Booly hit the corridor, ignored the voices that called to him, and pounded down the hall. Though referred to as the “sick bay,” the facility was a good deal more than that. It consisted of a full-scale hospital, staffed with medical personnel from each of the member races, and ready to deal with almost anything. If anyone could save Maylo, they could. That’s what the legionnaire told himself as he skidded around a comer, passed a row of self-propelled gurneys, and headed for the well marked hatch. It hissed open, and a desk blocked his way. An android rose to greet him. It wore a marine green paint job. A serial number had been stenciled across its chest. “Greetings, General. Arc you in need of medical attention?”
Booly fought to catch his breath. “No, I’m looking for a patient... A woman by the name of Maylo ChienChu.”
“Yes, they brought her in about ten minutes ago,” the robot replied gravely. ‘The doctors are treating her now. Please take a seat and ...”
Booly ducked around the desk, steered for the sign that said “Trauma,” and stuck his head into an alcove. A Turr diplomat lay on the table, his face contorted with pain. Having already passed through Holander’s chest, an energy beam had severed his hand.
A doctor frowned. Booly said, “Sorry,” and moved to the next cube. It was packed with medical personnel all gathered around Maylo’s supine body. Her face looked slack and lifeless. The officer pushed his way forward, but a hand grabbed his arm. “Not now. General We must allow the medics some room.”
Booly turned to find himself face-to-face with Senator Samuel Ishimoto Six. Both men wondered the same thing ... Assuming that Maylo loved one of them—which had she chosen? It was a selfish thought, and both felt guilty. “How is she?” Booly asked. “Can they save her?”
The clone shrugged. “It’s too early to say.”
A medic turned to confront them. “You’ll have to leave now—a doctor will be out to see you.”
Both men backed out of the room. Booly remembered the Sheen, the lieutenant upon which the responsibility had been dumped, and knew it was time to go. His wrist term started to vibrate. He met the politician’s gaze. “They’re looking for me—can you stay?”
Ishimoto Six nodded
“Good. Make sure the docs do everything they can. Be there when she wakes up. She’ll need someone.”
The clone nodded and watched Booly walk away.
Knowing his rival would be present when and if Maylo came to, wishing it could be him. The politician sighed. In a galaxy full of assholes, why did his competition have to be such a nice guy? It wasn’t fair. He turned to look for a chair.
There were close calls, two to be exact, but no one fired. The lieutenant chanted Booly’s name like a mantra, people listened, and the Sheen were allowed to pass. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they made it to the launch bay where the shuttle waited. Doors opened to space, the Hoon guided the vessel through the opening, and the visitors were allowed to escape. Now, as they blasted toward the fleet, Jepp was whining. Not about his wound, which he had ignored, but about the lost opportunity. ‘They would have listened!” he wailed. “I know they would. Where was God? How could he forsake me?”
Veera, had no answers for such questions and allowed the human to rant and rave. Her regrets were entirely different. Was there something she could have done to prevent the bloodshed? Had there been an opportunity to escape? Had she blown the only chance she would ever be given?
ChienChu listened but remained intentionally passive. Partly because his death would be pointless, but partly because the Sheen were taking the industrialist to a place where, with the exception of Jorley Jepp, no other human had been allowed to go: the Sheen fleet. Would he be able to accomplish anything while there? No, it seemed unlikely. Still, his cybernetic body included a built-in corn set, and he might be able to provide some intelligence.
In the meantime his thoughts were focused on his niece.
Was Maylo alive? Booly would look after her—he felt sure of that—but wished he could do so personally. The whole thing was his fault. Had it not been for him, his niece would have been on Earth, looking after the Chien Chu Enterprises. The knowledge filled him with guilt. A clawlike hand touched his arm. A robot perched on the Prithian’s shoulder. It translated her words. ‘The female—she is your daughter?”
ChienChu shook his head. “No, my niece. But like a daughter.”
Veera cocked her head to one side. “I am sorry. The Sheen murdered my father.”
‘That’s how you came to be with the Sheen?” ChienChu inquired. “They took your ship?”
“They destroyed it,” Veera replied chirped soberly. “My father forced me into a lifeboat. The machines located it. I’ve been with them ever since.”
