“Don’t worry,” I tell her politely. “We’ll have him back before you know it.”
Then we’re off to the hospital.
Not surprisingly, Sharis is well guarded. Vel has to explain our mission to four different commanders, going up the food chain each time, before one of them thinks to fetch the doctor in charge of the councilman’s case. After fifteen minutes of milling around, he escorts us to a lounge to wait.
Activity prevents me from thinking about what I’ve lost. Somewhere deep inside, I’m dying, but there will be time for that later. A navigator always makes one big jump before the end anyway. Mine has to be spectacular to live up to my reputation.
Eventually, a Bug physician deigns to come see what we want. Doc launches into a long, technical explanation, which Vel translates. At first the Ithtorian doctor doesn’t seem to believe what we’re saying. He thinks it’s a trick, although why we’d be dim enough to tell them we’re trying to finish Sharis off—well, it really illuminates for me just how stupid they think humans are.
The light dawns, gradually. How it must sting that the idiot soft-skins came up with a cure.
“We will need to test this extensively,” the doctor says, taking the datapad with Doc’s results on them. “And verify your results. But if your findings are accurate, we will be beyond grateful. We are unable to do more than keep him stable, unfortunately. Citric acid is an alien toxin, and thus, we have never had a case like this before. Trying to figure out how to treat internal burns has stumped us.”
“We just want him to get better,” I say sincerely.
The others echo my concern. That seems like our cue to let the good Bugs get down to business. We can’t be too pushy about this, or they’ll become suspicious that there’s something hidden in the data. Scary how well I’ve come to know their thought processes since we’ve been here. They’ll waste crucial time trying to deconstruct what Doc has found instead of verifying his treatment.
I execute a respectful wa in parting as if the best of me isn’t sitting in a cell, awaiting judgment.
CHAPTER 38
My first sign things have changed for the better comes when a courier intercepts us on the way back to the government center where we’re lodged. A quick check tells me he’s male. That’s common; males often hold low-ranking, fetch-and-carry positions here. He’s also lacking any stripes on his carapace, so he’s either young or incompetent. I don’t remember seeing this particular Bug before.
“Councilor Devri would like a word with you,” he says with an obsequious but somehow insincere wa.
I return his polite discourtesy, layering my bow with meanings I’m not supposed to understand. Maybe it’s petty, but I enjoy puzzling them and making them wonder if it’s a fluke, like a dog that can howl in tune. The messenger regards me for a moment with his head canted at an insulting angle.
Behind him, water trickles down the textured walls, making a soft sound that offers the illusion of privacy anywhere in the complex. The pallor of the organic building material contrasts sharply with the lush, extravagant colors that grow in a riot all around us. On the far wall, there’s a climbing plant with large, spiky leaves in a green so bright it almost looks artificial, and the blooms look like blood.
There are not nearly enough doors in any of their buildings. Everything stands wide open, full of scrolling arches that make me think of hives. Mary, but I would love to snap my fingers three times at the lot of them and go get March. Instead, I make my expression welcoming without showing my teeth. Vel translates unnecessarily—and I’m tired of that, too. The air is too thick and sweet, a little too warm. Ithtorians prefer to keep the indoors like the tropics they no longer enjoy outside, but I’m no hothouse flower.
“We’d be honored to see Devri,” I answer at length.
“Only you and your translator,” he cautions me.
Well, that’s a familiar theme. Does that mean Devri doesn’t think the authorities arrested the right guy, or does he really not trust us now? If that’s the case, it’s a fierce blow. Besides Sharis, he was the strongest ally we had. If he thinks we’ll take hostile action against him if he sees us all, then we’re fragged.
The others shrug to show they don’t mind being excluded.
“I think we’ll head back to the ship, actually.” Dina doesn’t look to Hit for agreement, taking her acquiescence for granted.
Doc agrees. “Rose will worry if I tarry too long.”
He still hasn’t asked about March, likely figuring he’s off brooding somewhere. Maybe it’s better if he believes that for as long as possible. I sure as hell don’t want to be the one who breaks the bad news; Doc will be devastated. Something tells me March is like a son to him. They’ve known each other for turns. I realize now I’m not even sure how long it’s been. Long enough for him to be saved and lost and saved again. Long enough for him to fight a war to repay a dead woman’s kindness.
I can’t continue with that train of thought. It’ll break me.
So the other four return to the spaceport, leaving Vel and me to be escorted to Devri’s apartment. Though we know the way, the messenger dogs our every step. I’m not sure if it’s meant to be flattering, or if he’s been charged with retrieving us like a couple of lost parcels. Thankfully, he doesn’t say much along the way.
My heart isn’t in this anymore. I’m doing the right thing, but I don’t want to. With all my heart, I wish I could scrub out my moral conscience and say to hell with the rest of the universe. I want March, and I honestly don’t care how many obscure outposts the Morgut ransack as long as we can find a quiet corner to hunker down somewhere.
I also know March would never forgive me for making that decision. He’d find it unforgivable, and I’d still lose him. At least this way he respects me.