Fic: The Summer Intern (cont.)

[jeriendhal]

The hour's journey back to the administration village was very silent, even Skyler's usual cheerful observations muted to just clipped pilot chatter between himself and air traffic control. Unable to do anything to help and painfully conscious that she come on this trip uninvited, Nan found herself tapping her claws nervously on her personal data pad until the First One gave her a sharp look and she sat on her paws.

“We're coming up on the hospital, First One,” Skyler reported. “I'm locked on their beacon and they know we're coming in with a casualty.”

“Very well,” the First One replied curtly. In a moment the ambulance set down on the brightly lit rooftop landing pad with scarcely more than a gentle bump. Nez and Doctor Pouncer opened the rear doors as the roof's forcefield flickered to life, banishing the rain. Lift doors opened from the small building at the far end of the platform, revealing a pair of grim-faced ferin orderlies. They helped ease the doe's stretcher out of the ambulance, the First One, Nan, Nez and Doctor Pouncer following it in the lift. Behind them, Skyler lifted off once again, to presumably park the ambulance until it was needed once more.

“We'll take her to the ICU for further observation, First One,” Dr. Pouncer started to say.

“No,” the First One told him, as the lift began to move downward. “I'll need her placed in one of the operating theaters for the moment. I need an area quiet and insulated from other ferins' bion patterns. We can move her into the central recovery ward once she's stabilized, but not before, understand?”

Dr. Pouncer did not look sanguine. “First One, I've been treating ferin for almost forty years now. Standard procedure calls for a top down examination of a newly freed ferin immediately upon arrival, with as many other ferin nearby as possible for reassuring bion reinforce...”

“She survived over ten years in Hell,” the First One said flatly. “She survived three days locked in a box stuffed into the cargo compartment of a hundred and fifty year old fighter. She'll survive the next few hours without you hovering over her. I need to tease her bion strength so her body sustain itself, without having to deal with forty other tree monkeys trying to scan in to see what's happening. All that fancy monitoring equipment in the ICU isn't going to help with that, and if I can't do it there isn't anything you can do either. So Deal.”

Dr. Pouncer Dealt, or at least snapped his jaw shut so fast Nan could hear his fangs clicking together. In an almost equally flat tone he replied, “Yes, First One. Will you require anything else?”

The lift came to a halt, the door irising open to disgorge the medical mob, plus the First One and his auxiliary intern. Nan was still boggling at the First One of all people using the old vile epithet tree monkey to describe his own people when they reached one of the operating theaters, shielded from outside bion interference for the most delicate of surgical operations. The First One halted at the entrance, waving off the orderlies from the stretcher. “All right, from here it's just going to be me and the doe. Dr. Pouncer, I'll page you when I think she's strong enough to sustain herself.” He glanced at Nez, who was standing at a carefully balanced parade rest, her eyes looking glassy. “Vix, get yer roommate back to her bed before she keels over. Pouncer shouldn't have dragged her out at this hour anyway.”

Dr. Pouncer said stiffly, “Nez is here to learn and I didn't want to deny her the opportunity. She hadn't had a chance yet to participate in a Repatriate Arrival scenario.” He paused a moment, his expression growing bleak. “We get so few of them these days.”

The First One nodded in silent agreement. “Fair enough, but she needs her bed now. You too, Vix. See that you both get some rest.”

Nan bit down on a yawn. “Yes, sir. What do you want me to do tomorrow?”

He thought for a moment, looking like he was considering several possibilities in his head. “Get here by 1000 hours tomorrow if you're awake by then. If not, don't worry about it. By then the doe should be ready to wake up, if things work out. If not...” He didn't have to finish the sentence. The ferin were incredibly hardy people, but they had definite limits to their endurance.

“Yes, First One,” Nan said. “Come on, Nez. Let's go back home.” Her roommate nodded and muttered something like bismallah. Nan guided her out through the hospital lobby and back towards the dormitory, the rain coming down hard now, the gravel path on the floor of the forest barely visible in the stormy darkness. By the time they got back to their room, Nez was swaying on her feet, her belly making very disturbing rumbling noises. “Come on, you've got a date with the porcelain altar
right now, don't you?” Nan asked her, helping Nez remove her Emergency Services jacket.

Reminded, Nez's blue skin turned closer to green, but she swallowed down hard and said, “Have to do something first.” She opened her dressed and pulled out her prayer rug, unrolling it onto the floor and dropping down heavily onto her knees. Then she took a deep breath and leaned forward, head down, the locks of her hair brushing against the elaborate weave of the rug and prayed, “Allahumma Azhibil bas, Rabbannas, Ishfi wa anta Shafi, La Shifa illa Shafaok. Shifaal La Yoghadiro saqama.” Then, apparently for Nan's benefit, she repeated in Standard, "O Allah remove the hardship, O Lord of mankind, grant cure for You are the Healer. There is no cure but from You, a cure which leaves no illness behind." She then sat up again, looked down at her prayer rug, carefully scooted over so she no longer kneeling upon it, and then grabbed a waste bin and vomited noisily into it.

Nan grabbed a towel from a drawer and helped Nez wipe off her face once she was done, then got a shoulder under her to sit her on the edge of her bed and help her out of her sopping wet clothes, wiping her clammy skin dry with a fresh towel. “Do you think that might help? I don't think that little doe is a Muslim.”

“God is God,” Nez said, swallowing down a bit of remaining bile. “Whether He is called Allah, or the Father, or the Holy Den Mother. He watches us all, especially the weak and the helpless.” Her eyes were unfocused now, and she was shivering so hard that the bed frame shook as Nan helped her lay down and covered her her with a quilt.

“So where was God when that poor doe was being abused so horribly?”

Nez closed her eyes in despair. “I don't know.”

TBC

Comments

[chaypeta.livejournal.com]

So it's getting harder to redcue ferin... that smakes of something political. :(. Poor Nez... wazagan resilience has it's draw backs. ech.

And Teri's using bion to help stabilize the rescued doe. The idea that bion can be used to sustain another ferin is one I've been bandying about, this sounds definately along those lines. Looks like Teri and Pounce don't always see eye to eye on what is best for the patients. And he's still irreverently Teri as ever, even when referring to his own race. REALLY looking forward to what happens next. *crosses fingers for the doe.*

[jeriendhal.livejournal.com]

Not so much political I think as open market Ferin are getting harder to find. Even Terinu can only afford to play the "Start a dummy corporation, buy up as many ferin as I can, ship them home" trick so many times.

Anyway, I'm glad you liked it. I'll keep my fingers crossed for more on Reunion and A Ferin's Tale. Matt and Keelan needs happy endings, darn it!