Change Horizons: Three Novellas (2 page)

Now Gemma placed her mug in the recycler and pushed her hands into her pockets. “I have work to do. See you later.”

“Yes. Oh, here. You need to keep rehydrating. These hovercraft are horrible that way.” Ciel opened the cool storage cabinet and pulled out a bottle. “It has some tasteless cloves in it. It’s—”

“Good for me. Yes. I understand.” Gemma took the bottle. “I should have asked before I had the soup, I guess, but I assume you’ve checked that everything you serve me is compatible with Earth human metabolism?”

“Yes.” Ciel spoke through her teeth. Really. This woman was going to drive her into seclusion due to mental issues that no herbs or chants could fix. Yes, the question was warranted, she knew that, but did Gemma have to sound like she thought Ciel was a complete idiot?

“Good. Thank you.” Gemma nodded curtly and walked into her quarters.

Ciel took a bottle of clove water for herself and stomped into her own space. The door shut behind her and she leaned against it, closing her eyes. She dreaded the upcoming long days of clenched teeth and fists.

Ciel watched with secret fascination how Gemma’s command presence made her look taller and more intimidating when she stood before the tall, burly SC soldiers. The sun-heated foliage created a sweet-scented mist around them as Gemma stalked along the group of eight men and six women, her eyes squinting as she debated with the sergeant next to her.

“I refuse to enter the medical facility of Rihoa with all fourteen of them trailing me, scaring the patients and intimidating the staff. I can’t do my job that way, Sergeant.”

“We’re in charge of your security detail. I’m under strict orders directly from the admiral to not let anything happen to you.” The man, seasoned and weathered, tried to look amicable, but Ciel could tell he was ready to grab Gemma by her neck and shake some sense into her.

“I don’t enjoy repeating myself. It won’t work.”

“Dr. Meyer,” Ciel said, not about to watch this turn into a time-consuming squabble. “What if you allow two soldiers to go with us and the others to position themselves where they need to be in case something happens?”

“Perhaps.” Gemma muttered under her breath. “Fine.” She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder and looked impatiently at the two closest soldiers. “You and you. Join Dr. O’Diarda and me at the clinic. Sergeant, position the rest of them where you deem necessary, as long as it’s far enough away from the patients.”

“Aye, Commander. Doctor.” The sergeant looked displeased, but he relented and divided his team into three groups, pointing out on a handheld computer where they needed to go.

“Guess we can make our escape now,” Ciel said. Gemma would probably explode if she was delayed further. She grabbed her own bag and began walking across the dusty road toward the newly built medical unit. It would become increasingly hotter throughout the day until the temperature peaked around midafternoon.

Frowning at how mindlessly the builders had destroyed far too much vegetation near the structures, she did her best to harness her outrage at the sight of the withered remnants of edible and medicinal plants. Such waste.

“What’s up?” Gemma muttered.

“What do you mean, Commander?” Ciel tried to feign disinterest, not about to start arguing with Gemma in the middle of the road.

“You’re radiating discontent. It’s pretty obvious.” Gemma glanced at her again. “And now you’re even more displeased since I noticed.”

Was she that transparent? Ciel took a breath. She wouldn’t let this woman just walk all over her and read her mind. It would only mean trouble. “It’s just…just the plants, Commander. Look.” She pointed at a pile of singuisa bushes. “They’re a powerful antibacterial remedy if you make tea from them.”

“Ah. Yes. Shame. But we’re bringing that type of medication with us. The soldiers will deliver it later.”

“That’s not the point.” Gemma didn’t understand. How could she? “We wouldn’t need the synthesized SC medication if my fellow Gantharians knew how to recognize and harvest these plants. The singuisa bush is just as potent.”

Gemma shook her head. “It’s also a matter of things being cost-effective and practical. Harvesting from bushes takes too long, and retraining people to do that—”

“Isn’t much harder, and it doesn’t take longer or cost more than this circus!” Ciel gestured at Gemma and the two soldiers. “There’d be no need for bodyguards, fancy SC equipment, or—” She stopped herself before she said too much.

“Or SC physicians who try to tell you what to do?” Gemma asked sweetly, the brown in her eyes suddenly very cold and opaque.

“Your words, not mine.” Ciel tried to reel her temper in.

“Sure sounded like that’s what you meant to say.”

“If that’s what you think, I can’t prove otherwise.” Starting to feel utterly childish, Ciel took another deep breath. What was it about Gemma that made her act so very out of character? She drew yet another breath and used a mind-cleansing mantra to regain her inner balance. When her equilibrium was centered once again, she exhaled and managed a smile. “I apologize for allowing this to escalate,” she said, and meant every word. She was here to guide and assist Gemma, not make her job impossible. Something about the tension around Gemma’s eyes, and the way she squared her shoulders until she looked like she’d break at the slightest touch, implied that this woman felt the universe depended on her efforts.

“No matter. I agree with you. If a plant is useful, no matter how, people should take extra care to preserve it, if possible.” Gemma gripped the shoulder strap of her bag harder and leaned forward as they walked up a steep hill. The bag looked far too heavy for her slight frame, but Ciel knew better than to offer to carry it. Gemma most likely was a lot tougher than she looked.

It didn’t take Ciel long to realize that something unusual was happening at the clinic. As far as she could see on the grounds around the structure, people were sitting or lying, some tended to by the ones around them. She tried to do a rough head count, but it was impossible as there were probably others on the other side of the building.

Inside, patients waited in a long line at the reception desk, and she couldn’t see where it ended. Others sat in rows in the waiting rooms, and more severe cases waited on gurneys in another area. Ciel saw an even deeper frown appear on Gemma’s face. This was not good.

*

Gemma stalked up to the reception area. The man working behind a computer console looked frazzled, more intent on entering commands than focusing on the people next in line. A young woman was holding a crying baby, tears streaming down her face.

“Please. Just listen to me. I need to see a doctor—”

The man held up his hand in a clear sign she shouldn’t interrupt him.

“My child, he—”

“Deal with him. I’ll look at the child,” Ciel murmured behind Gemma.

Glancing behind her, she saw Ciel bend over the child and gently touch his face.

“What is she doing? Who are you people?” the man behind the computer said, now looking up in obvious exasperation. “You can’t just cut in front of the line—”

“I don’t intend to. My name is Dr. Gemma Meyer. Call the clinic administrator and the person medically responsible to join me here.” She showed her identification on her handheld computer.

“I will do no such thing. Can’t you see we have a crisis on our hands?” The Gantharian man huffed and returned his gaze to the computer screen.

“You will, and you will do it instantly if you want to keep your job. I’m the SC representative and I designed this clinic. If you don’t—”

“You…did you say Meyer?” The man licked his lips repeatedly, clearly panic-stricken. “Yes. The administrator, Ms. O’Eso. The clinic chief, Dr. O’Toresho. Right this instant.”

“And why’s the line this long?” Gemma propped herself against the counter, watching with interest how the man’s fingers flew across the commands. “Just what crisis are you referring to?”

“We’re still bringing our system online. It takes a while to register the patients who came into town yesterday. They’ve been walking for months.”

“Where from?”

“From the correction camp in Teroshem. They’re on their way home.”

“On foot? Where’s their transport?” Gemma leaned over the desk. “How far away is Teroshem from here?”

“About two hundred kilometers, ma’am.” The man was sending messages via the computer as he spoke. “The clinic administrator and the chief are on their way.” He smiled carefully, looking much too young to deal with an onslaught of displaced people.

Gemma nodded curtly and returned to Ciel, who was examining the now-whimpering baby. “I don’t know how much you overheard, but these people are displaced. Refugees trying to get home from some correction camp.” She turned to the mother of the sick child. “Perhaps you can tell us where you come from and where you’re heading.”

“I speak Premoni very badly, Doctor.” The woman looked worriedly at Ciel. “Druid, can you tell me what’s the matter with my son?”

“Please, call me Ciel. He’s dehydrated due to a bowel infection. How long have you been on the road trying to get home?”

“My name is Tammas O’Mea. I’ve lost track of time, Druid O’Diarda,” the woman said.

“He needs liquids and vitamins. Perhaps additional nutrition.” Ciel smiled at the young mother. “It’s hard to be on the road with a baby.”

“I have very little milk for him.” The young woman whispered, half hiding her face. “The camp closed months ago, but I’ve been mostly on foot. I gave birth to Ilias when I’d been walking for a week. I had to rest for a few days before I could continue.”

Ciel shook her head, her jaw working before she spoke. “I can’t imagine walking that far with a baby after giving birth. You’re strong, Tammas.”

“I want to go home to my mother and father. If they’re…if they’re…I haven’t been able to reach them via any comm system, but people say the links are down all over the planet.” Tammas sobbed. “And now Ilias is sick.”

“He’ll be fine. We should let Dr. Meyer look him over as well, but my assessment stands. Rehydrate and give him some missing vitamins and some anti-inflammatory tea. You should have it too, as it will permeate the milk. You’ll see an increase in breast milk as well.” Ciel cupped the back of the little boy’s head. “He has your features.”

“I know. That’s a blessing. He’s of mixed blood.”

“So his father was Onotharian?”

“Yes.” Tammas blinked repeatedly. “We were married.”

“Where is he now?” Gemma asked as she ran her scanner over the boy. She examined the readings and was reluctantly impressed when her instrument concurred with Ciel’s diagnosis.

“I don’t know. He and some of the other incarcerated Onotharians had to go into hiding when some militant people from Teroshem stormed the camp once the occupation ended. He had managed to save some money and other valuables for Ilias and me, but I don’t know what happened to him.”

“I’ll take this information to headquarters,” Gemma said, and pocketed her scanner. “They need to know about illegal militia activities.”

“How much farther to your destination?” Ciel asked Tammas.

“To Emres? Maybe two more weeks. Three if the rains begin early.” Tammas looked determined but also exhausted. “I’ll have to wait until Ilias is better. That means the rains will have been under way for a while.”

Gemma thought fast and looked around the room where at least some sixty people sat in chairs or on the floor against walls, and stood in line. So many people seeking help from a multitude of conditions while on their way to a place that used to be home.

Straightening her back, Gemma began to create a solution to the problem. This was one thing she could do something about, no matter how many were displaced. She pulled out her communicator. “Commander Meyer to SC headquarters.” She repeated the page twice before a male voice responded. Relaying the details, she smiled confidently as the lieutenant at headquarters acknowledged and promised to send transportation. “I’ll report back as soon as we know if we need a mobile hospital unit to deploy,” Gemma said. She wanted to report the intel of rogue Gantharian militia groups but realized that would require more investigation before HQ could take any measures. She decided to record an initial report to Jacelon when she was back in her small office area aboard the hovercraft.

“Tammas,” Gemma said. “I’ve requested transportation for you, Ilias, and everyone else in here who is in transit heading home. I’ll make sure you and Ilias have a bed at the clinic until the transportation arrives.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much, both of you.” Tammas’s eyes filled with tears. “You can’t possibly know how amazing that would be. I’m prepared to walk for as long as it takes, but I’m so worried about Ilias.”

“He’ll be fine.” Gemma looked over her shoulder and saw a man and a woman approach. Guessing they were the administrator and the clinic’s chief, she stood and greeted them. Glancing at her companion, she saw Ciel pat Tammas’s shoulder and then walk from patient to patient, speaking with them.

“Dr. Meyer.” The administrator beamed. “I’m Ms. O’Eso. We’re so honored that you are blessing us with your presence, but you’ve caught us at an inopportune time.” She smiled nervously, clearly trying to appease the visitors.

“And by that you mean the reason why you’re not seeing any of these patients?”

The placating smile disappeared from O’Eso’s face. “What? No. I mean, we’re not quite ready yet.” She didn’t sound so confident anymore. Lacing her fingers tightly, she turned to her boss. “Sir?”

“Ah, yes. All in good time, Dr. Meyer,” he said, looking questioningly at his administrator.

“God, this place is like a farce.” Gemma pinched the bridge of her nose. “You realize that I have the protector’s mandate to change anything I don’t agree with, right?”

“Certainly,” the chief said cordially. “We’ll make the protector and the little prince proud.” Spouting platitudes was evidently what this man did best.

Gemma turned to the administrator. “Now listen. Don’t bother with the computers. Use pens and paper if need be, but start treating the patients. This is an order relayed through me by the protector herself. Do I make myself clear?” She clenched her fists so hard her blunt nails pressed painfully into her palms. Willing herself to relax her fingers, Gemma saw color leave the administrator’s face, turning her chalky white.

“The protector? You speak for the protector personally?”

“I do.”

“Sir,” O’Eso said hurriedly, “we need to simplify and speed up the registration process and begin seeing patients. By decree of the protector.”

“Forgo our routines?” The chief, who Gemma now knew had to be replaced as soon as possible, frowned. “I’m not sure, what if—”

Ciel joined them, her face serious. “People might be dying on your doorstep. You need to command your staff to start doing their job.”

“Medical transport units are on their way, but it will take them a couple of hours.” Gemma pulled her backpack off. “I suggest we start triaging. Are your wards operational?” she asked O’Eso.

“Two wards of five, Doctor.”

“What about the other three?”