“How long until we’re back in range of a government communications hub?” I asked. That would enable much faster communication, fast enough to have an actual conversation.
“If we stay on course, not for another week,” said Raquel.
“Purwryn, it’s your call,” I said.
“I think we should wake him.” He moved beside Marcus’ bed. “He stayed by my side all that time I spent in the hospital.”
Raquel and I were quiet while she set the computer to gradually bring Marcus out of his medically-induced coma. His heart rate, breathing and brain activity slowly increased as the drugs were filtered out of his blood. He looked far better than the first day I had seen him. His wounds were well on their way to being healed. He had a more natural color, and his chest rose and fell in a slow but steady rhythm.
“Purwryn?” came a weak voice.
“I’m here,” replied Purwryn.
Marcus blinked his eyes and slowly looked around. “I guess it’s my turn in bed.”
“Yeah. You gave us quite a scare,” said Purwryn.
“Us? Where am I?” he asked.
“You’re on the Resden cruiser you stole, but we’re hard-linked to the Night Wisp,” said Purwryn.
“Night Wisp? Then we found them?” he queried.
“Yes, we’re safe, for now.”
Marcus tried to sit up but needed Purwryn’s help. He looked at me and said, “You must be Zah’rak.”
I smiled. “Yes, I do stick out ever so slightly.” Gesturing towards Raquel, I said, “This is Raquel, who’s been your doctor throughout your treatment.”
“Well, thank you,” he said. His voice was now surprisingly strong and clear, and his eyes darted everywhere as if looking for something. Was he searching the room for threats or just trying to take things in? It was impossible to tell, but I suspected a little of both.
“I’m not much of a doctor, and I have no real experience with Cyborg implants,” she said. “Once you have your strength back you’ll want to check them all for yourself.”
He leaned back against the pillow that Purwryn had placed for him. “So my secret is out.”
“It was hard to hide, since maybe half of your flesh was gone,” said Purwryn.
“What’s to happen to me?” he asked.
That seemed like an odd question, but I tried to answer it. “Happen? Well, I assume you’ll continue to heal - ”
“No,” interrupted Purwryn. “He’s referring to the implants. I’m fairly certain they’re illegal out here.”
“Illegal? Out here?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” said Marcus. “Phareon passed a law saying all current Cyborg implants must be registered, whether they belong to someone living in Phareon space or merely passing through it. They also outlawed any future usage of them.”
“When?” I asked.
“A few years ago now, I guess,” he said. “I’m not sure of the date. I only found out recently when I was looking for parts for repair and almost fell into a sting operation.”
“So I guess you never registered, and any Phareon citizen who finds out has to turn you in?” I said.
“That’s the gist of it,” said Purwryn. “At which point they’ll take him in and remove all the implants that can be removed, leaving him a cripple. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d serve jail time for failing to register. If a citizen doesn’t turn him in and is caught hiding him, he’d also face jail and fines.”
“Raquel, I assume the Wizard Kingdom has no such law?” I sent.
“Of course not,” she sent back, evidently surprised that I even needed to ask.
“It’s okay. I can’t ask you all to risk prison on my behalf,” said Marcus.
I chuckled. “Well, you’re in luck.”
“How so?” he asked.
“We’re not Phareon citizens,” I said.
“You neglected to mention that,” Marcus said accusingly to Purwryn.
Purwryn grinned. “Well, honestly, even if we were, it wouldn’t matter. None of us would turn you in.”
That was true. None of us was exactly the kind to blindly adhere to the rules. I was sure that not even Ragnar, who cared more about doing the right thing than any of us, would follow the law in this case. No, the Night Wisp was safe harbor, even for those on the run.
“Thanks,” he said. “Doctor, most of my implants are reporting minimal functionality. I doubt I could manage to sit up fully, never mind get out of bed.”
“What can we do?” asked Raquel.
“I don’t know. This has never happened before,” he said.
“Maybe they just need time, like any other body part? Or exercise?” I asked.
“No; they’re not reporting any errors, just minimal functionality,” he said.
I punched the button on the comm. “Crivreen, how long would it take if we altered route and headed to Hospital Station at full speed?”
“Over two months,” he said.
I cursed and started pacing. There had to be another answer. “Any other ideas?”
“There really are none. All we can do is send an updated report and wait for their reply,” said Purwryn. “We don’t have any other options.”
“Purwryn, you’re a robotics whiz: can’t you figure it out?” I asked.
“This is quite different,” he protested.
“Is it really?” asked Raquel. “Look, it will take at least three or four days to get a message to the hospital over CivNet, and three or four days for a reply. That gives you plenty of time to study the situation and see what you can figure out.”
Purwryn looked at Marcus, who was weaker than he’d let on and had drifted off to sleep. “Well, it can’t hurt to investigate, at least. Maybe I’ll get lucky and stumble on the answer.”
Raquel and I left them alone in sick bay and climbed back on board the Night Wisp. Crivreen had rigged the two craft into a semi-permanent docking arrangement. Each of their onboard computers used their thrusters to keep both ships at zero relative to each other as we made our way to the next stop. Mooring cables connected both ships just in case the computers failed to calculate everything correctly, but it wouldn’t be good if anyone was in the gangway between them when that happened. It was a dangerous arrangement, as there was nothing stopping the ships from crashing into each other other than a simple computer program managing their thrusters.
“Seems like a stupid law,” I said.
Raquel nodded. “Cyborgs have become very active out here. Someone is uniting them and they’re making an attempt to take over. That’s one of the reasons communications are continuing to degrade here. Not only is Phareon too poor to build an adequate network, the Cyborgs and others have been destroying the jump space repeaters.”
“So they are countering the threat by alienating their own people?” I asked.
“Phareon is running out of time. They have more enemies than they can possibly handle. Resden and Phineary have already taken over large regions of Phareon space, and others are vying for what’s left,” she said.
“Okay, so then their plan is to make more enemies?” I asked, trying to follow her reasoning. Political wrangling of governments had never made any sense to me. Narcion had been an expert at using their fights to his own advantage and had tried to teach me, but even he failed. I guess some things were simply beyond me.
She shook her head and said, “No. The Cyborg nation, or tribe, or whatever they are called is aggressively seeking to wipe out all life forms which they consider inferior. They’re already everyone’s enemy.”
“What does that have to do with Marcus?” I asked.
“The Phareon government assumes that all people who have chosen to have cyber-genetic enhancements are either part of the great Cyborg collective or soon will be,” she said.
“That seems awfully naïve,” I said.
“‘Naïve’ is a nicer word than I would have chosen,” she said. There was a bite i
n her voice when she spoke. It was easy to forget that she was one of the most powerful magi within a thousand light centuries, but there were times when a hint came through and that would turn a warrior’s blood to ice.
“We’ll help him get better and hide what he is while he’s with us; then what?” I asked.
“I don’t know. That’ll be up to him. I’m sure he can become a citizen of the Wizard Kingdom with my assistance, and our laws would then protect him. But that would have to be his choice,” she said.
“I thought the Phareon law said it applied to anyone passing through?” I asked.
She smiled at that. “Oh, it does; but they won’t dare challenge us so soon after we showed them that we can deploy forces out here very quickly.”
“Would the Wizard Kingdom really do that for just one person?” I asked.
“Yes. Even if Grandmaster Vydor himself had to come out here, they would.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t imagine that. No one had ever done anything like that for me. I couldn’t imagine how they could achieve it; we were so far apart, and even they must have limits to their powers.
“Yes, they’re good people to the core. In many cases I find them hard to understand, but in this one I’m fully in their camp.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Nothing is more important than standing with your people. If any one of us is in trouble, all of us are,” she said.
“Was that how it was ten thousand years ago?” I asked.
“Absolutely, and it’s the same in Korshalemia and in every other realm I’ve visited. There’s something special about being a wizard, even compared to being a magus.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dr. Hawthorne came into my office and said, “Dr. Leslie, we’ve received a high-priority coded secure message.”
This doctor was a kind, older gentleman who was always a pleasure to work with. His silver hair indicated wisdom, and the lines in his face spoke of a life of laughter. Before Grandmaster Vydor had officially made Hospital Station a wizard stronghold, he had run it and handled all the politics to keep it functioning and safe. When I’d been appointed he was more than happy to let me deal with the politics, but I still leaned heavily on his experience. “From whom?” I asked.
“A Master Raquel. It’s coming over the civilian network, from deep space. Timestamp places it at four days old.”
I hated that we didn’t have solid communications out here. We were too far away from any population centers to have access to jump space repeaters, which meant all messages had to be relayed down the trade routes via local merchant vessels. “CivNet” is what the locals called it. More like ‘sieve net’, I thought to myself.
“What does it say?” I asked.
“It’s the complete medical history of a patient. They’re looking for advice. They used some of Master Shea’s potions to pull the patient back from the edge of death, but they don’t know what to do next.”
“Put the records up on the screen, please,” I said.
Once they were up, I saw that they’d sent reports of both the patient’s original condition and his post-operative state. There was a wealth of data, far beyond what I would have expected. “Impressive work for people who claim to have no doctor aboard.”
“Yes, it is,” said Dr. Hawthorne.
“What’s your opinion?” I asked.
“Well, they’ve done well and I think by now the patient is probably awake, but he’s going to be in trouble,” he replied.
“All his vital signs look good, but I have to agree. These status messages from his implants are troubling,” I said.
“Yes. Assuming he’s awake now, his implants have probably gone into cripple mode, leaving him helpless in bed,” said Dr. Hawthorne.
“If we were there, we could easily reset them, but we’re not. What options do we have?”
“We could reply, and in four days they’ll have the information they need. As long as they wait for a reply, it won’t cause any permanent harm for him to stay as he is,” he said.
“If they wait. This report already shows they’re willing to take chances with their minimal skills.”
“The only other option would be to charter a large fleet which can travel that distance quickly, but I suspect that would take just as long if not longer to accomplish,” he said.
I looked over the records again. They seemed to have some medical knowledge on their team, regardless of their claims of ignorance, and presumably understood the time delay in communications. Master Raquel had encoded the message in such a way that it would reach our level, so she must at least have been in control of his medical care, and judging by my brief encounter with her, she seemed to have a level head on her shoulders. There really were no other options. We just had to trust that she would keep things as they stood until our message reached them.
“Then gather up all the information we have that could be pertinent to the case, including several ‘what if’ scenarios, and let’s get them sent as fast as we can. We’ll just have to trust that they’ll wait for us.”
“What about that gate device we have?” he asked.
“Gates need exit points. If they happen to be flying around with a gate on board their ship we could link them.”
“I suppose that’s unlikely?” he asked.
“As far as I know, no one has ever attempted to put a gate on a spacecraft,” I said.
“It would be useful. We could put several gates on several ships and send them to key locations where they could be dispatched quickly in the event of a disaster.”
“Perhaps someday it might happen. But even if they had a gate, that wouldn’t help in this situation because we’d still have to communicate via normal means to arrange for the gate to be ready on both sides at the same time,” I said.
Shortly afterwards he left to prepare the report to send to Master Raquel. I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. It still felt good to have my hair back, and I doubted I’d ever take it for granted again. I still had nightmares in which Master Shadow had never rescued me and I was still a helpless, bald slave. There was no way that would happen again; I’d die fighting first.
An incoming secure message broke the silence in the room and the Resden ambassador’s face appeared on my comm. “Hello, Doctor!” His voice had a sickeningly sweet, cheery tone to it, matching his face which was obviously medically enhanced and looked very fake. He should have presented a friendly appearance, but all I could see was the plastic face of a store mannequin.
“Hello, Ambassador. What can I do for you?” I asked.
“Right down to business, then?” he replied.
“Yes, I’m a busy woman. Now, what do you need?” He usually tried to flirt with me if I gave him any opening at all. I wasn’t sure if it was genuine interest or just a political ploy, but either way I didn’t care for it.
“Well, I can understand that, for sure! I just have a small request for you, unworthy of your brilliant mind. I’m looking for any information you might have on a ship named the Night Wisp.”
“Oh? And why would you expect that I’d have any?” I asked.
He continued to grin, showing his teeth which were much too perfect. I thought that whichever doctor had fixed up his face should be fired; even his teeth looked fake.
“They have been reported at Hospital Station recently. I’m sorry to bother you with such a small request, but they’re assisting a dangerous criminal to escape and we want to help them before they get hurt,” he said.
“I see.” Yeah, right, I thought to myself.
“So just transmit any data you have. No need to sort it or anything; we’ll handle all that so you can get back to your work,” he said.
“I’m not even going to check to see if we have any information,” I said.
“Oh? Why not?” he asked. His smile wavered very briefly, but quickly returned, along with the assumed charm that went with his fake co
ncern.
“Doctor-Patient confidentiality. If they were here recently, as you say, then they’re patients of ours and we’re duty-bound not to release any information,” I replied.
He hesitated before responding. “Now, you know I have the utmost respect for your fine institution, but – ”
“But nothing,” I interrupted. “If the Night Wisp were your ship, you’d expect us to keep your visit private. That’s how we’ve operated for decades, and nothing has changed.”
“I see,” he said. He was taken aback by my implacability, but I had no desire to play games with him.
“Good. Then, unless you have a request that I can actually fulfill, I have work to do,” I said.
“Perhaps we can talk about this another time, then? Maybe over dinner?” he asked.
There he went again. “No, thank you,” I said as firmly as I could manage. “Good day, Ambassador.”
I disconnected the line and paged Dr. Hawthorne to return to my office. I got up and took a drink, trying to wash down the bile that the ambassador always brought up in my throat. I wished my job would let me pour one of my exploding potions down his throat and then kick him hard in the stomach.
When the doctor came in he asked, “What can I do for you?”
“What was the name of that ship that has the Cyborg aboard?” I asked.
“The Night Wisp. They’ve been here a couple of times. Very generous donors,” he said.
“I should’ve guessed,” I said and slumped down in my seat.
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Isn’t there always? Resden just called asking about them, describing them as harboring a dangerous criminal.”
“What did you tell them?” he asked.
“That slimeball? Nothing, of course.”
“Let me guess, he asked you to dinner again?” he asked. I knew he found the whole thing a bit humorous. I suppose it was in a way, but that didn’t make it any more enjoyable.
“Yeah. We’d better warn the Night Wisp of what we know. I’ll send you a briefing to include with your transmission.”
“I’d suggest that we stay out of this,” he said. He had made a career from staying out of other people’s fights, and had done well. He’d had to, in order to survive the decades since the fall of the Empire. Dr. Hawthorne had been defenseless until Grandmaster Vydor came out and claimed the station.
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