Healers with breathing masks, knowing the virus could be managed even if one of them should get it, poured through the front door of Kemlo Desert Retreat. They quickly checked on the dozen patients. Nutrition feeds were refilled, drugs added, monitors checked, and bedding changed. They talked to the patients when they were conscious, and watched vital signs closely when they weren’t. An arachnid of great healing experience watched over the entire operation, and stayed in constant contact with Satamia Star Station.
On the Manessa Kwi, everyone tried to relax — until Rini revealed that Jimox and Teina were in the sand dunes behind the retreat.
Ilika let his crew discuss their thoughts and feelings.
Kibi, at first, was adamant that Manessa should pick them up. The crew could wear breathing masks and be back at Satamia before the virus could affect any of them.
Sata
agreed.
Boro hesitated, but nodded.
Rini remained silent.
Mati took a deep breath. “Since coming to Nebador, I’ve learned some things about helping people who don’t want to be helped. This feels like one of those times when . . . it might not be the right thing to do.”
Inside the retreat, a similar discussion was taking place between the arachnid in charge and several young healers.
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“If they wanted medical care, don’t you think they would have stayed in the retreat,” the spider pointed out, “where equipment and supplies were available?”
“Yes, but . . .” a reptile began, “what if the disease is affecting their ability to think clearly?”
“That’s a possibility, but the fact that they walked into the dunes, on their own feet, says otherwise.”
“Shouldn’t we err on the side of caution?” a bird asked.
“In many other situations, yes,” the spider answered. “But considering their age — nearly twice life-span for their species under planetary conditions
— their frailty, and the accomplishments of their lives — now mostly far in the past — we must ask ourselves this: can we not let them die in peace? Must they dig their own graves and throw themselves in to convince us that they are ready to move on?”
The healers and assistants continued tending the research-ship crew and specialists, but all wore thoughtful expressions.
After a long discussion — to which Ilika, to his delight, did not have to contribute — Kibi finally sighed. “Okay, I see. I guess if I was that old, and lucky enough to still have the love of my life at my side . . .” She glanced at Ilika and he smiled. “. . . I’d want to be able to go on a walk and, if it was our time, to die without anyone messing with us.”
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Chapter 42: The Work of the Living
The healers practiced their craft, and all the patients were expected to recover. The monkey mammal who had fallen from the ramp had a concussion and a deep infected cut, in addition to the plague virus that all the rest were fighting, and would need the most care.
Only one healer, an avian, became infected, but she spotted the symptoms early, became a patient, and was quickly stabilized.
That evening after the sun went behind the mountains, the arachnid in charge of the make-shift medical clinic allowed a pair of avian healers to walk out into the dunes. Jimox and Teina had not gone far, and were curled up together as if sleeping peacefully, but were already nearly covered by sand.
The healers stood silently for a few minutes, placed a beacon, then returned to their work with the living.
The cargo ship escorted the research vessel back to Satamia Star Station for complete sterilization, and the Manessa Kwi returned to the planet station.
Rrr’tana the station host had been so busy with the emergency at Kemlo that little news had been announced. Two assistant hosts, a pair of highly-trained reptiles, were now running the station itself.
As the last light of evening faded from the sky, T’sss’lisss, Ashley, and Kolarrr’ka waited just outside the landing circle.
As soon as the Manessa Kwi landed, the crew told the three Education Service trainees what they knew. They all moped around the Goblin Fountain
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until finally, at almost midnight, Rrr’tana staggered out of Fairy Castle, shared the news of casualties and survivors, then dragged himself off to bed.
The following morning, out of habit, the crew and their three passengers gathered at the Goblin Fountain. One assistant host joined them, but had little news to share.
Ilika took a slow breath. “Our assigned task, of witnessing the final mortal days of the planetary prince and princess of Siminia Three, is over. No one —
at least no one conscious and lucid — witnessed their final labor for their fellow Nebador citizens. Their last hour or two together was private, as they chose, and was their right.”
Kibi, with tears in her eyes, nodded.
“Ashley, Kolarrr’ka, and T’sss’lisss,” Ilika went on, “have essays to finish, and that may require some further experiences or interviews here at the planet station.”
The snake and the bird nodded. Ashley appeared to be far away.
“I know the rest of you have some favorite places here, and perhaps some more exploring to do.”
Rini, Boro, and Mati nodded weakly.
“Let’s aim for another Satamia day, which is about six days here, but let me know if you need more time. Arantiloria tells me your essays have priority over anything but emergencies.”
The three Education Service trainees chatted as they strolled toward the World Tree together, and agreed that six days should allow them to finish.
They were about to go their separate ways when they looked at each other.
In the eyes of the other two, each one saw their own sadness reflected.
Suddenly, they all wrapped coils, wings, and arms around each other and held tightly for a long minute.
That afternoon, T’sss’lisss rested her head on a balcony railing in Olde Towne. She had slept little the night before, and now felt fuzzy-headed, so she just let thoughts and feelings slither through her mind, without trying to make sense of them.
The little balcony she was on had amused her when she found it, as the
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only door was fake and wouldn’t open, leaving access only for avians and good climbers like herself.
Now she gazed across an open plaza of Olde Towne, and as she watched, she noticed Rrr’tana guiding a cart of cleaning supplies toward one of the toilet rooms. The bird called to see if anyone was within, and getting no answer, hung a purple symbol on a peg by the door and guided his cart in.
For the next quarter hour, T’sss’lisss pondered how different this was from her home planet, where social class and status were rigidly enforced. The highest-ranking administrator of a space port, or theme park, would never be caught dead cleaning a toilet room.
Suddenly, the fuzziness in her head cleared and thoughts started coming, so she slipped a knowledge pad out of her carry-bag and started dictating.
The following day, after breakfast together in the Castle Kitchen, T’sss’lisss slithered away toward Machineland, and Kolarrr’ka and Ashley strolled together into Forestland.
They came to a dark cave-like opening in a simulated rock wall, and Ashley pulled climbing gloves from her day pack. “This is my task today.”
“Bok,” Kolarrr’ka began with worry in his voice, “it says strong tail required, and you don’t have one . . .”
“Just the price of getting this essay of mine done. I’ll either get it written, or die in the process.”
“Bok,” he said and wrapped his wings around the short but strong monkey mammal.
Ashley suddenly realized how much she wanted to live through this experience so she could continue to feel Kolarrr’ka’s gentle wings around her, and T’sss’lisss’ strong coils. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful,” she said into his soft feathers. “Remember, I was an athlete on my home planet.”
He released her and nodded, but his eyes glistened with worry.
Once Ashley was gone, the bird waddled back into Castleland, but had to pull out a map, scribbled on a piece of paper, given in strictest confidence, before he could figure out where he was going.
Jimox and Teina had decided, at ages fourteen and eighteen by their
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reckoning, years before making contact with Nebador, to let some corners of Similand return to a wild state. Those wild corners sometimes included original Similand decorations and structures, even minor attractions.
Following his map, Kolarrr’ka first followed a tiny brick path that wound into the trees at the back of the Fairy Picnic Area. An equine, even an adult ursine, wouldn’t have fit. It ended at a crawl-hole in a hedge.
Kolarrr’ka squatted down and looked in. The little passage appeared to go nowhere, but it matched the location on his map, so he stretched his feathered neck into the hole, and discovered it didn’t end, but turned sharply.
Laying his wings flat along his body, he carefully waddled forward.
Keeping head and neck out in front and knees bent, he managed the sharp turn while feeling only one painful twinge. Soon he was able to stand up again. Glancing back, he could see his missing feather stuck in the twigs.
The way was now easier, but Kolarrr’ka found himself in a completely wild forest with a meandering path roughly trimmed to allow passage. He started to glimpse figurines of fairy-tale characters from the previous monkey-mammal civilization, always faded, green with moss, and mostly hidden by leaves or cocooned in vines and stickers.
Although the path forked several times, Kolarrr’ka followed his map, and soon came to an old cabin of monkey-mammal size. The mossy roof was thick with small plants and mushrooms, and a single door and window allowed entrance and light. On the little porch, in a wooden chair, sat an ancient reptile with misty eyes.
“Greetings, young avian. I’ve been expecting you. I don’t know why Rrr’tana thought I could help you with your essay — I’m just an old, long-retired, assistant station host — but I’ll try.”