Four
In spite of Xar’s concern, Lenk still made Skan walk; not because it was too crowded on board, but because he was feeling ill-tempered towards the smaller slig, having had to suffer a load of abuse from the noisy little medic because of him.
Skan was trying valiantly to keep up in the afternoon heat. It wasn’t as blisteringly hot as it had been at midday, but the beating he’d got was telling on his system, his stride was beginning to falter, and she could very nearly see his skin getting burnt… Aalu gave him a sad look, then glanced up at Lenk.
The big soldier noted her gaze. “The answer is no,” he answered her unspoken question. “Yer can’t help him.”
She indulged in scarcely a second of internal debate – dare she risk disobedience? Silly question – if she did what he said, Skan would die. Simple as that. So she wrinkled up her face and made a rude noise, then had vaulted out of the back door before he could make a move to stop her.
She trotted over, worriedly. “Skan…?”
He looked at her out of glassy eyes. “Aalu,” he rasped. “Come to have fun in the sun too, hey…?”
She gave him a look, and seized one of his arms and slung it over her shoulders, then put an arm round his waist, to support him. “You’re going to get sick, like this,” she said, softly.
“An’ so will you,” he countered, dazedly. “Go back in…”
“Don’t be stupid,” she told him. “I’m not leaving you out here to struggle on alone.”
“Yer goin’ ter get sunburnt…”
“Look, the sun’s going down; I’ll be fine…”
“Then so will I.”
“Look, if you don’t shut up, I’ll gag you,” she said, exasperated…
By the time they halted, when the sun had finally inched below the horizon, Skan was severely sun-sick. His skin was badly burnt, and he was running a very high fever. Aalu sat by his side all night, fretting, vainly trying to take some of the heat out of his skin with damp cloths and plenty of cool water, and ensuring the fever didn’t get any worse… Morning came and Skan was still very sick, so Xar carefully got him settled into the back of the tank, in the cool. Lenk stood in the cabin and fumed – he would happily have made Skan walk again, feverish or not – but kept out of the way. He’d been threatened off by Xar – again.
At the moment, Skan was asleep – well, sedated, to be honest, but still sleeping.
“Will he be all right?” Aalu asked, faintly, carefully touching the back of her hand to Skan’s forehead and wincing – his temperature was still sky-high.
Xar nodded. “Yeah, he should make a full recovery. Seen ‘em recover from worse. Jus’ so long as we make sure we keep his fluids up, an’ try to keep the temperature down…”
And so the journey went on. Skan would wake up, every now and then, burble a bit of nonsense and then pass out again, and Aalu sat and fretted at his side. Xar had barked orders and got Skan taken down to the nearest medical facility as soon as they’d arrived; the medic may have been small – maybe not as small as Jas, but small nonetheless – but boy, did he have a voice on him! He’d have been better employed as a foghorn…
The days passed, and Skan wasn’t getting better very quickly. Delirious most of the time, they kept him under heavy sedation, and hoped for the best.
Aalu never strayed too far from his bedside, partly because she was a little scared and partly because she didn’t want anything to happen to him while she wasn’t there. The furthest she’d been away was just down the corridor to the pharmacy, to fetch new bags for his drip or medicines to bring the fever down from the dispensing assistant. She had yet to see the chemist in charge, but she was glad about that – the thought of meeting a vykker, after having heard all those horror-stories from the Guardians, always sent a chill down her spine…
Two days later, he was beginning to perk up a bit. When he woke up he appeared more in control of his senses, and didn’t ramble nonsense.
Xar looked pleased when Aalu told him. “Tha’s good – means he’s on the mend at last.”
“He said he had a headache,” Aalu studied her hands.
“Yeah? Rightio, then, I’ll give yer a script fer some painkillers…” Xar fished a pen out of his bulging pockets and rapidly squiggled something onto a pad of green paper, “…an’ yer can go pick ‘em up from Rek,” he handed her the paper with his near-illegible scrawl on it, then tucked his pen back into the pocket of his jacket and started off on his rounds.
“Rek?” Aalu questioned after him.
“Works in pills,” he replied, over his shoulder.
Oh – so Rek was the chemist, then. Damn – She’d successfully avoided having to meet him thus far…
She studied the scrap of paper and tried to make head or tail of the medic’s writing as she trotted over…
In “Pills”, two sligs were chatting amiably when she put her head round the door. “Uh – ‘scuse me? Is Rek anywhere? I’ve got a prescription from Xar…”
The taller of the two sligs, dressed in a pristine white lab coat with what seemed to be the regulation pocket full of pens, turned his head. “Oh yes? Well, let’s have it, then…”
She blinked. The pharmacist was a slig? No, couldn’t be. Couldn’t possibly be – everyone knew sligs just didn’t have the brain power for such a highly skilled job… “You’re Rek…?”
He smiled, took the scrap of green paper from her stunned hand. “That’s my name, yes – don’t wear it out…”
“But… I thought…” She stammered.
“That I’d be a vykker?” He grinned, and clipped the paper to the computer terminal, rapidly clattered in the details. “Don’t worry – most people that don’t know me think that. I’m not sure if I should feel insulted or take it as a compliment…” Rek scratched his head, throughtfully. “Xar ought to learn to write,” he commented, finishing typing, then picking out a box and studying the writing on it. “These for Skan, yes?”
Aalu nodded. “How did you know?”
“Word gets around,” he whisked a label off the printer and affixed it to the box. “And quickly, if you’ve got a gossip chain such as we have here,” he handed the box over, with a smile. “Apart from the fever, how is the little psycho these days?”
“You knew him?”
“Oh yes, I knew him. I think everyone did, near enough. We were friends a few years back, in combat school – until Vykkers’ realised I was clever, and plucked me out to get educated…” Rek grinned. “Actually, it’d be nice to see him again. I’ll come down to the ward with you. Orik, no dispensing while I’m not here.”
“Right boss,” the dispensing assistant saluted, cheekily.
Rek smiled, wryly, then followed Aalu out of the door. “So,” he said, mildly. “You must be Aalu.”
She nodded, mutely.
He smiled, gently. “You know, I don’t bite, if that’s what you’re worried about…”
“I… sorry. Born worryer.”
They managed to get a semblance of conversation going by the time they reached the ward door.
Just as she was about to follow Rek through the door, a hand tapped her shoulder. Aalu turned, expecting to see a slig after her attention – she was used to being trailed by the males, by now. They didn’t seem to be able to help it; like was normal with the mudokons, non-queen females were rare – something about their genetics made embryos unstable – so any females that did survive to adulthood invariably attracted the interest of the males…
The owner of the face that stared back at her was no slig. The face was overly long, with sly eyes – almost like a hideously mutated mudokon.
Aalu almost leaped out of her skin. “What in the name of Odd is that?!” she shrilled, hiding behind Rek.
“Oh, it’s only an intern,” Rek replied, reassuringly. To the intern, he said, calmly; “What do you want?”
“Labs want the female,” the intern said, idly. “She’s to come with me.”
“Already? I was under the impression-” Rek started, but the intern cut in.
“Yep, already. Now you going to get out of ‘er way, or not?”
“She’s running an errand. You’ll have to wait,” Rek told him, sternly.
The intern spread his hands. “Whatever. So long as it doesn’t take long…”
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