Page 8 of Stellar Drift (Central Galactic Concordance)

With maybe ninety minutes of daylight left, the question of her plan for the night loomed.

Houyen hadn’t mentioned his own need to leave again, but she’d caught him glancing at the wallcomp’s clock display more than once.

She had to either leave within the hour or find somewhere to spend the night, a vulnerable prospect she’d only risked once since landing on Qal Corona.

She was just about to step outside for some fresh air when a worried volunteer asked her to take a look at a pre-teen boy named Samichai.

He’d been stable just an hour ago, but had since taken a sharp turn for the worse.

His fever spiked dangerously, and the rash spread to cover his small frame with angry crimson marks.

The standard treatments weren't touching it.

Sairy checked the boy’s vitals, but her basic medical training felt like a useless pile of untagged data.

All she could do was watch and hope the universe would be merciful.

The helplessness was a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth.

She wondered how real medics handled this feeling of abject failure, day after day.

Sami’s rapid decline had clearly shaken Houyen. He watched the boy’s mother stroke her son’s sweat-drenched hair, his jaw tight. He caught Sairy’s eye, his expression grim, and jerked his head toward the small, curtained-off alcove they’d been using as a supply closet.

Once they were inside, shielded from view, he confronted her. His voice was a low, pointed whisper. “Can you save him?”

Sairy froze, cold dread icing her veins. Was he asking what she thought he was asking?

He seemed to take her silence for refusal. He leaned in closer and spoke in a sharp whisper. “Like you saved me?”

Her worst fear, given voice. She felt the walls of the tiny space closing in. “I don’t… It’s experimental,” she stammered, the words feeling like glass shards in her throat. “It’s not safe.”

“I survived,” he pressed, his gaze unwavering. “It’s the only way to save his life.”

“It hasn’t been tested.” At his disbelieving arch of an eyebrow, she amended, “Not scientifically. He’s a kid. He could be allergic. It could kill him.”

“Like the fever isn’t already doing that?” he shot back.

Before she could answer, the curtain was pulled aside. A volunteer named Wayna stood there, her face pale. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have a problem. A whole family from the far bank bend just arrived. Nine of them. Most are sick, and we’re out of beds.”

Sairy pushed past Houyen, grateful for the interruption. “I’ll do triage.”

“I’ll find more beds,” Houyen said from behind her, his tone clipped. The look he gave her promised this conversation was far from over.

She and Houyen worked near and around each other in the crowded room, but the tension between them was palpable.

She directed Wayna to clear a space on the floor, using coat racks and travel blankets to create a makeshift family ward.

Houyen returned, his arms laden with folded sleeping mats he’d scrounged from the emergency operations center.

As they settled the new arrivals, trying to keep the terrified toddlers with at least one conscious relative, his answers to her questions were snappish and short.

He wanted her to perform a miracle, and he had no idea what he was asking. The secret she’d guarded for years felt fragile, about to shatter under the weight of his desperate hope. But watching Samichai gasp for every breath, she knew she couldn’t just let the boy die. She’d already gone this far.

After they settled the new family in, she grabbed Houyen’s arm and pulled him back into the private alcove.

“I’ll treat him,” she said, her voice low and tight with anger at herself, at him, at the whole horrible situation.

“But you have to back me up. It’s a ‘local herbal remedy’ that might help with the rash.

I got the recipe from an off-the-net family on the eastern slope.

I don’t know everything that’s in it. If his mother refuses, we drop it.

No arguments.” She met his gaze, struggling to control her fury.

“And I’ll administer it. If he dies, it’s on me. ”

A look of shame crossed his face. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softening.

“I’m being an asshole. I didn’t think about the risk, not really.

All I saw was that poor kid. The rash, the fever, that fruity solvent smell.

It brought back… memories.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll cover for you. In any way I can, if this goes sideways. ”

Sairy gave a short, sharp nod, mollified but still simmering.

“I’m going to my airsled for the ‘remedy.’” She turned and left before she could say something she’d regret.

She admired his idealism, his noble heart, but at the end of the day, he still worked for the Citizen Protection Service.

And being discovered by the CPS would be the fucking topper on the fucking holiday tree.

Dusk was almost over. Sairy sat on an ornately carved bench in the town circle, watching Qal Corona’s three full moons rise above the dense canopy.

Soft, subtle lighting from the sidewalks and storefronts illuminated the mist that drifted in nightly from the nearby Kalkajalka River.

It was a pretty effect, as long as people didn’t expect to actually see where they were going.

Her current project at home was designing night-vision eyewear.

While her hearing had become excellent since living in the wilderness, it seemed everyone else — or at least Kyala and Elkano — saw in the dark better than she did.

Rolling her shoulders, she slumped with a sigh into the gentle curvature of the bench’s back. The immediate crisis was over, she hoped. Everyone in the town was accounted for. The triaged patients were recovering, and no new severe cases had developed in the last two hours. No one had died.

Earlier, she had discreetly administered her experimental treatment to the four most severe cases, starting with young Sami. She hadn’t replenished her stock since treating Houyen, and her supply was now dangerously low. She’d already warned Elkano about needing to make more.

As he’d promised, Houyen had run interference, explaining the "home remedy" to the volunteers and families. He’d deftly fended off inquiries as to what was in it and what it was supposed to do other than “bring a little relief.” It helped that someone remembered she had offered other useful medicinal compounds for trade in the past. Houyen had raised an eyebrow at that, and she knew he would ask her about it later, probably at the least convenient time. Elkano was hilariously bad at making up lies, so it would fall to her to deflect the ranger’s curiosity.

Gratifyingly, the sickest patients had already shown improvement.

Still, Sairy’s throat had constricted with fear each time she’d administered the jets, the dosage calibrated by Elkano on the fly based on each patient’s estimated body mass.

She’d covered her need to know that by expressing a loud worry about how much weight the makeshift cots could hold.

Lame, yes, but better than Elkano’s suggestion that she explain her favorite hobby was guessing what people weighed.

She heard footsteps on the damp path and knew it was Houyen before he appeared through the haze. He moved with the weary gait of someone running on fumes and sat beside her on the bench.

“Good news,” he said, his voice rumbly. “Fimvord is out of the autodoc and recovering on her own. She ate a full bowl of soup and walked to the fresher and back under her own power.”

It took Sairy a second to place the name. The town medic. “That is good news. It’ll free up the autodoc, too.”

“I have to go back to the station this evening or I’ll be in bigger trouble with my boss than I already am,” he said. “Need a ride?”

“No, thanks. I have my airsled. It’s too dark to fly home, so Wayna arranged a spare room for Kyala and me to stay overnight.”

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” He circled his hand to encompass the sick ward, the quiet town, the whole situation. “But I’m not sorry we stayed and helped. Matsurgan can suck flux.”

“Matsurgan?”

“The Ranger Service’s Station Chief for this region.

My boss.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “If he figures out I was here and helped, he’ll be pissed.

To be honest, I have near-zero respect for him.

Or for the CPS, for that matter. But being a ranger is the only job I know.

Plant-affinity minder talents like mine aren’t exactly in demand.

” He shook his head. “I like making a difference. Helping the Makaan Nature Reserve thrive is worth putting up with the annoyances.”

Sairy remembered his earlier comment in the sick ward. “What’s your boss’s kick about infinity fever?”

Houyen made an abrupt, rude noise. “He thinks it’s a hoax perpetrated by the locals to wring more money and supplies out of his precious budget.”

Sairy glanced at him twice to make sure he was serious, then rolled her eyes.

“Of course, he does.” In her experience, the CPS was overburdened with officers who thought having a minder talent excused incompetence.

“Mustn’t let messy facts get in the way of a clean and pristine operational performance report to high command. ”

Houyen let out a tired laugh. “It’s like you’ve met the man.”

A strong, sympathetic connection to him sparked in her chest. He had been a pushy asshole, but he’d also proven trustworthy and true to his word.

She was more impressed with him than she wanted to be, and she buried the hint of other, more complex feelings deep in the vault labeled “not in this life.” Even a brief hug from him was a Pandora’s box she refused to open.

“I’d better leave before I’m too flatlined to fly,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. He drew a breath as if to speak, hesitated, then just said, “Thanks again.” He gave her a single, sharp nod and turned away.

She watched him walk toward the flitter pad, his silhouette dissolving into the mist. Even exhausted, the ranger had an intriguing energy about him.

She had the distinct impression he had wanted to say something else, but she firmly told herself she didn’t want to know.

She had too many secrets of her own without prying into his.

The thought of returning to Axolotl Bend tomorrow made her tired just thinking about it.

She’d much rather putter at home with Elkano and Kyala for a few days, but the townspeople had no way of contacting her.

Not establishing comms with the locals prevented anyone from tracking her, but it was sometimes damned inconvenient.

She sighed. She had to come back. Whatever had leaked from her ship during its disastrous landing was still causing this fever. Helping the victims was the least she could do.

She subvocalized to Elkano. “I’m going to collect Kyala from the sick ward so we can find dinner and our borrowed bed. We’ll fly back home at first light.”

Elkano laughed in her ear. “Better make that ‘at first light, after you’ve had breakfast,’ or Kyala will be whining the whole trip.”

Sairy snorted in amusement, earning an odd look from a passing pedestrian. Kyala considered herself ill-used if dawn didn’t bring food. She could hardly blame her pet for that, since she felt the same way.