Psion Delta (3 page)

2.
NWGMC

Tuesday May 7, 2086

Sammy
awoke in
a hospital bed in the early hours of the morning. The last
thing he remembered was that there had been a party for him at Beta
headquarters and as soon as it was over, Dr. Rosmir had arrived to take him to
the hospital where he’d almost immediately fallen asleep. Now, he had the most
peculiar sensation that someone had snuck into his head to beat a large drum
inside his skull. On top of that, everywhere else on his body either burned,
stung, or pulsed angrily. When he tried to raise his hand to his temples, he
noticed the bandages wrapped past his wrists and halfway up his arms where
glass had cut him from being dragged by Katie Carpenter through a building in
Baikonur. Worst of all was his leg, which had been badly sliced by her
blitzer’s superheated discs.

“Hey,
baldy,” said a voice nearby. He recognized it as Jeffie’s.

He
tried to sit up so he could see her, but the throbbing in his head became
worse. Instead, he remained reclined, but repositioned his body for a better
view. She was sitting in a chair by the door across from his bed. Brickert sat
beside her holding his body in an awkward, almost tense, position. All three
Betas wore hospital gowns and looked like a small subsection of an adolescent
psych ward.

“Hey
guys,” Sammy answered as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. “I missed you both at
my party last night.”

“Yeah,
we wanted to be there,” Jeffie remarked.

“But
certain events beyond our control prevented us,” Brickert added.

“Like
getting shot. Which sure sucks, doesn’t it, Brick?”

Brickert
made an exaggerated expression of pain. “Every time, I’ll tell you.”

“I’d
heard Wrobel only shot you with tranquilizer darts,” Sammy commented.

“Oh,
only tranquilizer darts!” Jeffie placed her hands on her cheeks in dramatic
fashion.

Sammy
closed his eyes to stop from laughing.

“Fortunately
we weren’t stung by bees, Jeffie,” Brickert added, “otherwise we might be up in
the ICU clinging on to life.”

“Okay,
I’m sorry!” Sammy exclaimed. “I meant that I thought you’d have been let out of
here by now.”

“Yeah,
the good doctor did ask us if we wanted to go home,” Brickert explained, “but
we said we’d stay a little longer to say hello.”

“So
we could see what a real injury looks like!” Jeffie said cheerily.

“You
must have gotten hit in the face pretty hard to look that bad,” Brickert said.

Sammy
attempted to bring his hands back up to his face to feel what was wrong, but
then he saw Brickert and Jeffie about to break up into laughter again. When she
leaned over, he saw the bandages and wound dressings on Jeffie’s sternum; he
saw none on Brickert.

“How’s
that healing?” Sammy asked, pointing to Jeffie’s bandage. “All right?”

“Yeah,”
she answered with a shrug. “It hurt pretty bad yesterday, but it’s getting
better as long as I don’t breathe too deeply.”

“Where
did Wrobel get you, Brick?” he asked.

Brickert’s
cheeks turned red. “You don’t want to know.”

Jeffie
smirked and elbowed Brickert, who turned to her still holding his body
strangely. Then Sammy noticed how his friend favored only half of his butt as
he sat. He chuckled so hard his whole bed shook. The laugh hurt and felt good
at the same time. “Well, I’m glad you’re both alive and okay.”

Jeffie’s
smile grew as she gazed back at him. “We’re glad you’re okay, too. Has Doctor
Rosmir said how long you have to stay here?”

“Five
or six days.”

“Suck
a duck,” Brickert muttered as he shifted his weight to his other leg with a
wince. “Sorry, man.”

“It
is what it is, and I can’t do anything about it. Have you guys seen Al? Is he
here?”

“He’s
in a different wing of the hospital. Critical care, I think. Right?” Brickert
looked to Jeffie for confirmation.

“But
he’s fine, Sammy. Don’t worry. We’re not allowed to visit him because we’re not
family, but Byron said he’ll be out in a few days. Same as you.”

“What
happened to your hair?” Jeffie asked. “Last time I saw you it was longer than
ever. Now it’s—”

“Gone,”
Brickert finished. “You look like an eight-ball on a pool table.”

Jeffie
snickered as Sammy rubbed his naked head. “Rosmir shaved it. I tried to stop
him, but he threatened to knock me out.”

“Sucks,
man. Sucks you have to be here.”

Sammy
didn’t respond. He desperately wanted to be back at headquarters to get back
into a normal routine. He wanted to put the deaths of Toad and Dr. Vogt behind
him. He wanted to forget an Aegis named Stripe ever existed. He wanted to never
think about Katie Carpenter’s frighteningly beautiful face again. And most of
all, he did not want to sit through any more therapy.

But
that was exactly what Dr. Rosmir had arranged: several days of meetings, exams,
tests, and counseling sessions. Sammy’s best hope was to do well enough that he
could be released early.

Jeffie
glanced at Brickert, then looked at Sammy.

“You
want to grab some food?” Brickert asked very suddenly. “The hospital cafeteria
is one floor down and it’s a short walk. Best thing is it’s all free.”

Sammy
declined. Even a short walk seemed too far for his aching limbs.

“Okay,”
Brickert said, glancing at Jeffie. “You want something?”

“Yeah,
get me a salad,” she said. “A big one.”

“The
big salad,” Brickert repeated. “Got it. You sure you don’t mind that I go,
Sammy?”

“No—go—it’s
fine.”

Brickert
glanced at both of them again.
Is he nervous?
Sammy asked himself.
Or
really that hungry?

“Okay,
be right back!”

Jeffie
watched Brickert go, then gave Sammy her full attention.

“So
. . . ” she began in a conversational tone.

He
waited for her to continue, but she watched him expectantly. The only sound for
several seconds came from the monitors connected to Sammy via electrodes on his
chest. Without any effort, his thoughts wandered off to dark places as he
subconsciously counted the beeps. Jeffie cleared her throat, startling him. He
looked back at her and saw her staring with eyebrows raised.

“What?”
he asked. “Am I missing something?”

“Yes.
You owe me an apology.”

“I
do? Why?”

Jeffie
narrowed her eyes at him. “Our last conversation. The way you acted. You
shouted at me. I hadn’t seen you in forever. I’d finally let myself accept,”
she looked away for a brief moment, “things—things I didn’t want to. Seeing you
was a shock. And all you did was yell at me. You yelled a lot.”

Sammy
thought back to two nights ago when he and she had sat in the cafeteria of Beta
headquarters. It was true. He had been extremely rude. He made to apologize,
but she put her hand up before he could say anything.

“It’s
okay now. After what you said you’d been through—all that stuff—you don’t owe
me anything. I’m glad you’re back and that you’re happier this time.” She
glowed as she said these words. Then the glow disappeared, replaced by a hint
of mischievousness. “Besides, if anyone owes someone something, it’s me who
owes you.”

“What
do you owe me?” Sammy asked.

Jeffie
stood up and took one step toward him. The green in her eyes seemed more
intense than Sammy remembered. “Think about it.”

Sammy
found that he had no sensible response, just like other times Jeffie had gotten
so close to him. In fact, he was pretty sure his stomach had been turned upside
down, squeezed tightly, and then over-inflated with air. He wondered vaguely if
this was going to be a chronic problem for him. The strong throbbing in his
head dissipated, replaced by a sudden thundering in his chest.
Does she
really mean to kiss me now? Here? While we’re dressed in hospital gowns?

She
took another step toward his bed, her eyes locked on his. Every thought in his
brain that had once seemed clear turned to mud.

“While
you were gone, how many times did you think back to the promise I made you
before you left?” Jeffie asked. “You remember that morning, right? When I
kissed you on the cheek and made you a promise?”

“Uh.
. . . ” He hoped that “uh” meant “thousands” in whatever primitive language his
brain had slipped into using. The beeps from his monitor sped up noticeably,
and Jeffie glanced at the screens, grinning knowingly. Her third step brought
her only half a meter away from him. He could already feel the softness of her
lips on his cheek again, the scent of her skin enveloping his senses. It was as
clear as if she’d made that promise to him only minutes ago.
How is that
possible?

Then
someone knocked on the door.

Sammy
thought of every curse word he knew as he stared at the door with an intense
loathing. He slowly sat up, ignoring the headaches, and he and Jeffie turned to
see who had interrupted them. Dr. Maad Rosmir entered waving with one hand,
pushing a wheelchair with the other, and totally unaware of the incredible
moment he had ruined. The feeling in Sammy’s stomach slowly deflated, along
with his lungs.

“Hello,
Gefjon,” he said when he looked up from his holo-tablet. “It’s nice of you to
visit Sammy. Did anyone tell you that you’ll be taken back to headquarters this
evening?”

Jeffie
scowled at Rosmir. She hated being called by her real name, though the doctor
did not seem to notice his offense. “Yes, the nurse told us.”

“Right,
well, I need Sammy for some testing, so now would be the best time to say
goodbye to him.”

“But
Brickert’s not back from lunch yet,” Jeffie began.

Sammy
knew the doctor wouldn’t budge and decided to interject. “Tell Brick we’ll talk
some more when I get back and that I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Jeffie
did not look happy about having to part with Sammy so soon, but her displeasure
made Sammy feel somewhat better about the situation. “Okay, I’ll tell him. You
take care and—and we’ll finish our conversation another time.”

Sammy
struggled out of his bed and into the wheelchair. He turned back to see her one
more time, and she waved at him.

“Bye,”
they told each other.

Sammy
did not enjoy being wheeled through the hospital floor dressed in nothing but a
gown that flapped with even the slightest of breezes. His gown hadn’t been
properly tucked under him, and his bandages prevented him from doing much about
it. Rosmir spoke to him as they moved from corridor to corridor and up an
elevator, but Sammy wasn’t paying attention. His thoughts stayed with Jeffie
and Brickert—but mostly Jeffie—while Dr. Rosmir droned on about something
regarding a baseline test.

“Are
you even listening to me, Sammy?” Dr. Rosmir asked.

“Huh?
Yeah,” Sammy said as he pulled his gown back down after the elevator door
opened. “How come you’re here and not a psychiatrist?”

“I
oversee the treatment of all the Psions. You’ll be seeing a lot of me over the
next few days, but I won’t be diagnosing you.”

Dr.
Rosmir stopped in front of a pair of doors with a sign above that read:
PSYCHIATRIC
TREATMENT CENTER.
Sammy rolled his eyes.
Yay for me, Sammy
the psycho.

The
doctor scanned the doors open. Directly in front of them was a desk where an
armed guard stood and chatted flirtatiously with the overweight nurse sitting
behind it. On the left, he saw a sign that read
OUTPATIENT
TREATMENT/TESTING/COUNSELING
. To the right was another set of secured
doors marked
INPATIENT MENTAL CARE
. Through the doors on the right, Sammy
could faintly hear shouting.