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17

The next morning I stepped outside in my spiffy new Med Corps uniform to find Bjorn waiting for me. He led me out of our building and into a subway-like transport tube that shot away with alarming speed for the training center outside the hospital complex. With no idea of what to expect going in, I was relieved to find the classroom was surprisingly familiar. I might not yet know anything about how the Med Corps went about their business, but this room’s purpose was obvious to anyone with a medical background.

The dead giveaway was the arrangement of training dummies in the back of the room. They weren’t the plastic and silicon mannequins we practiced on in EMS school; these were amazingly realistic simulations of each race in the Union, enough to make me first think they were especially well-preserved cadavers. There were Grays, Emissaries, reptilians, insectoids, even a human back in one corner. I wondered if they’d put that one here for my benefit; and exactly how much interaction did the Union have with my species?

Along the adjacent wall sat an array of what looked to be the types of equipment we’d be using in the field. I recognized a smaller version of the scanner they’d first run me through, which already seemed like a lifetime ago. The rest I’d learn as the course went on.

To my dismay I was the last student to file into class, though there weren’t many of us to begin with. Besides myself, there were only a couple of Grays and a reptilian who looked especially uncomfortable behind a desk that was way too small for him. I was mesmerized by his sea-green skin, iridescent under the glow panels in the ceiling. He seemed overly conscious of keeping his tail from spilling out into the aisle between us. Over a tunic that barely covered his torso, he wore a small chest pack with tubes which wrapped around his abdomen and limbs. It was for regulating body temperature, which a cold-blooded being would definitely need in here.

He was intimidating, and there’s no better way to get past fear than by confronting it head on. I took an empty seat next to the towering reptilian, who introduced himself with an imperious nod as T’Ch’on-ukk-R’Baal. His voice came as a hiss that made the translator stutter at first. “From star system called Th’u’ban.”

Even through the translator chip in my head, his name was a mouthful and they seemed awfully fond of their apostrophes. “I hope you don’t take offense, but in my language that’s what we’d call a tongue twister. Mind if I call you Chonk?”

He paused, his tri-forked tongue sliding across his scaly lips as he considered whether I’d just insulted him. Maybe I used too many words? “Yes. Is acceptable abbreviation. Your name?”

“Melanie Mooney.”

More thoughtful flicking of that trident tongue. “Is likewise difficult. Much”—he paused—“alliteration. I address you as Mel?”

I could feel the smile spread across my face, and I hoped he understood what that conveyed. “That’s perfect, in fact. That was my nickname back on Earth.” I intentionally left out the “Tiny” part. He was almost twice my size already.

Chonk answered with an approving nod. “Excellent. I look forward learning”—he paused again—“together, Mel.”

“Thank you. As do I.”

Bjorn leaned in close. “Very good, Melanie. I am pleased to see how well you are adapting to your new environment.”

“Learn or burn,” I replied. “You’re staying in class with me?”

A thin smile from Bjorn. “Of course. I am a student as well.”

My eyes widened. “Seriously? You don’t have to do this on my account.”

“It is part of my assignment as your cultural escort. It is also something I wish to learn for my own purposes. It is why I requested assignment to your case.”

My case? Now I was flummoxed. How far ahead had they thought this through? Had that accident in the woods even been, well, an accident? Had I actually been recruited on purpose?

If so, that was an awful lot to put on my shoulders. Like so much else recently, I compartmentalized it. That info would be tucked away in a little mental box for later.

The class grew quiet with the entrance of another being. The door whispered shut behind him/her/it.

It was another Gray, who exuded an air of age and wisdom I’d seen before. While they were nominally androgynous, most of the ones I’d encountered so far tended to identify with a single gender. The differences were subtle, but I’d definitely met this one before.

He stepped behind a podium at the head of the classroom and began speaking. Not thinking at us, actually vocalizing. It took a moment for my translator to catch up with his rasping voice.

“Greetings, students. My name is Xeelix. I am a physician assigned to the Medical Corps station at Union Transit Facility 03A. I will be your primary instructor for this course.”

Xeelix! I had no idea what kind of teacher he’d be, but it was good to have a familiar face, such as it was.

He continued. “As you are already aware, the Medical Corps is in constant need of individuals with an ability to overcome their parochial nature and provide aid to beings of other races. You were selected to be here because you have each demonstrated that ability.”

I couldn’t be sure, but he seemed to single me out with an approving nod. The two other Grays in the class turned slightly to look me over. No pressure there.

“Some of you have formal medical training specific to your race. Regardless of your background, you will find the material to be uniquely challenging.” He pointed one of those long, bony fingers at our desks. “Please activate your instructional materials.”

I watched as the others placed their data crystals on their desktops and waved their ringed fingers across them. I followed suit, and a holographic screen appeared in the air above my desk.

“The materials are organized by topic with competence exercises at the end of each section,” Xeelix explained. So it would at least follow a format I was familiar with. “The course will begin with an explanation of the Medical Corps’ organization. Then we will immediately proceed into a study of each race’s anatomy and physiology. You will likely find this to be the most challenging.”

We’d see about that. If vet and medic school had taught me anything, it was how to drink from the proverbial fire hose. It was finally time to dig into what they’d brought me here for, and I was ready to get on with it.

Being the first day of school, I instinctively reached into my bag. While the data crystals could be enormously useful, I’m a pen-and-paper girl at heart. The others stared in curiosity when I pulled out an old-fashioned spiral notebook and pen I’d brought from Earth.

“You are likely to find that is not necessary,” Bjorn said in a low voice. “It may even be counterproductive. I am told this class moves quickly.”

I was feeling a little defiant. “I’ll try and keep up.” Popular as tablets and e-readers had become on Earth, it was still well established that your average human retained information much better by writing it down. I’d even packed extra pens, which made me feel clever.

The holograph projection blinked to life and quickly translated itself into English. The first text to appear was “Stabilize patients and alleviate their suffering to the maximum extent of your abilities.”

Xeelix waited a moment for us to take that in. “This will be your ultimate responsibility as emergency medical specialists,” he explained. It felt a little like a human doctor’s Hippocratic oath: “First, Do No Harm.” But their phrasing carried some subtle differences. What did “alleviate patient suffering” actually mean? You could alleviate an animal’s suffering by putting it down, but that would absolutely be considered “doing harm” to a human. Did this mean we were expected to euthanize patients if they were too far gone?

He must have sensed my concern—I mean, of course he did—and elaborated: “You may find this to be a vague admonition, though it must be considered in the context of the individual you are treating.” He looked at each of us in turn. “Each race recognized by the Galactic Union possesses its own moral code, which you will have to consider when rendering aid. It is as important as understanding your patient’s anatomy.”

He swept an elongated hand toward the other two Grays sitting up front. “For example, our civilization condones euthanasia at the patient’s request. This presents certain complications if the patient is not conscious.”

I’ll bet it did. This was going to lead to some interesting discussions.

“Other cultures do not permit medical personnel to provide such assistance.” He focused on me now. “I understand this is a contentious issue within the human race.”

My eyes darted left and right. I was being expected to contribute already? “It is. Some nations permit it, others don’t. My own country doesn’t, but not everyone agrees with that.” I didn’t mention that I thought the practice was ghoulish, no matter how well intended.

Chonk turned to me and hissed; again my translator needed a moment to catch up. “What is ‘nation’ and ‘country’?” The Grays looked interested, too.

Not being familiar with Chonk’s culture, I needed to think about that. Did all of the Union worlds have unified governments? “Think of them as smaller civilizations that make up the whole. Each one has their own culture, their own laws, unique traditions.”

“World not unified,” he said flatly. “Is what keeps you from Union.”

I couldn’t very well argue his point, not that this was the place for it. Much as I loved my own country, it made sense that the Union might not want member planets who were still bogged down with what amounted to tribal factions. Maybe technology drove civilizations to either unify or self-destruct, given enough time? No wonder they were still keeping an eye on us; to them we must have looked like tribes of quarrelsome monkeys. Monkeys with nuclear weapons.

Bjorn leaned over again. “Do not take it personally. Thubans are known for being rather direct, and the translators often have trouble with their language.”

“No worries,” I said under my breath.

Xeelix used our interruption to illustrate his point. “A perfect example of the thorny issues this mandate may present, and why your cultural studies will become as important as your physiological studies. When called upon, you will not have the luxury of time to consider competing philosophies. You will have to rest on the knowledge you already possess.”

Now he was speaking my language. When you’re elbow-deep in a mangled patient, there’s no time to think so you’d better have your wits about you. And two is better than one—you learn to treasure the kind of partner who’s on the same wavelength, the kind who brings their own experience to the table without second-guessing. I wondered how that was going to work as the only human in this group.

Xeelix moved on. “Now that we have established the central precept of your service, we will begin with the background and organization of the Medical Corps.”

A three-dimensional map of the galaxy appeared above each of our desks, with text translated into our individual languages. “The Medical Corps was established with the Union’s founding agreement in annum 9331.” “Annum” was a year in their time reference, and I had a feeling my notion of calendars was about to become hopelessly outdated, pun intended.

Amber points of light appeared on the map, which were clustered around a single region of the Milky Way labeled “Perseus Arm” with a few scattered in the “Sagittarius Arm” closer to the center. Apparently this arm was the Union’s boondocks; Xeelix explained that the closer one gets to the galactic center, the less habitable it becomes. I made another note to check which races emerged from those worlds, because they had to be tough as nails.

A single yellow dot appeared in a region between the two, named “Orion Spur.” The dot was labeled “Sol”—our star. Apparently our entire region was something of a no-man’s-land between the Union’s two biggest neighborhoods. It was interesting to see how the Union was concentrated in one section of the galaxy. Had the rest not been explored, or was it something else?

“The Medical Corps has treatment centers in each member star system to supplement their home civilization’s own medical facilities. They are located within the system transit stations.” The map disappeared, replaced by a diagram of one of those wheeled stations like the one I’d arrived here from. One of its outer bicycle-spoke buildings began flashing for our attention.

“Treatment centers are equipped for short-term and emergency care, which is of course where you will be placed upon successful completion of your training. Each center’s purpose is to care for patients until they are well enough to travel to their home worlds if longer-term treatment is necessary. Each center maintains a fleet of Class III transports equipped with the tools you will need to treat and stabilize patients until they can be brought to an appropriate facility.”

That sounded a lot like how we did things back home. The fundamentals didn’t change, whether for a dog, a human, or a dozen different species of space aliens. The Med Corps was a network of urgent care centers.

I didn’t have much time to ponder as Xeelix kept moving. A diagram labeled “Class III Transport” appeared above my desk. It looked like the one the Emissaries had parked in my front yard, another flattened teardrop-shaped vehicle, with the addition of a pair of stubby pods along either side. A neon-green slash ran diagonally around the little ship’s midsection, signifying it was an emergency vehicle. I wasn’t sure that mattered in deep space, but they must have figured it was important. I leaned over to Bjorn and whispered, “Class III?”

“Intra-system transport,” Xeelix explained for him. “For traveling between planets in a single star system. They have limited interstellar range.”

The holographic flying ambulance split in two lengthwise, each half of the ship rotating outward to show a cutaway view inside. “The transports are furnished with generalized equipment which can be used for any Union race, in addition to vacuum and exposure suits tailored for its crew.”

It looked sparse compared to what I was used to, but still familiar. Lockers for loose gear were embedded into one side, with assessment equipment mounted along shelves beneath them. The other side looked to be filled with patient monitors. Sleek-looking spacesuits were hung next to them, near the back of the bay. A complicated-looking gurney hovered between the two; it had complex origami extensions folded up beneath it which could be used to accommodate whatever being was strapped to it. Ahead of the bay was the pilot’s station, which I wasn’t about to try and comprehend. I wouldn’t be driving one of these things for a long time, if ever.

Each piece of gear glowed as Xeelix explained them. It all looked impossibly simple, kind of like the data crystals I’d become familiar with. “Interior equipment is limited to that which can be adapted to any Union race.” He ran through each, front to back along each side of the bay. The first piece of hardware looked familiar. It was a rectangular bag made of material I could only guess at, in the same neon green as the stripe across the ship’s side. “The aid kit contains analgesics and tranquilizers formulated for use on any race. Syringes with blood-clotting foams are carried in the side pouches with race-specific instructions. Audiovisual transducers are located in the main compartment, which will synchronize with your translation implants.”

That sounded interesting. Was that their version of a stethoscope? I raised my hand, which caught the others off guard. Maybe it was some kind of insult in their cultures, but Xeelix looked like he knew what I was doing.

“Yes, Melanie Mooney.”

“Is that for listening to the patient’s heart and lungs?” I was oversimplifying, given the diversity between species, but it was the only thing that came to mind in the moment.

“Correct. When placed over a patient’s vital organs, it will transmit sounds of the circulatory and respiratory functions directly to your auditory implants.” He walked over to an equipment table along one wall and handed me a metallic disc about the size of a hockey puck. “Place this on your chest.”

I eagerly did as he said. To call it a stethoscope was not doing it justice; it would’ve been like comparing high definition TV to a 1950’s black-and-white set. As soon as I placed it over my heart, my ears were filled with a cacophony of bodily functions, as if a microphone had been inserted into my chest cavity. Details I could never pick out before were suddenly loud and clear, changing as I moved the disc around my body. The air moving through my lungs sounded like a whirlwind as it left the trachea for the bronchi, becoming like a breeze across tall grass as it filled the alveoli. I couldn’t just hear the thump of my heartbeat and the blood moving through chambers, I could hear the muscles contracting. Out of curiosity, I placed it on my arm and could hear blood rushing through my capillaries like a running stream. I have no idea what dividing cells sound like, but I swear they made noise too. Moving the disc further down to my hand, each fingertip sounded like rustling leaves. It was the sound of my fingernails growing.

“That’s amazing,” I stammered. “I’ve never heard such resolution, not even with the most expensive stethoscope.” What wonders did the other gear hold?

Chonk seemed amused at my human lost-in-the-woods naïveté. Xeelix studied him. “You may be unfamiliar with this device as well. Would you care to try?”

The big lizard guy sat stiffly. “Unnecessary. Have seen before.”

Xeelix was unmoved. “Have you used one?” Not that I’d had a wealth of experience with Grays yet, but it was surprising to hear him become even a little forceful.

“Have not on myself,” Chonk said. He held out a clawed hand. “Will try.”

I handed over the disc. The slits of his eyes widened as he moved it around his body. “Can hear everything,” he said as he settled the disc over his long neck. “Everything.”

It was my turn to be amused. “I know, right? Isn’t it awesome?”

Chonk paused as he processed my language. “Yes. Awesome is good word.” He moved the disc to his tail. “That strange. Hear”—the translator hissed as it tried to process his words into my language—“crackle. Breaking.”

“How much time has passed since your last molting?” Xeelix asked.

“Over one annum,” Chonk said.

“Ah.” Xeelix nodded. “Then what you hear is the sound of your scales preparing to shed.”

Chonk handed the disc back to our teacher. He seemed embarrassed, his regal posture slightly diminished. It was as though acknowledging an inherent vulnerability grated against his nature.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Bjorn tapping away on a holographic keypad projected onto his desktop. He made a swiping motion toward me and a message appeared on my desktop: Thubans are a warrior culture. They are reluctant to display weakness.

I answered Bjorn with a slight nod: Message received and understood. But it seemed strange that they’d be ashamed of fundamental biology. The teenage years must be rough on them; I’m sure the rapidly growing critters were shedding every couple of months.

It also seemed strange that the Union had seen fit to admit a warrior culture into the fold. Was there some external threat they hadn’t told me about? Maybe they’d only recently learned to behave themselves. Either way, it put the lie to the notion that any advanced civilization would have to be peaceful, otherwise they’d have destroyed themselves. I remember hearing that in some science documentary back in high school and thought it was hopelessly optimistic even then. There was a pretty good argument to be made that ensuring peace required having a kick-ass military, especially if your country had stuff that other countries envied.

Contemplating galactic politics would have to wait. Xeelix was still talking about the little disc we’d been playing with.

“You will find the transducer to be particularly useful. In addition to its auditory input, it is the primary tool for assessing your patient’s vital signs. I will demonstrate.”

He stepped over to a rectangular device on one of the equipment shelves. It was about the size of a paperback book, a little thicker than a standard data crystal, and was otherwise unremarkable. This changed when he pressed the disc against his arm. The crystal embedded in its face flashed to life with a bright display of characters I faintly recognized as the Reticulans’ language. My desktop screen changed to mirror it. Sure enough, everything was there: trace lines for heart and respiration rates, blood pressure, oxygen saturation, and temperature, all helpfully translated into English. It even had what looked like an EKG trace, once my head got around the three-dimensional presentation.

It didn’t end there. He pressed a thumb—which wasn’t exactly a thumb but that’s the closest analogy—against the disc, and the display changed. Now we were seeing three-dimensional views of his blood vessels. As he pressed the disc more firmly against his skin, it probed deeper to show his thin bones sheathed beneath wiry muscle tissue, all of it clearer than the best MRIs.

If the other students were impressed, they didn’t show it. This must have been as familiar to them as a stethoscope and BP cuff was to me. I, on the other hand, was properly amazed. “How deep will that thing go?” I wondered. “Will it show internal organs?”

It was hard to tell but I think Doc Xeelix was amused. “Of course.” He pressed the transducer against his upper abdomen, and soon we had a 3D picture of his insides. As he moved the disc around we could see his lungs, intestinal tract, and beating heart. His bones looked stick-thin, and I wondered what they were made of, if not calcium. Anatomy class promised to be fascinating.

“You will recall the scanner we used for your processing examination, Melanie Mooney. This is a portable version of that device. It of course cannot provide a full picture of the patient’s inner workings, but it is sufficient for localized assessments.”

Pulse oximeter, BP cuff, stethoscope, EKG, MRI, all in one tidy package. What else could we possibly need?


As the day went on, I learned there was a lot more. The ambulance’s outboard pods held species-specific gear, and we endured a long presentation on what was located where. The hextopods can’t be too far from water for long, so half of one pod was essentially a big aquarium. It even had breathing equipment for the medics, though I noticed that none of it appeared compatible with humans. I wondered how long I could hold my breath if it ever came to that.

There were supplies to close wounds for every race in the Union stocked aboard our ambulances. The reptilians—excuse me, Thubans—had what amounted to a silicon-patch compound for repairing large areas of damaged scales. That seemed more like carpentry than medicine, but it wasn’t the Thubans’ fault that they couldn’t be patched up with a synthetic epidermis spray like everybody else.

The rest of our inventory featured equipment with direct links to whatever Med Corps facility the space ambulances were assigned to. In the most extreme cases, I learned we wouldn’t be working alone. One particularly intimidating-looking device with five multiple-jointed arms was there for emergency surgery—if a patient was in enough trouble, we’d be expected to use that sucker to repair them in the field. With a doc’s advice, of course, but if we were more than a couple hundred thousand kilometers away, the signal return lag was too long for them to do much in real time. They were limited by the speed of light, like everything else in the universe.

It was a long day, and not just because we had to absorb a lot of information. Bjorn and his partner had been accommodating my twenty-four-hour cycles until now. Turns out their standard day is more on the order of thirty hours, based on the average cycle for all of the Union’s planets. It was a tiring reminder of exactly how much of an outsider I was. Suffice to say that sleep came easy that night.


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