There were two bodies at the top of the steps leading down to the cargo exit. My companion turned one over; there was less smoke here, and no need to kneel down to see the face. It was a woman’s face, what was left of it, ripped open. The walls around the bodies were splattered with tiny holes and bits of plastic that had melted and solidified. “Here’s our explosion,” he said, as I climbed down the stairway beyond him.
Tal’s body was at die bottom of the steps. I felt for a pulse, found it, turned him over and checked his breathing. Just unconscious; though there was a nasty bump on his head. It must take a lot to take out an Aphean, I thought, and looked up at my companion. “Get a stretcher,” I told him.
“Easier to open the cargo doors,” he said.
“Then do it.”
As he searched for the door controls, I pulled open one of Tal’s eyelids, then the other. His lenses were still in. So I got up and walked over to the controls, where I’d spotted them earlier, and opened the doors.
The sound of them opening caught my companion’s attention, and he looked up from his search. “Ah,” he said. We both took hold of Tal and started to pull him down the ramp onto the deck.
A medical team approached at once, with a stretcher-glide and an alarming amount of equipment. They loaded Tal onto the glide, and that was all right; but when they started linking their equipment, I felt the need to speak up loudly.
“This is a Three Cities citizen, and I’m a Three Cities representative. We don’t wish any further medical treatment, it’s against our religion.”
“Look, cyr,” said one of them politely (I’d been promoted from “mynher,” I noted), “this person may be seriously hurt. He clearly has a head injury—” The rest of the team were ignoring me, continuing to link up their monitors, while this fellow performed his distraction.
I stepped over to the glide and unhooked a monitor. “I’m a Three Cities representative,” I repeated. “We will regard this as an unfriendly act. If one of you will send word to the Diamond Protector that Officer Tal Diamond is here, our own medical people will handle things.”
“Security!” yelled one of the team. One of the others—of a higher rank, I think—put a hand on his arm and spoke softly.
“What are we supposed to do?” asked the first man angrily.
“Keep him in medical quarantine,” I replied at once. “The Diamond will guarantee all his bills. We’re very grateful for your prompt attention. It’s just... against our religion to have unbelievers perform unsanctioned medical practices.”
“You’ll take responsibility if he dies?” said the one who had restrained the first man. Turned to me now, I saw an insignia marking him as team leader.
“I take responsibility in all circumstances,” I answered simply.
The team muttered among themselves. I added, “If you wish, you can add the procedures you would ordinarily use to our bill. The Diamond will pay it. We’re aware of the trouble you took in getting yourselves and your equipment here so promptly.”
Amid the mutters I heard one older medtech say to another, “He’s just a kid. We ought to at least check—” And another answered, “Shh.”
Just a kid? It was a second before I realized they meant Tal. I’d been planning to call Adrian myself, but it occurred to me now that it would be better to stick with Tal in case anybody tried to be charitable. I looked around for the other Graykey here. “Brother!” I called, and he stepped over. “In light of the tarethi we have gathered here together, would you do me a service?”
“If it proves practical,” he said, with the usual reluctance of our people to commit.
“Would you call the Diamond and leave a message for Adrian Mercati? I’ll reimburse you for the call. Tell him what happened here and everything I told these gentlemen, word for word.” I knew he could do that; language is what defines our bonds, and Graykey are taught to pay great attention to the exact phrasing of the conversations around them.
“As you wish, sister. And will you honor me?”
I looked up from Tal’s body, startled. “How?”
“Meet me in the Ginza Bar when your present obligations are fulfilled.”
“For what purpose?”
He said gently in the Old Tongue, “To drink to old times, short sister with the big voice, who doesn’t watch where she runs.”
I smiled. “I will if I can.” … Rude brother who is overconfident. But that pleased me; the males of my clan are all like that.
On the glide, Tal’s eyes blinked. He tried to sit up on one arm, and at once three medtechs were around him. “Take it easy, boy,” said one. “Lie back down.”
He got a good careful look around the docks before they forced him back down. That Keylinn was there somehow did not surprise him. She stepped away from the young man she was speaking with and came over to the glide. “I’ve informed these gentlemen of our scruples concerning medical treatment by unbelievers. Perhaps you’ll emphasize this to them.”
“Yes,” he said, coughing. “If you please, cyrs. I officially refuse any medical treatment. Thanks, anyway….”
“Look, son,” began the medtech who had spoken before, but the gaze Tal fixed on him made the words trail off. Tal had found that his stare often had this effect, although he didn’t have a clue why.
In the same hoarse, raw voice he said, “Keylinn.”
“Here.”
“Find out the death list. Particularly the captain. Tell me if she survived.”
“She did,” said a medtech standing nearby. “If you mean Captain Nestra. She’s with a team that left ten minutes ago.”
“Good,” said Tal. He relaxed against the cushion on the glide. A long curl of smoke snaked overhead.
The image he’d seen when he looked around replayed itself: The docks in chaos, the noise of the air-scrubbers, the
