CHAPTER 16
Rebecca was posted to the new camp as nurse and gold panner. Despite her constant anxiety about Syd, she enjoyed the new camp, partly because she seldom saw the Doctor, and partly because she was running her own clinic. On the days when the clinic was empty of patients, she was out in the bright sunshine and fresh mountain air panning for gold in the swift flowing river.
After Sylvie’s death, she forged even stronger bonds with Alicia and Thelma. During their spare time, the three women were inseparable and shared the same tent. The two older women, convinced that Syd’s situation was hopeless, felt it was their duty to dampen Rebecca’s hopes and to prepare her for the inevitable tragic event.
Noah had been appointed supervisor of the new camp, but, once each seven-day period, Joshua came to inspect and to check that all was in order. On the first such inspection, he walked along the river, checking the bags of each woman panner. When he came to Rebecca, he splashed into the water, embraced her, lifting her clear of the water. She examined the arrow wound. “It’s completely healed, pappy. Only a small scar.”
In their tent after the shift, Thelma, stretched out on her cot, her hands under her head, commented: “You and your father are real buddies again, Rebecca.”
Rebecca, seated on her cot, nodded. “Yes, we have settled our differences. No matter what happens, I do not have to couple with the Doctor. The new camp commander has not mentioned the decision by the old camp commander, and my father believes the new commander is not aware that any promise was made to the Doctor.”
Rebecca was not alone in her clinic. The single room was quite large, and a section of it was allocated to their captors. A Warrior showed up one day and set up shelving filled with strange looking bottles and medicines.
The Warrior Medic ignored her at first. Then, a few days later, a Warrior was brought in with cuts and lesions to his stalk body and a human slave, badly cut and bruised in his legs. The tractor the Warrior was driving had capsized and fallen onto the slave.
Rebecca quickly cleansed and bandaged the wounds of the human, then went over to watch the ministrations of the Warrior Medic. It had applied ointment to the tears in the stalk body, and Rebecca helped it to bandage the wounds.
With the approval of the Warrior Medic, she looked after both patients. She carefully inspected their wounds from time to time and reapplied ointment and bandage as necessary. Later in the day, two Warriors carried in a tub of stinking, mucky earth. The Warrior Medic had gone out, and the two Warriors motioned something to her. She finally understood. She carefully manoeuvred the leg of the patient until its tendrils were touching the surface of the muck. She watched as the tendrils extended into the tub. It was feeding. When she saw the tendrils resurface, she carefully moved the leg back onto the cot. The Warriors removed the tub.
Her human patient sniffed the air. “What a stink. I hope that’s not my meal.”
“It seemed to help the Warrior,” she replied, chuckling. “Perhaps we should ask them to bring it back.” She thought of Syd and the tears came to her eyes. This was the kind of joke he would make.
The Warrior Medic returned and watched her check and re-bandage the wounds of the Warrior and the human. “You are very competent,” the loudspeaker declared. “You seem to know about treating Warriors. Where have you trained?”
Rebecca stood up and bowed. “Doctor McCullough, the human doctor, taught me nursing which I enjoy very much. At the old camp, I sometimes treated Warriors with simple scrapes or wounds. I have learned much from you. Do you have medical schools?”
“Yes, this Warrior attended the main medical school for Warriors on our home planet. I must now work practically for a lengthy period, and then I may return and become a Warrior Doctor. I, too, enjoy the medical field and look forward to becoming a doctor.”
The two patients were kept in the clinic another dawn cycle and then released. She cleaned up the clinic and, as she left, the Warrior Medic stopped her, and holding her hand in his tendrils, escorted her up the path from the clinic, past the food wagon station and to her tent. Alicia and Thelma, sitting on the grass in front of the tent, watched with admiration as the two approached.
“It didn’t take her too long to make conquests among the enemy,” Alicia laughed.
A week later, Rebecca, asleep at the time, was summoned and quickly made her way to the clinic. The Medic appeared, trundling in translation equipment. “I need your help, but I must instruct you. Three Warriors, building the tower to overlook the camp, have fallen to the ground.”
One Warrior was lying on a cot, the other two on the floor. With the help of the Warriors who had brought the wounded in, she set up additional cots and got the two Warriors off the floor.
The Warrior Medic held up the head of one of the wounded to reveal a huge gash.
“Hold our Warrior’s head as I am doing.” She held up its head while the Medic filled the gash with a cream-like substance from one of the bottles. “This will replace the tissue our Warrior has lost. We must keep the wound from touching anything.” With one hand, she folded a pillow and inserted it under the Warrior’s head. They checked the rest of the body and cleaned and bandaged the tears and cuts. One arm looked broken, and the Medic just stared at it. “The material to fix it has not yet arrived from the Guardian city.” The Doctor had taught Rebecca how to set broken human limbs. She straightened the Warrior’s arm as gently as she could, placed a flat wooden splint on either side, and bandaged them in place.
“This is how we heal humans with broken bones. Perhaps it will help the Warrior until your supplies get here.”
They attended to the needs of the other two Warriors. They worked two long dawn cycles together until they were satisfied that there was no more they could do, and their patients were out of danger. With three Warrior patients, she found their eating arrangements particularly revolting. Three tubs of the muck were brought in, and the stench was difficult to bear. Nevertheless, she persevered and saw to it that her patients fed.
“We are told,” said the monotone voice, “that humans cannot tolerate the smell of our food. Is it so?”
“Yes, it is very difficult.”
“This Warrior will look after their feeding. You may step out then.”
Rebecca shook her head. “I thank you, but I may not. They are my patients.”
The Medic was walking away, but stopped and turned to her. “But they are Warriors.”
“They are Warriors outside the clinic. In here, they are patients.”
The computer was silent for a long moment. The Medic bowed, came over, stood in front of her and extended his tendrils around her. “You are right. It is an honour to work with you.”
She was allowed off duty, and since the Medic could not leave, two Warriors met her as she left the clinic and escorted her to the tent. Thelma from her panning station was able to observe them, and shaking her head wonderingly, she shouted to Alicia, “Her circle is growing.” Rebecca was fast asleep when the two women returned.
Rebecca made her way to the clinic at the next dawn. The camp site was crawling with Warriors, busily building the tower and, further down the river, the warehouse and smelter. Many of the Warriors paused and bowed as she passed by.
Over the next shifts, they spelled each other. Two of the Warriors were pronounced by the Medic fit enough to leave the clinic. The third — the one who had suffered the gash to its head — continued to languish.
“The Guardian Doctor is coming from the City,” the Warrior Medic informed her, “to examine the patient and decide what to do. The patient may be moved to the City or to our home planet for more intense care. The lesion in its head has healed, but the wound seems to have compromised its neural impulses. The Warrior is conscious but seems unable to move.”
“I hope it is not because of me,” a perturbed Rebecca responded.
“No, not at all. We are both doing what we can. What is required is the necessary equipment to effect full recovery. This Warrior is very grateful for your assistance, and our patients have expressed satisfaction with your care.”
She rather liked the Warrior Medic and the collegial relationship that had developed between them. Nurture and caring of the sick and hurt, no matter what the species, had become an essential part of her. She found it difficult to hate her patients. As in the old camp, the Warriors appreciated her and were not reluctant to show their respect. Yet this was the species that was hunting and planning to kill her beloved Syd. How could she continue to treat the Warriors? Was she in error to even build up a rapport with the Medic and with the Warrior patients, and to relish the attention she was getting from the other Warriors? She turned away, frowning.
“You need not worry about the Guardian Doctor. This Warrior will report that your work is exemplary.”
“Thank you, but I am worried about the safety of the escaped slave.”
There was a long moment of silence. “We cannot tolerate slaves who escape and, in this case, the escaped slave has wounded the Overseer and killed a Guardian and six Warriors. These are crimes that must be punished. This Warrior hopes that the difference in our views does not compromise our ability to work together.
“The slave’s escape,” the computer voice droned on, “has angered the Warriors. The slave was able to escape in the first place, and to kill in the second, because Warriors were not armed with the special weapon carried by the Guardians, or the weapons that we have in our aircraft and to defend our cities. The only weapons we may carry are whips or truncheons. The Guardians refuse to give us the special weapon because the Sacred Writings prohibit it. Many of us believe it is time to revise the Sacred Writings.”
Rebecca thought, however, if the Warriors had been armed as they wished, Syd would already be dead. She related her discussion with the Medic to Alicia and Thelma.
“We can’t be friends with them,” concluded Alicia. “I thought we could cultivate friendships, but after the change of garrison and Sylvie’s death, I gave that up. Monty never considered he could become, or wanted to become, a friend.”
For her friends, Rebecca decided, there was no dilemma — their captors were the enemy. If you developed a rapport with any of them, Warrior or Guardian, it was to glean favour. In Alicia’s and Thelma’s view, a relationship based on mutual sympathy and trust with any individual captor was impossible, superficial at best.
The Guardian Doctor, accompanied by the camp commander, entered the clinic, as Rebecca and the Warrior Medic were cleaning and re-bandaging the wounds of their sole patient. Without warning, the Guardian Doctor strode forward, grasped Rebecca with the tendrils of one arm, and flung her across the room. She crashed against the wall and slid to the floor in a heap, too surprised, too shocked to even call out. The tendrils had lashed her face, leaving a lacy network of scratches slowly welling with blood.
“Sir, what are you doing?” protested the Medic, his objection voicing itself in the even tones of the translation equipment.
“No human slave can treat one of us. How did you let this happen?” The question was addressed to the camp commander.
“We were not aware, Guardian Doctor,” the camp commander said.
“Sir, the human slave has performed admirably and has rendered great service at a time of need,” insisted the Medic.
The Guardian Doctor turned to the camp commander who was still standing just inside the doorway. The Guardian Doctor was taller than the camp commander and its stalk body thicker. “The Warrior Medic must be relieved of his duty in this clinic. The Warrior Medic is clearly unworthy of the responsibility. The human slave will leave the clinic immediately.”
“Sir,” a barely audible, halting voice came over the loudspeaker, “the human has been very gentle and careful with me.”
The Guardian Doctor turned in the direction of the patient. “Warrior, you are too sick and too weak to understand the enormity of your situation. Humans are too ignorant to provide the level and quality of care you require. The Warrior Medic was at fault for allowing the human to participate in your treatment and therefore is banned from the clinic.”
“Sir, I protest.” The Medic left the bedside of the patient and stood in front of the camp commander, elbowing the Guardian Doctor aside. “In accordance with the Sacred Writings, if a Warrior objects to a decision by a Guardian and is unable to persuade the Guardian to alter the decision, or to be convinced that the Guardian’s decision is fair and reasonable under the circumstances, the Warrior may appeal to a tribunal. Respectfully, this Warrior requests a tribunal hearing.”
The camp commander objected: “The Sacred Writings provide for a tribunal appeal only in the case of a decision made within the control and management structure. A technical decision by a Guardian with technical authority cannot be appealed. Your request is denied.”
“Sir, once again I protest and respectfully request a hearing. This Warrior is commanded to leave the clinic. That is not a technical decision but a control decision. The Guardian Doctor has not even examined the patient to determine whether my work is satisfactory. I protest, too, the treatment of the human slave who is under my command in this clinic. The decision to punish her and to oust her from the clinic without first consulting this Warrior makes it a control, and not a technical, decision.”
The camp commander turned and shouted out the doorway: “Warriors!” Two Warriors jumped in. “Arrest the Warrior Medic and remove the human.”
Rebecca still sat slouched against the wall, listening intently to the exchange, hoping the Medic would win his point, and marvelling at his courage in defending not only himself but her as well. Now she worried that he seemed to be in trouble.
A Warrior approached Rebecca and gently assisted her to her feet.
“Guardian Doctor,” the Warrior asked, “we believed the slave was performing well. Was this not the case?”
“The Guardian Doctor,” interrupted the Medic, “has punished the slave for daring to treat a Warrior. The Guardian Doctor has not yet examined the Warrior in the cot nor the other Warriors who were hurt. Therefore, the Guardian Doctor is not aware that the Warriors are pleased with the treatment provided by the Medic and the human slave.”
“The Warrior Medic speaks the truth, camp commander and Guardian Doctor. The treated Warriors and all the Warriors in the camp are pleased with the treatment provided by the Warrior Medic and the human slave, and are particularly grateful to the slave for keeping her post when the Warrior Medic was overwhelmed.”
Even the monotone computer could not hide the anger in the camp commander’s voice. “We are not going to debate this issue with you. We are not going to allow the poison that is sweeping our home planet to affect Planet Dawn. We are the camp commander. You are ordered to arrest the Warrior Medic and to remove the slave. Carry out your orders now.”
Like synchronized dancers, both Guardians flipped their heads simultaneously, and the visors fell forward as they reached for the buttons on their power packs. There was a long moment of very tense silence. Rebecca stared at death. She, the two Warriors, and the Medic were close enough together that the fire from the Guardians would engulf them all. Finally, one of the Warriors spoke.
“We will carry out your orders because you are the camp commander. Nevertheless, we protest the order and demand a tribunal hearing.”
“Your request for a tribunal hearing is foolish and unnecessary, but you are entitled to such a hearing and you shall have it. There are no human patients at the moment. The slave will return to gold panning. There is no jail on the site. Shackle the prisoner and place him in a tent.”
“It is not seeming to chain a Warrior as we would a slave. The Warrior Medic will not run away.”
One Warrior led Rebecca away, while the other moved off with the Medic. Warriors bowed as she went to her tent. She took off her white smock, pulled a flax jacket over the grey overalls, stuffed her feet into her rubber boots, picked up the gold pan, and sauntered slowly and proudly toward the river. Her little world had collapsed, yet she felt strangely exhilarated. Thelma had said, “If push comes to shove, our captors will support each other.” Yet the Warriors had defended her and had confronted the Guardians.
As she moved through the camp site, she saw small groups of Warriors gathering here and there. She passed the Medic standing in front of his tent in earnest conversation with a half-dozen Warriors. She bowed and the Medic returned the bow. He summoned her and carefully examined her face, then escorted her to the river. She waved to Alicia and Thelma at their panning stations. As she was about to step into the water, the Medic wet a soft cloth and gently washed the blood from her face. She smiled gratefully and bowed.
“What was that all about?” Alicia asked, as the three women walked back to their tent. “And look! Something’s happening. The Warriors are all gathered around your Medic.”
They congregated with the rest of the group for the post-shift meal in a grassy area devoid of trees, overlooking the river. The semi-darkness was brightly lit by the reflecting moon and the last vestiges of dusk from the descending sun. High above, the snow capped mountains watched over them, veiled by the filigree mist that swept off the peaks by the Winds of Dawn.
Rebecca described the extraordinary confrontation between the Warriors and the Guardians.
“We noticed in the early part of the shift,” Deng Lee reported, “that the Warriors had all deserted the work sites, and there was no more supervision. We knew there was something happening.”
“Rebecca, you said the camp commander used the word ‘poison’ to describe the situation on their home planet. Did he elaborate?” asked a thoughtful Alicia.
“No, but he made the remark when the Medic and the other Warriors were challenging his and the Guardian Doctor’s decision.”
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a rocket ship which settled on a cleared area just up the river. The cargo bay door went up, and six Guardians appeared, walking quickly and purposefully towards the camp site.
“Here comes the cavalry,” said Thelma, and mouthed the sounds of a trumpet.
The Warriors around the Medic’s tent also saw the approaching Guardians and spread themselves more thinly in a semi-circle, slowly raising their truncheons. The lead Guardian stopped in front of them, removed the crown from its head, unstrapped the power pack, and dropped the weapon to the ground. It waved to the other Guardians and they did the same. The conversation that ensued seemed to lessen the tension for the Warriors lowered their truncheons.
There was a general exchange of bows and the entire group moved off to the camp commander’s tent. A platform fronting the tent had been built to accommodate the camp commander when it addressed the whole camp. The six Guardians climbed onto the platform and were joined by five Warriors. The Medic, the two Warriors which had requested a hearing, the camp commander and the Guardian Doctor placed themselves near the platform.
They watched as the Medic stepped forward, bowed and the entire panel returned the bow.
“Very civilized,” Thelma said. “If we ever get back to Earth, I’m going to introduce bowing into our HR arbitration proceedings.”
They could more or less follow the process by noting which of the participants stepped forward and bowed. Debate and testimony went on for a long time because each of the major participants more than once stepped forward and bowed. There seemed to be much debate judging by the frequency and rapidity of the various players stepping forward and bowing. They did not know how long the hearing continued for they all turned in as sunrise lightened the horizon and the first beams poked between the mountains.
When the three women awoke to begin their shift and stepped out of their tent, they discovered an air of bustle around the campsite. Warriors clambered over the framework of the tower, adding sections with the help of a crane. Noah walked up and down the river side, mingling with Warriors armed with their truncheons and whips. A huge explosion further down the river reminded everyone that Warriors were carving out caverns for their eventual housing.
“Dammit!” Thelma cursed. “Everything’s back to normal. Aren’t we lucky?”
“I wonder what they decided,” Rebecca said. “I hope the Warrior Medic was not punished.”
“Whatever they decided must have been in your favour,” Alicia observed. “Look at your friends.”
A troop of Warriors marched by and all tilted their heads in Rebecca’s direction. As they sat in their grassy area eating the pre-shift meal, they saw the Warrior Medic approach carrying the translation equipment. They stood up and bowed.
“You may be seated,” came the monotone voice. “The Warrior Medic addresses the slave nurse.” Rebecca remained standing while the others sat down. “The Warrior patient is transferred to the Guardian City for further treatment. At the moment, our clinic is empty and we must return to our other duties. The Guardian Doctor, after examining the patient, admitted that our care was of a high standard. The tribunal head and the tribunal members all agreed that this Warrior Medic had made all the correct decisions within his competence, including the decision to use the services of the slave nurse. This Warrior Medic may continue to use your services whenever necessary.”
Rebecca smiled. “I am so pleased. But what about you. Are you still under arrest?”
“The tribunal agreed that, given the circumstances, this Warrior Medic had every right to request a hearing regarding the camp commander’s decision and should not have been arrested. The tribunal chastised the camp commander who has resigned his post. The Guardian Doctor was reprimanded for misjudging this Warrior Medic by not first examining the patients to determine whether treatment was appropriate. The Guardian Doctor has also resigned his post. The Warriors are satisfied with the results of the tribunal and have all returned to their duties.”
Alicia stood up and bowed. “Who is the Guardian that headed the tribunal?”
“The tribunal head is the Guardian Commander of Planet Dawn. He has been chief Guardian for a long time and is respected by the Warriors for his fairness of judgement. If all the Guardians had his wisdom, we would never quarrel.”
The Warrior Medic picked up the translation equipment and abruptly left. Alicia guessed he had gone too far and had strayed into the relationship between Warriors and Guardians.
There are issues between the two species, Alicia thought. If only Monty were here, he would consider this important information. If the Guardians and Warriors somehow came apart, might this allow the humans an advantage in breaking free? On the other hand, they seemed to have patched up their differences on this planet. Perhaps she was just wallowing in wishful thinking.
There were no casualties among humans or Warriors for the next few days. While Rebecca felt vindicated by the tribunal’s judgement, she recognized that the Warriors, in defending her, were really defending themselves, and objecting to the arbitrariness of the camp commander and the Guardian Doctor. Her captors were not interested in her; merely in their right to use her as they saw fit.
She found no relief from her anxiety regarding Syd. She thought of him continually, relishing his humour, his teasing of her, the warmth and candour of his love. It did not surprise her that Syd had acted so vehemently when the camp commander had refused his desire to couple with her. More and more, she understood and felt personally the ugliness of slavery. She had been born into slavery, accepted it as the way things were, and until the deadly hunt for Syd and the death of Sylvie had never questioned the right of her masters to exercise authority and control. She had no other models. Her father had told her stories of Ashanti freedom, the ability to wander the jungle, to hunt for your food, to battle and overcome enemies. But these were not even her father’s experiences but her grandfather’s — beautiful stories of a remote mythical time. Now, she wondered, what right do her masters have to own her, to manage every aspect of her life, and to make decisions that affected her and were contrary to her wishes.
“Do you not miss Monty and Ernie?” she asked Alicia and Thelma one evening when the three were in their tent, preparing to turn in.
Alicia looked at her in surprise. “Of course I miss Monty. Desperately. I think of him all the time. What’s he doing, how’s he surviving, when will he be returned to us. I liked him the first moment we met, and I know he liked me.”
“I feel the same way about Ernie,” Thelma said. “I was devastated when he was sent away to prospect the new camp. We were about to ask for coupling. We thought his absence would be for a short time only. There are days and nights when all I can think about is getting him into bed.”
Alicia chuckled. “Thelma, in all the time I know you, I’ve considered you absolutely hard-boiled. You’re as romantic as the rest of us.”
Thelma sat down on her cot. “Well, I don’t know whether I’m romantic or just plain human. Ernie and I have strong feelings for each other and, to be honest and to let you in on a little secret, we had these feelings long before we came here.”
“But in the few weeks after I joined PDG, there was no gossip, and I’m usually quick at picking up these things.”
Thelma lay down on the cot and pulled the cover sheet up to her chin. “We were very careful. Don’t forget, Ernie was my section head, so it wasn’t unusual that we met quite often to go over resumes and candidate interviews behind closed doors. We also travelled together on university recruiting trips. It was on one of those trips that we first got involved. We were snowed in by a massive freak spring storm in St. John’s for several days. Maybe it was boredom, but we definitely liked each other. I still remember, lying in bed cuddled up next to him, looking out the hotel window at the driving snow, and feeling such a sense of peace and contentment. I wanted that storm to go on forever. In a way, it was all so ridiculous. We weren’t youngsters, and we were both happily married. Guilt got in the way. We finally decided we would break off. My husband was transferred to New York, so it was an opportune moment for Ernie and me to part company. The irony of it all was, on the day we were captured, we were going to have a final lunch together, and then I would give my notice in the afternoon. We came out of the elevator that awful noon and saw you and Monty near the reception desk. We tried to avoid you so we wouldn’t end up all having lunch together. Well, you know the rest.”
As she listened to her older friends talk, Rebecca became more and more confused. She had never realized that other women might be as desirous for their men as she was for Syd. As well, it had never occurred to her that a man could couple with one woman and still be attracted to another. Syd had said he loved her and only her. If she ever saw Syd again, he would have to promise loyalty through the blood exchange ritual that her father had told her about.
The weeks went by with monotonous regularity. Apart from occasional scrapes and bruises, there was little work at the clinic and no assistance was requested by the Warrior Medic. Their relationship consisted of passing each other daily and bowing. No camp commander showed up to replace the one which had resigned.
Then one day, Rebecca was summoned by the Warrior Medic from her gold panning station and was escorted to the clinic. To her surprise, Joshua and the Doctor were there. She and her father warmly embraced, and she shook hands with the Doctor.
Both men bowed to the Warrior Medic.
“Pappy, is this your regular visit?”
“No, child, we were called. Something special is happening.”
“That’s right,” added the Doctor. “They flew us here first thing. No explanation. The Warriors seem very agitated, but I don’t know if it’s us they’re angry at. We heard about the tribunal and the outcome and that you did a very good job. I…”
He was interrupted by the entrance of two Warriors who set up the translation equipment. Two Guardians followed behind them. Rebecca bowed in shocked disbelief as she recognized the camp commander who had resigned, and the Guardian Doctor who had assailed her.
The camp commander began. “We are restored to our position by the authorities on our home planet. The Supreme Appellant Authority of the Sacred Clans has reversed the recent tribunal’s decisions. The entire tribunal has been rebuked, and all its members are returning to the home planet to explain their decision. We are the camp commander not only for this camp but also the old camp. Overseer Joshua and the human doctor will answer to us. Neither the human doctor nor the human nurse are allowed to treat Warriors or Guardians, no matter what the circumstances. The Warrior Medic is on probation and will continue to be available when medical treatment of Warriors or Guardians is required. We advise all Warriors not to continually quarrel with our decisions, but to abide by them in the spirit of the Sacred Writings.”
The Guardian Doctor continued: “As the Medical authority on this planet, our decisions regarding medical matters cannot be challenged. Nevertheless, as with all collegial relationships, questions or advice respectfully offered will be considered. The Guardian Doctor reiterates the camp commander’s dictum regarding humans — they may not treat Warriors or Guardians as their knowledge of our species and our medical requirements are woefully inadequate. This dictum has been up