thing that chap Adar made perfectly clear was how surprised they were that we could speak the Ancient Tongue of the Sacred Scrolls themselves!”
“And what exactly are these Scrolls?”
“Why, I suppose they’re much like our Bible! Complete with an exodus myth and admonitions to behave! I gathered from his few references that it is very Old Testament in nature.”
“I take it, then,” Matt said, trying not to let his impatience show, “that somehow these Scrolls are written in Latin?”
Bradford looked at him as he might a dull pupil in a classroom. “Of course they are! That’s the whole point, don’t you see? Not only are they a Bible, of sorts, they’re also charts and navigation aids as well! That’s why the priests must learn to speak a language that’s even more dead here than it ever was back home.”
“Prob’ly why there’s so few of ’em,” Gray put in with a snort. Bradford glared at him.
“It also raises an intriguing question,” said Letts. “The Latin makes it clear they’ve had contact with humans at some time in their past. We already suspected the, ah… Grik had. Judging from their ships, it was within the last few hundred years. The question for the Lemurians is when did it happen? I’m not sure it matters in the grand scheme of things, but my impression was that none had ever seen or heard of human beings and we were as big a surprise to them as they were to us. Did they get Latin from a Latin-like Romans or something? Or was it some guy, like Mr. Bradford here, just passing through who taught it to them for a hoot?”
“That’s an interesting point. I’d like to have the answer to that question myself,” Matt said. He shrugged. “Partly, I admit, because it is a fascinating question, but mainly because it may make more difference than you realize, Mr. Letts. When they learned it, that is. I agree it probably wasn’t in their living memory, but if it wasn’t too long ago, maybe, somewhere, there are still other people like us to be found. If so, finding them is going to be increasingly important.” He cleared his throat. “You may have noticed the men’s reaction to the Lemurian females?” There were thoughtful nods. “As time passes, certain… frustrations are going to become more acute. If it’s possible there’re other people in this world, we’re going to need to find them-and not just because of that. If the Lemurian/ human contact was thousands of years ago, though, that possibility seems more remote. Besides, if that’s the case, it might create complications beyond the obvious.”
“Indeed?” replied Bradford. “How so?”
“Look at it like this. Hundreds of years ago, maybe more, somebody wrote these Scrolls, or taught one of them Latin so they could write them down. They’ve based their spiritual beliefs on those writings. Out of the blue, strangers show up, deliver them from their enemies, and speak the sacred tongue. All this may not have sunk in yet, and if only a few of them speak Latin, it might take a while. But when it does, we might be faced with a decision.” He looked at the faces around him, all staring intently back. He sighed. “They might think we’re gods!” he said quietly. “What are we going to do then?”
The items on Sandra’s list had been brought over-needles and catgut for stitching, mostly. There were many, many wounded, and most had deep slashes, although there were a few arrow wounds as well. Those were the ones that concerned her most. She could handle stitching slashed flesh and binding superficial cuts, but she was very afraid to go fishing around inside the unfamiliar creatures trying to dig something out when she didn’t know their anatomy.
She knew she would have to, though. The only treatment the Lemurians seemed to know for battle injuries was to apply the same viscous paste she’d seen on their leader. She had no idea what it was, but it apparently had certain analgesic and antibacterial properties. It might even be better than sulfanilamide. Whatever it was and however well it worked, it couldn’t stanch blood loss or repair muscles and sinews hacked in two. Learning to deal with so many casualties at once had apparently never occurred to them-just as fighting such a battle hadn’t. She hoped, however, that if the paste worked as well as they assured her through Lieutenant Shinya it did, very few amputations would be required.
It was slight consolation, looking at the sea of bodies stretched before her in neatly organized, blood-soaked rows. She was just a nurse. She was a very good nurse, but up until recently, she’d been a peacetime nurse who’d never faced anything like this. She’d taken it upon herself to learn more about her profession than required and she felt competent to assist in most surgical procedures, but until just a few days before, she’d never dealt with actual battle casualties. Now this.
The severity and variety of the wounds left her appalled. She knew that modern warfare often inflicted even more ghastly wounds, but usually at a distance. The idea that enemies could stand face-to-face and hack each other apart to produce wounds like those she saw made her skin crawl like the sight of a bullet wound would never have done. She was in so far over her head that she felt her composure and her previously unshakable confidence beginning to slip. With sudden clarity, she thought she knew precisely how Matt must feel, caught up in events far beyond what his training and experience had prepared him for. He’d done a pretty good job, she reflected, even if he didn’t know what he was doing. Somehow he always managed to act as though he did. That might work well in matters of leadership, but it wasn’t the best approach when it came to medicine, she thought wryly. Or was it?
Adar and several apprentices hovered nearby, talking with Lieutenant Shinya as she sewed. Many other Lemurians, young and old alike, watched her work intently. Besides her efforts, however, there was virtually no other treatment under way. She finished suturing a long gash in a young Lemurian’s leg while it stared at her unflinchingly with large, liquid eyes. She stood and tried to wipe hair from her eyes with her forearm. It was covered with sweat and she only managed to paste the loose hair to her face. Without a word, an uncustomarily attentive Dennis Silva poured alcohol on a rag and handed it to her. She began wiping blood off her hands and trying to get it out from under her fingernails. The harder she tried to get it all, the madder she got.
“Lieutenant Shinya? Would you be kind enough to signal the ship and ask Captain Reddy to send Pharmacist’s Mate Miller and Ensign Theimer over to help? My God, there must be two hundred or more I haven’t even seen yet!” She paused, considering. “Also, please ask Adar why none of his people are helping. They may be unaccustomed to this kind of medicine, but all I’m doing is sewing them up.” She gestured around. “And I know they can sew!”
“Of course, Lieutenant.” Tamatsu turned and began to speak. Adar answered and Shinya relayed his message. “He said he didn’t know you wanted help. It’s customary among his people for those with specialized skills to guard their methods. He said their healers-many of whom are watching you work even now-would like to try the methods they have seen, but are afraid you will be offended.”
She shook her head and almost screamed with frustration. “The only thing that offends me is they’d be willing to let their people suffer over something that silly!”
“Then I will tell him you will freely share your expertise. I will not relay your last statement, though,” he said just a little primly. “To them, I am sure it’s not silly at all.”
“Then tell them to bring boiling water! And find out if they have any alcohol or anything I can use for an antiseptic! I’m just about out!”
Shinya nodded curtly and spoke to the Lemurian official again. Sandra wasn’t sure how fluently the two communicated because the Japanese officer punctuated his statements with hand gestures and repeated phrases, but Adar seemed to grasp what was said and soon barked commands. To Sandra’s surprise, within moments a cauldron of boiling water appeared, as well as a dark earthen cask, or jug, that had a pungent aroma. They must have had the stuff nearby, she thought. They’d have been using it already if I hadn’t been here. Chagrin surged through her. She realized she’d just naturally assumed she knew more about medicine than these “primitives” and dived right in. They may have even been as angry with her as she was with them! It says something for the regard they must hold us in, she thought. Otherwise, they might’ve just killed me! She shook her head and pointed at the cask. “What’s that?”
“It’s a fermented spirit they make from fruit, Lieutenant Tucker,” Tamatsu replied. “They call it seep.”
Silva leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Hey, Jap, ask him if it can be drank!”
Tamatsu looked at the big destroyerman a moment before he replied. “Gunner’s Mate Silva,” he said in an icy tone, “I have given my parole to your captain, as well as my word of honor. But I’m still an officer in the Japanese Imperial Navy. If you do not address me with the respect due my rank, or at least that due one man of honor from another, I won’t ask him that, or anything else for the remainder of our visit today. I do not think Captain Reddy would be pleased if our communications broke down entirely because one of his men was rude.”
Silva bristled. The words “mighty uppity for a stinking Jap” actually formed in his mouth, but somehow he caught them and clenched his teeth. At his full height, he towered above the other man, but Tamatsu merely looked at him, unconcerned. Silva visibly uncoiled, and after a moment a grin spread across his weathered, stubbly face.
