Earthrise (Her Instruments Book 1) (22 page)

He entered the silent lobby and proceeded past it and its murals of spaceships with child astronauts to a waiting room, which also proved to be empty. Straining his ears brought him no sounds of habitation: no shoes scuffing on tile or muffled by carpet, no quiet talk. He was beginning to wonder if the hospital was even operational when the door to the room opened for a harried-looking Harat-Shariin man, his arms full.

“Visiting hours are over,” he said, obviously startled. “We’re a little busy.”

“I’m here to ask about work,” Hirianthial said.

“Oh.” The man blinked a few times, then said, “Hold this baby. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Startled, Hirianthial cradled the infant to his chest and watched the Harat-Shar dash away. “Well then,” he said to the closing door before turning his attention to the child. “Good afternoon, little one.”

The baby did not open her eyes. Her aura fluttered like a candle in a draft, and cheeks that should have been plump and soft with felt-fine fur were instead taut and gray. She didn’t respond to the warmth of Hirianthial’s arms even though the Eldritch body temperature ran hotter than most of the Alliance’s races, so Hirianthial tucked the blanket more carefully around the tiny body and began to drift from one end of the waiting room to the other. Humming didn’t seem to help but he found that the more he concentrated on the infant’s unsteady aura, the more it seemed to stabilize... so he cleared his mind and focused on the task.

“How about that,” came a very soft voice. “She’s sleeping easier. How did you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Hirianthial admitted, releasing the child back to the man who’d left him in the waiting room. The Eldritch barely felt the flare of concern and distraction of the Harat-Shar when they brushed hands, exchanging the baby.

“You said you were looking for work?”

Hirianthial said, “A midwife suggested I try here. I have several certifications, though none of them are pediatric or obstetric.”

“You seem to have a way with them, though,” the man said. “What specialties do you have?”

“Mostly surgical,” Hirianthial said. “But one in general internal medicine.”

“We can always use more people in the ward. Are you interested in learning neonatal surgery? We desperately need more people in that area.”

Surprised, Hirianthial said, “I’m not sure I’ll be on-planet long enough to develop the expertise.”

“Ah well. Do you have your credentials? How long are you staying?”

Hirianthial offered the man a thin card. “Three months. Maybe four.”

“Pity that,” the man said. “We’ll barely have time to get to know you, if we hire you.” He smiled weakly. “And that wasn’t a salacious invitation... I don’t have the energy for those anymore. We’re so understaffed I’m developing a split personality; I send people home to rest while yearning to keep them on-duty for two or three shifts.”

“What happened?” Hirianthial asked.

The man sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said. “But the short of it would be that half of our staff was on free-man contracts and we had a string of very bad luck. They got in trouble and lost their licenses.” He grimaced. “Not their fault... but parents are especially bad about litigation.”

“I see,” Hirianthial said.

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow on whether we want you,” the man continued. “I’m desperate to say ‘yes’, though, so don’t be surprised if I do. By the way, what’s your name? And what’s an Eldritch doing here? You don’t have problems touching people do you? Although if you do I still might take you. Having someone watching monitors would be better than what we’ve got now.”

“I’m Hirianthial Sarel Jisisensire. I’m here because my employer’s set down here for repairs... and I have no problem touching patients.”

“Good, good,” the man said. “I’m Jarysh, train Kharite. And I’ll drop you a message tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” Hirianthial said, and was alone again in the waiting room before he could offer a cordial farewell; the man’s habit of abrupt departures and harried air did not bode well for the hospital. The Eldritch wondered if working here was a good idea at all. Perhaps there were other establishments in town he could investigate: someplace near the port that served the out-worlders, perhaps. He turned to go.

A shriek of pain erupted against his shields, so strident, so
real
he couldn’t tell whether it had been voiced or sent. He could no more ignore it than he could have stopped breathing; his body was already turning from the lobby back toward the waiting room. The cry led him into the hall where it was joined by a physical wail. He followed it to a ward where Jarysh and two harried healers-assist were leaning over a bed.

“It’s his neck,” Hirianthial said from the door.

“His what?” Jarysh said as the monitor began to sound.

“His neck hurts,” Hirianthial said, coming closer to the bed, then added, “And his back.”

“He’s running a little hotter than normal,” one of the healers-assist said.

“Angels, spare me another spinal infection,” Jarysh said with a moan.

“If that’s what it is,” one of the assistants said.

“We just had a bout of it,” the other said.

“Too soon to tell,” the first said.

Hirianthial glanced at the monitors, eyes snagging on temperature, blood pressure, pulse, respiration rate. It had been long enough since he’d done a pediatric round that while he could sense the levels were off he couldn’t remember what normal levels were for Pelted children that age. “What kind of spinal infection have you been having lately?”

“We just had a strain of Ackman’s off Karaka’Ana, one we’ve never seen before” Jarysh said, ears flattened. “The port here brings a lot of offworld mutations, and a lot of them latch onto vectors we haven’t blocked off yet.”

Hirianthial reached for the child’s foot and hesitated over it, then grasped it firmly, skin to fur. “You took a tap?” he asked past the sudden feeling that his neck was too stiff to move.

“This morning. Negative for virus or bacteria,” Jarysh said. “But—”

“It might be too early to tell,” one of the assists said.

“It’s not too early for him to tell,” Hirianthial said. “Take another one.”

“But—”

“Do what he says,” Jarysh said.

“It won’t be wasted,” Hirianthial said.

The assist shrugged and left. The baby continued to wail. Jarysh sighed and pulled a stool over, sat. “You might as well get one for yourself,” he said.

Hirianthial nodded and did so, watching the monitors. “One of your bad luck runs?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Jarysh said, shoulders slumped. “It’s virulent like Chatcaava have talons. I thought we’d seen the last of it two days ago. Our best antibiotics seem useless against it, and we’ve wasted a lot of drugs on trying to keep these kids alive. It hasn’t been working. The stuff just eats into the pia mater like it’s going through sponge cake. The arachnoid webs swell up with the byproducts and eventually shut down the nerves.”

Hirianthial glanced at the child. “You have no pharmacologists to run up a new drug strain?”

“We’ve never had any on staff,” Jarysh said. “We send samples to off-site labs, but none of our regulars have been able to get back to us with a specific.”

Hirianthial watched the vitals fluctuate. The Harat-Shar followed his gaze and let out a long breath. Then, “This is the earliest we’ve ever caught one. Maybe it’ll be enough. If he’s got it, of course.”

The assist returned with a pump and needle for the spinal tap. Some tests could be done by sensitive enough halo-arches, but this hospital didn’t appear to have any at all. He didn’t bother to ask why not: it didn’t matter why a facility didn’t have the best equipment. What mattered was the sample the healer-assist drew and the infection Hirianthial knew would be lurking in it.

During the following twenty minutes, Jarysh fidgeted and Hirianthial waited, eyes half-closed. The assist returned and said, “It’s positive. But it’s not as bad as the last cases. Yet.”

“Damn thing,” Jarysh said, jumping to his feet. “Get the antibiotics.”

“Right.”

The Harat-Shar began to pace. “We caught the vector... can you believe it was a honey shipment that ended up in candy? We stopped the spread and finished all the cases. This was supposed to be over.”

“I suppose you don’t have a Medimage platform,” Hirianthial said. A platform of sufficient complexity would allow them to pinpoint the infection and treat it cell-by-cell, if necessary.

“Not anymore,” Jarysh said, tail lashing.

All the years of his life began to drag on his joints. Hirianthial asked, “Anymore?”

“Our service contract ran out,” Jarysh said. “And of course, with no surgeons there was no point repairing the thing. Surgery was never our specialty anyhow... that’s what the acute care center in Kherdiwen’s for.” The man stopped pacing to stare as the assist arrived with the AAP and injected the child’s stiff neck with it. “Damn.”

The pain beating against his shields was already beginning to ebb—not because it had retreated, but because the child was losing the strength to project it.

Jarysh returned to the stool, drooping. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know,” Hirianthial said. “How many more of these do you have?”

“We’re not sure. It wasn’t something we were equipped to handle. We usually only work with chronic diseases. This was just so unexpected.”

“Why not move them to the Kherdiwen center, then?” Hirianthial asked.

Jarysh shrugged. “No beds for it.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Explain it to me, then,” Hirianthial said. When the Harat-Shar glanced at the monitors, the Eldritch gentled his voice. “We’ll be here a while.”

“All right,” Jarysh said, tail twitching. “It’s like this....”

“A mechanic?” Reese asked, eyeing the contract. “You’re going to be a mechanic?”

“A very junior one, and only for the time we’re here,” Sascha said. “If I had the time I’d be studying engineering, but since I don’t I’ll settle for the hands-on stuff.”

“Huh,” Reese said. “That’s practical.” She read the fine print, trying to catch anything that might twist Sascha up into knots. “This is for a lot of hours!”

Sascha shrugged. “It’ll get me out of the house.”

Reese glanced at him and decided not to ask. She returned to reading and said, “I didn’t know you were interested in engineering.”

The Harat-Shar chuckled. “Neither did I until I actually started flying. It’s good to fly. It’s also good to be able to fix something you’re flying when it stops.”

Reese leaned back in her chair to peer at the Harat-Shar. She’d come home exhausted and tried to slip into her room without anyone noticing only to find Sascha already there. Happily he didn’t harangue her about missing dinner again; instead, he’d presented a stack of paperwork for her to sign along with a small covered plate.

“Engineering,” she said again. “You know, you could take remote classes.”

“I guess,” Sascha said. “I hadn’t really thought about it until we touched down here.”

“Well, think about it,” Reese said.

“Classes take money, boss.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll find the money,” Reese said, hiding her frustration. “Looks like Bryer’s got dock-work. That seems harmless enough.” She signed it along with Sascha’s. “Where’s Kis’eh’t?”

“Kis’eh’t’s taking the time off,” Sascha said. “She wants to learn to cook from my mother.”

Reese laughed. “Well, more than one cook’s always good. That leaves Irine and Hirianthial.”

“Don’t look at Irine’s,” Sascha said. “Just sign it.”

“That bad, huh,” Reese said, hand hovering over the data tablet.

“That good,” Sascha said, but the smile on his face didn’t touch his voice. “She’ll have fun. But you don’t want to know.”

Of course, now that he put it that way, she did. But she flipped to the bottom of the contract and set her stylus on the line.

And couldn’t sign.

“Just do it,” Sascha said. “I read through it. It’s fine.”

She wanted to, but she couldn’t. What if there was something in the contract that would tie Irine down? Her name would be on it, okaying it. Reese scrolled back up and started to read. Sascha pulled a chair up beside her with a sigh.

“Well,” Reese said by the time she got to the end of it. “I guess this sort of thing is typical here.”

“Yes,” Sascha said.

“You’re right that I didn’t want to know about it,” Reese said, signing the bottom.

“Yes,” Sascha agreed, this time with a hint of a grin.

“I had no idea contracts like this could be so... detailed.”

He shrugged. “It’s one thing to roll in the sheets for love and entertainment,” he said. “When you’re doing it for profit with strangers, you have to be very specific about what you will and won’t do.”

“I guess so,” Reese said. “You’re sure she’ll have fun?”

“Yes, captain. Really,” Sascha said. “And she’ll earn more than the rest of us combined, I’ll bet.”

Reese sighed. “That just leaves—”

“A moment of your time,” came Hirianthial’s baritone from the threshold.