by Gun Brooke
“Ah, yes. All in good time, Dr. Meyer,” he said, looking questioningly at his administrator.
“God, this place is like a farce.” Gemma pinched the bridge of her nose. “You realize that I have the protector’s mandate to change anything I don’t agree with, right?”
“Certainly,” the chief said cordially. “We’ll make the protector and the little prince proud.” Spouting platitudes was evidently what this man did best.
Gemma turned to the administrator. “Now listen. Don’t bother with the computers. Use pens and paper if need be, but start treating the patients. This is an order relayed through me by the protector herself. Do I make myself clear?” She clenched her fists so hard her blunt nails pressed painfully into her palms. Willing herself to relax her fingers, Gemma saw color leave the administrator’s face, turning her chalky white.
“The protector? You speak for the protector personally?”
“I do.”
“Sir,” O’Eso said hurriedly, “we need to simplify and speed up the registration process and begin seeing patients. By decree of the protector.”
“Forgo our routines?” The chief, who Gemma now knew had to be replaced as soon as possible, frowned. “I’m not sure, what if—”
Ciel joined them, her face serious. “People might be dying on your doorstep. You need to command your staff to start doing their job.”
“Medical transport units are on their way, but it will take them a couple of hours.” Gemma pulled her backpack off. “I suggest we start triaging. Are your wards operational?” she asked O’Eso.
“Two wards of five, Doctor.”
“What about the other three?”
“They have beds, but that’s about it.”
“Then send in staff, anybody, to get the beds ready. I don’t care if the rest of the equipment is up and running.” Gemma looked around. “I see at least five senior citizens who should be lying down instead of sitting propped up here. I can’t imagine how the ones outside are faring in the heat.”
“I’ve already begun organizing the healthy individuals out there to help move the most sensitive cases into the shade. I estimate there are at least four hundred adults and twice as many children.” Ciel pointed toward the entrance.
Gemma’s jaws tightened. “Children. I read the reports, but it still is unfathomable that the Onotharians placed children in camps.”
Ciel’s eyes, like deep oceanic ice, narrowed. “A perfect way of maintaining crowd control behind the fences. Get caught doing something against the rules, the children paid the price. Very efficient. Once in a while they made an example of someone’s child just to make sure we didn’t forget.”
We. A chilling sensation chased along Gemma’s back. It certainly sounded like Ciel had firsthand knowledge of the camps. Thinking back at the dossier Jacelon had provided on Ciel, she realized that she’d merely browsed the first half before nodding off. Clearly there was something she needed to check later.
“I know you’re weary of my type of medicine, but I’m going to put those chopped-down singuisa bushes to good use. These people are no doubt suffering from all kinds of infections, not to mention dehydration.”
Gemma would have balked at the idea of offering some voodoo tea to patients when the perfect rehydration fluids could be administered instantly via imbulizers and short-term infuzers. But since the clinic wasn’t fully operational to receive casualties, and certainly not this many, she had to grudgingly concede that it was a good compromise. “Fine.” She used her communicator and summoned the marines she hadn’t wanted to bring with her to the clinic. She could hear the sergeant’s slight exasperation but let it slide for now.
“Bring my subspace communicator from the hovercraft. Meyer out.” Gemma stepped outside where she saw Ciel and some of the refugees heading over to the uprooted singuisa bushes. She heard moans and silent crying, but also children’s laughter, and the contrast somehow gave her a feeling that this was just the beginning. Normally she paid no attention to any foreboding. The thought of a woman of science such as herself even considering such nonsense made her turn on her heels and walk inside. There was work to be done and she was not about to let a druid, no matter how charismatic, influence her into adopting that way of thinking.
The shrill voice of a woman in one of the examination areas broke her out of her reverie. “No. No! Ilias!”
Gemma began to run.
Chapter Three
Gemma rushed into the examination room. She barely registered Tammas sitting slumped on the floor, overcome by deep, heaving sobs. On the examination table, Ilias’s little body lay pale as several medical professionals hovered around him.
“What’s wrong with him? Is this my fault?” Tammas whimpered.
“What happened?” Gemma pulled out her medical scanner and ran it over the still boy. “He needs a life-support unit. His circulation is shutting down. Move, people.”
“We…they’ve not been unpacked yet, ma’am.” One of the nurses looked up, her eyes huge.
“Oh, for stars and skies,” Gemma said with a growl. She pushed the closest people aside, bent over the baby, and placed her mouth over his nose and mouth, blowing in two gentle puffs of air, mindful of his tiny lungs. “Who knows how to do compressions by hand on an infant?” she barked as she began the procedure with three fingers.
“I do,” a calm voice said from behind. Ciel stepped up to the table and took over the compression.
Gemma was grateful to have someone calm and collected around as the staff was running around trying to figure out where they’d stored the crates with the pediatric equipment. After a few minutes, Gemma ran her scanner again. “I have a faint pulse, but so far he’s not breathing on his own.”
A wail from the floor brought her attention to Tammas, who had nearly dissolved in tears. “Can someone assist the boy’s mother?” Gemma said out loud. “She doesn’t have to sit on the floor and she shouldn’t see this.” In the corner of her eyes she watched one of the male nurses pick up the crying woman from the floor and carry her out of the room.
Suddenly Ilias coughed weakly and soon he gave a faint cry, not unlike the continued wails of his mother from the other side of the wall.
“Here. We have the pediatric crates—he’s breathing?” Another nurse stared at the child and then at Gemma. “That’s amazing.”
“Basic CPR,” Gemma said, not impressed. “Don’t they teach you this at nursing school on Gantharat?”
“Nursing school?” The nurse blinked. “I haven’t gone to school for this. In my family we learn from the older generations. We have no special courses for nursing.”
“Oh, Gods, that’s insane.” Gemma shook her head. “Well, come over here and I’ll show you how to put the baby on the ventilator. He’s breathing, but he’s not strong enough to sustain it for longer periods until his blood volume and dehydration are dealt with.” Gemma pulled out a brand-new pediatric ventilator and placed it around the child’s chest, neck, and scalp. “I assume you weighed and measured him as part of your routine?” she asked.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” The nurse looked relieved to have done something right.
Gemma showed the young woman how she should calculate the settings and punch commands into the computer console to set the ventilator to fit Ilias. She had her repeat the procedure, and to her surprise, the nurse did it flawlessly.
“Good job. Now, assign someone to monitor him the first hour. If he’s stable after that, you can look in on him once every fifteen minutes.”
“Yes, Doctor.” The young nurse nodded and Gemma cringed at the awestruck look in her eyes. She wasn’t unaccustomed to admiring looks and words from younger medical professionals since she enjoyed a certain fame within the SC border. It was still rather embarrassing, though, since placing a baby on a ventilator was something everyone learned within the first year as a medical student.
“Let’s go find Tammas,” Ciel said, placing a hand on the small of Gemma’s back. “She needs to kn
ow we have Ilias’s condition under control.”
“How did you make it back so fast?” Gemma asked as they walked toward the smaller waiting area just outside. “I just saw you going off to the uprooted plants with an axe and with some of the refugees.”
“I told them what I needed from the plants and put them to work.” Ciel shook her head. “In this case, it makes so much difference for Ilias that we have things like ventilators. Had I seen him a few days ago, my herbs could have been enough, but he was too far gone. His lungs are inflamed, most likely.”
“How did you know?” Gemma hadn’t told anyone yet what her scanner had recorded.
“His pallor, his scent, and the general symptoms.” Ciel sat down next to Tammas and took her hand. “Ilias is alive and we put him on a ventilator to conserve his energy. He needs fluids, perhaps some synthetic blood, and most of all rest.”
“He’s…he’s breathing?” Tammas looked up at Gemma and then back at Ciel, crystal-clear blue tears streaming down her face. “I thought he’d died.”
“It was close. He’ll need supervision for a long time. Right now he needs his mother close too. We’ll arrange for a cot and a chair next to his bed. You need to get checked out too eventually.”
“Not necessary. I’m fine.” Tammas contradicted herself by nearly falling as she stood. Gemma and Ciel supported her as they walked her back into the room. The sight of her child all but covered by SC technology was nearly too much for Tammas. “Oh, no. He looks so small, so fragile with that thing on him.”
“That thing is helping him breathe and saturates his blood.” Gemma patted Tammas’s hand. “Now, sit here on this chair and we’ll have some of the staff bring you a cot.”
“I’ll be here with you and your baby for now,” the young nurse said reassuringly. “You can hold his hand, if you like. He will feel your presence and it will help him recover.”
“I’d like that.” Tammas climbed onto the tall stool next to the bed. She carefully took his hand. “Thank you,” she said, without looking at them.
“You’re welcome.” Gemma nudged Ciel and motioned toward the corridor. “We have more work to do.”
“And I’ll go find where my assistants have put the bushes. They were going to start a fire outside.”
“A fire?” Gemma frowned. “Whatever for?”
“A woman from town had one of the huge pots I need.”
“Gods, are we back in the Stone Age? We have the hospital kitchen and a large laboratory if you need to brew something.” She glared impatiently at the serenely smiling Ciel.
“No, that won’t do. The amount we need for this many people requires a much bigger burner than any modern kitchen, or lab, can provide.”
“You’re kidding.” Gemma exhaled impatiently. Did Ciel have to make everything so difficult just to prove a point? She shook her head in dismay and hurried toward the triage area. She was relieved to see the marines, all of them with medical backgrounds as well, per her request, helping the Gantharian physicians organize it.
“Dr. Meyer, ma’am.” Her sergeant approached her. “We need you over here. Male, 102, dehydrated and with multiple health issues…” He continued to describe the man’s condition as they walked over to a makeshift trauma and emergency center. Gemma looked over her shoulder before she began examining the emaciated man on the gurney. Ciel was over to the side, and next to her two men were erecting some sort of rack. Movement farther to the right made her mouth fall open. That had to be the biggest cast-iron pot she’d ever seen. She had to grudgingly concede that they couldn’t possibly have handled that in the kitchen or the lab, simply because they wouldn’t have been able to get it through the door.
Gemma turned around and gazed down at her patient. He met her eyes and spoke the language of his home world in a very faint voice.
“If you are the last person my eyes see, your beauty will be my bliss on my way to the Gods of Gantharat.”
“As lovely as that compliment is, sir, I would like to think I’m able to help you feel much better.” Gemma smiled reassuringly.
“You are a doctor,” the man said, his voice reverent.
“Yes, I am, and we’re going to take good care of you.” Gemma ran her scanner over his weak body. “And our first action will be more fluids.” Turning to the nurse next to her, Gemma began issuing orders.
*
Ciel pushed the errant strands of her hair out of her face. The sun was relentless and she had worked for nine hours without interruption. Now she was about to oversee the last brew of the day. She pushed a mug into the boiling water and scooped up a sample. Tasting it was the only way for her to judge its medicinal qualities.
“How does it taste, really?” Gemma stood at her side suddenly, looking pale and exhausted. Ciel hadn’t seen her take a break either.
Ciel tasted the brew. Perfect. “Here,” she said, holding out the mug to Gemma. “Careful. It’s boiling hot.”
Gemma carefully sipped from the opposite edge of the mug. Closing her eyes, she sighed. “Oh, that’s actually very nice. Sweet, sort of.”
“Yes. And you look like you need it too. It’s no wonder, the way you’ve gone from one patient to another today.”
“I’ve only carried out my duty like I always do. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Normally, though, you don’t work in such primitive circumstances under the blazing sun. Not to mention that backup only arrived less than two hours ago. What the hell happened to delay those transports?”
“Some of the Gantharian council members in the interim government are trying to be mindful of costs. I had to get back to my headquarters twice and remind them that people would start dying in great numbers if they didn’t get here soon. I finally got hold of the protector. She made sure my orders went through instantly.” Gemma sipped the brew. “Mmm. I wonder what the active ingredient is. It rejuvenates almost instantly.” She drank some more and then rubbed her temples. “I think we have the situation under control. Evacuation has been going on for the last two hours, and the Security Council has deployed officers to interview and document the refugees’ stories.”
“Stories.” Ciel sounded cold. “That makes it sound as if you think they exaggerate what they’ve been through.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth.” Clearly angry now, Gemma pushed the mug into Ciel’s hands. “I made no such statement, nor would I ever presume so. Just because you’re highly suspicious of everything I stand for—”
“I am not!” Ciel raised her voice, something she rarely did. When you’d spent the last twenty-five years working in stealth mode, you learned how to keep your voice, and your head, down. Now she was far too angry to do either. “I know how much these camp stories are being regarded as exaggerations. As if the atrocities never occurred, and if they did, they were exceptions.”
Gemma opened her mouth but closed it again, her eyes suddenly darker and her lips softer. “Is that what you’ve been told? That you exaggerated?”
Ciel grew rigid, her shoulders nearly creaking as she squared them. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Gemma rubbed the back of her neck. “Listen, I used the word ‘stories’ as in ‘their history,’ not as anything they would fabricate. Do you understand?”
Ciel’s heart rate began to slow and she relaxed marginally. “H’rea dea’savh, I usually handle it better than this. I apologize.” She grimaced, uncomfortable. “You’re right. Of course. Their history will need to be recorded and archived with their personal data. Some of them have been in different camps for more than twenty years. That’s a damn long time.”
“It is.” Gemma motioned toward the area where their escort had set up their new camp. Since it was no longer practical to keep the hovercraft on the outskirts of the town, they, and the backup that kept arriving, had made camp on a field behind the clinic. “We need to get some sleep, don’t you agree?”
Ciel wasn’t ready to leave but realized that nothing would be gained fr
om wearing herself out. She had spent so many years working herself into a pulp; it was a way of life. No more of that, she decided. “Yes. I’ll just make sure this batch is poured into containers the right way. Why don’t you go ahead? If you want, you can heat some of the soup for us?”
“Oh, sure. I like your soup,” Gemma said, smiling cautiously. “It actually is almost as rejuvenating as that brew you just made.”
“Big words coming from you,” Ciel said, smiling to show she was partly teasing. “I’ll be there in a little bit.”
Gemma nodded and began walking toward their hovercraft.
Ciel made sure the soldiers and townspeople in charge of the brew knew how to store it, then began to make her way back to the hovercraft. Part of the path to the field wasn’t very well lit, and a sudden sound to her right made her stumble. She gasped as something sharp dug into her thigh. The searing pain made her swing her handheld light source around. At first, she saw nothing out of the ordinary to explain the unexpected sound, but as she moved her arm again, a tall bird rose from the bushes and took off. Ciel half laughed, half gasped, relieved it wasn’t something more sinister.
But then her thigh began to burn with an all-too-familiar searing pain. She trembled as she carefully put one foot before the other, slowly walking while tears formed in her eyes. “Oh, wonderful,” she muttered. “Just great.” She was in so much trouble, but hopefully she could get close enough to camp to attract someone’s attention. If she fell here, out of sight of Gemma and her soldiers, and nobody found her in time, that would be the end of her.
Chapter Four
Gemma had just begun to undress to hit the cleansing tube when someone pounded on the door.
“Dr. Meyer, ma’am!” A young male voice sounded frantic. “You have to come!”
Gemma pulled her jacket back on and hurried to the door. She grabbed her medical kit on her way. Opening it, she found a young private standing there, out of breath. “What’s going on?”
