Chapter Twenty-Two
How many aspects of love are there? How many people have ever lived? These are the questions, and the answers.
—Princess Meghina of Siriki, Critiques of a Courtesan
Princess Meghina hardly thought of her magnificent Golden Palace on far-away Siriki. Instead, she spent sixteen hours a day at Prince Saito’s bedside in his villa, and took surreptitious steps to obtain the best medical care for him. Inside the elegant, mural-walled reception room that had been converted to a hospital room, two doctors stood behind her, looking at the patient through a clearplax life-support dome and whispering between themselves. In order to avoid a confrontation with Dr. Bichette and Francella, she had identified them as friends, and they were dressed in common daysuits. Now they were alone in the room with Meghina and the ailing Prince.
On the staff of the renowned Nottàmbulo Hospital of Meghina’s homeworld, these men were specialists in comas induced by head injuries. The Sirikans had studied the Prince’s medical charts that Meghina obtained secretly, and had told her that Bichette, despite bringing in high-priced specialists, had not selected the best people.
One of the Sirikans, Dr. Woods Masin, was a tall black man with a square jaw and gray hair. His companion, Dr. Kydav Uleed, had primitive, rough-boned features like those of a back country Human, with a high, sloping forehead and large, protruding cheekbones.
Unable to hear everything they were whispering behind her, the blonde noblewoman stared sadly at the simoil murals on the walls, depicting the fascinating life of the man she loved. A breeze rustled the curtains by an open window, and out beyond the high cliff she saw one of the Prince’s flying yachts anchored in the air.
Meghina shifted uneasily on her feet. She wished she had met this great man earlier, and that they might have married. Instead she had been required—for political reasons—to become the wife of Doge Lorenzo del Velli. Her dual life, as royal spouse and courtesan to many of the leading nobles of the realm, was not easy for her. It also made her husband a cuckold, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had his own stable of women to satisfy his physical needs, and sometimes he even dangled Meghina’s favors in front of influential princes in order to obtain what he wanted from them. It was one of the most unusual marriages anyone had ever heard of, and was conducted without any pretenses.
She gazed at the comatose form of Prince Saito on the bed, which was oversized to accommodate his bulk. It seemed unfair to her that this vital, very alive man had been stricken down and reduced to such a sad state, dependent for every breath upon the medical technology that was connected to him. Much, but not all, of the equipment had been provided by the medical division of his own corporation.
At least I’ve had time with you, my love. For that I shall always be grateful.
“May we open the dome?” It was Dr. Masin, leaning close to her and speaking in a low tone.
“No one is around,” Dr. Uleed added.
Nervously, Princess Meghina looked behind her. The main door and a side door were closed. “Be quick about it!” she husked.
The tall, gray-haired Masin swung the life-support dome open and checked the Prince’s eyes with a small silvery medical tube, while Uleed held another device on the patient’s temple. “He needs to be moved to a hospital,” Uleed announced.
“Preferably Nottàmbulo,” his companion added.
Suddenly the side door crashed open and Dr. Hurk Bichette burst in. “What is going on here?” he demanded.
“These are specialists from Siriki,” Princess Meghina answered, almost shouting at him in return. In a near-breaking voice she introduced them by name, and added that the Prince’s condition had worsened. Whereas earlier he had been semi-comatose, with brief periods of enigmatic conversation, now he was trapped in a full coma and had not spoken for more than a week.
“Get away from my patient!” Dr. Bichette roared. He closed the lid of the life-support dome and physically pushed the other doctors away. Bichette’s face was flushed, and a large vein throbbed at his temple.
“I want all of you to leave,” he insisted. “You are interfering with my medical procedures, and I want this room cleared immediately.” He waved his hands at the other doctors and at the Princess.
“How dare you speak to me in that manner?” Meghina exclaimed. “I am of noble blood, the wife of the Doge, and the … “ Her voice trailed off, since the rest of her résumé could not be put into words that sounded dignified. “I am the … favorite … of Prince Saito,” she added, softly.
For a moment Bichette glared defiantly at her. Then, belatedly, he looked down at the floor and bowed slightly. “I apologize, My Lady. Perhaps the stress of the occasion and the long hours I have devoted to Prince Saito have dulled my manners.”
“Step aside, please,” Meghina said in a firm tone, “so that my doctors may continue their examination.”
With a scowl, Bichette moved away from the bed.
As the Sirikan doctors resumed their work, one on each side of the Prince, Bichette said, “You will find that I have done everything possible.”
“You are a general practitioner,” Dr. Uleed said, with a quick glance at the target of his words. “This case appears to be beyond the scope of your knowledge.”
“A specialist performed the surgery, and I have experts advising me.”
“We are familiar with their names … and credentials,” Uleed snapped. “Let’s just say that their reputations are rather limited.”
Bichette chewed at his lower lip, and muttered something unintelligible in return.
Hearing a noise behind her, Princess Meghina turned and saw Francella Watanabe standing just inside the main doorway. She appeared to have been observing for a while. Francella’s shaved brows had been tinted cherry red, matching her lipstick and her sleeveless damask dress, a garment that featured a plunging neckline, exposing her naval. She wore white gloves that extended to her elbows.
“You should have obtained my permission before bringing these men here,” Francella said, locking gazes with Meghina. “In my father’s diminished state, I have complete power of attorney to make decisions about his medical care.”
“I also have a special relationship with your father,” the blonde Princess retorted, “and I have certain rights.”
“You are his wife in name only, with limited rights. Nonetheless, out of courtesy for you, I will not banish you from his presence. You are never again, however, to bring anyone in here to examine my father without my permission. Is that understood?”
In low tones, Meghina conferred with the Sirikan doctors. Wrinkles of concern etched her heart-shaped face. Finally she said to Francella, “Your father needs specialized care at a facility such as the Nottàmbulo Hospital.”
“He will not be moved off-world!”
“Don’t you want the best for him?”
“I resent your tone.”
“This is not a time for petty feelings. We must consider the welfare of Prince Saito.”
“It is probable that he will never awaken,” Francella said. “Sadly, I must say this.”
“You base that statement upon the opinion of a general practitioner.”
“And his specialists.”
“Who happen to belong to his own drinking club.”
“See here,” Dr. Bichette interjected. “I will not have my integrity impugned in this manner.”
“Be quiet,” Francella snapped. “I will take care of this.” She pointed at Masin and Uleed. “Leave this room immediately and don’t ever come back.”
Meghina nodded to them, affirming the command. She would make an attempt to discuss the matter with Francella at a later date, after tempers had calmed.
The Sirikan doctors departed, while Meghina remained behind. She went to the bedside and held Prince Saito’s hand. Across the room, beyond her hearing, Francella and Dr. Bichette conferred.
The Prince’s hand was cold to the touch, but he clung to life, his chest rising and falling regularly. With a wistful smile Meghina remembered some of their favorite times together, and how startled he’d been upon discovering she was a Mutati. They’d already had sexual relations dozens of times, so he could hardly believe it when she admitted her true physical form to him. She had never, however, shown her Mutati body to him, fearing his revulsion. “I would rather be Human anyway,” she had whispered to him.
After that, she had not changed back, and in a matter of weeks, remaining in that state for too long, she no longer had the cellular flexibility to metamorphose at all. She had never felt comfortable as a Mutati anyway, and ever since her childhood had preferred the beauty and functional utility of the Human physical form.
Her decision had not been without its sacrifices. Despite her rank as a Mutati princess, it had rendered her an outcast among her people, preventing her from ever assimilating with them again. In losing her ability to shapeshift, she gave up an act that was extremely pleasurable, even to her. It provided a Mutati with the highest form of bliss—higher even than sex, and left the Mutati in a state of satiated euphoria for an extended period. (A potentially dangerous time, since it made the shapeshifter vulnerable to attack).
Now Meghina looked Human, and would for the rest of her life. She had not contemplated all of the problems that this would entail, such as the signs of aging that had a way of creeping up on this race. Mutatis, in contrast, went at full-vitality through old age, until the moment of their death. In her present form she had to think about face creams and laser treatments in order to remain youthful in appearance, something she would never have bothered to consider in her original bodily structure.
Come back to me, my love, she thought. A tear ran down her cheek as she gazed at the nearly lifeless form of her lover.