Fluency

22

Jane took her time, willing her ham-handed movements to obey her intentions. She gathered Alan up as she would a fragile child, in her mind’s eye remembering the moment Ei’Brai had lifted her using Compton’s arms. His touch had felt mechanical, just as hers must now feel to Alan. That was where the similarity stopped.

Alan drifted in and out of consciousness, murmuring at her. There was no more room for mistakes. A sob escaped her lips and tears slid down her cheeks as she tramped away from his rank pit of survival to someplace safe where he could mend. She ignored the angry tears, the overwhelming surge of protective feelings, and barraged Ei’Brai with demands for information about the others.

She no longer believed that he didn’t know where they were.

She feared they were all dead. She couldn’t forgive that, if it were true.

“Alan says they’re safe. I need to know. You can sense them. I know you can. Where are they? Do they have enough food, water?”

It took everything she had to just walk in that getup. She couldn’t break her concentration and force him to answer. She wasn’t sure how she would do that, actually. But that wouldn’t stop her from trying as soon as she got the chance, should he refuse to give a satisfying reply.

She detected a brisk sensation swirling around Ei’Brai as he replied. “You have done well. I could not ask for more.”

She grit her teeth. “I’ve had enough of your Machiavellian crapola. Tell me. Now.”

Something akin to a smirk flitted from his mind to hers. “They withdrew to their vessel as you commenced the recuperative process. Dr. Alan Bergen searched for you, solitarily.”

Her brow wrinkled. She didn’t like that answer, but felt it was probably true. “Okay. And?” There was more. She knew it.

“Presently they reside outside the periphery of my awareness. They have detached. They travel on a trajectory toward the nearest planetary body.”

“They left us here?” Damn it. Why did that hurt so much?

He didn’t answer.

She arrived at the Assessment Chamber. The computer immediately greeted them in bland, unruffled tones. “Welcome, Documented Citizens: Jane Augusta Holloway, Bartholomew Alan Bergen. Please step onto the diagnostic platform.”

She visualized herself settling a sleeping child upon a bed and willed the servo-motors to comply with that level of control. It mostly went well. She didn’t think she’d hurt him further, though his head hit the surface of the platform harder than she would have liked. The blue-green tube of light enveloped Alan and his holographic twin appeared, mirroring his supine form.

“Recording data. Machinutorus Bartholomew Alan Bergen presents in an unconscious, non-ambulatory state, demonstrating disruptions of multiple metabolic processes. Catabolysis. Hypohydration. Thirty-seven neurotoxic and hemotoxic metabolites detected in the lymphatic and cardiovascular systems. Is enumeration necessary?”

Jane’s brows drew together. “No. Continue.”

“Gross lacerations and trauma to lower left quadrant. Prognosis, with 95% confidence interval: level seven. Damage has reached near irreversible levels. Prosthesis may become necessary. Recommendation: immediate Sanalabreus immersion for extensive detoxification, regeneration, nutritional supplementation.”

That was disappointing news. She’d hoped…. She indulged in a moment of hesitation, then moved forward to recollect him.

“Alan? Alan, wake up. I need to tell you something.” She cradled him against her. It flashed through her mind how ridiculous it was for a woman of her size to be holding someone who measured eight inches taller and outweighed her by at least 50 pounds, probably a lot more. But there she was.

Alan’s eyes opened to slits as she moved toward the Sanalabreus Chamber. He gazed into her face, his mouth turning up on one side. “Is this it, Jane?”

She smiled a tremulous smile. “Nope. There’s hope for you, yet. But you’re not going to like what comes next.”

“Really?” he whispered. “I’m not really very enthusiastic about much these days.”

She wished she could get out of the suit, ruffle his hair, coddle him, soothe him with her hands.

He cleared his throat and sounded marginally stronger. “Lay it on me.”

She lowered him up to the suit’s elbows in gel.

His eyes went wide. He grasped at her weakly, finding little to cling to on the suit’s slippery surface.

She kept her voice calm, reassuring. “I’ve just come out of one of these, Alan. It healed my leg. It’s unpleasant, but it’s your best chance. Don’t—don’t fight it, okay? Just rest and sleep. I promise you’ll be safe. I’ll be watching over you.”

He relaxed a bit and nodded wearily. He managed to push a bit of snark into his voice as he muttered, “If you say so.”

“I do.”

He made a face like he was vexed.

“What? Alan, it’s ok—”

He stiffened a bit, but didn’t open his eyes. “I know it’s ok. I’m just fucking tired of playing Princess Buttercup to your Wesley. Next time, I’m rescuing you, goddamn it.”

She couldn’t help but smile. After all the months of listening to the crew bicker about movies, she finally got a reference.

She could see the filaments weaving their way around him. It made her skin crawl, but he didn’t seem to notice. She lowered him farther, up to his chin. She kept a firm hold on him. The device didn’t have control yet. “You’re going to go under the surface of the gel. It’s ok. You’ll be able to breathe.”

He opened his eyes. The filaments slid purposefully up his neck, pausing at his lips and nose, waiting to time entry perfectly. “Let go, Jane. I trust you. I feel better already.”

She located a command to force her arms to stay steady, to compensate as she lowered her face to his. She kissed his bushy brow. “I’ll see you soon. Be good.”

“Shut up and give me something good,” he grumbled.

She chuckled and bussed his lips.

He rolled his eyes, then closed them. “You can do better than that.”

Her chest felt tight, remembering how much she’d done, when she thought she’d been alone with him. “Later,” she choked out.

“There better be a later, or I’m going to be pissed.”

He sank under and she stood there watching for a long while. A few small bubbles escaped his lips, remaining suspended in the gel above his face. She caught glimpses of the filaments as they moved over him, began their work. He didn’t struggle. His eyes were closed. He looked peaceful.

Ei’Brai broke into her reverie. “He is in hand. All is well. You must conclude the attendance upon your own injuries, Dr. Jane Holloway.”

She straightened and squared her shoulders. “No. I’m not done yet.”

“The remaining nepatrox will wait. Your brethren are safe.”

Jane blinked slowly and pushed him back to the periphery of her mind, holding him there, so he couldn’t see her intention.

She turned away from Alan’s tank. She marched.