Prince of Luster (34 page)

“The only two people left alive were you and the man who attacked you. I’m sorry.”

She searched his face, looking for any break in his gaze. Even now, her instincts kicked in. She was processing as someone with experience in such matters.

He simply waited. There were no tears, no cries of protestation. Just silence.

She eventually turned away. Before she did, he caught the telltale look of even firmer denial. A bit of coldness entered her blue eyes. She wouldn’t be convinced easily. But neither was she a collapsing heap of emotion. Primitive as he’d been led to believe her culture was, that was to her credit. He gently squeezed her hand then moved away.

Gemma followed him a short distance before adding an opinion.

“Her vital signs dropped when you told her, Commander.”

“Watch her. Make sure she isn’t left alone,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

Darius walked out of the med bay and slowly headed toward his quarters. He unfastened his left shoulder epaulet and let the front of his tunic fall open. As he approached his quarters, the hatch separated to allow him access. He moved into his personal space and quickly pulled the fastener from his hair.

Stripping his clothing off without caring where the garments landed, he numbly stepped into the shower compartment and let the hot water wash away what was left of his emotions. He could only speculate as to what would happen to the woman.

There was one other truth yet to be told.

She could never go back to her world. He and his crew had been given special dispensation to chase Goll “wherever he ran.” But Earth—as a world too technologically backward to know about other life forms—was a planet listed as unapproachable for any other reason. Life in prison or even the death penalty might be applied in any case where a violation existed; special permission to go back wasn’t obtainable.

Gemma, Barst, and the rest of his crew knew about the
no association
edict. What
he
knew was that it couldn’t be augmented for the purposes of returning Laurel. Gemma believed that once the woman’s wound was healed, and no evidence extant concerning the existence of otherworldly life forms, her patient could be returned with no harm done.

He hadn’t thought the consequences through while he carried the Earther back to the ship. Saving her life came first. That imperative outweighed all others.

Perhaps she’d rather be dead with her friends than on an alien vessel headed to worlds as yet unknown by her kind. Still, he could not have left her there dying. He couldn’t have shot her to put her out of her misery. So Gemma’s suggestion, as ship’s med-tech, had seemed congruent with humanitarian aid. Especially when considering Goll’s inhuman attack and her occupation as a fellow enforcer.

In effect, he’d already involved himself and his crew too much. But that was the situation and he was responsible as ship’s commander.

He hung his head in weariness. Too tired to consider any thoughts of the future, he moved to his bed and sank onto it. Sleep came quickly.

• • •

“Commander, we have a problem in the med bay.”

“On my way,” Darius responded after Gemma’s voice, via the intercom, jerked him from deep sleep. He quickly pulled on a robe and tied it closed as he raced through the passageways.

Once he was in the med bay, he saw Gemma holding down the struggling Earth woman. Barst and several medical staffers ran into the space a split second later.

“What’s happened?” Darius asked, maneuvering himself to help contain the struggling Earther.

“She isn’t breathing right. A bio-scan shows there’s a problem with something in our environment but I can’t detect what.”

“She was decontaminated when we brought her aboard. All of us were,” Darius quickly asserted. “Wouldn’t that equipment have indicated a problem?”

Gemma shook her head as she gathered medical equipment on a crash cart. “You need to keep her calm. My job at the moment is to keep her breathing. She went unconscious then awoke again gasping. She’s fighting to keep from suffocating. That’s all I know for sure.”

“I’ll hold her,” Darius ordered.

As Gemma moved away, Laurel tried to fight her way out of the incu-unit. He held her down though he could see the effects of horrible pain on her face. She acted as though there wasn’t any air at all in her lungs or she was being crushed under incredible pressure.

As the others gathered equipment at Gemma’s command, he held the patient down with one hand then used his other one to punch buttons that lowered the sides of the incu-unit. Several more moments of fighting took place.

In all his life he’d never seen a gasping person so determined to fight for every bit of air they could get. Clearly, she wasn’t ready to give up.

“Almost ready,” Gemma called out.

He turned his head to ascertain the staff’s whereabouts. When he looked back at the woman he was pinning down, she looked straight at him. Without enough oxygen in her lungs, she couldn’t speak. But there was fervent appeal in her pure blue gaze as she stared up at him.

As before, the communication chip embedded in her left temporal lobe made it possible for her to understand his words. He spoke softly, lifted her into his embrace, and cradled her in his arms as he uttered assurances.

“Quiet … we won’t let you die. You’re safe. You’re among friends and you’ll be all right. I promise. I promise,” he repeated over and over.

Among the bravest of all acts was her brief nod. With that slight movement of her head, she’d given her trust and was trying to calm down even as the last vestiges of air vacated her body.

In moments she’d be unconscious again. If the reason for her medical problem wasn’t found quickly his promise of safety couldn’t be kept.

“Hurry, Gemma! Hurry,” he quietly ordered.

“Keep talking to her,” Gemma replied. “I just need a little more time.”

He glared at the med-tech, trying to convey urgency without actually saying anything else. A “little more time” might be all she had. He did his best to keep the fear off his face and out of his voice. “Hang on. Gemma is the best medic in six quadrants. That’s why she’s part of my crew. Just keep looking at me.” The woman responded to his command, though she was beginning to turn blue. He held her closer as Gemma approached with a hypo-injection. What seemed like many minutes since he’d entered the med bay were probably only a few seconds. He was holding onto, and responsible for, a dying woman who’d trusted him to keep her safe.

“Why is all this paraphernalia going on your emergency tray?” Barst asked as he quickly decontaminated his hands with bio-spray and pulled on gloves.

“I’m going to sedate her so I can split open her chest,” Gemma explained as she repeated Barst’s actions.

“
What
?” Both men shouted in unison.

“Readings indicate the decontamination unit we brought her through might have wrongly interpreted something she needs to live as dangerous to us. I don’t know what the element was and I don’t have time to figure it out among the millions of permutations that might have taken place. Right now I have to deal with the results. She’s not breathing so I’m gonna fix it!”

“How could such a thing happen?” Darius asked as he held their patient closer.

“By all my readings her physiology is almost exactly the same as
yours
, Commander. Like I already said … there was something in her the decontamination unit didn’t like.”

Darius quickly lowered the Earth woman to the incu-unit platform again.

Gemma grabbed her tray, pushed Darius aside, and put an injection gun next to the Earther’s neck, just below her left ear. When the med-tech pulled the trigger, the Earther’s eyes closed. Selfishly, he was grateful she’d gone unconscious. He sent a silent prayer to the heavens that all would be well. Everyone around him shared the sentiment evidenced in the urgency being displayed.

“Everyone get out of my way and hand me what I need when I say so. If you haven’t scrubbed up, do it now or get out!” Gemma shouted.

“Have you ever done anything like this?” Barst asked.

“I’ve studied old holo files of such techniques,” Gemma responded as she worked. “Usually, this kind of invasive stuff is left to specially designed computer equipment in major trauma facilities. But she’s out of time and I’m all she’s got.”

“The incu-unit can’t do what you require?” Barst asked again as he stepped backward.

Gemma didn’t respond.

Darius gazed at Barst. The other man displayed a look of pure horror. He wasn’t sure his countenance didn’t bear the same expression.

He quickly turned to scrub up as the rest of the med bay staff did. It occurred to him that Gemma was risking her career and imprisonment for doing something so dangerous. Only the best surgeons were ever called upon to open a body. Technology was such that invasive surgery wasn’t the norm. But Gemma had already pulled down the Earther’s blankets, put a laser scalpel to the woman’s chest, and was splitting it even as he stood there putting on a pair of sterile gloves and an emergency mask like everyone else in the space. As she cut, one of the other med staff officers slid a mask on Gemma’s face, from beneath her chin. It was then affixed behind her head. A sterile gown was tied to her chest and around the back of her neck. Everyone in the med bay who had a reason to help was acting precisely as they should. He’d never been prouder of his crew.

But he still felt impotent. All he could do was watch as blood poured from the new incision in the Earther’s open chest. Techs grabbed replacement units of all-blood from Gemma’s tray, and began infusing them into Laurel via tubes attached to arm veins.

What if the all-blood didn’t match an Earther’s needs? Was there enough research to support the use of technologically advanced artificial blood replacement when speaking of a lower species such as an Earther? What if the gaping wound and open, beating heart—a heart that pulsed far too slowly now—was contaminated by atmospheric particulate in the med bay? What if Gemma slipped? What if … what if … what if …

“I can’t believe I just closed one hole in her chest only to open ’er up again,” Gemma angrily muttered as she worked. “That injection I gave her will keep her out as well as stave off pain and infection.”

“But her oxygen intake—”

“Was also temporarily compensated for with the injection, Commander.”

Gemma quickly called out for one piece of surgical equipment after another. Staff around the table acted with time-saving efficiency. He heard the frustration in their voices as they communicated with one another. Each of them was frightened they’d lose their patient. Caring wasn’t limited to whether an injured person’s race was less evolved.

Again, his chest swelled with pride. He turned to his second-in-command knowing he couldn’t leave the Earther alone. Her safety was as much his responsibility as Gemma’s.

“Barst … man the bridge,” he ordered. “We’re moving into uncharted space, someone needs to keep an eye on our scanners. I need to stay here.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll report on any unusual activity,” Barst said, then hesitated before leaving the med bay. “I hope she’ll be all right. Goll has done enough damage. She’d make an excellent witness at his trial. Diplomats would be hard pressed to ignore her account and use their oily machinations to get Gorm’s son free.”

“Indeed!” Darius nodded in agreement then put his attention back on the surgical procedure and the bloody, open mess that was now Laurel’s chest. He sighed in relief noting how her chest rose and fell more evenly now. Clearly, she was getting oxygen though he wasn’t sure what Gemma was doing with her lungs and heart to increase circulation. Such goings on weren’t his strong suit. In the med bay, Gemma had total control. It was the only place on the ship where everyone, including him, yielded to her.

“Though I hit her with some heavy meds, she may still be able to hear what’s going on so be careful what you say. Audible awareness isn’t unheard of in these situations,” Gemma softly advised as she kept cutting, snipping, and rearranging organs. “Commander … talk to her while I continue.”

Darius’s brows rose. He’d just been contemplating a question concerning exactly what Gemma was doing. Instead, he heeded her timely warning and moved closer to the injured woman.

The gore associated with opening Laurel’s chest wasn’t new to him. The site of it wasn’t particularly shocking. He’d seen many casualties while enforcing laws in his assigned quadrant. But something about watching this backward little Earther lying there in the middle of her own blood and incised body tissue was so pathetic. He tried to come up with commentary that sounded intelligent. Something she’d grab onto assuming she
could
hear what was being said. He put one gloved hand on top of her head, noting the thick mass of hair as he conjured words of comfort.

“Don’t be afraid. Gemma will have you right in no time,” he whispered as he lowered his head to repeat the words through the barrier of the mask he now wore.

As the operation proceeded he actually saw the Earther’s entire body tense. Later, she might not be able to remember what he’d said but right now, he was certain she really did hear every syllable spoken, just as Gemma had warned. He got the distinct impression she’d have reached for a hand to hold had she been able to move.

“Just a few more moments,” Gemma relayed as she glanced between her surgical handiwork and holographic status updates generated by the incu-unit. “Okay. That’s got it. I’ll laser-suture the incision. The unit should remove even the smallest trace of the scar.”

He recognized the sparkle in his med-tech’s bright gaze, and heard the exaltation in her voice. Apparently, she was satisfied with her skills in saving her patient’s life.

“She should start breathing deeper soon, sir. Her heart rate is already going back to its original speed. Of course, I don’t know what normal is for her. I’m not that up on Earther vital signs but since her biology is almost identical to Lusterian specs, I think it’s safe to say she’ll be just fine.” Gemma pulled off her mask as the incu-unit walls rose around her patient.

Other staff in the med bay sighed with relief and congratulated their head surgeon on a wonderful job. Darius simply stood there trying to hide such utter relief as to be nonsensical given his short acquaintance with the injured Earth woman. She’d fought so hard to live. As on the planet’s surface, she’d displayed one more instance of utter courage.