Vale of Stars (7 page)

“A little dizzy. Not sick.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“You’re my mommy.” Through the sniffling, Kuarta managed to convey surprise.

“Do you know where you are?”

“In the hospital.”

Jene nodded. Kuarta most likely did not have a concussion. “Honey, how big was the rock?”

Kuarta opened her palm halfway. 

“She’s bleeding pretty badly,” the constable said.

“Scalp wounds do that,” Jene said quietly. She felt herself beginning to slip into rage. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought away her emotions. “Take her to the trauma center. Someone will look at her there.” She opened her eyes and forced herself to look at the heart before her.

“Mommy! It hurts! I want
you
to fix it!” Kuarta wailed piteously.

“I know, honey. I can’t…one of my friends will help you, okay?”

“You aren’t going to help her yourself?” the constable asked, his voice pitched high, unbelieving.

Kuarta, who had begun to calm down upon seeing her mother, started to cry again at this.

“Damn it! Get her to the trauma center! Now! Hoverd, help me.”

Hoverd took Kuarta from the constable and hurried out of the room.

Jene grasped the laser scalpel she had been using. Through the microscope, she saw the guide beam shaking in her grip. She could not continue in this state. Jene withdrew from the microscope and leaned towards the hospital intercom. She pressed the all-call and said, “Doctor Werner to operating room nine. Stat. Doctor Warner to operating room nine, stat.”

The constable nodded. “Going to the trauma center, then?”

“Why did you bring her here?”

The constable looked at her with affected blankness. “To the hospital?”

“No, to me. Here.”

“I thought you’d want to look at your own kid. Give her the best treatment, you know.”

Jene flexed her fingers and returned to the microscope. The heart was still safe, for now. She looked at the constable. “I have this child to take care of,” she said, indicating the silent figure in the sterile field before her.

The constable looked at the child. He did not try to conceal his disgust. “If her heart is so bad that you have to cut it with a microlaser, she’s not going to make it long on EE3. You’re just prolonging her life a little bit. I hate to say it, but she might be better off dead, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t.” Jene again had to close her eyes and remain calm. If Werner didn’t show up soon, she’d have to resume the operation. Werner was the only other doctor on site today who was fully capable in cardiac microsurgery.

The constable shrugged. “Anyway, your kid is wrong. I didn’t even see them throw the other rocks at her.”

“Yes, you did. You might even have encouraged them.” Jene said with certainty.

“Doctor, how can you think that? I’m not the kind of person who would hurt a little girl. I’m sorry she’s hurt, but I did all I could do.”

“Why were you there at all?”

“We’ve received orders to watch out for her. And you and your partner. Good thing, too.”

Jene was prevented from answering by Werner’s arrival. He pushed past the constable and looked inquiringly at Jene.

“Oskar, I need you to take over. You prepped?” She got up from the saddle. Werner slid into it and immediately pressed his eyes against the eyepieces. “All set. What’s the story?”

“The heart has been stopped for…”—she looked at the wall timer—“…ninety-one minutes. I’ve begun the valve replacement and aortal weave, but I still have to—”

“I see it. Whew. This is going to take some doing. I’ll need an assistant.”

“Hoverd will be back soon.”

“Where’d he go?” Werner was already at work on the heart.

“He had to take Kuarta to the trauma center.”

“Serious?”

“No.” Jene turned on the constable. “When the rock hit Kuarta, did you contact Arnson for instructions?”

The man hesitated, apparently considering his answer. Jene did not let him speak. “You did. You son of a bitch, you called your goddam superiors first!”

Werner said, his eyes never leaving his work, “Calm down, Jene. Or take it elsewhere. I’m sort of busy here.”

The constable smiled reassuringly. “Doctor, listen to your friend here.” His hand moved slowly to his belt and rested on his paralyzer.

The movement was not lost on Jene. She glanced at his weapon, then fixed him with a cold stare. “You were waiting for something like this to happen! And when it did, Arnson capitalized on it.”

“Stop right there, Doctor,” the constable said, drawing his paralyzer and leveling it at Jene.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jene saw Werner jerk his head up from the microscope. He raised both his hands and said, “Officer, don’t shoot in here. You might hit the patient. In her state, it would probably be fatal.”

The constable kept his eyes on Jene, but said to Werner, “So? Less baggage for the rest of us when we reach EE3.”

Jene acted without thinking. She snatched the laser scalpel from Werner’s raised hand and, in one smooth motion, twisted it to its widest possible setting. As she turned on the constable, a small part of her mind wondered why she hadn’t been gunned down by a paralyzer bolt in the second she had acted. Jene did not hesitate as she fanned the scalpel at the constable’s face. The high-powered beam found his eyes. The man dropped his paralyzer and pressed both hands to his eyes as he screamed in agony.

Jene dashed around the operating table, heading for the constable’s weapon. She did not know how long the peace officer would remain dazzled by the low-powered laser; the device was meant for short-range surgical work, not for offensive purposes. Jene reached the constable’s gun an instant before his searching hand closed over hers on the weapon. She wrenched her hand out from under his and sent bolt after bolt of synapse-distrupting electricity into him, knowing full well that the so-called “stun gun” was indeed painful and potentially harmful, especially at such close range. At that moment, however, she did not care. The constable slumped to the floor at the first charge, jerking spasmodically as Jene continued to shoot.

“Jene!” Werner seized her arm after the fourth bolt and thrust it upward, sending a wayward blast into the ceiling. A rain of sparks descended on the two, which brought Jene back to her senses.

She looked down at the constable and threw the weapon aside. He was still alive, and she knew the damage to his eyes was temporary and superficial. He would recover his eyesight as soon as he awoke in a few hours. The stun burns would heal, as well. Jene found herself automatically running through the treatment procedure in her head.

Werner lifted her gently from the fallen officer. “I’ll handle it, Jene. You’d better go.”

Jene stared at Werner for several seconds, noting for some reason the almost perfectly flat contours of his hair. She whispered “thank you” and darted out of the operating room. She had never pegged the conservative Gen Three doctor as one of her supporters, especially after their conversation a few days ago, but mentally revised her opinion of the man as she ran out of the operating room.

Sooner or later, she knew, someone in the hospital would report the disturbance to the Panoptikon. She had many friends in the facility, but she could not expect a wall of silence about her attack to last for long. She walked briskly towards the trauma center and was almost there when she heard shouts down the corridor. Two other constables were charging towards her, drawing their p-guns as they came. Jene turned to leap through the doorway to the trauma center as the stiffening pain of a paralyzer bolt shot through her body. As every major muscle instantly tightened in agony, she realized she had not counted on the constable bringing backup to his mission. She crashed to the floor and lost consciousness, but not before she saw the white-clad legs and feet of the two constables stand over her. As she slipped away, she heard one of them mutter, “Now let’s get her kid and partner.”

Again, the Council Chamber. Jene woke up unexpectedly sharply, her eyes snapping open and then squinting in the light. She had for a moment the terrifying sensation of falling, then her scrambled mind realized it was the null-g environment of the chamber that had triggered her vertigo. Her eyes focused on the smiling figure of Benj Arnson floating a few meters away.

“How are you feeling?” he said, and for a split second, Jene thought his concern was genuine. Arson’s ability to project false sincerity was well-honed. The illusion only lasted a moment, however, and she soon saw through his carefully constructed countenance of worry. Dimly, she could make out not only the other Councilmembers, but three constables as well, floating in the chamber.

“Damn you,” she croaked. “Where are Kuarta and Renold?” She fought back the mild nausea brought on by the aftereffects of the p-bolt.

Arnson blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. “They are safe,” he said. “For the moment. I will not lie to you, Doctor Halfner; they are indeed in our custody. Furthermore, they are under the protection of the constabulary should any shipmates wish to do them harm.”

“Harm? That’s a damn lie, Arnson. No one wants to hurt my family. No one down there, at least,” she nodded towards the huge windows through which she could see her world.

“The incident at Kuarta’s school with the rock would seem to indicate otherwise.”

“The rock? That was your doing, Arnson. You set that whole thing up.”

Arnson leaned in close to her. “Do you think that I would do that? What kind of a monster do you think I am? I assigned constables to your daughter to protect her. You and I may disagree with each other, but I am a civilized, moral man.”

Jene hesitated before answering. His forcefulness was compelling—for an instant, she found herself doubting her own convictions. The moment soon passed, however. “The constable called you after Kuarta got hit. Why else but to ask for orders?”

“Yes, he did. And I ordered him to immediately get the child to Belgathi Hospital. The constable’s presence might have saved Kuarta from serious harm.”

“She says the constable didn’t stop the kids from throwing rocks at her until one of them hit her.”

Arnson spread his hands helplessly. “Perhaps he was not watching as carefully as he should have been. I wasn’t there, Doctor. But why do you persist in thinking I want to harm your family?”

“You had three constables at the hospital when Kuarta was brought in.”

“I suppose there is little chance of vigilantism against your family, but we do not wish to take even a small risk. In the meantime, suppose we talk.”

“Not until you release them.”

Arnson sighed mightily. “Doctor, they are not prisoners, except in the sense that we all are. And in four short months, none of us will be prisoners any longer. But for the time being, let us leave your family where it is and discuss—”

She spat at him. It was an animal’s reaction, not unlike her sudden outburst of violence against the constable—as was the torrent of nearly incomprehensible anger that flooded out at him, at his ideology, at his casual arrogance and power. “You bloodsucker! You’re a despot who thinks he is in command of a whole world, sitting above everything, not wanting to dirty his hands in honest labor! You’ve done nothing but take away from Ship, Arnson. You and your petty Council exist only to further your own ends. You’re scared that once we reach E.E. we’ll realize that we have no need of you: that we never had a need for people like you!”

Arnson absorbed the diatribe calmly and carefully wiped away what little saliva had hit him while she shouted. She paused for breath and for sense, eyeing the constables, who had started to swim over to her.

They stopped when Arnson raised his hand and waved them off. “Doctor, I understand your anger, and I can easily forgive your impolite outburst.” He paused, then said, “Use your reason. What could I possibly do to your family? Kill them? You seem to think me capable of such an atrocity, so let us consider the logistics of the act alone. How could I possibly get away with that? I cannot hide nor shirk responsibility for the death of two persons under my care. By placing them in the constabulary, I have made any scenario involving treachery on my part impossible. If I really intended harm upon them, I would have let them stay below. Now, may we begin our discussion in a civil manner?”

Jene’s grandfather mumbled inside her head for her to stay stubborn, not to let Arnson win. But the more rational part of her mind overrode him, reluctantly. There was no point in resisting Arnson in the matter of her family. He had them in custody, and it was clear he would not release them until he had had his say. So Jene nodded tightly and waited, her eyes focused on the curving wall of the chamber.

“You have been causing quite a disturbance in Ship of late, Doctor. Attempting to stir the masses with your proletarian rhetoric over the comweb. I wish your cause was one I could follow—your passion is commendable.” He smiled patronizingly. Jene remained silent, not trusting herself to speak.

“But you are hopelessly misguided. I will not speculate on the reasons—perhaps you place too great an emphasis on the influence of your grandfather, perhaps there is some latent guilt at your offspring’s having escaped genetic harm—”

At that, Jene snapped her head up to stare at him. She opened her mouth to speak but found she had nothing to say.

Arnson smiled. “Ah, the Achilles’ heel of the people’s revolutionary. Aristocratic blood in her veins, yes? But I should not mock you, Doctor. There remains a…proposal for you to consider.”

“What proposal?” Jene croaked.

“Flight Crew informs me that Ship is four months out from EE 3. As you may or may not be aware, telemetry from our first planetfall probe has been coming in for days now. The probe has done its job superbly—it managed to reach EE 3 with its automated systems intact and has started collecting all manner of planetary samples.”

For a moment, Jene forgot about her predicament and her family. This news had not been released to the public. All Ship knew the probe had been launched some months ago, but no one, except apparently the Flight Crew and the Council, knew it had landed. Jene and the medical staff had been waiting for the answers to hundreds of questions that now burned in Jene’s brain. She could barely ask them fast enough.