Falcorans' Faith (12 page)

“Why?” Darlene asked. 

“She’s terrified that she’ll lose the babies,” Doc said.  “Her blood pressure is too high, her heart rate too fast, and she’s nearly hysterical with worry.  If they don’t get her to relax, it could be a problem.  Merrick Falcoran just took Jared over to help out.  I’m confident that, between him and Honey, all will be well.”

Darlene nodded, far more relieved than she appeared, but Doc understood her better than anyone, and hadn’t missed the subtle signs of her true feelings.  “Don’t worry,” he said.  “Sheila will be fine, and so will her sons.”

Darlene’s eyes crinkled a bit at the corners.  That was practically a grin coming from her.  “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Doc said. 

Darlene’s head tilted to the side.  “Why are you here instead of in Berria with Honey?”

“Because I’m stuck with choosing colors and the like for this clinic while Honey’s delivering babies,” he said with a grimace that reminded Darlene of her own feelings on the subject.  “We’ve been putting it off, and now it’s crunch time.  The builders need this information before they can go any further, and since you and I are leaving for Onddo in a few days, Honey insisted I do this today.  She says she did her share picking out all the machines and equipment, and that she
don’t know
diddly about decoratin’
, her words, not mine, and that I wasn’t gettin’ off the hook just cause I was leavin’.  She actually threatened to stop construction till I got back if I put it off again.  Behind that sweet smile and gentle manner lies the heart of a true tyrant.”

“I like her,” Darlene said, her eyes crinkling again.

“Yeah, you would,” Doc said with another grimace, though this time he winked at her.  “Hell, if it were me, I’d paint it white and call it done.  As a matter of fact, why not?  I think that’s a grand idea.”

Darlene resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  The idea of painting the entire clinic white, particularly the portions dedicated to pregnant women, offended her deeply buried sensibilities.  So she took a deep breath and opened a tiny door on the past, glad that she and Doc were alone for this.

“There’s more to this than just picking a color,” she said, her voice soft and low.  “The idea is to create an environment that induces whatever emotion you most want from the people who will use it.”

Doc nodded.  “I get that, I just don’t know how to go about doin’ it.  I figure white is clean, and clean is good.  That works, don’t it?”

“White is also impersonal and, if used in the way you suggest, it will give an impression of sterility and coldness.”

“Well, we don’t want that,” Doc said with a sigh.  “What do we want?”

“Considering how difficult it is for most human Jasani mates to get pregnant, and carry to term, I imagine you’d want them to feel calm and relaxed.  Warm and comfortable.  At the same time, you don’t want to hide the fact that this is a medical facility.  They need to feel confident that they are in the hands of skilled doctors with all the best and latest technology at their fingertips.”

“That’s a lot to convey with a few colors and fabrics,” Doc said doubtfully.

“Yes, it is,” Darlene agreed.  “But it can be done.  People are both consciously and subliminally aware of colors, textures, lighting, and, of course, scents.  Knowing how to use those things in combination to subtly induce specific reactions is both art and science.”

“I understand the strength of scent memory,” Doc said.  “I confess, I never thought to use it in a clinic before.”

“The scent of clinics, hospitals, infirmaries, and other medical facilities is instantly stressful for most people, usually due to childhood memories of injuries, illness, needles, and pain,” Darlene said.  “It’s not that difficult to neutralize the odors released by cleaning fluids, medications, antiseptics and the like, and replace them with soothing scents.”

“Such as?” Doc asked. 

“Vanilla has been proven to relax a majority of people without them even being aware of it,” Darlene said.  “It’s got to be mild though, and not artificially enhanced or mixed with other scents.  Pure vanilla, light enough that after a few moments most people will not even notice it.”

“That sounds good,” Doc said as he reached for his hand terminal and powered it up.  “What other scents do you recommend?”

“Cinnamon is also soothing, but in a different way,” Darlene said.  “It aids in focus and concentration while helping to reduce stress.  It would be a good scent to have in your office.  Geranium can also be very soothing, though I wouldn’t generally advise the use of most floral scents in an environment like this.”

“What about the surgery?” Doc asked as he typed memos into his hand terminal.  “Should we pump vanilla into that room as well?”

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Darlene said.  “It could be psychologically confusing to the patient.  You’re not going to be able to hide the scents of antiseptics and other substances you use in there, and if those are mixed with a scent like vanilla, it might cause more tension than relief.”

“Agreed,” Doc said.

“So, did I pass?” Darlene asked after Doc finished making his notes.

“Pass?” Doc asked.

“Doc, you know more about every branch of medicine for more species than anyone in the Thousand Worlds,” Darlene said.  “I’d be willing to bet that you know precisely how many drops of scent should be used for the exact size of any room to induce any mood you want.”

“I’m not sure I’d go quite that far, darlin’,” he said with a grin.  “But it wasn’t a test.  I just wanted to see how much you knew on the subject, and I was working up to asking a more personal question.”

“What question?” Darlene asked.

“What’s your favorite scent?” Doc asked.   

There was something in his voice that warned Darlene that this was not a casual question.  Doc was a smart man.  No, make that brilliant.  His manner and appearance were enormously, and deliberately, deceptive.  She hesitated, meeting his gaze for a long moment before she raised one shoulder in a seemingly careless shrug and answered.

“Sandalwood.” 

Doc blinked.  “Now, ain’t that a coincidence?  Happens to be one of my favorites as well.”

Darlene had no doubt of that.  Doc didn’t wear scent, but he did use sandalwood soap.  Darlene debated with herself whether or not to ask what he was clearly waiting for her to ask. 

Was she ready for this? 
That
was the real question, the real purpose of this entire conversation.  If she didn’t ask what Doc was waiting for her to ask, he’d let it go.  Again.  He was nothing if not patient.  She gathered all of her courage together and took the plunge.  “What’s your favorite scent?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Doc blew out a long, slow breath, then smiled gently at her.  “Jasani moonflower,” he said, naming the spicy, woodsy aroma of the rare night blooming flower.  It was the only scent Darlene ever wore.

Darlene nodded, then dropped her eyes, uncertain what to say next.  She decided to play it safe.  “Do you really need my help with decorating?”

“Absolutely,” Doc said.  “I know what colors are soothing, and which aren’t, that’s true.  But I haven’t a clue in the galaxy how to put ‘em together.”

Darlene nodded.  Now
that
she believed.  “Let’s get started then.”

“I’ve got to see a patient in Badia this afternoon,” Doc said, “and then I have to go to Berria for a couple of days.  Would you like to have dinner with me when I get back?”

Darlene’s heart skipped a beat, but she’d taken the first step.  She wouldn’t back out now.  “Yes, Doc, I’d like that very much.”

Chapter
Ten

Marqex sat on a rock outside the cave entrance, her eyes closed, gray head tilted toward the sun.  Between her palms, resting on her lap, lay the
Erekorra
, its rainbow of colored lights flashing in the afternoon sunlight.  Darck sat nearby, patient and still, something that came easily to him now.  He tried to imagine his old self sitting like this and smiled.  He was no longer the person he’d once been, a fact that he was profoundly grateful for.

Marqex shifted a little, then opened her eyes on a long, drawn out sigh.

“You are well?” Darck asked in concern.

“I am saddened by what I have just seen,” Marqex said as she held the crystal out to him.  “Yet, at the same time, I am pleased by what I have just learned.”

Darck accepted the
Erekorra
and slipped it back into the pack with the other relics.  Once he would have asked questions.  Now, he waited, content to let Marqex speak in her own time, in her own way.

“Tell me, Darck, what story did the Brethren tell of Ugaztun?” Marqex asked.

“In short, that they destroyed the home world of the Narrasti, our ancestors, and that a small handful of sugea were able to return the favor at the last moment,” Darck replied.

“And do you believe that?” Marqex asked.

“To be honest, Marqex, I did not care,” he said, shamed by the truth, but unwilling to lie.  “I did believe, yes, but it happened so far in the past, and seemed to have nothing to do with me.”

“And now?” Marqex asked.  “How do you feel now?”

Darck looked away from Marqex.  “I am afraid my answer will disappoint you.”

“Do not concern yourself with that,” Marqex said.  “I ask only for your opinion.”

“I hold no grudges, Marqex,” Darck admitted.  “Not with Ugaztun, not with the Jasani, not even with Stalnek.  I want only to live in peace with my family.”

“And you think I would be disappointed in that?” Marqex asked, smiling at him.  She shook her head gently.  “That you love your family is a credit to you Darck.  However, you are mistaken in thinking that the events of three thousand years ago do not effect us now.  They do.  Very much so.”

“How?” Darck asked.

“The
Erekorra
has shown me the truth of what happened between the two worlds,” Marqex said.  “It is a truth that I have long suspected, but my genetic memories haven’t been enough to clarify it.  Now, I know that my suspicions were correct.”

“This sounds ominous,” Darck said.  “What is it that you suspected?”

“The Narrasti did not destroy Ugaztun,” she said.  “Neither did the Ugaztun destroy Narrastia.”

“What did happen?” Darck asked. He knew that both planets had been destroyed.  He’d seen images of the asteroid fields that now existed in place of the sister planets.

“The Xanti destroyed both,” Marqex said quietly. 

“The Xanti?” Darck asked in surprise.  “But...why?”

“That is the question, isn’t it?” Marqex said thoughtfully.  “No one knew then, as no one knows now.  I can tell you only that the
Erekorra
does not lie.  It is a recording of the memories of four sugean space swimmers.”

“Space swimmers?” Darck asked.  That was a term he’d never heard before.

“Space swimmers were sugea with only one magical ability and almost no intelligence whatsoever.  Usually such as they were destroyed shortly after emerging from the egg.  These four, however, were gifted with the rare ability to swim space.  They floated high above Narrastia, in space, connected to each other in an unbroken chain of guardian magic that surrounded the planet like a shield.  The shield, by its nature as Narrasti magic, repelled magic from Ugaztun.”

“Damn,” Darck whispered.

“Indeed,” Marqex agreed.  “Because their intelligence was almost nonexistent, their memories, what they saw while they swam space above Narrastia, were stored within an egg shaped crystal called an
Erekorra
.  When the Narrasti fled the planet they took many artifacts, including the
Erekorra,
in hopes that whatever had happened would be recorded within it.  And it was.  Right up to the moment the lifeboat carrying the
Erekorra
left the system.”

“What did the space swimmers see?” Darck asked. 

“They saw four Xanti ships.  They saw the first weapons of destruction leave the ships and slam into both Narrastia, and Ugaztun.  They saw the utter destruction of both worlds.”

“What happened to them?” Darck asked.

“I do not know,” Marqex replied with a regretful sigh.  “For all I know they still exist, swimming space around the remains of the two worlds.”

“Still alive after all this time?” Darck asked.

“Once matured, sugea do not age, Darck,” Marqex said.  “Why else do you think that I show my age, yet Magoa looks as young as he did five hundred years ago?”

“I knew that Narrasti did not age as quickly as the rest of us, but I did not know that sugea were immune to it altogether.”

“It is unfortunate for our people,” Marqex said.  “Until someone kills Magoa, he will remain in power.”

Now that Darck was a father himself, he understood how difficult it must have been for Marqex to accept the evil in her son, and turn her back on him.  He decided to change the subject, for her sake.

“Perhaps this is a dumb question, but why didn’t the Xanti stop the life boats from escaping when they destroyed Narrastia?”

“It is not a dumb question at all,” Marqex said.  “According to the
Erekorra
, many lifeboats were destroyed by the Xanti, both those of Narrastia, and of Ugaztun.  Very few escaped, and those only because there were so many life boats, and so few Xanti.”