Trezza, Eron 13, 5531 – Third Shift

From the moment Tendakeo realized that he and Veshrin had been sentenced to Sinner’s Landing, he had spent his time devouring information about it. Records going all the way back to its settlement more than six hundred cycles earlier; testimonies from current and former residents; the medical histories and quality of life reports. He knew both the predominant species of tree filling the forest around the colony, and how they supported the planet’s hyper-predatory ecosystem. He had read about the weather advisories, the mandatory safety and thermal gear, and how many people died to the cold each cycle.

None of it made it seem more real. Tendakeo had never known the deadly bite of winter; Baytūs al-Luminur was a constant, cool temperature. There had been no weather at all within the Silver City; the sky above it showed an unchanging cloudscape and the Silver sun burning with the Father’s Truth. The city was surrounded by impossibly high, thick walls, so the deadly forests of Hortánna Qudsa were of no concern to the citizenry.

His parents hadn’t understood his obsession, of course. They were too busy being horrified by the scandal and the shame. He endured constant demands for explanations. Didn’t their sacrifices mean anything to him? Did he ever once consider his future? Had he thought of the damage to their family reputation? He began to look forward to the departure, if only to finally be done with their suffocations.

Eventually, the transport came. His orders appeared on his comm via the involuntary GovNet security function, announced by a cheerful chime. He and Veshrin had spent six hours seated next to each other on the transport ship, along with thirty other exiles.

They had hardly spoken a word to each other. Not, to be completely honest, that Tendakeo would have known what to say. Veshrin hadn’t exploded at him for ruining his life. He had simply sat and watched the system pass them by through the external displays. Tendakeo had convinced himself that he was prepared, that he would be the one to protect Veshrin on this new world. That conviction lasted all the way up to the point they entered the atmosphere. They stabbed through the thick cloud-cover and emerged in the skies above Sinner’s Landing in all its resolute finality.

The colony sat within a wide valley, carved through the heart of an ancient forest, the first symptom of malignant civilization. Thin clouds of steam or industrial fumes belched from smokestacks placed at regular intervals throughout the colony. Tree-covered hills rose up and rolled away from it on two sides, and to the east, a flat area of the forest ran up to a large, sluggish river a handful of kilomitras away. Around Sinner’s Landing’s perimeter, six towers rose from the snow, topped by repulsor arrays that emitted shimmering pulses of light to deter the native wildlife.

The colony’s structure formed concentric rings as it expanded from its circular heart. The effect bore a startling resemblance to the rings of a tree, and served much the same purpose. Sinner’s Landing had begun as a single ring of buildings around a clearing, and grew, one ring at a time, as populations demanded. Brightly lit arteries admitted fast travel between the rings, and each ring of buildings had a narrow footpath running through its heart. Tendakeo had leaned forward, trying to see the display past Veshrin’s head. He’d placed his right hand on Veshrin’s leg for stability. The point of contact was enough to ground him. Without looking, almost as if it were unconscious on his part, Veshrin settled his thin, long-fingered hand over Tendakeo’s and squeezed.

Reality had been eagerly waiting to greet them when they landed. The sky was thick with dark clouds and the night’s shadows were held at bay by the intense lights surrounding the landing zone. That was when things became real. The wind that immediately raked its claws across his face, causing him to wince, that was real. The stifled sobs coming from those still on the transport behind him, those were real, too.

Seeing a natural sky for the first time had been the final blow to the denial that had somehow survived in the darkest corners of Tendakeo’s heart. He would never return to the Silver City, see its eternally placid skies, never see his family or his little brother again. He would never be able to openly practice medicine as a free doctor again. After many cycles wandering the frozen paths of Sinner’s Landing, his remains would eventually be scattered on the wind by the Silver Circle’s truth-seekers.

As if in cheery anticipation, the wind and snow vigorously slashed at every exposed cem of Tendakeo’s face, yanking him back to the present. He continued trudging through ankle-deep snow on his way to his next clandestine patient. The med-bag at his side was filled with supplies ‘borrowed’ during his shifts, and in his mind’s eye they glowed with his guilt. He sighed, an explosion of white steam quickly snatched away by the wind. He supposed he should be grateful to Malice, all things considered.

She’d helped set up a job for Tendakeo at Central Medical, the colony’s primary medical facility. How she had done that he didn’t know, and didn’t want to know. The important thing was he had access to the facility’s excess stocks. Which meant he had an opportunity to keep helping people. There were many who couldn’t afford the med-rations, so they went without care. He wasn’t proud of stealing, but he didn’t see another way.

He had been a criminal since the very first time he’d treated someone outside of his license’s limits. When Veshrin had started working for other, more dangerous criminals back in Baytūs just to get meds for Tendakeo’s clinic, he’d become an accomplice to Tendakeo’s crime. Tendakeo couldn’t very well turn his nose up at having to deal with them himself now, or getting his hands dirty.

The alternative to Malice’s help and resorting to petty theft was to ignore the rampant suffering happening nearly everywhere he looked. When the power generator had gone out for one of the large residential complexes in the colony’s mid-rings a lunar ago, he’d spent hours trying to save the fingers and toes of a family living in a cramped two-bedroom apartment who couldn’t afford the fuel rations to run their personal heater. The choice had come down to trading a lunar’s worth food-rations for, at most, a span’s worth of heat. At the end of five grueling solars, he’d managed to save the extremities of the mother and son, but the father and their two young daughters had fared far worse. And those were the relatively well-off colonists. What if he hadn’t been there? Could he let people like that suffer out of self-interest?

Some of the buildings he passed as he entered the outer-rings had broken windows that had been repaired with thin, translucent sheets of cheap, yellowing bio-plastic. Human figures had been distorted by the material’s interference, indistinct blobs passing back and forth near the windows. He imagined he could hear them, just beneath the crunching snow. Unlikely as it was, he hoped some of them were happy.

Other buildings were clearly in desperate need of attention from the reconstruction crews. Their battered exterior walls allowed light—and heat—to escape into the night. It revealed the counterintuitive nature of the colony’s design. Newer constructions were often cheaply made, more temporary overflow solutions than permanent structures, while older buildings were reinforced with durable materials.

Small figures picked through the snow between a pair of stunted residential buildings, shadows thick around them. He had seen other children in the colony doing the same. They picked through the snow slowly and carefully, looking for anything edible that had been dropped by a careless adult. One of them looked up at him as he passed, a small dark face framed by curls dusted with snow.

The child didn’t smile, and he didn’t wave.

Her stillness drew the attention of the other children, and they stood to examine Tendakeo as well. He’d learned early on that the children of Sinner’s Landing did not typically care for the attentions of unfamiliar adults. They had extremely justified reasons for such an attitude. He felt their eyes on him as he continued on his way. After a tense moment of Tendakeo focusing on the sound of his boots breaking through the snow, he heard them return to their tasks.

The first child’s flat stare haunted him until he reached his destination, a surprisingly well-built hut not far from the colony’s outer rim. It might have been five mitras wide and over twice that that deep. The otherwise empty lot was marked by four posts at each corner topped with blue, holographic depictions of torchlight. It was dwarfed by its neighbors, a three-level residential to one side and a food hall on the other.

He pressed the visitor’s alert on the heavily fortified metal door. The snow around the hut was clear of any hand-rolled cigarettes that locals usually favored. A welcome surprise. He didn’t want to imagine how many heretofore undiscovered carcinogens were packed into the tarnished things. There was a muffled sound of movement on the other side of the door, followed by a moment of silence. A grinding click came as the lock was disengaged, followed by a dull thud.

The door swung out, forcing him to take a couple of awkward steps backwards. It revealed a woman with tired eyes in a faded blue dress hanging from two thin shoulder straps, backlit by orange light. She gripped a knife as long as his forearm in her left hand.

Hardly surprising, given her circumstances. Unperturbed, he stood up straight and pulled on what he hoped was a professional smile.

“Sīda Saifara Velāt?”

She grimaced. “Saifara, if it pleases you. Sayyidora Velāt if you really insist on standing on ceremonies—though I don’t know how ‘respectable’ the people back home would find me now. Point is, ain’t much for formality at the best of times, and certainly not in that tongue.” Her Germaine carried a Meridiani accent, which lent her words an energetic tempo Tendakeo found quite pleasant.

“Not fond of High Terran?”

She grimaced. “I’m out here because I told the Circle to shove their ‘truth’ up the Father’s polished asshole, so I’d just as soon not speak—or hear—their words while I’m enjoying my well-earned exile.” She raised her voice above a sudden burst of wind, but made no move to invite him inside yet.

Tendakeo nodded. “Saifara it is, then. No need to stand on formalities in that case, so you may call me Tendakeo. You remembered our appointment, yes? The request passed to me indicated your need was pressing.”

She looked confused for a moment. Then understanding dawned and she smiled widely. It made her already pretty face radiant. She stepped back from the doorway and ushered Tendakeo in with the hand holding the knife. “¡Hamta! Come in, come in. Sorry about that.”

He stepped past her, lowering his hood with one hand, taking in the room as he removed his thermal gear. The movement caused his hair to spill free, the moon charms he wore in it clinking against one another pleasantly. He glanced around the room. The interior was a little smaller than he had assumed from the outside, though it was hard to tell at first given the amount of things stuffed into it.

There were some chairs he could pick out from the background clutter, buried beneath piles of blankets and clothes. A questionable three-person couch had been shoved against the wall to his left. A rug made from the hide of an animal he’d never seen before had been laid in front of the couch.

Next to the couch sat a low, uneven table hidden beneath a stack of used metal cups. Beneath the table, a scratched ultra-plastic box had been tucked away, its faded red surface still bright enough to catch the eye even from shadow.

A few sickly potted plants on a small table to the right of the entrance sat beneath a lamp with light much stronger than the aging yellow light-strips built into the ceiling. A smudge-covered dark green set of ultra-plas drawers stood next to the plants, probably containing clothing. On the other side of the room beside a pair of doors, a squat round appliance with a flat top was almost certainly a stove.

Saifara closed the door behind him. She set the knife down beside the plants and turned to him. She took his coat and set it on a wall hook with one hand, and gestured towards the couch with the other. He eyed it dubiously, but sat anyway.

A pleasant cloud of perfume—some combination of lavender, vanilla leaves, and something close to, but not quite, citrus—rose from the couch’s cushions when he sat down. He recognized it almost immediately. He had smelled it often in the flower shops his mother preferred to spend her Cezzos frequenting instead of the Circle’s sermons. Fuscāni Goldblossoms?

Thankfully, despite a series of dramatically loud groans, the couch rallied to the challenge. Tendakeo was impressed. Up close the teal synth-fabric was faded and visibly thin in places, and couch itself might have been older than he was. When he was satisfied that it would hold, he relaxed and waited for her to pull up one of the other chairs. Still wearing a faint smile, she did so, after dumping the pile of blankets to the floor with a casual sweep of her hand.

“Alright,” she began, sitting and crossing her legs. She hiked the ankle-length hem of her flowing dress nearly to her knees, ostensibly to keep it from sweeping across the floor as she tried to compose herself. The flash of so much warm, coppery skin made Tendakeo shift slightly in his seat, and he forced his gaze to safer, more respectful targets.

Her hands fussed with each other, like two insectoids in the midst of a mating ritual. When she had first opened the door, Tendakeo might have placed her at around thirty cycles, but her behavior now, combined with the way she looked when she smiled made him think she was five or six cycles younger. Her skin flushed, her coppery cheeks turning to bronze as she stared at a space on the floor between them. “So I hear you provide some…specialized medical care for people who are in a certain way. You know, a certain family way, that Central’s ‘doctors’ might take an interest in.”

Ah. She was far from the first to ask Tendakeo for such a service. He smiled at her, on familiar footing now that they were dealing with a medical issue. “I see. Yes, if you…are in ‘that way’ and don’t wish to be, I can help you.”

Relief flooded her face. She ran a hand through reddish-black locks, body sagging in relief. Words burst forth like a dam giving way. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. It…it was so stupid. I usually never let clients finish inside, even with anti-fertility meds. But…my implant was old, and I couldn’t afford to pay for a new one—what I make from clients is usually just food- and fuel-rations. Medical rations are too precious to part with for most people. I mean, all I have to offer is a bit of fun, that’s hardly worth risking your life, you know? Sinner’s Landing ain’t a nice place, I’m sure you’ve gathered; the chances you’d need those rations are pretty high. When he offered to pay me double my usual rate—and throw in med-rations—if I’d ‘let him get it out of his system a few times, real gentle-like,’ I…couldn’t really afford to say no. So I took a risk.”

Tendakeo tried to keep the surprise from registering on his face. “And that led to this…ironic outcome.”

She laughed, prettily so, despite the bitterness in the sound. “Oh, that’s a fine way to put it! Yes, the irony of getting knocked up while trying to earn the means to prevent it wasn’t lost on me. Suddenly the med-rations I’d earned were useless. If those ice-hearted bastards in the Hospital and their dead-eyed assistants—no offense, mind you—got wind, they’d tie me down and force me to have the baby. The ‘Father’s Will’, they’d call it, ‘a trial sent to temper the soul.’” She sniffed. “I thought it was shit when the Circle Keepers and their Knights would push that to my hometown back on Fuscān, and that wasn’t the frozen piss-stain this world is. Who would want to raise a child here?”

In his mind, small figures scrounged in the snow for the means to survive one more bitter solar while an indifferent world looked on. “I cannot imagine.”

She nodded vigorously. “So you see why I need your help. I can’t do that. I can’t.”

He raised a hand to stop her, and her mouth shut with an audible click. “Saifara, you do not need to justify yourself to me. I have the means to help you with me, actually. A few other women have needed such things from me, though one was…too advanced for this means to be feasible.” He paused. With the dress she had on, he had no way of telling visually. It flowed distractingly with each movement, like a living thing. “How far along are you, exactly, if you are able to estimate?”

“Oh, I know that exactly! Um, one moment, please.” She popped to her feet and scurried through one of the doors Tendakeo had noted earlier. She returned carrying a metallic rectangle that turned out to be a cheaply made tablet with a non-holographic display. She tapped it a few times, the screen flickering on, and then began hunting through the data. At last, she made a triumphant sound and turned the tablet towards him. “Here! His last visit was…seven spans and…three solars ago. Is that alright? How far along can I be and this still work?”

“Theoretically, it would be effective at ending the pregnancy at any stage, but the further along the patient is at the time, the more risk comes to them for passing the fetus after it dies and is broken down by the pharmaceutical compounds. Necrosis is a serious risk that increases in proportion to the amount of tissue there is to break down, as the process takes longer the more mass there is to contend with. I would not give this to anyone over sixteen spans, for instance. At seventy-three solars, you are well within the safety margins.” He offered his warmest doctor’s smile to further set her at ease. She returned it easily enough. “I believe you will be fine.”

Tendakeo reached into his bag, rummaging around until he found the rectangular case he was looking for and pulled it out. It was about the size of an average fist, but appeared smaller in Tendakeo’s palm. Bare metal peeked through where the red paint had peeled, catching the overhead light and flashing as he opened it. Inside were four round bundles of white powder in tightly wrapped transparent bio-plas. He took one, set it aside on the couch seat next to him, and replaced the case in his med-bag.

He made sure he had her attention before continuing. “I have properly calculated the dosage for a single person here, it will only work if you take the whole thing, I want to be clear. There have been instances where people asked me for abortifacients for themselves but intended to share with someone else who couldn’t afford to pay, thinking that half-doses would be enough for them both. Thankfully I realized in time; if they had been successful, the results would have been…horrific. I appreciate the compassionate urge to share what you have with those in need, but in this case, do not. If a friend needs help, let me know, we can find some way to make things work safely, I’m sure.”

“U-understood.”

“Do you know how the process will affect you? Have you already discussed it with someone? I can explain it for you if you prefer; it is important that you know what you are facing.” He offered her the wrapped ball sitting in his palm. The process was unpleasant, one or two solars of nausea and bleeding as the fetal tissue was broken down, and then ultimately a lingering weakness for the next few solars. Still, it was far more preferable to the alternatives, in the eyes of many women in the colony.

She picked up the medicine ball, holding it before her face. After a moment she shook herself and offered Tendakeo another dazzling smile, only it didn’t feel as easy as the others. “No, I understand. I have a friend who explained already. She’s the one I am going to have help me. She’s already been through this, five or six cycles back, when the last decent doctor had been running a mid-ring clinic. Her idiot husband had gotten her pregnant despite the fact they already had a child to watch after. Thank you for this, truly. It’s good to have a doctor—a real one—back in the colony.”

A warm feeling bloomed in Tendakeo’s chest. “That is very kind of you, thank you.” He watched as she crossed the room and placed the med on a dish that he’d missed sitting near the unfortunate plants baking beneath the harsh light on the table. Then, with practiced grace, she turned to him with a smile he hadn’t seen her use before. It reminded him of a predator catching sight of something interesting. She offered him an openly appraising look, and her smile deepened.

“So. Now that that’s taken care of,” she said, fingering the left strap of her dress with her right hand, “I suppose its time we discuss payment.”

Tendakeo’s mind was tuned towards medical diagrams, pharmacological interactions, and great reams of otherwise useless factoids concerning the means the workings of the natural world. He was, however, unprepared for the extremely natural proposition that was clearly outlined in every inch of Saifara’s body language. “I—what? I, I don’t—”

She slid the strap off of the shoulder, leaving the dress to slide alarmingly low on that side. Was he imagining the hardening of her nipples as the fabric slid over them? This is no time for delusion. Get a hold of yourself.

Seeing his distress, Saifara giggled lightly. “I didn’t expect you to be shy.”

Tendakeo’s face flamed, and he scratched at his heavily bearded chin. “Well, you see—”

“You don’t have to worry about taking advantage of me, if that’s what’s bothering you. I’ve been doing this a while, and with far less pleasant people. I really don’t mind. You’re much more handsome than I expected you to be. You can consider it a ‘mutual favor’ as I’ve heard they say in some colonies, if that makes it easier for you.” She lightly bit her bottom lip and flashed storm-gray eyes at him. “I’ll let you get everything out of your system that you want to give me.”

Tendakeo’s chest felt tight. “I…can’t, uh.”

She giggled huskily. “Why not? You can’t get me any more pregnant than I already am, after all.”

He stood up abruptly. Saifara’s face fell a little, registering the depths of his reluctance.

“What, you…don’t think I’m pretty?”

Tendakeo marveled at the sensation of his clothes magically shrinking with every breath. “That is not it, at all. In fact, you are quite pretty. However, I am your doctor. I cannot even name how many ethical lines that would cross, professionally and personally.”

Her gaze hardened. “Personally?”

His blood roared just a touch louder. “Wait. I understand what you do, and I see why it’s necessary. I just…I’ve never been able to get my mind around it, I get too caught up thinking myself in circles when I pictured doing something like that. I find it hard to consider actually doing that with anyone without knowing them and trusting them to some extent first, no matter how attractive I find them, or whether or not professional oaths forbade it.”

Saifara looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to catch a lie fly out of him. She blew out a breath, visibly forcing herself to calm down. She reached up and gathered her hair over one shoulder, searching his face for signs of deception. The dense curls spilled down the right side of her chest, the movement drawing his eye to her emerging cleavage. Despite his best efforts, it took far too long to tear his gaze away.

She smirked. “So, you do see some things you like, after all.”

His gaze bounced back to her face, and the room grew at least fifteen degrees warmer. Her eyes slowly travelled the length of his body before meeting his eyes again. The glint in them made him shift uncomfortably.

She threw up her hands, laughing. “Alright, I ain’t gonna force you, if you don’t want to keep each other warm tonight, that’s fine. But I don’t have any other way to pay you, if you’re still expecting to be paid. Fuel, food, and especially med-rations, for obvious reasons, are all too tight right now, and I’ll have to pay the friend I have in mind to watch over me for that long. Otherwise she and her kid would starve. So, if it ain’t a little fun, I don’t know what you’ll want in return.” She cocked an eyebrow and gave him another of her weighted glances. “Well, I suspect not so little.”

He let out a deep sigh, and laughed weakly in relief, ignoring the way he was boiling in his skin. “Well, for now, why don’t we just mark it as a favor owed to be collected later? The important thing is that you be able to have the problem solved before things get much further along, and that medicine will see to it.”

She stared at him, a faint smile still on her lips. “You are a strange one, Tendakeo.” She shrugged. “If a debt is what you want, that’s no problem for me, if it’s kept within reason, mind. I have a certain set of skills, sure, but they’re not, um, ‘widely applicable.’ If there’s something I can do for you later, though, I got you, how’s that?”

“That will work just fine for me, thank you,” he said, genuinely grateful. His heart had slowed to a decently paced jog in his chest. He made a move towards his coat hanging on a hook to the right of the entrance, but Saifara beat him there and handed it over, still wearing a bemused expression. “With that, I think I will, er, let you get back to your evening.”

He pulled on his coat and gloves, hopefully slowly enough that his urge to flee didn’t show. He fastened everything shut against the cold, the heating coils humming softly. Saifara opened the door for him, still smiling at him, mystified. Wind howled as it rushed in, blowing his hair into his face and causing him to wince and turn away from it. Instantly the scent of Goldblossoms vanished, replaced by the frozen scent of Lustrathiran nights, undercut by the sour, chemical smell of the recycling facilities in the Pit below the colony. With a nod, he stepped past her and into the night.

He forced himself to maintain a steady pace as he left her property and crossed onto the ring’s footpath. He turned towards the north and began walking along the path towards the complex he and Veshrin called home. Saifara must have watched him leave, as the heavy clank of the door swinging shut didn’t come until it was nearly faint enough to have gone unnoticed. The wind at his back guided him towards the out-most edge of the colony.

Rows of buildings, both residential and community based, stood silent witness as he passed. Many of them were dark and seemingly lifeless, their tenants already lost in sleep or out hard at work. Fresh snow had fallen while he was talking to Saifara, making each step quieter. The world felt as if it were sleeping beneath its blanket.

Once he stepped off the footpath and onto the Main-way, his walk got much easier. The snow collection crews always made sure to keep the main-ways clear of snow, regardless how bad storms got, so there was hardly anything between the soles of his boots and the rough metal plates paving the colony’s exteriors. He passed hopper stations, but the people he noticed crouching around them didn’t look like they were trying to travel anywhere. Their eyes were closed, faces slack with sleep, makeshift blankets pulled tightly around themselves, standing propped up against the station’s poly-glass walls.

His and Veshrin’s ring appeared, the intersection signpost displaying its alphanumeric designation with glowing letters. Soon after starting down the footpath, the three-level residential complex came into view, emerging from the snowy gloom. When he reached it he turned for the out-ward entrance. There was twenty or thirty mitras around the actual building, so he had an unobstructed view of the snowy clearing and the forest showed behind it. The nearest repulsor tower’s light cut through the softly falling snow, bathing the night in slow pulses. At its height it was bright enough to make him look way.

Tendakeo paused, eyes drawn to a dark splatter on otherwise pristine-looking snow. It followed the path leading to the same entrance Tendakeo was headed towards, and they looked…wrong, like someone was stumbling or hobbling, the footprints were uneven, even broken entirely in places. Was someone dragging a leg? He turned, looking back where the steps had come from. They continued as far as Tendakeo could see in the gloom.

“What…” Someone was hurt. Quite seriously, if the odd tracks he could see running ahead were any indicator. He made himself hurry.

He followed the tracks into the building, stepping into the lobby on the first level of the building. The communal kitchen, laundry, and ‘recreation’ rooms were through the door to the left, the main entrance on the far side, and to the right, a set of stairs that would take people to the second and third levels. The blood spatters—that’s what they had to be, there was no more room for pretense under the harsh artificial lighting in the apartment’s lobby—led towards the stairwell, and now he could determine conclusively from the bloody tracks that whoever left them had a booted foot being dragged.

A dark conviction settled in his mind, almost without him realizing it. This was Veshrin’s blood. Something had happened to him, one of those killers working with Malice, or someone who hated her, had finally snapped and attacked him. Somehow, he’d managed to hobble home.

The thought lent him speed as he climbed up the stairway, moving faster and faster, until he was sprinting. The blood splatter got thicker. He ignored the angry shouts and grumbling of the elderly woman he bumped into as he passed her on the stairs. Despite the thermal gear he felt a deep coldness in his chest. No. This isn’t happening. I won’t let it.

He squeezed through the narrow passage the third-level door opened onto, and into the more open hall on the right, where quarters were laid out in alternating patterns on both sides, with theirs being relatively close to the start of the hall. There, on the ID reader next to their apartment door, was a smear of blood visible even at a distance. The air was too thin, he realized. It was too thin and he was going to pass out at any moment.

He took his gloves off and threw them on the floor of the hallway in front of their quarters. His hands were shaking so badly that he could hardly get his coat to open for him to get his ID from his pants pocket. It took three tries to get the reader to acknowledge the card, and then he had to force himself to stand still while it scanned him, but finally the door slid open, revealing a larger splatter across the floor just inside the main room alongside Veshrin’s bloody gloves and thermal coat.

The blood continued through the common room and into the bathroom, now smears rather than splatters. A pile of clothing lay just outside the bathroom, and Tendakeo could clearly see the blood on them from where he stood. A groan drifted to him, and he closed the distance in a few heavy strides, unable to focus on anything besides Veshrin’s voice. The sight that greeted him when he stepped into the doorway caused electric thrills of terror to dance along his skin, raising all the hairs of his body.

Blood was everywhere. The shower stall, the toilet, the sink, and all over Veshrin himself. He sat on the ceramic tiles, leaning against the shower’s outer wall. Impossibly, Veshrin was smiling weakly up at him. His glasses were nowhere to be seen.

He’d stripped down to his underwear, a pair of synth-fabric briefs that had once been an ocean-blue, now covered in dark, ugly splotches. Long, ugly gashes ran down his left forearm. His torso was bleeding from shallow slashes, angry and swollen, his skin darkening around them. His right thigh, the apparent source of most of the blood, sported a series of deep gashes oozed onto the off-white tiles beneath him. His hands…oh, Silvered mercy, his hands.

Veshrin’s left palm was a raw pink where something had eaten the skin away by an acid, but his right had apparently gotten the worst of it, most of the skin there was either a mass of blisters or already melted away.

The medical part of Tendakeo’s began running through the list of supplies they had on hand: smart bandages and I.V. bags of bio-stabilizers from the Hospital, crude but effective disinfectants he’d prepared personally, old but still effective anesthetics, and a homemade liquor bought from an untrustworthy looking but very kind woman that had proved strong enough to induce unconsciousness after three shots—albeit with very unpleasant side-effects.

Veshrin’s eyes, with their impossible mixture of golds and greens and blues, eyes that Tendakeo could swear changed every time he looked into them, were filled with mixture of pain, despair, and horror so deep that seeing it made the floor unsteady beneath Tendakeo’s feet.

“Ten,” Veshrin said, in a thick, intoxicated voice. “Help me.”