“Because I’m an idiot,” the runner confessed miserably.
“Now there’s something we can agree on,” Kartha said grimly. “Now shut up so we can get to work.”
There were advantages to being located in Pohua, where ancient medical artifacts surfaced on a fairly regular basis, and—though never cheap—could sometimes be purchased at a relatively reasonable price, especially if a certain king wanted to be treated for the venereal disease that continued to plague him.
Norr felt a strange sense of detachment as she “stood”
next to her physical body and looked down on it. The scene was murky, which meant the details were hard to discern, but there was no mistaking the urgency with which the nuns were preparing to operate on her. And judging from the size of the hole under her right shoulder blade, the team was wasting its time. That was why Norr was tempted to turn away and seek higher planes, where physical pain was unknown.
But a tendril of energy still connected the sensitive to her physical body. It was rather weak, however, and Norr knew she could sever it if she chose to, but something held her back. But what?
“The answer is simple,” Lysander, said as his thoughts began to fl?ow into the variant’s mind. “Look at the thought forms around Rebo. . . . That’s why you’re tempted to stay.”
The sensitive looked, “saw” how miserable the runner was, and felt what he felt. A vast longing combined with an impending sense of doom.
Lysander glowed with internal light as he came to “stand”
at her side. “And there’s one more thing,” the spirit entity added. “Rebo is here because of you. Should you choose to terminate this incarnation, he will be lost in grief—and Logos will take control of Socket. And not just Logos, but the Techno Society under the leadership of Tepho, who wants to control the star gates for the same corrupt reasons that I did.
“So I beg you to stay, not just for the sake of the man who loves you and came back to the physical world in order to protect you, but for the sake of humanity as well. Because the long slide into darkness has begun—and the gates represent the only hope for something better than barbarism.”
Norr was about to respond, about to say something, when Sister Kartha pushed a probe down into the open wound, and the resulting pain sent the sensitive reeling. “There it is,” the abbess announced, as the metal stylus made contact with the lead ball. “Now to get it out.”
Rebo had seen medicos extract bullets before, which was why the runner expected Kartha to pick up a scalpel and cut the projectile out.
But the abbess had another tool in mind, something that had been common once, and would be again if craftspeople were able to successfully duplicate the artifact. Metal scraped on metal as the solar powered surgical scarab was removed from a basin fi?lled with disinfectant and placed on the sensitive’s bare back. Rebo watched in fascination as the tiny insectlike robot scurried up to the wound, circled the hole as if to determine its exact diameter, and dived inside. “First the machine will cauterize all of the bleeders,” the abbess explained. “Then it will make its way down to the musket ball and remove it.”
The runner had seen something similar on a previous occasion, and was about to say as much, when a novice burst into the surgery. “Sister Kartha! Come quick! The police are at the door. They claim the sensitive is a thief!”
The abbess looked at Rebo, uttered one of the many swear words she had learned during a childhood spent in the slums of Pokua, and turned back again. “Tell them I’m busy. . . . Show them into my study and bring them some tea. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
The aspirant nodded, turned, and hurried into the hall. Under normal circumstances, the fact that the authorities were practically standing outside the door waiting to arrest him would have sent Rebo into the fi?ght- or-fl?ight mode. But now, with Norr’s life on the line, the only thing the runner cared about was the scarab. A lot of time had passed since the robot had descended into the wound, or so it seemed to Rebo, and he was just about to comment on that when the slightly deformed musket ball popped up out of the hole.
Sister Kartha made use of a pair of forceps to pluck the projectile off Norr’s skin and hold it up for inspection. It was fl?attened on one side. “Here it is . . .” the abbess said.
“It looks like the bullet slanted upward and came to rest against her scapula. Now, as soon as the scarab fi? nishes repairing the damage to her tissues, it will back its way out and close the wound. At that point I will allow the police to enter.”
“But you can’t!” Rebo objected. “They’ll throw her in jail, and she’ll die there.”
“You should have thought about that possibility earlier,”
the abbess responded sternly. “You may have a relationship with Nom Maa . . . But that doesn’t entitle you to steal other people’s property! The sisters and I have a spiritual obligation to heal the sick—but we aren’t required to harbor criminals. Oh, and surrender your weapons. . . . We’ll have no killing here.”
The runner was tempted to argue his case, to try and explain why the theft had been justifi?ed, but could see that it wouldn’t make any difference. “All right,” he said humbly.
“I’m not ready to surrender my weapons, not yet, but I’ll bring our things in here. Maybe they’ll let us keep some of our clothes.”
If the abbess thought Rebo was about to fl?ee, she made no effort to stop him as the runner bolted out of surgery and sprinted down the hall. Once in the cell where the two of them had been allowed to sleep, the off- worlder grabbed what few belongings they had and went back the way he had come. The scarab had surfaced by that time, Norr’s wound had been sealed, and the robot’s tiny feet continued to wiggle as the abbess placed the device back in its basin.
“Okay,” Rebo said, as he dumped both packs next to the operating table. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all that you’ve done. . . . The police are sure to separate us once they come in—so could I have a moment alone with Lonni?”
Kartha’s expression softened. “Yes, of course. But don’t take long.”
“I won’t,” the runner promised, and felt for Norr’s pulse as the nuns left the room. It was weak, but still there, and Rebo allowed himself to hope.
