As the elevator descends into Data Haven, there’s a point at which you can hear the air cyclers kick in. I breathe a sigh of relief at that sound, glad not to be hit by a blast of fungicide. Mr. Fuzzy, however, goes wild, jumping around and crooning. Cleve hands Mrs. Fuzzy’s leash over to Louisa. Although the second wolf beetle is disturbed by Mr. Fuzzy’s excitement, Louisa doesn’t have the same problems as Cleve does. As soon as the elevator door opens, Corazon’s pet takes off at a charge. The leash flies right out of Cleve’s hand. Mr. Fuzzy tears down the hallway, his claws clacking and scraping along the metal floor. “Can’t just let ‘em run loose in here,” Cleve mutters to himself as he takes off in chase. The sounds of the ambulance-like wail fade as the wolf beetle turns the corner, Cleve hot on his heels.
Arx and Takuto step out of the elevator next. “We should probably go to our quarters to rest,” Arx says.
I follow them out slowly, staying close to the corridor wall. “You were a resident of the medical center up until we left, Takuto,” I say.
“Yeah, but I’m fine now, Mariah,” Takuto insists.
I didn’t intend to imply otherwise. “No, no, I just meant, is there a place for you to go? Do you still have a room? Does Arx?” Data Haven is a cramped place, and I was given a closet for a room. I have no idea how quickly they repurpose space here if the population changes.
The two teenagers assure me they’ll be fine. I wave them off, but as they start to head down the corridor, I call after Arx, “You should see Dr. Citali at some point for a check up.” That’s where I’m headed now myself, but Arx has other priorities, I’m sure.
“Totally,” Arx assures me. “Maybe she can get me more of that medicine I need. Good thinking, Mariah.” They shoot me those finger guns they’re so fond of.
“I fixed your lungs, Arx, back in the stairwell. You don’t need the medicine for your health.” I don’t know the first thing about helping someone overcome a chemical dependency, but I feel like I should do something. Even if just raising awareness is all I can do. If Arx turns over their stash to the medical center, maybe Dr. Citali can wean them off it over time. This is exactly the kind of situation I’ve always striven to avoid myself, even though it has meant dealing with a lot of recurring pain. “That medicine is an important resource,” I continue. “If anyone in Data Haven develops a worse lung condition, that supply could really help people here who actually need it.” My point is punctuated by Louisa’s hacking cough.
“I don’t need it?” Arx echoes, sounding surprised. “I mean, I guess I could try… You’re right, I should talk to Dr. Citali…” They nod multiple times, mulling this over, and then vanish around the corner with Takuto.
I trust Arx will get to the medical center eventually. For now, though, I lead Lousia there. She needs her cough treated, but more than that, she needs to meet Marina. That’s the whole reason she’s here with us. And probably Mrs. Fuzzy should get checked in or something? I expect Marina is as much of a vet as she is a physician. She’s a trained xenobotanist, but maybe she’s also interested in xenoanimals. Mrs. Fuzzy remains calm as Louisa leads her by the leash, further support for the idea that she’s a domesticated animal used to being in human spaces. I’m relieved she’s not the kind of pet that jumps up on people. That would probably knock me over, given how shaky I feel right now.
No one’s in the main area when we reach the medical center, and Marina’s door is closed. I hesitate for a moment before going in. I look horrible. My clothes are ruined, my face is a bruised mess covered with stubble… but I really don’t have the energy to make myself more presentable. The drugs Cleve gave me yesterday and the soothing overnight miasmic activity took some of the edge off the pain, but it’s definitely creeping back in. As are my fears about the state of the arm that’s currently in a makeshift splint. I rap at Marina’s door, disheveled though I am, and then slump against the wall.
“One second!” she calls out. I hear the rustle of pages and the scratch of a pen. It sounds like she’s taking notes.
“I would rather not wait, Marina,” I say through the closed door. My voice cracks, and I admit, “I’m in really bad shape.”
I’m startled by the speed with which the door opens. “Mariah, what—Oh my gosh, what happened?!” She glances around the main room, looking for her assistants, and her eyes settle on the only other person here, Louisa. She issues the order, “Get this man on a bed!” Then, registering that this is a stranger, she adds, “I don’t know you, but you’re going to need to help.”
Louisa ties Mrs. Fuzzy’s leash to a chair and helps me up onto one of the beds. Dr. Citali is in full-on medical mode. “Lie down, lie down,” she tells me. Then she turns to Louisa. “What happened to him?”
I answer for myself. “A siege worm.”
Marina lets out a long breath and pops a stick of her gum into her mouth. “Okay, okay,” she murmurs, psyching herself up for dealing with this situation. Then, calmly, she asks, “What have you done to this so far?”
I let Louisa answer that question. Apparently she helped Cleve clean and secure my arm while I was unconscious. She admits that they didn’t really know what they were doing—they just wanted to make sure the injury didn’t worsen. “The bone’s broken and sticking out of the skin,” Louisa reports. “But we splinted it so it wouldn’t move any further. Cleve wrapped it and gave him some drugs so he wouldn’t bleed out.”
I tell her what I remember of what actually happened to me, that the siege worm tendril hit my arm and my back, and I crashed into the side of the rover. With Louisa and Marina’s help, we get me fully out of the remains of my blazer and shirt—thankfully the vest is intact, if a bit bloody—so that Dr. Citali can give me a full examination. She removes all the dressing from my arm—I close my eyes and look away, not wanting to see the mangled mess.
While my back looks far better than expected, the prognosis for my arm isn’t encouraging. Both the ulna and the radius are snapped. And Dr. Citali needs me to heal up some before she can do the necessary surgery to fish around for all the bone splinters. They must be either removed or put back into place. I’ve already lost a lot of blood, which accounts for how weak and lightheaded I’ve been feeling, and Data Haven doesn’t have stores of plasma sitting around. Plus, in all honesty, Marina is not a trained surgeon. Until I’ve recovered from the blood loss, it’s just not safe for her to risk operating on me. The best she can do right now is hook me up to an IV for hydration and antibiotics, give me a shot of local anesthetic, and then manipulate the largest of the broken bones back into my arm so that I don’t add an infection to my list of problems.
I’ll need a follow-up surgery later—the story of my life.