Immersed: Interplanetary League, Book 2

by Liz Craven

  Slapping away the doctor’s hands, Ilexa powered on the display. She let her nimble fingers fly across the screen, calling up current information and comparing it to the earlier data. She breathed a deep sigh. Tafari appeared to be recovering well. She wouldn’t completely relax until she could assess him with her skills, but seeing the medical display helped.

  “Perhaps now you will allow me the courtesy of treating my patient,” the grizzled doctor snapped.

  Ilexa had spent too much time around physicians to be intimidated. “Where is Tafari?”

  It was Thane who answered, raising his voice above the doctor’s angry mutterings. “We moved him to a private room when he regained consciousness. We cleared it with Marlus first.”

  Ilexa swallowed the unladylike curse that rose. Marlus would throttle her over this. She nodded with effort and let the doctor coax her into a supine position.

  She felt the indignity traditional medicine brought a patient and wished for the consideration of a healer. To distract herself from the way the doctor treated her like an object rather than a person, she asked, “Have I remained unconscious the past four days or was I in and out?”

  “How did you know it was four days?” Thane asked.

  “It’s how long you’ve been monitoring Tafari. Ninety-six hours and some change.”

  “You haven’t regained consciousness before now,” the shaggy blond said. “We kept Tafari in the bed next to you until a little while ago. Your vitals tracked identically to his. Pulse, respiration, blood pressure. You’ve completely confounded our medical experts.”

  The young man gave her a smile and a wink, and she found herself smiling back. She’d worked with offworld doctors before, all of whom had been snidely skeptical of healers. Some came to appreciate their skills, others refused to credit healers with any talent despite witnessing their work. She gave him a sincere, “Thank you.”

  “I’m Quatres,” he said. “When you are feeling better, I’d like to ask you some questions about your…talents.”

  The slight hesitation amused Ilexa. No doubt the offworlders had no vocabulary for her profession. Of course, here, she was the offworlder.

  “I’d be happy to discuss healing with you.” She knew her smile was becoming watery. The rush of artificial energy began to fade, making her muscles tremble with fatigue.

  Thane stepped forward and glowered at Quatres. “Ilexa requires rest.”

  If she’d had the energy, she’d have rolled her eyes. Gods forbid something should happen to the Damaia’s sister-in-law.

  “Of course,” Quatres replied, unfazed by Thane’s intimidation tactic. “Mistress Ilexa, I’m the medic assigned to your care. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  “Thank you, Quatres. Please call me Ilexa.”

  The medic patted her hand gently, a professional but compassionate touch. “I’d be honored, Ilexa.”

  Her lids began to weigh a ton a piece and she fought the wash of exhaustion.

  The doctor finished his exam with a grunt. “She’s showing signs of physical fatigue. Otherwise, she’s fine.”

  Quatres tapped his fingers on the bed’s display. “The stimulant is almost completely out of her system.”

  “She has a high metabolism,” the doctor mused, his tone more annoyed than explanatory.

  “Did I hear chanting?” she asked, before realizing she might be admitting to auditory hallucinations. Damn it, she cursed silently. She wanted out of this sterilized and emotionless hell. The room she’d been assigned suddenly seemed like a haven of the gods in comparison to the medical ward.

  “Our priests have taken rotating shifts, asking the Deity to return your soul to your physical body.”

  “I forgot,” she murmured, eyes drifting shut.

  She felt Thane lean over her. “Forgot what?”

  “That you only have one god. He must be very lonely,” she heard herself say before floating off into the peaceful darkness of sleep.

  Chapter Four

  “She should recover fully. At least using the medical standards I’m accustomed to following,” Doctor Eiverin said grudgingly.

  “Do we return her to N’yota now or allow her to stay for the term of her IMEP contract?” The Malkia steepled her fingers.

  Thane, Doctor Eiverin and the Malkia sat around the conference table in the Malkia’s office, discussing Ilexa’s health. Thane knew the Malkia’s main concern centered on any political ramifications Ilexa’s near miss would cause with N’yota. The Malkia had to put the good of the tribe—and by extension the good of Dunia—first.

  Thane knew it would be best to return her. In fact, he’d wanted to send her home the moment he’d heard she would be coming.

  Ilexa tied him up in knots. Had since he’d first met her years before. She’d been a child, but a warning premonition had passed over him in a tidal wave of screaming apprehension. He’d gone years without seeing her, and the next time they’d met, she’d been blossoming into a knockout. Too young for a man to pursue, but too mature for him not to admire.

  When he saw her again, she’d become a devastatingly beautiful woman. A radiant beauty with the carefree spirit usually only possessed by the very young. She’d barreled uninvited aboard the Wrath of Aegir to join in the hunt for her lost sister-in-law and somehow managed to join a military expedition without batting an eye. She clearly had savored her first trip offworld. He could close his eyes and see her standing on the promenade of DeKalb station—her silver eyes as wide as moons. Her excitement had been infectious.

  Still, sitting at the conference table, he found he couldn’t voice the words to send her home. Not now. Not after almost losing her. He needed her where he could see her, see that she was well.

  “If we send her home, we break the contract and break faith with her. It is an insult to her and her family.”

  “And if she stays and dies, we risk permanently damaging our relations with N’yota.” The Malkia began tapping the tips of her fingers together.

  “Could we minimize the risks if she stays?” Thane kept his tone neutral. It wouldn’t do to show the Malkia he had a personal stake in the outcome. He had to appear unbiased or she wouldn’t consider his opinion.

  “I’ve spoken to several healers on N’yota and have a better understanding of her skills and how she works. Had I known before, we could have saved Tafari’s arm with traditional medicine bolstered by the healer’s skill. The main thing we have to do is make certain she doesn’t undertake such drastic measures again,” the doctor interjected.

  Somehow, Thane refrained from snorting both at the idea that they could prevent Ilexa from doing anything drastic and at Eiverin’s implication that he understood Ilexa’s gift. Had the doctor not seen the results of Ilexa’s work first hand, he never would have believed it. Even as familiar with N’yota as Thane was, he wouldn’t have believed a healer could accomplish what Ilexa did without seeing it himself.

  The Malkia’s consort sat silently behind her. Rhys always observed, but seldom participated in such meetings. He reserved his opinion and counsel for the Malkia’s ears alone.

  “How can we be certain that Ilexa isn’t putting herself in danger? We have no one who can gauge the risk to her in a given situation.” The Malkia raised a brow at Eiverin.

  “I’ve spoken at length with high healer Marlus to gain a better understanding of Ilexa’s talent. On N’yota, healers generally act as support for physicians. Some aid in diagnostics and others in treatment. Ilexa is one of the rare healers gifted in both.”

  Thane eyed the doctor with suspicion. Doctor Eiverin lectured with the air of an expert, giving the impression of superiority. Yet, the man had relegated N’yotan healers to glorified nurse’s aides, when Thane knew they held more exalted positions than the most elite surgeons on their homeworld.

  Thane wondered what game the man played. Ilexa had shown up the entire Central Alliance medical establishment by healing Tafari. Doctor Eiverin’s inaction would have truncated the Ma
lkia’s male line by allowing her grandson a ritual suicide. Thane had expected that the man’s ego wouldn’t be able to handle Ilexa’s success, and he would try to boot her offworld because of wounded pride.

  “Are you saying you have enough knowledge of Ilexa Dhakir’s gift to limit her participation in situations that would imperil her?”

  “Yes.” Eiverin exuded confidence.

  Thane fought to suppress his laughter. For all she looked like spun-candy, Ilexa had a core of solid iron. Not that he faulted the doctor. Ilexa even had her five brothers convinced by her innocent and demure appearance.

  “The ability to observe her talent in controlled circumstances will not only ensure she’s safe, but will allow us to advance our medical knowledge.”

  The doctor’s surprising willingness to accede to Ilexa’s gift suddenly made sense. Thane’s chair crashed to the floor. He stood, enraged, fists clenched. “Ilexa Dhakir is no experiment for you to expand your medical knowledge,” he thundered.

  The Malkia stared at him with that implacable and indefinable gaze. Doctor Eiverin looked shocked at the outburst and if Thane wasn’t mistaken, Rhys appeared amused. He hastened to explain himself. “My blood brother’s sister is a member of the Hakimu tribe. She is not a lab rat.”

  Thane realized his explanation sounded like a threat when Doctor Eiverin flinched and shrank back into his chair.

  The Malkia lifted a hand. Thane bristled, but paused in his tirade.

  “No one is treating Ilexa Dhakir with anything less than honor.” The Malkia’s statement served both as reassurance and warning.

  Thane righted his chair, angry at himself for the outburst. What better way to appear neutral than to come a hair’s breadth from challenging Doctor Eiverin?

  The doctor cleared his throat. “I will afford the healer the respect due a fellow tribe member. I meant that the longer we work with her, the more we can learn from her.”

  The clumsy backpedal didn’t placate Thane. He let menace flood his eyes and fixed Doctor Eiverin with a warning stare. The man swallowed audibly. Message received. Thane had no doubt the man knew he’d be watching him.

  The Malkia remained silent, more in contemplation than observance. Then, she nodded. “We will allow the healer to stay. However, I want her healing monitored. I also believe it is best to steer her clear of any ritual in which severe injury or death is possible.”

  “Understood.”

  The doctor’s hasty agreement had Thane narrowing his eyes at him before returning his gaze to the Malkia. He inclined his head in respect, acknowledging the instructions.

  “Thank you both,” the Malkia said in clear dismissal.

  The doctor and Thane rose and bowed. Thane turned to take his leave when the Malkia called his name. He paused and turned back.

  The Malkia waited until the door closed behind Doctor Eiverin. “My granddaughter will be very disappointed.”

  Thane blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “She has long hoped to be your wife. I admit, I had looked forward to the great-grandchildren you would have given me.”

  Thane’s jaw dropped. An unwarrior-like reaction, but he would have been less surprised if the two moons above Dunia collided. “I…I…” he stammered. He actually stammered.

  An amused gleam lit the Malkia’s unusual eyes. “Do not concern yourself over choices others would make for you. You must live your own life.”

  “Karia is a beautiful woman and a skilled warrior. Joining my life to hers would be a great honor and a wise decision,” Thane told her baldly. He’d determined that two years earlier when he’d resigned his League commission. Yet somehow, he had never gotten around to a formal courtship.

  The Malkia laughed. “Thane, no woman—warrior or not—wants a man to think of her as a ‘wise decision’.”

  Thane scowled. “She is a strong woman and a prize for any man.”

  “Karia has trained her entire life to be physically strong. But if you ask me, Ilexa is the stronger of the two. There are different types of strength, and Ilexa is strong to her core. Strong enough to travel alone to another world, to face me down and to challenge a cultural tradition to save a life.”

  “There’s a fine line between courage and recklessness,” Thane pointed out. “Regardless, I have no intentions towards Ilexa. She is my blood brother’s sister. I am honor-bound to watch over her.”

  “Then why not claim her as your sister through the blood-brother bond?”

  Revulsion crawled across his skin, and he couldn’t stop the shudder that shook him.

  “I thought not,” the Malkia said. She held up a hand to forestall further protest. “Be wary of Karia. She is a proud woman and will not take your pursuit of Ilexa well. She has become accustomed to getting what she wants. She will be spiteful and vindictive.”

  The conversation made Thane feel as though he had stepped off solid ground and had nothing but air beneath him. Still, he rallied enough to defend Karia. He’d known her most of his life and knew she held honor too dear to behave like a malicious shrew. “You underestimate your granddaughter and overestimate me.”

  He kept his tone polite out of respect for the Malkia and her station, but he knew he was treading the bounds of propriety with his words.

  The Malkia raised a brow, and the temperature of her voice plunged. “And perhaps you overestimate Karia and underestimate yourself. Regardless, you should be wary when caught between two strong women.”

  He inclined his head. “A wise man is always wary around strong women.”

  The Malkia smiled at his attempt at humor. “You will watch over Ilexa and steer her away from situations where she may feel called upon to overextend herself?”

  “I will.” He knew an order when he heard one.

  She sighed. “I realize we are probably overreacting, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. After all, now that we are prepared, what’s the worst she can do?”

  ***

  She started a war.

  Two weeks after awaking in the medical ward, Ilexa had finally received the permission of the pompous doctor to begin working.

  Happy to finally be doing something, she sat in the stiff-backed chair next to her bed and bent to slip on her shoes. The door slammed open without warning, startling her, and a short woman with steel gray hair appeared in the doorway. She pinned Ilexa with a hard look. No warmth showed in her brown eyes. “Ilexa Dhakir? I’m Thalia, your cultural immersion counselor.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” Ilexa responded automatically. Years of training as the Damaia’s sister-in-law had ingrained polite introductions into her bone marrow—no matter how much she wanted to strangle the woman in front of her.

  “I understand you’ve caused quite a stir. Good for you. Maybe that will teach the government not to circumvent IMEP policy. Those bureaucrats didn’t even bother to tell me they’d changed your itinerary. When you weren’t on the transport, I filed the paperwork stating you’d stood us up.” The woman harrumphed. “I didn’t know you were here until after you’d done that healing. At that point, I was attending an IMEP conference on Voltra. I must say, you’ve turned the government on its head.”

  Ilexa blinked at the woman’s verbal velocity. “I wasn’t trying to make a political statement. I was trying to save a life.”

  Thalia waved a dismissive hand in Ilexa’s direction as she sat in the only other chair. “I sent you a welcome packet in advance of your arrival. I assume you’ve read it. I need to assess your level of cultural understanding. Tell me everything you know.”

  Ilexa sighed and slipped off the one shoe she’d managed to put on. This woman clearly didn’t stand on ceremony, and Ilexa decided she might as well be comfortable. She crossed her legs while considering where to start.

  “The Central Alliance comprises five planets. Dunia is the second largest and the seat of the Hakimu tribe. Rather than governance by municipalities, the Central Alliance governs by tribal affiliation. If a tribe member commits a transgr
ession anywhere on any of the five planets, that person is returned to his or her tribe for judgment. There are a total of seventy-one tribes, each of which has a different governing system.”

  Thalia rolled her eyes. “You’ve quoted some encyclopedic facts at me. What have you learned about our culture? Tell me about the Hakimu specifically.”

  Ilexa refrained from sniping about Thalia’s failure to do any actual teaching before springing a pop quiz. “The Hakimu cling strongly to traditions that no one has bothered to explain to me. While they don’t exactly shun technology, they keep it out of sight and use it as necessary rather than when convenient. The Hakimu appear to be a male-dominated, patriarchal society, but the most revered member of the tribe is a woman entitled Malkia. I don’t fully understand her role within the tribe, but she clearly wields great power.”

  Thalia cocked her head and studied Ilexa. “A succinct and accurate summary. You may yet survive here. What do you know of our courtship rituals?”

  Ilexa winged an arched brow upwards. “Nothing. I fail to see how they are relevant. IMEP participants are excluded from courtship or sexual expectations of their host world’s culture.”

  Thalia scowled. “Usually, you would be correct, but the government not only pre-assigned you here—the one tribe I absolutely would have prevented you from joining—they granted you full tribal status. By our traditions and laws, you are as Hakimu as if you’d been tribal born. A strong argument could be made that your status as Hakimu supersedes that of an IMEP participant.”

  “I am a daughter of N’yota,” Ilexa said forcefully.

  “You may be a daughter of N’yota, but you are a member of the Hakimu tribe.”

  “If this is an attempt to scare me into quitting the program, you can save your breath.” By all that was holy, she was not tucking her tail and scurrying home.

  Thalia raised a hand to halt the burgeoning tirade. “I have no desire to see you leave the program, but I want you to understand the cultural expectations and norms in which you live. What’s more, your actions reflect upon the tribe. The Hakimu may be small, less than half a million people, but it is a proud and powerful tribe. You do not want to bring shame upon it.”