by Lyn Gala
“Commander Green,” Temar said with a nod. Green had gone out of his way to make sure that Temar and Shan were taken care of, although Temar suspected some of that was because of Verly’s description. Temar hadn’t seen the man again, but everyone on the ship kept a certain distance from Temar, as though not quite sure of his temper. Temar had seen that with Naite. Workers would tiptoe around him. However, Temar was five foot six on a good day and small. He’d never inspired fear in anyone, at least not before blowing up someone’s ship. From the whispers Temar had overheard, they had him single-handedly blowing the Brazica into five evenly shaped pieces.
“How is he?” Green asked.
“The doctors say he’ll wake any time now. His wounds are healing, and the brain function looks fine.”
Green nodded. “I’m glad. These terrorists might think they’re fighting for freedom, but they’re hardening people’s attitudes and making it more difficult for AFP planets to rise up against those criminals running that government. I mean, they would have arrested you for violating their ridiculous sexual laws had they known you were involved with Ambassador Polli.”
Temar didn’t answer even though he suspected the AFP wanted supplies enough that they would have overlooked the relationship. Morals, even sick and twisted morals, were one thing—having a shortage of supplies was another. After a week, he only knew one thing for sure—these people all thought they owned the moral high ground. When Shan woke up, he was going to love lecturing all of them about Christ and forgiveness. Temar reached out and caught Shan’s hand in his, rubbing this thumb against the back of Shan’s hand.
“Did you make contact with Livre?” Green asked.
“They’re grateful that you’re offering medical services.”
“Of course. You and Ambassador Polli are the victims caught in the middle of all this.” Green offered a look of sympathy that left Temar unsure as to how to react. The fact was that the Planetary Alliance was at least partially to blame for the entire universe’s general state of chaos. However, Green didn’t want to hear that, so Temar remained silent as he waited to find out why he’d come to Shan’s room.
“The captain wanted to let you know that we’ve rendezvoused with the Sunkissed. Representative Fields is here to negotiate the terms of the trade deal you alluded to, if you’re still amendable.”
Temar nodded absentmindedly. Too many people and too many names had left him unwilling to try and keep names and requests straight. Captain So-and-so thought this. Officer So-and-so wanted to know about Livre culture. Representative So-and-so wanted to trade. When the person cared enough to stand in front of Temar and talk to him, then he’d care about their requests. Until then, he let the words flow over him, not disagreeing but not going out of his way to cooperate.
“Ambassador Melton’s replacement sent a formal statement of gratitude that your partner tried to save the ambassador.”
Temar nodded. More useless information. Words were an addiction with these people. Green eased farther into the room.
“I wanted to broach the subject of immigration.”
Temar looked up. This was a new topic.
“I respect the fact that your people don’t trust words. We have a saying: ‘Actions speak louder than words.’”
Temar raised an eyebrow and continued to use his thumb to stroke the back of Shan’s hand. Considering how these people loved their words, the saying was more than ironic.
“Normally, immigration files are private, but the government would like to offer your council a chance to review confidential documents. It would permit you to consider allowing immigration for people whose files show they take the sort of actions that would allow you to accept them.”
“Your government is concerned we don’t have enough people to mine,” Temar summarized.
Green gave him a wry smile and shrugged. “I’m sure that’s one consideration. Another is that the planet was always scheduled for open immigration.”
“It’s not now,” Temar said, reminding Green again that the Planetary Alliance had defaulted on their terraforming agreement, negating all previous treaties. He was starting to understand why the AFP had declared war, although Temar wasn’t a fan of their hatred and discrimination either. “And files are nothing more than words.”
“So, you won’t allow any immigration?” Green frowned.
Temar thought about that. “I’ve seen Verly Black put his life on the line for a plan he himself gave a 20 percent chance of success. I saw Natalie Aral and Rula Lish handling a terrorist attack while never losing sight of protecting a stranger who didn’t understand what was going on. Those are actions I could endorse.”
“So, you’re limiting immigration to three people?”
Temar shrugged. “Maybe. I told Ambassador Melton that we say the truth is finer than sand. You have to carry it in a bag for a while to see if it’s going to escape through the mesh.”
“So, wait and see?”
“That sounds like a plan,” Temar agreed, his eyes going to Shan as he felt Shan’s fingers twitch. “Shan? Hey, can you hear me?” Temar stood up and leaned over the bed. Shan’s eyes pressed closed even tighter. “Coward,” Temar teased. “You never do like to open your eyes in the morning.”
“Because there’s always too much light,” Shan managed to say in a weak voice.
“I’ll get the doctor,” Green offered, vanishing out of the room. Temar nodded.
“Well, you had the good sense to wake up in the middle of the night shift, so most of the lights are off.”
Shan cracked one eye open a tiny bit. “My throat hurts.”
“I’ll get you the medicated ice they left here. Hold on.” Temar hurried to retrieve the cup from the refrigerated cubby where the nurses kept it. When he returned to Shan’s side, Shan’s eyes were closed again. Taking a smooth piece of ice, Temar brushed it against Shan’s lips.
Both Shan’s eyes came open. “What is that?” he asked, struggling to raise his hand.
“Water that’s so cold it turns hard.”
“Ice,” Shan said blearily as he made the connection.
“Yep.” Temar put the ice up against Shan’s lips, and this time he opened his mouth to suck it in. He sucked on it for some time while Temar stroked Shan’s arm, feeling the warm skin and letting himself bask in the pure joy of believing that Shan would be fine. Oh, the doctors had said it often enough, but seeing Shan wake up meant more than all their promises.
“Gary Pentalia?”
“He died in the rescue,” Temar said softly. He could see the pain in Shan’s eyes, and Temar felt a sprout of guilt. He’d done the right thing, but Shan would try to save the universe. It was in his nature. “He murdered Melton.”
Shan gave an abortive nod and groaned. “I feel like he did a good job of trying to kill me.”
“You took some hits,” Temar admitted.
“Ambassador Polli, it’s nice to see you awake,” the doctor said as he came into the room, his eyes checking all the machines before they turned to Shan himself. “Do you have any pain?”
“Only everywhere,” Shan said.
“I don’t doubt that. You have more stitching in you than my wife’s entire closet,” the doctor joked. Temar really didn’t appreciate the humor, since it was so true. “Does anything in particular hurt more? Any sharp pains?”
“No, just a dull, aching everything.”
“That’s normal. Part of the healing process is pushing the body’s own regenerative abilities, and pushing that tends to make the entire body hurt, even parts that weren’t injured. Pain pills will slow the recovery, but too much pain can cause additional damage, particularly to the heart. Do you need any pain medication?”
“I’ve hurt worse after falling off my bike,” Shan said.
Temar leaned closer and searched Shan’s face. “Would that be the time someone was shooting at you and you got a third-degree burn on your leg after laying your bike down in a hidden rock valley?” he asked.
> “You’ve heard the story?” Shan asked with a strained sort of humor.
“Idiot,” Temar said softly, but he held Shan’s arm tightly.
“You’ve been hanging out with Naite too long.”
“I just saved up all my insults for when you woke up. After scaring me so badly, I figured you deserve them.”
Shan turned his head carefully and looked at Temar with those dark brown eyes of his that always seemed so sad. Even when Shan had been a priest, back in the days before all this started, Temar always wanted to do something to make Shan smile so that it reached his eyes. “I’m okay,” Shan promised weakly.
“You will be.” Temar leaned close and let his lips rest against Shan’s, a soft imitation of a kiss that wouldn’t strain anything.
“That’s the best medicine of all,” the doctor said. “I’ll be on duty until shift-end, so come see me if you need more medicated ice or if you need pain medicine.”
Temar pulled back and smiled at the doctor before he left.
“Um, Temar, why did the uniforms change?” Shan asked.
A laugh slipped out before Temar could stop it. It wasn’t that the question was funny as much as a sort of giddiness that Shan was awake enough to realize he’d slept through all the drama. “Because a lot happened while you were asleep. Welcome to the Planetary Alliance, Ambassador Polli.”
“The PA? Really?” Shan looked around. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m learning to expect the unexpected,” Temar said.
“Yeah, me too,” Shan agreed, but his voice was already heavy with sleep. Temar stood by his side and rubbed Shan’s arm gently while he fell back to sleep.
Chapter 33
SHAN waited until the doctors had left to make his grand announcement three days later. That was about how long it took for him to settle into a schedule that allowed him to stay awake for longer than an hour at a time.. “I feel disgusting.” The machinery and tubes that ran under his blanket suggested that he wasn’t getting out of bed soon. He didn’t even want to think about where some of the bits were stuck. Machines should be things that people used or rode on, not things stuck in them. “I’m dirty and I need to shave.”
“You’re clean. They used that vibrating waves thing.” Temar stood by his bed, looking odd from this angle. Shan didn’t normally have to look up at the bottom of Temar’s chin. Shan tilted his head and considered his lover. There was a hard edge there that Shan hadn’t seen since they’d been running from Ben. The return of that look worried him more than his own unresponsive and sluggish body or rough beard.
“Are you okay?” Shan asked quietly. He didn’t want to share his concerns with any of these people. He didn’t like or trust any of them.
The hardness fell away, and Temar reached out to rest a hand against Shan’s arm. “You just scared the life out of me,” he admitted, his fear showing through his eyes.
“I’m indestructible,” Shan bragged, and after the number of messes they’d been through, he was starting to think it might be true. Either that or God spent a lot of his time looking out for two fools in particular. “I really need a shave, though. I feel dirty, even if I’m not.” Shan added that last when Temar opened his mouth to explain again how they’d used some machine to clean him. Machines should not do some things.
“You’re not getting up,” Temar said firmly, a little of the steel back in his expression.
“That’s fine.” Shan held both of his hands up, and one arm had a silver sleeve thing from his wrist to his elbow, four tubes running down to the side of the bed. Shan looked at it in mild disgust. Never in his life had he felt such a longing for the double moons of Livre and the heat rising up from the sun-warmed sands at night. These people might think that the citizens of Livre would pay any price to get rescued, but Shan couldn’t imagine any of Livre’s people coming up here. If they tried tying Lilian to a bed, the woman would rip out every tube and wire she could find with her bare hands and then walk out of the room to die in peace. As much as Shan wished for some other outcome, some miraculous medicine she could drink to save her, he knew that she wouldn’t trade her life on Livre for this sort of a mechanical miracle.
For a second, Temar stood next to him, their fingers threaded together as Temar stared at the arm. It took some time, but he shook himself free and stepped back. “I’ll see if I can find some shaving supplies.”
“Thank you.”
With a brisk nod, Temar turned and headed toward the exit. Shan leaned back against the bed. His body didn’t hurt or even ache anymore, but it felt strange. He was tempted to lift the blanket and look underneath, but he really didn’t want to see machines hooked to his body.
“So, you’re Shan.” A man walked up, tall with wide shoulders and light brown hair. He had a hard look to him, even though he was smiling. “Lieutenant Commander Verly Black,” he offered, holding out his hand. Shan shook it.
“Nice to meet you.” Meeting strangers when flat on his back left him a little uncomfortable, but it seemed rude to say so.
“We actually met before. I carried you out.”
“Oh.” Shan straightened up. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad I could help. I just wanted to meet the great Shan Polli myself after hearing about you from Temar. He was very worried, and when Temar’s worried, he does tend to make the rest of the universe miserable. I figured if you weren’t okay, I’d transfer to another station.” The smile grew a little wider.
“Temar….” Shan let his voice trail off. He had no idea who Lieutenant Commander Verly Black was talking about, but that didn’t sound like Temar.
“I’d give a lot to have someone love me that much, and feel free to tell me to shut up if I’m out of line, but you may want to avoid the AFP planets after that show. They’re not a very tolerant bunch.”
“And your people are?” Shan asked suspiciously. If this was some attempt to get them to side with a particular alliance, he really didn’t want to deal with it until he could stand on his own two feet.
“No, we really aren’t,” Black admitted, which surprised the snot out of Shan. “My people tend to look down on anyone who doesn’t fit their definition of civilized.”
“Like us,” Shan guessed.
Black shrugged. “Could be. But they’ll deal fairly with anyone who has something they want.” With that, he gave Shan a quick nod. “It’s nice to see you looking better. And let Temar know that I’m sorry I missed him, but I have to get to duty station. Some of us can’t afford to lie around all day.”
Turning around, he headed out the door, leaving Shan to wonder if that was some attempt to warn them or manipulate them. He didn’t know enough about Black or about what had happened to understand. He could only stare at the ceiling and hope that Temar had these political maneuvers in hand. He realized he’d grown used to trying to protect Temar. He was actually uncomfortable that he couldn’t do that now. He couldn’t even stand on his own feet and shave himself.
A man in the ubiquitous light-blue uniform came and checked the machines without a word to Shan himself. Shan didn’t know if he was a nurse or a doctor or even a mechanic. He was certainly more interested in the wires than Shan. It wasn’t the sort of behavior Shan was used to when injured. He missed Hannal’s hands over his leg, calling him names for not getting his burn treated sooner. Of course, he couldn’t have, given that at the time he’d been trapped in the deep desert, trying to walk out before the sandrats got him. However, he associated doctors with warm hands and questions and unhappy glares when you did something stupid. This man who tended Shan’s bed certainly didn’t match that image. He left without a word, and Shan was left to think about how strange these people were until Temar returned.
“Hey, look what I found,” Temar said from the doorway. Shan smiled.
“Please tell me you found whatever strange machine they use for shaving.”
“Better,” Temar said with a smile. “I found an actual razor. The doctor tried expl
aining how to use their thing, that does this thing with hair follicles, only he kept explaining how improper use can lead to damage of the dermal layers.” Temar grinned. “I think he saw the look of horror on my face at the idea of basically burning your face off.”
“I think I’d rather avoid more injuries.”
“Yeah, I told him I’d rather just have a razor.” Temar came over, balancing a thick bowl with wisps of steam rising from it and a bag hanging from one wrist. “They’re going out of their way to accommodate our odd choices,” Temar said with a wink.
“Odd choices? I take it they don’t approve of us?” Shan hadn’t been awake long enough to make any odd choices, and Temar was usually quiet enough to avoid really catching anyone’s attention. Shan frowned as he thought of Black’s description. Maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate.
“I get the feeling that they’re a little amused by us.”
Shan hated the idea of Temar being alone with people who laughed at him. The man was so intensely private he didn’t even want to deal with his own sister’s emotional spillage, so he shouldn’t have to deal with random strangers. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you to deal with all this,” Shan offered, helpless to do anything else.
“Hey, I’m fine. If they annoy me, I start talking about how strange it is to have bowls and containers that aren’t made out of glass. It’s killing them that we have so much glass that we let school children play at glassblowing.”
“Not with optic-quality glass, we don’t,” Shan pointed out.
“I might not have mentioned that,” Temar said with a shrug. “They may have all the fancy machines, but we still have something they want, and we aren’t going to give it up easily.”
Shan sat up a little more and really studied Temar. He was different. “You’re enjoying this.”
Temar had been taking things out of the bag and setting them up beside Shan’s bedside, but he stopped at that and really looked at Shan. “I think I am,” he said slowly, almost as if he wasn’t sure. “It’s like blowing glass, watching for the signs that you’re applying too much heat or letting the piece cool too much, only instead of fire, you have to find out what heats or cools these people.”
