Page 52 of Into Orbit
The glow spread, illuminating a humanoid form sitting propped against the wall. They looked male, with a slender, toned form, golden skin, and curling hair so dark it blended into the shadows. Pretty, from what I could see, his lips stretching into a wry smile.
‘Ah. YouareTirian. I couldn’t think of another green-blooded species.’ He shifted slightly; one of his legs was stretched out before him, a thick band of black surrounding his ankle.
‘Catonians,’ I said absently. ‘Riya. Seveerns. Sorry – is that adark matter chain?’
‘What, this old thing?’ he said cheerfully, poking at the black band. ‘That’d be it. It’s starting to get annoyingly uncomfortable, sitting in one position for – well, a few months now, I think; I’ve never really had to bother withtimebefore. I don’t suppose that bag contains dark matter shears, by any chance? I’m not sure they exist, but I’d be deeply grateful for them if they do.’
‘Why are you chained with dark matter?’ I said, slowly inching further away.
‘Well, I had a little misunderstanding with the Roth Prince. I wanted some of the contents of his on-board treasury, you see, but he didn’t really want to give them to me. I managed two missions into his vaults before they caught me on the third. My twin always told me I was too cocky for my own good.’ He grinned a wide, white smile. ‘I prefer to think that I’mdetermined.’
‘But …dark matter.’
‘Oh! Well, I may have this odd humanoid form at the moment, but I’m a starling,’ he said practically. ‘You see, my twin wears a meat costume because he dabbles in politics – among other things – on Natare, and I may have borrowed some of his identikit to make it through the first few layers of the Roth Prince’s security. I had to don a form that looked like his.’ He examined his hands. ‘It’s not perfect, but it’s close enough. It didn’t fool the Prince, though; he figured out who – and what – I was. Starlings can only be chained by dark matter, but it’s not widespread knowledge. The Prince was smarter than I’d anticipated.’
‘I –’ I winced. ‘I think this is making the pain worse.’
‘I have no doubt; I don’t do well without company, and she’s been asleep for a while now. Your bag is behind you. I’m assuming you’re some kind of healer? They’re worried because she won’t wake up.’
I blinked. ‘She?She. My patient. Where is she?’
The glow around the starling spread. We were in a bare room with a single, tiny window set high up in the wall. Security recorders blinked in every corner. I had been dumped next to a screen, behind which was a universal waste disposal unit and a light cleanser, the most basic hygiene requirements resembling those generally found on prison ships.
Across from me was a low, hard-looking bed. Oddly enough, it had two plump pillows covered in expensive silkworm cases, and a pile of blankets that looked to be made of rareurafibre from a system of planets in Sector Eight.
A female was nestled in the pile, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed, her brow and pale hair damp with sweat.
I’d expected a Kjida, or a Skalavian, perhaps – a being from a lesser-known species, as the Roth would have recognised a Darnagh or a cephalopod. This female was familiar to me, surprisingly so. ‘Ahuman?’ I said incredulously.
‘Isn’t she sweet? Unfortunately, the Roth think so, too.’
He said it lightly, but he strained towards the female on the bed, his ankle pulling at the dark matter band.
I scrabbled behind me, sanitising my hands with a spore rinse before yanking my hand scanner from my bag. Its soft light swept over her; I swore when the readings stabilised. ‘She’s dying,’ I said bluntly. ‘She has sepsis. Her liver and kidneys are failing.’
The starling blinked at me; the light in the room dimmed and brightened. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’
I found what I needed and crossed the room cautiously. The female was pale and fragile-looking, with delicate features and fair hair pulled back into a braid. She stirred restlessly as I confirmed her temperature – thirty-nine Earth degrees Celsius – then sighed a breathy groan as I gave her a shot of antibiotics and vitamins.
‘She needs fluids,’ I murmured.
‘You hear that, you horned bastards?’ the starling called. ‘She needs fluids!’
I glanced at him, startled. ‘Where is the source of the infection? The being who took me mentioned a bite?’
The light in the room swirled; the starling’s eyes glowed. ‘Her shoulder,’ he said, his tone furious and full of caverns. ‘Her right shoulder.’
She was lying on her stomach, so I gently peeled away her cocoon of blankets, realising that the light sheet wrapped around her was a silk-cotton blend from Etryia. She was lying in a cell with a criminal, dying, and yet the Roth had covered her in fabric worth more than their ship.
‘This makes no sense,’ I murmured.
The wound on her shoulder wasn’t a bite so much as atear. Her flesh was ragged and angry and all kinds of colours it shouldn’t have been in the starling’s golden light.
‘What did this to her?’ I said, getting angry myself.
The starling shifted his weight. ‘The last doctor.’
‘The last …’ I stared at him. ‘The last doctorbither?’
