by S. J. Madill
"Yes, Mahasa. I understand."
Zura took a deep breath. It helped her, too, just hearing her assembled ideas spoken out loud. "I believe the same Uta was responsible for the recent treasure-hunting incursion on Tal Elinth, as well as the gas-mining incursion at Larinul. I wouldn't be surprised if it was also connected to the unexpected shipload of new colonists."
Upara raised an eyebrow. "With deepest respect, Mahasa, is there proof? The Pentarch will demand—"
"I have none," said Zura.
The ship captain nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. "Yes, Mahasa. I know what you think about coincidences. I would suggest there isn't enough here to trouble the Pentarch with. Would you agree, Mahasa?"
"I would agree," said Zura. Upara always understood. "We will of course bring this to the Pentarch's attention, should events require it."
"Of course, Mahasa. What are your orders?"
Zura checked a scheduling display behind the communications channel. "Kahala Mihia is still in refit for another few weeks, so it's just Kahala Hila and Kahala Linata. I want everything to remain, as the humans would say, 'business as usual'. Linata is to continue with their patrol. You remain here with Hila, ready to respond if needed."
"Yes, Mahasa."
"That is all, Captain."
Upara bowed to the camera again. "Yes, Mahasa. As you command."
As the datasheet's communications window went blank, Zura unfolded her arms, rubbing her eyes with her gloved hands. Shower or not, she still didn't feel awake. There was a time when she'd been able to function for weeks with only a couple hours of sleep each night, but those days were well and truly gone.
She looked again at the scheduling data on the display. Kahala Linata would be at the farthest point in their patrol in a week's time. From there, it would take three days to return home to New Fraser at maximum speed. If Qiviq — or anyone else — were up to something, they'd only have to deal with a single frigate.
Unless, Zura reminded herself, she was looking for things that weren't there. Trying to steal some helium, or looting some relics from Tal Elinth, that was reckless enough. It would be an act of idiocy to attack a colony with a Palani frigate present. But then, just because something was a bad idea didn't mean someone wouldn't try it. Quite the opposite, in her experience.
Time to start the day. Zura pivoted on her right foot, turning toward the bedroom door.
Her right knee buckled under her, a searing lash of burning pain stabbing through her leg. Zura gasped, stumbling to her other foot to keep from falling.
She leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, her right leg throbbing with pain so sharp it made her eyes water. "Nsal 'neth," she hissed, gingerly rubbing the knee with one hand. Even plasma-weapon burns didn't hurt that much.
Breathing carefully, Zura waited for the throbbing pain to subside. Delicately testing her weight on her right leg, she hobbled over and grabbed a datasheet from the shelf.
She kept her weight on her left foot, tapping at the display. Today, it seemed, was the day she would be forced to trust people with her future. Her increasingly precarious future.
Zura held the button to record a voice message. "Doctor, this is General Varta. Stop by my apartment later this morning, after Yaella has gone to school."
She let go of the button then, a moment later, pressed it again. "Please," she added.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Doctor Singh's voice came from the stairwell. "Anyone home?"
Zura sighed, putting down her datasheet. "I am here, Doctor." She was still leaning against the kitchen counter, where she'd been when Yaella had left for school. The girl had been curious about why Zura wouldn't sit or come downstairs, but hadn't said anything about it.
The doctor appeared in the doorway of the apartment, a hard-sided medical case in her left hand. She offered Zura a warm smile. "Well, you're up and about, so that's good." Singh nodded toward her, eyes glancing meaningfully at her legs. "Your knee, General?"
"Yes. I twisted it, and now it's causing a lot of pain when I bend it."
Singh nodded. "How about when you put weight on it?"
Zura shrugged. "Fine, as long as I don't bend it."
"Got it," said the doctor. She swung the arm holding the case, motioning toward Zura's bedroom door. "Come sit down, General. Let me take a look at it."
"Very well," said Zura. She pushed off from the counter, taking careful steps across the kitchen toward her bedroom. All the while, Singh was watching her, eyes studying the way she walked. It reminded her of early days on the parade ground, with the Squad Leader watching their every step. When feeling self-conscious, even something as simple as walking became complicated.
She entered the bedroom, Singh behind her. "Okay, General. Please take off your boots and uniform, and sit down on the bed."
"Oh." Zura hesitated before she'd even thought of it. "You need me naked?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at Singh.
The doctor had turned the room's lights up to a bright glare. "No," she said. "Not if you don't want to. You can leave your underwear on if you prefer."
Zura nodded. "Thank you." The Divines knew how many doctors and nurses had seen her naked body over the years, usually battered and bloodied. Normally, though, she was in too much pain — or too heavily medicated — to feel self-conscious. Normally, there wasn't a human in the room, either.
Singh didn't say a word. She stood next to Zura, accepting the gloves, chain, coat, boots, and breeches as Zura handed them over. Each was carefully placed on the nightside table, or draped over the back of the bedroom's lone chair. "Use your good leg," she advised, as Zura awkwardly sat down on the edge of the bed.
Zura lay back, propping herself up on her elbows and watching the doctor. "Is this acceptable?" she asked.
Singh stood next to the bed, holding a datapad in her hand. She was watching the screen, only briefly looking up at Zura. "You don't like feeling vulnerable, do you?"
"No, I don't."
"I recognise the trust you're placing in me, General. Thank you. I consider myself honoured."
Zura nodded, not looking away. Palani doctors never worried about trust. They just went ahead and did as they pleased, and the patient remained quiet.
Singh held up her datapad. "General, may I have your permission to request your medical records from the Palani database?"
"No," snapped Zura.
Singh lowered the datapad.
Zura sighed. "No, Doctor. I would prefer you did not."
"That's okay," said Singh. "No problem, General. May I ask why not? I consider doctor-patient confidentiality to be—"
"It's not that," said Zura. She watched the doctor's face for a moment. There could be no half measures with trust, she decided. Not with her doctor. "It's politics."
"Politics?"
"Most of the Pentarch want me to retire. They're not above forcing me into retirement, and medical retirement would suit them perfectly."
Singh's eyes narrowed a little, and she cocked her head. "Why not retire, General? You've been a soldier your entire life. God knows you've done your part for queen and country. You could—"
"Retire to what, Doctor? No Palani has died of old age in hundreds of years. How would I spend my remaining centuries?"
"Oh," said Singh, nodding. "Fair point, General. I suppose that's an ongoing problem for your people."
"It is. And in this 'bright new era of peace', no one wants the old warbeasts getting in the way." Like the monster that once guarded a besieged village, now an awkward embarrassment in the village at peace: too dangerous to keep around, too well-known to just disappear.
Singh changed the subject, pointing a finger at Zura's leg. "Perhaps I should take a look at your knee. Do you mind if I—"
"Go ahead, Doctor."
Singh crouched, examining the scars on Zura's right knee. The doctor's hands were surprisingly warm on her bare leg, and she had a firm touch. Her strong fingers poked at Zura's knee, and she watche
d Zura's face as she prodded. Pressing at one spot made Zura wince from a jolt of pain. "Okay," said Singh. "I think I know what's going on. I'd like to scan your knee to be sure. May I?"
"Go ahead," said Zura. No half measures, she reminded herself. "Scan all of me."
Singh looked up. "Are you sure, General? Scan all of you?"
"Yes," she said tersely. She hoped Singh would go ahead and do it quickly, before she had a chance to change her mind.
"Okay," said Singh, picking a different device out of her case. The device made a high-pitched whine as she powered it up. Starting at Zura's feet, she watched the display as she passed it up over the length of her body. "Again, General, I appreciate the trust you're…"
Singh fell silent, her brows coming together as she stared at the display. A look of incredulity came across her face as she ran the scanner back over Zura a second time. She took a half step back, sitting on the edge of the chair. Her eyes met Zura's. "So… maybe we should talk for a moment, General."
Zura was still leaning on her elbows. "Go ahead," she said quietly. She'd known this was coming, from the moment she'd summoned Singh to the apartment.
Singh's eyes went to the scanner she held loosely in her lap. "So… I've seen dead people with less damage. Most dead people, actually."
"Perhaps so, Doctor."
"Can you tell me what happened?"
Zura shrugged. The stories had long since grown boring to her. "Eight hundred years of fighting, Doctor. Shot. Stabbed. Blown up. Grabbed by a Horlan harvester. Does it matter?"
"I knew Palani battlefield medicine was good, but—"
"It is. If the casualty is still viable, they get connected to life support. They're kept alive while replacement parts are grown from their DNA on file. They're put back together, given a weapon, and sent back out. During the first Horlan war, we got very good at it."
Singh was looking at her screen again. "Lungs… liver…digestive system…" The doctor nodded silently to herself. She shut off the scanner and leaned back in the chair, against Zura's folded uniform coat. "So… how do you feel?"
"My knee hurts." Zura had a feeling she didn't understand the question.
Singh gave a little shake of her head. "Sorry. Not what I meant. I meant emotionally. Spiritually. How do you feel?"
Zura stared at the doctor's deep brown eyes. She couldn't remember ever being asked that before. There hadn't been a lot to feel, not since she was eight years old. Not since the slavers had come to Tal Minda. "I don't."
"You make it sound like the rumours are true."
"They probably are, Doctor. Which rumours?"
Singh reached over and put the scanner on the bedside table. "Well," she began. She looked like she was thinking about her words, choosing them carefully. "Some people say you're merciless. They say you've killed millions of your own people, to say nothing of other races."
"They're right. And they don't understand."
"I might. Try me."
"Nsal 'neth," breathed Zura. She looked up at the ceiling, with its bright lights shining in her eyes. Wasn't this how humans did 'therapy'? With the patient on a bed, talking about their feelings?
The Divines knew she'd had time to think about it. Centuries to replay the events in her head, to re-evaluate her choices and the results. It always came back to the same thing. As the humans would say, 'what's done is done'. "Doctor, you were in the military. You remember what you were taught. They taught you to follow doctrine and procedure. They taught you to follow orders and complete your mission. They taught you to do the right thing. That's what guides a soldier." Zura looked over at Singh. "Correct?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
"What they don't teach you, Doctor, is about the day when all that isn't enough. The day when it's not enough to do what's right. The day you have to do what's necessary, even when you know it's not right." She pointed a finger at the doctor. "That's the moment that defines a soldier. That's the day that stays with you, the day you're judged by. Forever."
"So the plague—?"
"Yes, Doctor. The plague. It ended the first Horlan war. It appeared in a single day, with outbreaks on every Horlan planet and four of ours; everyone who caught it died within hours. My squadron was on station at Velhana, one of the Palani home worlds. Outbreaks were reported on the surface, and twenty billion people panicked. People crowded into everything that flew, and tried to leave the planet. Countless ships took off, headed to a hundred different worlds. If anyone on board any of those ships was infected, they would spread it to whatever planet they reached. They had to be stopped, but they were scared. They wouldn't stop."
"You shot them down."
"Yes, Doctor. I ordered my ships to shoot them down. We shot down hundreds of ships crowded with terrified people. Blew them out of the sky. Then we destroyed all powered-up ships on the ground, and cratered all planetary starports. There were explosions, stampedes, and mass suicides. Over two million people died. But, as it turned out, there was no plague on Velhana. The outbreak reports had been inaccurate."
"Jesus," breathed Singh, shaking her head. "So, you did what needed to be done, based on the information you had."
Zura watched Singh's face. The doctor hadn't looked away, not even as she'd felt herself becoming angry. Angry at the injustice of it. Angry at the stupidity of it. Anger, still there despite the centuries. "So. Maybe you do understand."
Singh nodded. "I can try to understand, General. My captain on Borealis, he faced difficult challenges too. Forced to make big decisions on incomplete information."
"You don't want people to know you were were on Borealis, do you? You don't want to be famous."
"Yeah," said Singh. "So I guess we've each shared secrets."
"I suppose so, Doctor."
Singh's warm smile reappeared. She gestured at Zura's bare legs on the bed. "I believe I can help you with your knee, General."
Zura didn't see how. It was a replacement limb, grown in haste and imperfectly formed. Two dozen surgeons hadn't been able to correct it. When they'd asked, she'd always lied and insisted it was better; medical retirement awaited her if she'd said otherwise. "Go on."
Singh picked up the scanner from the bedside table; the display sprung to life in her hand. "The problem is your Lesser ACL."
"I'm aware of that, Doctor."
"Humans don't have one."
Zura looked sideways at the doctor. Singh's face was lit by the glow of her scanner's display. "Pardon?"
"Your lesser anterior cruciate ligament, General. Human knees are almost exactly the same, but we don't have a Lesser ACL."
"I fail to see the relevance."
Singh looked up at her over the top of her scanner. "We don't have one, General. We get by just fine without a Lesser ACL. Your surgeons have been trying to fix it. Maybe you don't need it at all."
"Don't need it?"
"Yeah. I can cut it, maybe attach the ends to the main ACL. I'd have to do more research. You'd be hobbling around for a week or two. I could do it this week, if you want."
"A week or two? No, Doctor."
Singh raised an eyebrow. "No? But why…" She stopped herself, her eyes narrowing. "You know, General, my old captain and I, we had this thing we did. We used to communicate without actually saying things, you know? So let me try this again." She paused, giving Zura a meaningful look. "I could do this for you this week, and you'd be hobbling around for a week or two after that."
"I understand," said Zura. This captain of Singh's sounded a bit like Upara. "And I'm saying that, right now, I can't be 'hobbling around'. For the next week or two, I need to be ready for anything."
"I see," said Singh, bending down to reach into her case. She produced a medicine injector. "So, perhaps I should also be ready for anything."
"That is always wise."
"Ah." Singh stood up, leaning over the bed. "This," she said, waving the injector, "is Hexamapitol. Zap your knee with this every morning. It'll totally numb the leg."
; "I understand, Doctor."
Singh shook her head. "No, General. It'll totally numb the leg. If your leg is literally on fire, you won't feel it."
Zura nodded. "I see. Now I understand."
"Good," said Singh. She pressed the injector against Zura's knee. A spike of pain fired up her leg at the injector's touch, that faded slowly away to nothingness. "Also," she said, "prolonged use causes serious nerve damage. But you should be good for a couple weeks. I'll fix the nerve damage later." Singh stood up straight. "There you go," she said, handing Zura the injector.
"Is that it?"
The doctor picked up her case, dropping the scanner and the datapad in the top before closing it. "That's it, General. And now, perhaps we understand each other a little better."
"I suppose so."
Singh opened the bedroom door, pausing in the doorway. "You're doing what you think needs to be done, General." She smiled. "That doesn't make you a monster. I think there's a good person somewhere in there."
Zura wasn't sure what to say to that. "Only some parts, Doctor. And you needed a scanner to find them."
Standing at the doorway, Singh's warm smile had turned mischievous. "See you around, General."
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The holographic image of Four-Thirteen leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap. "I regret, Mahasa, that we have still been unable to trace the source of money."
"So," said Zura, her elbows on the desk. "You still don't know who paid for the ship that brought the new colonists out here."
"No, Mahasa. The web of corporate accounts is more complex than anticipated."
"Does that not seem suspicious, Four-Thirteen?"
Zura thought she saw a flash of irritation in Four-Thirteen's eyes. With his veil on, it was sometimes hard to read him. "With respect, Mahasa, of course we find it suspicious. People doing charitable deeds don't often make so much effort to remain anonymous. Especially not humans."
