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24

I have to admit at this point we were acting more like Doctors Without Borders than on-scene medics. When we emerged from the isolation ward with the deceased on a gurney, the Cetan doctor seemed awfully eager to get him the hell off of their ship.

My translator was getting better at keeping up, and the bits of telepathic conversation I heard between him and Xeelix left no doubt that he was terrified of another fungus outbreak: “You must leave. Now.”

“He will be secured aboard our vessel for transport and interred per your established customs,” Xeelix assured him. He turned to the gurney. “We have activated a containment field around the deceased, and sterilized your ward. Rest assured we did not detect any residual live spores. But I must ask: Do you know who else this patient may have been in contact with? Has he left your ship for any reason, or have there been any other Union races aboard?”

“We initiated contact tracing as soon as he presented symptoms and identified fourteen potential exposures. They have all been quarantined in a separate ward. We confirmed through transport logs that there were no excursions from our vessel, and no outside visitors.”

“Excellent. May I presume the isolation ward’s air circulation is segregated from the general population?”

The Cetan doc was growing impatient. “Of course.” His thin, lanky body and oversized head exaggerated his body language. He was anxious for us to get moving, but Xeelix was stubborn.

“There is more you must do to prevent another outbreak. We can arrange for a decontamination team with the necessary equipment to cleanse the entire vessel.”

The Cetan stiffened as he realized we weren’t going anywhere yet. “That would be . . . complicated. I will have to relay your proposal to our ship’s master. I suspect he will be reluctant.”

Unbelievable. I closed my eyes tight, trying to join the conversation by projecting my thoughts into the translator. It worked. “You can’t be serious. You won’t accept our preventatives, and your ship’s captain might not even let us remove any spores? Are you suicidal or just ignorant?”

Xeelix turned to me in surprise, which is saying something as Reticulans don’t show much emotion. The translator had worked a little too well, turning my immediate thoughts into unfiltered telepath-speak. I liked to think my spoken words would’ve been a bit more diplomatic. The Cetan’s eyes narrowed as he regarded me.

Xeelix tried to defuse the situation. “You must excuse my colleague. She is the first of her race to join our Medical Corps, and her kind tends to be . . . outspoken.”

“That is actually refreshing,” the Cetan replied, loosening up. He placed a six-fingered hand on his chest. I hadn’t noticed that physical trait before. “Our own kind was known to be that way, long ago. Before our journey. Many generations have passed since. Our behavior has become subdued over time. Compliant.”

Xeelix used that opening to drop the hammer, which shocked me probably as much as it did the Cetan. “Since we are on the subject of compliance, I am compelled to mention Union statutes on nonmember species crossing our space. We have laws against permitting the transit of any vessels which are unable to contain biological contaminants. Failure to comply could result in your ship being rerouted out of Union space.”

The Cetan was taken aback. “That would add generations to our travel time.” He looked up and down the corridor, eyeing its worn surfaces and gunky recycling vents. “It is not likely we would be able to reach our destination. Our ship is already nearing the end of its design life.”

Xeelix was undeterred. “Then I would advise you make that case to your ship’s master, and soon. We will have to file a report with Med Corps operations, which will no doubt be prioritized for the attention of the Union immigration ministry. They are likely to act swiftly.”

Doc Cetan appeared resigned to the inevitability of a Union cleaning crew swarming through their ship. “I will inform our master. Thank you for your assistance. Now, if you please . . .”

We took the hint and began fast-walking down to the lift, propelling the deceased ahead of us on the anti-grav gurney with the Cetan following at a safe distance.


Once we were secure aboard our ambulance, I collapsed into one of the gel chairs as Needa piloted us away from the colony ship. “That was a slick move back there, Xeelix. Were you serious?”

“I am always serious. You ask about what in particular?”

“The transit laws. Immigration. Would you really kick them out of Union space?”

“It is not up to me. Our report will be routed to the immigration ministry, with my recommendations. I cannot know for certain how they will respond, though they rarely overlook a Medical Corps assessment.”

“That was all true, then.”

“I would not mislead about something so serious.” His slit of a mouth curled up ever so slightly. “Though I have been known to exaggerate.”

Bjorn stifled a laugh. This might have been the most emotion I’d seen out of either of them.


We arrived back at the barn almost an hour after the end of our shift, illustrating the downside of relativity: Go on a run too late in the day, and you ended up working even later than you thought. The clocks on our data crystals reset themselves to Union standard time as we emerged from the ambulance with our dead Cetan, safely zipped up in a body bag behind a containment field.

As we silently went through the motions of decontaminating ourselves and our ship, there was a tingling sensation on my wrist, behind the biosuit gloves. I looked down to find a tear, maybe an inch long, right along the seam.

“Oh shit.”

Bjorn wheeled about, his eyes widening when I showed him the tear in my suit. “Xeelix . . .”

Whether from being a doctor, or by being from a generally stoic race, our Reticulan leader was far more collected than I felt at the moment. He gently grasped my wrist and examined the tear. “Yes, this is concerning,” he said, in the understatement of the year.

Nightmare visions of turning into a human mushroom raced through my head. “You’re damn right it’s concerning! Am I in danger of contracting that crud?”

As Bjorn hurriedly pulled a patch kit from his bag and began taping me up, Xeelix quietly consulted his data crystal. His answer wasn’t encouraging. “It is impossible to know for certain without case history, but your race does share some common genetic markers which suggests vulnerability.”

Oh no. No no no . . . 

He placed a calming hand on my shoulder. For being so thoroughly alien, the Reticulans could be remarkably soothing once you got past the freaky black eyes. “You recall we have a preventative treatment? I trust you will be more agreeable to its use than the Cetans.”

I let out a wry chuckle. “Yeah. The anal probe.” For all I knew he was Jedi-mind-tricking me, but it worked. I looked around the open bay. “I’m gonna need to find some privacy.”

He left his hand on my shoulder. “I apologize, Melanie. You are quite capable, but our protocols require this procedure to be performed by a qualified physician.”

Ugh. I can’t say why the thought bothered me so much. Probably my own cultural aversion, though at least it wasn’t Cetan-level obstinance. That running joke had just run head-on into me for its punchline.

“There is more,” he continued. “For your protection, the treatment must be followed by an extended observation period.”

“You mean an isolation ward. For how long?”

Xeelix thought about that. “I am uncertain. Considering your common DNA markers against Cetan physiology, my recommendation is at least one standard week.”

That worked out to a little over eight days by my reckoning. I hung my head. This was going to seriously disrupt my training schedule.

Xeelix must have sensed my mounting anxiety. He took out his crystal and began adjusting his schedule. “I am assigning myself as your attending physician.” He paused. “That is, if you consent.”

It made a lot of sense. No one else would be a better fit out here, but it drove home how exposed I was. And there was this nagging, creeping feeling in my fingertips, the way your skin crawls at the sight of a teeming mass of insects. I told myself it was psychological, but the tingling sensation beneath my nails wouldn’t go away no matter how much I wished for it.

Before I could answer him, a pair of Reticulan orderlies approached to collect the deceased Cetan. I watched as the two Grays carted him off to who knows where, knowing there’d be an incinerator at the end of the line. I sure as hell didn’t want to end up in the same place. I clenched my teeth and turned to Xeelix. “I trust you. Just do it.”


I won’t get into the treatment for obvious reasons, mostly out of embarrassment. Xeelix is a good doc, and the procedure was painless. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t uncomfortable, because having a few million nanobots skittering around beneath your skin will do that.

Xeelix seemed satisfied as he watched my progress on a monitor above the exam table. “The nanobots are fully dispersed and over ninety-nine percent functional. You are not showing any signs of rejecting the treatment.” He laid a hand on my arm. “This is very good, Melanie. I believe you will fully heal.”

That was reassuring, but at this point all I wanted was to get some sleep. A wave of fatigue had begun washing over me almost as soon as the probe had dissolved. It had already been a long day, but this felt different, nothing like the immune system booster they’d given me at the transit station. “Why am I so tired?”

“It is your body responding to the nanobots, working with them to root out any contaminants.” He glanced up at the monitor. “You are running a slight fever.”

I turned to see for myself: 100.5. “That explains a lot. It’s like my immune system went into overdrive.”

“That is precisely the case. The booster bots we gave you during your initial exam are dormant until they recognize an infection, but phoetima is not one they are programmed for. The antifungal treatment is active, and works with your lymphocytes to destroy invasive spores.”

I scratched at my arm. “That’s why I can still feel them at work.”

“Ordinarily I would say that is psychological, but this treatment regime has not been applied to humans yet. You are the first.”

“I’m a guinea pig.” Xeelix looked at me quizzically. “Lab rat. Human slang for test subjects.”

He blinked in recognition. “Ah. I see. Forgive me, but it has been quite some time since we used animals for testing.”

That made me wonder what exactly they did use, but this wasn’t the time to get into the philosophy behind their research standards. Whatever they did, it seemed to work. I mumbled an unintelligible reply. I was so tired . . . 

Xeelix turned down the lights. “I was prepared to offer you a sedative, but that does not appear necessary. It is time for you to rest. You have earned it.”


I awoke to sunlight filtering through the window. I instinctively reached for my phone on the nightstand, eyes shut against the light and hanging on to the gauzy remnants of a deep sleep. After a minute or so of groggy fumbling around, I noticed the texture wasn’t right. It felt cold and impossibly smooth, not at all like the poplar furniture I’d had in my room since childhood. And that sunlight—something inside reminded me it wasn’t natural . . . 

Oh. Right.

I laid back against the pillow and pulled the sheets over my head. This wasn’t home; it was a Med Corps isolation ward. The light came from artificial glow panels embedded in the biodome outside, creating day/night cycles for the millions of alien residents in the Union capital.

I sat back up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I opened them to find a seven-foot lizard sitting across from me.

“Chonk?”

“You awake now. Very good. Doctor wanted to know.” His claws tapped an entry into his data crystal.

“Where is Xeelix, by the way?”

“With other students. Asked me stay with you. Monitor your condition.”

I reflexively scratched at my arms and legs, knowing those microscopic insectoid bots were still somewhere beneath my skin. I was concerned for his own safety at first, then remembered: “You can’t catch this, can you?”

“Am immune. Exposed long time ago. Th’u’ban children most risk. Adults, not big deal.”

I looked down at my hands. There were black specks beneath my fingernails which hadn’t been there before. A chill shot down my spine. Oh God. “Chonk, I . . . it’s . . .”

My Thuban friend crossed the distance between us in one loping step, and took my hands in his claws. His golden eyes narrowed as he studied me. For being such an imposing creature, Chonk had a gentle manner. “You okay.” He pointed to my nail beds. “See? Black. Means spores are dead. Body expelling them. You recover full.”

Now that he was close, I noticed a white film had grown around the edges of his scales. I took my hand from his and ran them across the ridges. The film peeled away beneath my fingers. “You’re molting, aren’t you?”

He seemed embarrassed. “Am. Xeelix thought good to stay with you.” He gestured between us with a claw. “Good for both.” The ridges of his mouth, a reptilian approximation of lips, turned up in a tight smile that would’ve suggested I was next on the dinner menu if I hadn’t gotten to know him already. “Also get credit for hospital rotation.”

I laughed. “Glad I could help.”

“We help each other. Molt . . . embarrassing. Cannot do much for self.” He lifted a pair of pumice stones from the pouch on his waist. “These good for removing scales.”

“You can’t reach everything by yourself, can you?”

He shook his head. “Cannot. Perhaps you can.”

I giggled, relieved to have something besides my own plight to think about. “Of course. I’ve done this before, you know.”

He cocked his head. “How before? Not enough time here.”

“It wasn’t here. I used to have a pet lizard, named Homer. Sometimes I’d rub his back with this same kind of stone when he’d shed.”

He considered the idea of my keeping one of his distant relatives, and didn’t seem very fond of it. “Strange concept, ‘pets.’ Better off living free.”

“I assure you he was well cared for. He seemed to welcome my help, for what it’s worth.”

“Understand. Th’u’bans once kept pets, many generations ago. Small primates. Suppose not much different.”

So the giant lizard race had once kept distant relatives of humans as well? “I suppose not.” I reached for his shoulder, where the old scales appeared close to sloughing off. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”

“Will be soon. Watch you in meantime.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Watch for what?”

He returned to my fingernails, brushing away a clump of black dust. “Expelling spores take time. Can be messy. Need much cleaning.”

As in bathing, in front of a man. Didn’t matter that he was of a completely different race, the fact that he was sentient drastically changed my perspective. This wasn’t going to be like changing clothes with a pet in the room. Every time I thought the cultural shocks were behind me, up came another one. Still, I felt an innate trust in him. Thubans were a justifiably proud race, living by a strict code of honor that we humans could learn a thing or two from.

I rested my hand on his and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks. You’re a good medic, Chonk.”

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. “You think so?”

“Of course I do. You’ve got heart. You stepped out of your comfort zone to come work with the Med Corps.” I made a sweeping gesture around the room. “All of this is new to me. Every day holds a different surprise, because I came into it as a blank slate. But you’ve lived here for decades, grew up in a race that’s been part of the Union for centuries. In some ways I think that’d make it harder.”

Chonk looked away, his trident tongue brushing across the ridges of his lips. “Has been difficult. Did not volunteer. Following orders.”

“You were sent here?”

“Union request medic from admiralty staff. Select me. Not say why.”

“I don’t understand. Wouldn’t that be obvious? It’s because they thought you were the best candidate.”

He shook his head slowly. “Military not always work so. Sometimes get rid of problems . . . troublemakers.”

“You? Causing trouble? I find that hard to believe.”

Chonk leaned back, the end of his tail flicking back and forth. I gathered it was a nervous habit. “Hard to find word. Not trouble. Questions. Asked many questions.”

I crossed my arms behind my head and settled back against the bed. “Now you’re going to have to tell me everything. You know that, right?”

He let out an irritated hiss and began pacing the room. “Was medic for Th’u’ban expeditionary brigade. Respond to border raid. Trading outpost. Many injured. Not all soldiers. What you call . . . civilians? Yes.” He thumped his chest. “Me only medic on scene. Lost many civilians. Not understand physiology. Not have correct medicine.”

“They attacked civilians?” I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “Who? Was it those invisible beings you told me about?”

He shook his head. “No. Three dimensional, like us. Nomads. Mongrels. Not join Union, not keep to home worlds. Better to steal. Pillage.”

Space barbarians. Great. “And they raided a trading center. Do they often go after civilians?”

“Not direct. Civilians get in way when they come take.”

Random Union civvies had been caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. That sounded depressingly like Earth. “You said you didn’t have the right medicines for them. How did you deal with that?”

“Best as could. Bandage wounds, set bones. Only had medicines for Th’u’ban anatomy.”

“Like clotting compounds? Blood plasma?”

“Yes. Needed much. Not have. Complained to admiralty staff in report.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “You raised a ruckus, and the people in charge didn’t like it.” That sounded all too familiar.

Chonk nodded. “Very much. Said expeditionary brigades need prepare for all species. More training, more medicine.”

“Sounds like that would’ve been a big project.”

“Is so,” he agreed. “Admiralty not like.” He thumped his chest angrily. “Say I need better training. Not up to job.”

“Wow. That there’s some bullshit, Chonk.”

He looked confused. When his translator caught up, he roared with laughter. “Yes! Good word! Will remember.”

“I find it useful sometimes.” Too often, in fact. “But on the good side, they sent you here.”

“Staff upset, and Union ask for Th’u’ban student. Timing good. Union knew human would be in class. See how well we work together. Test.”

And with that, my new friend had just confirmed my lingering suspicions. They hadn’t brought me here by accident, at least not entirely.

“Don’t you worry about us working together. If we’re going to be stuck in this ward, that’ll take care of itself.” But now I had even more questions.


Chonk hadn’t been kidding about the mess. As the days passed, my skin excreted more of the nasty black dust and I couldn’t bathe often enough. The stuff seemed to come out of every pore, interspersed with convulsive fits of sneezing that produced even more crud. I was terrified that the fungus had settled in my lungs, but Xeelix assured me that wasn’t how phoetima propagated.

“The contaminating spores remained confined to your epidermis,” he said during one of his regular morning visits. “Dead spores are collecting in your nasal passages, which you are expelling naturally.” He placed transducer discs on my back and chest, and a three-dimensional image of my respiratory system appeared on the monitor beside us. “As you can see, your airways are free of contamination.” He slowly moved the discs down toward my feet, scanning my entire body in the process. “In fact, you have expelled most of the contaminants. We should be able to release you from isolation soon.”

That was a relief. I tugged at the waist of my skintight “observation garment,” ready to get out of this and into some real clothes. The Med Corps’ version of a hospital gown was the same kind of lightweight bodysuit I’d worn for my entry physical, a bit less degrading than what we used on Earth. It wasn’t exactly flattering, but at least my ass wasn’t hanging out in the breeze.

Watching from across the room, Chonk seemed relieved as well. His old scales had largely been shed, with a few remnants stubbornly hanging on amidst the more pronounced ridges and folds. A long session in the sonic-wave shower would take care of those in short order. His new skin was a regal emerald green, flecked with gold highlights that matched his eyes. Freed from the constrictions of his older skin, he seemed to stand even taller than before.

We were beyond ready to get out of the ward and back to work. I finally broached the question to Xeelix: “How much longer?”

Xeelix took one last look at the holographic scans above us. “I will visit you again tomorrow, and I expect you will be cleared for release then.” He pulled out his crystal. “In fact, I have taken the liberty of placing you back on the training rotation the following day.” His tone became apologetic. “You both need to make up for your time in isolation. I’m afraid this will require an aggressive schedule for the remainder of your rotations.”

He handed the crystal to me. “No days off, for the next ten. I’ve done worse.” And with a lot less opportunity to sleep in between.

Xeelix eyed me. “We shall see.”


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