as bad as reported: thirty percent increase in atmospheric argene and two hundred percent increase in both bilast and dilast?” asked Gwyneth.
“No – the levels are in fact much higher since the last time we took readings. But it gets worse: without her permission I scanned Lady Engineer Rachel of house Ana, the one who keeps fighting Ten-Arian efforts in the Great Council to improve mining safety and protect the health of area residents. Gwyneth … I detected at least six cancers growing in her.”
Gwyneth halted, a sudden wave of vertigo collapsing her into a nearby chair, “Banumu Hehe help us! I checked her medical records, Cara; there was no evidence of any illness five yen-ars ago when she came in for her last physical.”
“I have soil, water, and vegetation samples with me for the healing center lab to conduct comprehensive analysis, proof that our position as healers about the mines is correct: we are on the verge of a major ecological disaster if we do not find a way to stop strip mining operations and restore the forests. Nowhere should there be more than one bilast molecule per billion in our atmosphere. At the mines, the atmosphere is a full five percent bilast – enough to kill anyone not on special breathing gear. But that’s not the worst news.”
“It gets worse?” stammered Gwyneth.
“The crude on site refining is creating atmospheric argene which is saturating everything. We know from studies conducted by both Ten-Ar and Gurun since the Nan-li mine opened in BE 5300 over two hundred yen-ars ago that direct and unprotected exposure to argene destroys Beinarian helices, creating not just the surge in cancers we’ve both detected, but attacking our very retinal penta-chromatism, destroying two of our five retinal cone receptors.”
“How can anyone function with only three retinal receptors? Such a condition would make an affected person all but completely blind in our atmosphere,” noted Gwyneth.
“Creating an epidemic of de facto blindness and creating the sort of massive under-class that could destroy our carefully-built constitutional monarchy. Back at the Ten-Arian monastery we call this disease ‘brown-eye syndrome.’ It attacks the eyes slowly for those newly exposed, but far faster on those born here or to one or more suffers.”
“Are you saying that with each generation born here and exposed to argene, the condition becomes locked into the helices, moving from generation to generation even after a person or family leaves this area?”
Lady Healer Cara gazed into Lady Gwyneth’s darkening eyes, “Yes. Primarily estimates indicate it may take several generations to fully correct the damage. But surely you know this – your eyes, my friend! You have early stage brown eye syndrome!”
“I know. But being healers we both know no permanent solution can come without the support of the Great Council. If they will not listen to our data, to the results of over one hundred yen-ars of research – what then? Cara, there are over five hundred eighty-nine thousand residents in Nan-li alone; hundreds of millions more across the north-western region of Xi-Nan Fang where they dig most of the mines – not just for argene, but countless other minerals.”
“Perhaps the lab will have some answers for us that our training as healers in chief of our respective houses cannot find based on the data at hand,” offered Lady Abbess Cara.
“I will have the lab run analysis right away. Can you stay in Nan-li overnight? I estimate it will take from six to eight shir-ors to run a comprehensive analysis – assuming no critical care patients arrive in the emergency ward.”
“Can you suggest a nearby lodging establishment with good food?”
“Lan-xing Ulen is not far away. I understand they offer a rather palatable breakfast buffet, including Belarian waffles.”
“Belarian waffles? Really? Well then Lan-xing Ulen it is!”
“Welcome to Lan-xing Ulen, how may I help you?” hovered a blue civilian droid.
“Two rooms, please,” answered Lord Knight Ronel.
“We have several room options,” offered the droid. “What perimeters should I search for in order to find each of you the perfect lodging?”
“I am Lord Ronel; my mistress is Lady Abbess Cara of house Ten-Ar.”
The blue of the droid’s skin brightened, “Dignitaries from Dong-Bei! Well then, I have a two-bedroom luxury suite available to your mistress for thirty tai-ors per beinor featuring two private bedrooms, a common living room, private access to global communication channels, and access to a small private garden. You are the abbess’ knight protector?”
“I am,” affirmed Ronel.
“Do you still wish for two rooms or is this suite to your liking?”
“We will take the suite,” agreed Ronel, offering a triangular payment card to the droid.
The droid scanned his payment card, “Welcome to Lan-xing Ulen. Please enjoy your stay.”
The next morning Lord Knight Ronel sat in silence with Lady Abbess Cara in the dining room, nursing a glass of kelan juice thoughtfully as the abbess relished a plate of Belarian waffles with kara berry jam and a hot steaming mug of the same minty hot chocolate traditionally served at formal occasions like weddings and royal court receptions.
Clothed from head to toe in black with only a narrow band of Ten-Arian crimson adorning his modest trousers and doublet, he felt naked without his heavy, two-handed Ten-Arian broad sword, “Your Grace, are you sure I should not wear my sword?”
“Why would you need to be armed, Ronel? You think there is going to be danger at Nan-li Central? It is a healing center, not a war zone.”
“With all due respect, Your Grace, that healing center has you written all over it; you were the one who proposed its construction. You were the one who insisted on it featuring twice as many research laboratories than the typical healing center. That healing center is at the forefront of medical research for the region. Yes, it services many of the poorest on our world – but it is clearly your work. That makes you a target, especially here.”
“I am a healer, not a warrior. Why would anyone want to kill me? My heart is to end suffering and make our world worthy of its many blessings.”
“Healers know things that the rest of us do not. That makes you a threat, Your Grace. But more than that – you are the ranking leader of our house, even above the Masters of Ten-Ar. Theirs is a chorus of voices, but you speak with the strength of a single healing voice.”
“If you feel so strongly about it, lord knight – by all means arm yourself as you see fit. I want to avail myself of this delicious food. Go back to our suite once you finish your meal and join me here.”
As commanded, Lord Knight Ronel returned to their suite to find the abbess’ communications system flashing with an incoming message. “This is Lord Knight Ronel,” he answered.
Lady Healer Gwyneth’s image appeared, “Lord Knight Ronel, I am relieved to find you still alive.”
“What happened?”
“An attack, my lord! Twelve of our best healers and healers in training studying the samples her excellency collected last beinor were found murdered – bilast poisoning.”
“Bilast? The abbess found high levels of bilast at the mine, did she not?”
“She did. The data and samples are still here – thank the goddesses – but I fear for her – and myself. Clearly whoever is responsible wants everyone to think this was some personal blood feud. I do not believe it; these particular healers and healers in training were our top planetary experts on radiation poisoning and local ecology,” explained Gwyneth.
“Without which you cannot offer authoritative testimony in the Great Council if I understand the political situation.”
“Correct! Ronel, I am afraid for the abbess. Can I meet both of you there with the data? I do not feel comfortable transmitting it from here. We have no clue who killed them or where they are; unless you disagree, I prefer to not provide an obvious path to your whereabouts.”
“I am supposed to meet the abbess in the dining ro
om directly. Can you meet us there?”
“I will try!” acknowledged Gwyneth.
“Your Grace, behind me!” screamed Lord Knight Ronel as he entered the dining room to Lan-xing Ulen, his trained eyes spotting the green light of a laser spear preparing to fire from across the room. Touching a button his belt, a protective force field expanded off his wrist right wrist as he drew his laser épée from the scabbard also holding his heritage broad sword. With an intensifying low hum, the triangular-pyramid-shaped tip laser spear discharged a green-blue plasma bolt at Lady Abbess Cara, barely missing her with a barrage of sparks as she ducked beneath her table and crawled towards and behind Ronel’s force field shield.
Undaunted, the attacker crept behind the cover of the hot-breakfast bread bar before aiming again. With lightning reflexes created by a lifetime of rigorous training Ronel deflected the second plasma bolt off his sword, the bolt ricocheting into the finely tiled floor, charring it.
With Cara still crouched behind him, Ronel charged towards the attacker, his left arm slashing towards him with his épée against every rule taught to the knight by his mentors. The attacker cried out in pain as the épée hit his right forearm with a gush of blood. Ronel, now close enough to see into the attacker’s face, noticed brown flecks in what appeared to be a young man’s eyes.
Turning off his laser épée for the xiao-shir, he wrestled the laser spear away from him with precise
The Poisoned Ground Page 2
