“Stick around, fly boy,” Paul said. “I’m an authority.”
We finished our meal shortly after that, and it was with real regret that I said it was time for me to go.
Again, I received the friendly clasp of that large blue hand on mine, while the dark head dipped down so that Kao’s words were for my ears alone.
“Thank you for saving me from hearing all of Paul’s EngTech tales for the fifteenth time,” the pilot said.
His grasp subtly changed to a near-caress. “I would like to see you again, Healer Grey Veil.”
When you’ve spent most of your life with your nose buried in medical books, or involved with patients, you forget how other people see you. Apparently, he saw me as an attractive female.
“Perhaps we might share another meal - alone?” Kao asked. I could see how he got his reputation. By breathing.
“If you can find me off duty,” I said with a quick grin. I didn’t add “good luck” to that; it wouldn’t have been polite. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, either. “Until then, Kao Torin.”
The white eyes crinkled with his slow smile. “Walk within beauty,” he said.
I certainly walked within a daze as I headed for home.
Lor-Etselock was standing just outside my quarters as I strode down my corridor. He was perspiring despite the excellent climate control, and his chubby face appeared almost haggard with anxiety. The moment he saw me, he began trudging toward me.
“Doctorlregretlcouldnotrefusethementrance,” he said, and I frowned as I tried to follow his incomprehensible babbling.
“Regret you could not - what?” I held up one hand as he opened his mouth. “Slowly, please, Lor. My TI will blow out my eardrum.”
“Forgiveme.” He took a deep breath. “Bartermen arehere toappraise. In yourquarters.”
The infamous Bartermen? In my quarters? To appraise what?
The door to my quarters was partially ajar, and I walked past the fearful resource manager and nudged the panel aside. Within the room was a small group of aliens who were methodically searching through my personal belongings. I heard a muffled yowl of outrage and stepped inside.
“What the-“
My appearance made no effect on the culprits, who were all dressed in identical charcoal garments that cloaked their forms. Short abbreviated hoods covered what seemed to be square-shaped, elongated skulls. Jen-ner shot past me and scrambled under my sleeping platform.
“How did you get in here?”
One of the group turned at the sound of my voice.
“Appraisal is nearly completed.”
“Hey!” I followed him as he moved away, and prodded his shoulder. I was almost sorry when he turned around. From the shadows of the hood, gaunt features stretched under ashen skin into a parody of a smile. I’d seen more attractive cadavers. A musty, damp odor rose from the rustling robes. Smelled better corpses, too.
All he said was, “Ready yourself.”
“What are you people doing here? Why are you handling my belongings?” Once more I prodded the being, who was ignoring me. “You - explain this!”
“Doctorlcanexplaintoyou-“ Lor had followed me in, and put a damp hand on my arm. I shook it off.
“No, Lor, this one is going to explain it to me, aren’t you?” I leaned forward, and snatched away the article of my clothing he was fingering. In shock, he recoiled away from me. Like I was the problem here.
The others - I counted five - assembled quickly around us in a circle.
“Appraisal has been completed.” The appointed spokesman sounded smug. “Barter?”
“Barter what?”
“They wantto tradewith youDoctor,” Lor said. “For-what youbrought tothecolony.”
“You want to barter with me?” I asked, incredulous. I scanned the six faces. “Don’t you wait until you’re invited?”
“Bartermen do not wait.”
“How about making an appointment?”
“Bartermen do not make appointment.”
It was time to see if Bartermen knew how to get out, I decided. I pointed to the door. “I don’t want to barter with you. Please leave.”
“Appraisal is minimal,” the Bartermen’s spokesman said. “Assortment of clothing, medical articles, live domesticated animal. Barter only for entirety.”
I think I was being insulted. “Leave, now.”
“Dr. Cherijo Grey Veil, minimal appraisal.”
Like I should care. “Okay, I want names. Right now!”
“Bartermen.”
“Your names are Bartermen?”
Lor decided to intervene again. His plump hand trembled against my arm. “Namesare notused Doctor.
Against theirdoctrine.”
“Lor, stay out of this.” I surveyed the group once more, speaking slowly and clearly so they couldn’t claim later that there had been some terrible misunderstanding. “I’m telling you for the last time to exit these premises immediately.”
“Bartermen remain, complete barter.”
I didn’t have to surrender my privacy to a bunch of grubby little opportunists looking to turn a credit through intimidation. No, sir. I whirled around and went to my display panel. “HQ Administrative Office, Ana Hansen.”
Ana’s face appeared instantaneously.
“Cherijo? What-“
“Ana, there is a group of six individuals in my quarters calling themselves Bartermen. They have evidently entered illegally and sorted through my possessions. They now demand I barter or trade what I own.”
“Oh, no.”
I wasn’t through. “I’ve asked them repeatedly to leave. They refuse. Send some Militia over here, will you? File a Charter violation complaint against them for me while you’re at it.”
Lor nearly fainted.
The Bartermen conferred among themselves as Ana advised me to stay put and say as little as possible.
Within minutes two of the Militia stood inside the door way. The spokesman for the grey-cloaked aliens looked lü at me again.
“’ “Barter is not violation of Charter,” he said.
“Violation of my personal space without my specific invitation or consent is. Try reading section seven, paragraph fourteen, lines three through eight.” I nodded to the Militia officers. “Remove them, please.”
The Bartermen stepped forward collectively as their speaker said, “Appraisal may have been underestimated.”
“Appraisal was not requested,” I said. The Militia looked at each other uneasily. “Do you officers have a problem with my grievance?”
“No, Doctor.”
“Then, clear them out of here. Now.”
The Bartermen speaker decided to try to persuade me one last time. “Considerable appraisal for one item, live animal domesticated. We will barter equal exchange.”
“Get out!” I shouted.
They filed out silently, while Lor gibbered something and scurried after them. The Militia officers gazed at me with something like horror mixed with admiration.
“Well?” I demanded.
“Well, Doctor,” one of them said. “They are Bartermen.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I threw up my hands. “They have free license to go through my personal possessions? They can just walk in here and-“ Ana chose that moment to appear in the doorway.
“Oh, dear,” she said as she surveyed the mess. “There has been a huge misunderstanding.”
“You’ve got that right,” I said. “Who do these Bartermen think they are? They forced their way in-“
She shook her head. “Lor let them in.”
“What?”
“They were acting on a filed trade summons. I was notified almost immediately after your signal by the Association about the situation.”
“A trade what? What are you talking about?”
Ana’s shoulders shook suspiciously as she cleared her throat, then gave me a careful look. “A trade summons. Bartermen have an extensive and rather complicated communication system set up within the colony.”
“In words of two syllables or less, Ana.” She pressed her lips together, then went on. “I believe you stated that you would trade everything you own for some ice cream, fudge sauce, and a spoon?”
I related the bizarre incident to K-Cipok, who was my charge nurse on duty the next day, and she substantiated what Ana Hansen had told me about the aggravating practices of the Bartermen.
“And they just barge in on people like that?” I asked.
“I’m surprised they didn’t file a complaint with the Council,” K-Cipok told me. “They don’t like to be turned down, especially on a first bid.”
“They’re definitely fanatics,” I said, recalling their single-minded behavior.
She made a noncommittal sound. “In your view. Some cultures consider procurement of trade items as important as, say, you Terrans view daily cleansing rituals.”
“But to base all that on what I said”- trying to explain my side of it had me frustrated. “It was just an expression. You know, wishful thinking.”
K-Cipok made a low thrumming sound so much like a bovine moo I had to swallow a giggle. “I wouldn’t think out loud anymore, Doctor.”
The next case was rushed in from Assessment, and my humor dissipated at once. “Chart?”
“Can’t account for it,” the harassed orderly manning the gurney said.
The patient displayed evidence of severe internal trauma. Her abdomen was taut and hot to the touch, her vital signs thready. Shock was going to kill her unless we moved quickly.
“Let’s shift her.”
K-Cipok’s spindly limbs, which appeared incapable of keeping her heavy torso erect, hefted the patient from the gurney to the exam pad without effort. The orderly made a hasty exit, and when I looked at the contorted face, I went still.
“It can’t be.”
She was the same Orgemich female Phorap Rogan had diagnosed with gastroenteritis during my first shift at the FreeClinic. I scanned her once. That was all it took.
She didn’t have an upset stomach anymore.
“Prep her for surgery, stat,” I said to the nurse, then signaled Dr. Dloh, who was working that shift with me. “I’ve got an emergency here; I have to operate.”
“I’ll notify Azzezzment and cover,” he replied. “The Orgemich they juzt brought in?”
“Yes. It looks like an unrelieved blockage in the ileum caused the bowel to turn gangrenous.” I thrust aside thoughts of what I’d like to do to Rogan. “I’ll use K-Cipok to assist. Advise MedAmin and Dr.
Mayer for me, if you would.”
K-Cipok, like all the nurses, doubled as an anesthesiologist. She had the patient prepped and under sedation as soon as I laid out my instruments. We scrubbed, masked, and gloved, then initiated a sterile field around the three of us.
I positioned the lascalpel to make the initial incision. A bubble of putrid gas bulged beneath the outer abdominal wall.
“Suction,” I said after I swiftly made a tiny slit for K-Cipok to insert the extractor’s tip. Whew. The smell was horrific, but the effluvium was soon evacuated. I breached the tough outer tissues. “Clamp.
Aqueous suction, yes, right there.” I peeled back the heavy layer of fatty tissues, secured the clamp, and stared. “My God, what a mess.”
K-Cipok gasped. “How did she manage to walk around like this?”
The entire colon was strangulated by a massive obstruction, which had caused severe tissue degradation.
The gangrene was so wide-spread, I didn’t know if anything I could do would save her.
This was a direct result of Rogan’s incompetence.
“Orgemich species,” I said under my breath, concentrating. “Redundant organs include heart, spleen, liver, colon...” I probed beneath a portion of the necrotic colon and confirmed that. “She’s got two sets of large and small intestines, and only one has been compromised.” I gazed at my nurse. “We’re going to perform a complete ileostomy and colectomy, K-Cipok.” I straightened and adjusted the clamp. “Start thinking of a fancy clinical term. We may get credit with inventing this procedure.”
“She’s going into cardiac arrest, both hearts!” the nurse said. “No pulse!”
“Damn, damn, not now,” I muttered. The ventilator K-Cipok activated took over for the Orgemich’s lungs as I began compressions over the twin hearts. Sweat beaded on my brow, trickling into my eyes as I looked up at the nurse. “Stats.”
“No pressure, no pulse.” K-Cipok said, intent on the indicators.
“Fifty cc’s Epinephrinyl.” I snatched the syrinpress once it was calibrated and injected it directly into the primary heart. I checked for a pulse, but felt nothing. “Come on, lady,” I said. “Don’t give up on me!”
“Got something.” K-Cipok squinted at her console screen. “Bradycardiac rate primary heart, 48.
Secondary heart showing ventricular fibrillation. I’ve got thready BP, 47 over 30.”
“You can do better than that,” I said, waited as long as I dared, then looked at K-Cipok.
The nurse shook her head. “She’s not coming out of it.”
“Twenty cc’s of synmeperedine.” The next syrinpress was slapped hard against my palm, and I glanced up before I administered it. The charge nurse was not happy. “Problem?”
“She’s not a Terran,” K-Cipok said.
I administered the drug. “No kidding.”
“Doctor, she’s an Orgemich, and you don’t have a chart. Are you sure-“
“Let’s chat later, after we keep her from dying on us, okay?” I squelched the outrage I felt at being questioned. “Stats.”
“Still fluctuating,” K-Cipok monitored the readout with a frown. “Wait, she’s starting to stabilize. Both heart rates rising, BP looks better-“ She raised her large, placid eyes and smiled. “Better than when we got her. 90 over 60.”
“Close enough. Let’s get moving.” I ducked my head so the nurse could blot the sweat from my face, then held out my gloved hand. “Clamp.”
It took nearly four hours, but I was able to complete the surgery successfully. The Orgemich female was in critical but stable condition as she was transferred to post-op in the surgical intensive care unit.
K-Cipok stayed for a few minutes after the patient was removed.
“Dr. Grey Veil, that was - well, incredible.”
“Thanks.” I smiled to remove the sting from my next words. “Just don’t start arguing with me in the middle of surgery next time, or I’ll make you do the next one.”
“I apologize. I was worried - I wanted - how did you know so much about her physiology? I mean, I know you aren’t-“ She made an uncomfortable gesture.
It was understandable. “I’ve been studying.”
“You must have. I’ve never seen anyone operate like that.”