Page 147 of Sky Song
Head hanging low, the woman mumbled apologies. “We never meant to deceive you, and Lyle was very reluctant to participate, but it helped him.”
“Why did you stop?”
Rosamma teared up. “He stopped coming. He needed a lot of energy, and he said it wasn’t a long-term solution. He’d accomplished what he had to at the spaceship depot, and… he stopped.”
Cricket went to the kitchen and found a napkin to wipe her tears. She wet it under the faucet and blotted her entire face.
“I need your help with something,” she said to Paloma when she came back.
It was strange to be back home. Cricket looked around the dwelling she’d found so comforting and cozy only a few short weeks ago. Now, it seemed impersonal. It didn’t even feel like a house she’d ever lived in. Or, more to the point, she didn’t feel like the person who’d lived here. Like it was some other Cricket. Before Lyle. Before everything.
Cricket was early, and she wandered aimlessly around without lights, touching furniture and fingering objects. Small, domestic things, like a lamp shade, like a cup on the counter. Her paintings were still on the walls. The search that the peacekeepers had conducted removed nothing of her personal belongings.
Out of habit, she kept her ears open for Hipper’s funny noises. Hipper was now firmly installed in the club, favoring the downstairs where the aliens congregated and enjoying the attention he received when he jumped on the bar and mimicked drunk patrons’ expressions. She had heard that Zaron started charging people for making faces at ‘his’ pet. That man knew how to generate revenue.
Cricket looked out of the window at the familiar street. Would her visitor come? There had been no answer to the request that Paloma had helped her send.
A small sound drew her attention to the back door, and walking silently through the dark house, she saw a shape hovering behind the patterned glass. Her nerves pulled taut from the stress.
One hand in the pocket and finger touching the safety switch on her small stun gun, Cricket silently opened the door.
“Hello, Emma.”
“Hello, Dr. Ragberg.” He took his time crossing the threshold, causing Cricket’s finger on the trigger to twitch. “Thank you for coming.”
His brow formed a quizzical frown. “You left me little choice.”
Finally, he was all the way in, and Cricket quickly closed the door. “There’s always a choice.” She removed her hand from the pocket.
They sat down at the table. “Sorry about the no lights. I can’t risk it.”
He nodded and cleared his throat, nervous. “So, how are you feeling, Emma?”
“Good, good. Everything’s alright.”
“I’m glad.”
“Are you?”
He shifted in his chair. “Of course. I’m your physician.”
Bitterness swelled, but this meeting wasn’t about herself. “That’s why I’ve come to you, Dr. Ragberg. I’ve come to you as a physician. Can you help me?”
Eagerly, he sat forward. “What is it, Emma?” Now he wanted to help her to get an absolution, like she had wanted to please him before. Goddamn, but she had been ready to do anything for him.Her savior.
“I know that you’ve worked with alien genetic material, Rix to be exact.” Though it was dark, she had an impression of his face reddening. He nodded. “You must have studied Rix physiology. Am I correct to assume that?”
“To an extent one can study physiology without ever examining a living body. Or a dead body. I studied it from books.”
“Understood. But you know how Rix bodies process sickness and trauma, don’t you?”
“Somewhat.”
“A Rix alien needs medical help.”
Dr. Ragberg placed his hands on the table, palms down. Her vision adjusted to the darkness, Cricket saw that he was looking at her intently out of his clear, kind eyes. “A Rix alien. The one that came with the delegation?”
“Yes.”
