say the poison may not let you go to the bathroom--but youshould try, if it feels like you have to."
"I don't." Tarlac thanked the impulse that had led him to go on alow-residue diet over the last week, though he was less grateful for therebels' refusal to give him a drink of water.
"It says you should try to drink, at least, and eat if you can--do youwant to try sitting up?"
"Yeah." Tarlac made the effort, groaning, but he needed Dave's help,and was gasping by the time he was propped semi-erect. He was too weakand dizzy to hold the cup Dave offered him, and had trouble forcing acouple of swallows down a throat that felt raw and swollen. He wincedat the pain, but made himself drink more. Whether his kidneys had quitfunctioning or not, he knew he'd lost blood and was feverish; hecouldn't afford to let himself get dehydrated, too.
Food was out of the question, though, he discovered when Dave tried tofeed him some stew made out of survival rations. It wasn't bad stew,and he knew he'd need whatever strength it could give him, but hesimply couldn't get it down. He shook his head, immediately wishing hehadn't when the dizziness got worse. "Dave--what can I expect?"
Dave put the stew down. He didn't want to answer, but a person had aright to know the truth. "I've never seen a case before, so I can onlytell you what the book says." He took a deep breath. "Massivestingweed poisoning--and you've been given as bad a case as I've everheard of--starts off by making you sick and feverish."
"That fits the way I feel," Tarlac said dryly. "Go on."
"The fever'll get worse," Dave said reluctantly. "Bad enough to makeyou delirious. They you'll go into a coma, and if you don't getfirst-class medical attention, you'll die."
"I've heard better news," Tarlac admitted. "Just what can you do aboutit?"
"Not much, I'm afraid," Dave said. "I don't dare give you any drugs,even ones as simple as a fungicide or antibiotic, because they're likepainkillers--too unpredictable on stingweed cases. I don't have eitherthe equipment or the skill to monitor you, or take corrective action ifyou should have a bad reaction, and I sure don't want to make thingsworse. I can keep the wounds clean and use cold water to help keep thefever down, and . . . well, I'll do anything else I can think of toslow the poison down. But it won't be a whole lot."
"I appreciate the honesty." And, Tarlac thought, the fact that he'dbeen lucky enough to be rescued by someone who could appreciate thefact of his own limitations! Not too many people of any age, in hisexperience, had that much judgement. Too bad Dave's assessment was sonegative--but from what he'd said, Tarlac was able to take grimamusement in the fact that he wouldn't be worrying about it muchlonger. This mess would be a lot harder on the youngster than it wouldon the one who should be in charge-- He broke off that pointless lineof thought. "Just keep me breathing till Friday morning, if you can--the Marines will be landing as soon as it's full light, and there'll beNavy mediteams with them. If they can get me into a lifepod, I'll havea pretty good chance."
"I'll do what I can, of course." Dave frowned. "That's less thanforty-eight hours . . . the rebels'll be looking for us too, but Idon't think they'll get to us very fast."
"Don't be too sure," Tarlac cautioned. "Lord Robert is a fanatic, andhe thinks I'm his key to ruling at least a Subsector. He'll be afterme, and I'm willing to bet his people have the equipment they need tofind us."
Dave shook his head. "It's not as easy as you make it sound, sir.People who've wanted to be found have been lost in these mountains forweeks. We don't want to be--and we're in a cave, which'll make it thatmuch harder for them." He hesitated, a thought surfacing. "Unlessthey search on foot, and happen across us. If they do, I guess it'llbe up to me to decoy them away."
Tarlac didn't like that idea, but he also didn't have Lord Robert'sconvenient ability to ignore unpleasant reality. A Ranger was, to putit bluntly, far more valuable to the Empire than any youngster. It wasa hell of a note, he thought sourly, that he had to look at it thatway; Dave had saved his life once already, and it would be his doing ifTarlac lived through the next couple of days. The fact that Dave wouldget a substantial reward if they made it out wasn't a lot of help;dammit, part of his job was protecting Imperial citizens! Still . . ."I'm afraid it will."
To his surprise, Dave grinned. "That shouldn't be too hard. Thoserebels're city people; they don't know what real mountains're like.Chaos, I don't think they'd even know to avoid something as simple as atrapper vine!"
"This is no holo show," Tarlac cautioned him. "If they do find us,we've bought it."
"I know--but Mom was a Marine for thirty years and never even saw alive Ranger. I go on a camping trip, and end up helping one, against abunch of rebels!"
Looked at that way, Tarlac conceded with some amusement, it did havesomething in common with a holoshow. And maybe having Dave treat thisas an adventure wouldn't hurt--might even help, by keeping his moraleup. It was a good bet the youngster would need all the pluses he couldfind . . . he damnsure wouldn't be one! The way he felt, he wouldn'teven be conscious much longer. Which would be a definiteimprovement . . .
* * * * *
/> Dave spent the rest of that day alternating between caring for theunconscious Ranger and watching rebel aircars crisscross the sky inwhat seemed, from the little he could see through trees, to beever-widening search patterns. The rebels did think they were alive,then, but didn't have
