Sherman Lannister stumbled as Kavinda led him across the bay. The adrenaline that had been keeping him upright was draining away now that his crew was safe and he feared he wouldn't make it across to the medical bay.
"Now what?" he asked as he flopped down onto a low couch. His one good eye closed and opened of it's own accord. He felt hands on him, working at the buttons of his shirt.
"We need to get you into a medical tank," a female voice said, "for treatment."
"What's a medical tank?" he asked.
Shirt and undershirt removed he was assisted to stand. As hands worked on his pants, another guided his hand over the lip of the tank. The liquid was warm, thicker than water and there was a sensation he couldn't quite describe.
"It vibrates slightly," the healer explained. "Makes the pores of your skin looser, so chemicals can pass more freely in and out. We can alter the chemistry of your body to a finer degree once you are inside."
"It's thick," he commented as they hoisted him over the lip of tank.
"You'll float," he was told.
Indeed the warm liquid enfolded him and he floated. Can I breath? He wanted to ask, but before he could get the words out someone was placing a mask over his face and he was sinking both literally and mentally in the warm tank.
#####
A young man with short blond hair was waiting for Dan at the edge of the bay. He introduced himself as Kavi. "Right this way," Kavi said. His voice was high and androgynous.
Dan followed him down a short empty passage made entirely of the same material as the bay had been. They stopped in front of a set of double doors. "May I treat you?" Kavi asked.
Dan nodded. "Yes."
Another display came to life next to Dan. The healer inspected it dispassionately. Most of it was blue, select portions flashed in yellow. "Aside from the radiation, no problems we need to treat now," Kavi said. "Next step, wash off as much of the fall out as possible." He made a motion and the double doors slid open. They entered a large shower facility. At the near entrance, two workers in blue were standing beside a bin that was filled with cast off clothes. The shower area took up the majority of the large room. The far side was a dressing area. A few sailors were on the far side, drying off and dressing themselves from bins of scrub-like clothes.
A slender man was holding out two pairs of pants to a stocky man with a military crew cut. They were both naked and only their hairstyles separated the other from the American. The stocky man scowled and yanked the blue pants from the other's hand. He made a motion as if to push the red pants away. The other raised an eyebrow and then shrugged and turned away. What was that about?
Kavi casually stripped their shirt and pants and threw them in the bin. Dan was shocked to discover Kavi was not a boy after all but a slender, small breasted woman. She stood in front of him in nothing but a white translator collar, seemingly unconcerned for modesty. "You must place your clothes in here. They have been exposed to radiation and will have to be discarded. You will find replacement clothing on the far side." With that she pulled the collar off and added it to the bin. She said something to one of the workers, but without the collar on it came out as nothing but melodic gibberish to Dan.
His skin itched again as he was reminded of his recent exposure, and the fact that he was still walking around in the same clothes. He stripped everything off and added it to the bin.
Kavi was already standing on a small lighted disk, water both pouring down and spraying up simultaneously, washing as much dust and radioactive grime as possible from her body. She gave him an encouraging smile and pointed at the disk next to her.
He stood on the indicated spot and let the warm water pour over him. Kavi was watching him, her eyes veiled. Was she being friendly, or something more? That was a complication he hadn't expected to encounter. Dan was gay. He didn't have a partner and not many knew. The navy had done away with Don't Ask, Don't Tell a couple years back and command was okay with his sexuality. Most of the men, he thought, would be okay but he didn't want to push. Life was hard enough. Cheyenne knew. A few other friends. He was in that awkward area between the closet and being truly out.
The water shut off and he followed Kavi to the far side of the room. She threw him a towel from one shelf and then grabbed a second for herself. He smiled in thanks and then looked away, not wanting to appear too interested in her body.
What had looked from across the room like lockers in an earth side locker room was in fact cubby holes. Each cubby had clothes, different styles and colors. Kavi found a thigh-length white dress. Not wanting to take too long, standing naked, Dan selected a gray shirt and pants that were similar to hospital scrubs in style.
Kavi went to a different set of cubby holes and pulled out a long white strip with a single off white button at the center. She wrapped it around her neck and Dan recognized the translator collar. She raised an eyebrow and pointed at the cubby.
He nodded. He reached for the offered strip but she gestured for him to turn and helped him to attach it. The strip was stiff but pliable enough to be surprisingly comfortable. It apparently attached to itself.
They left through another door on that side of the shower room and stepped into a long hallway. Dan was already feeling disoriented, scared that he was getting lost.
Kavi crossed the hall and a different set of doors open. This led into another common area, one that looked far more casual than the spaces he had seen so far. There were chairs and tables scattered throughout the room, which was maybe a fourth the size of the bay area.
A large screen was in the far left corner and over a dozen of people were gathered around watching a news cast. The images were of the war and he recognized stock footage of his own ship. He assumed it was American news but when the footage broke back to the newsroom it was a slender man with immaculately styled hair and Consortium clothes. His voice was high and quick. An English translation sounded alongside it, but it was too far away for Dan to catch.
In the near left corner was what appeared to be a kitchenette area. Several people were gathered there as well, drinking from tall glasses and talking. About half were wearing translator collars and it appeared to be a mix of American and Consortium people. The whole scene was surprisingly casually, considering what they had just been through.
Chief Petty Officer Joe Speckman stepped out from behind a table and saluted Dan. "Sir," he said. Joe had wavy dark hair and light skin that was currently red and blotchy, like he had a bad sun burn. It reminded Dan of his own itchy skin.
Dan returned the salute. "What's the sit rep?" Dan asked.
"The sit rep," Speckman replied, "is that every real officer on board was either in the command center or one of the higher decks. They all survived, but with minor injuries of one sort or another. Since they are under medical treatment, I am the highest rank officer for the moment."
Dan thought a moment. Speckman was a logistic officer, in charge of munitions or something like that.
As if reading his thoughts Speckman joked, "the good news is that you outrank me. As soon as I debrief you, you can take this thankless job. The bad news, you are the last one through triage so the jobs done anyway."
"Okay," Dan nodded, "then let's debrief. What happens now?"
"We're hot. Very hot," Speckman replied. "There's enough radiation coming off you or I that we could make someone sick just standing next to him."
"Is there something they can do?" Dan asked.
"Yeah," Speckman said, "they say so. Only it's not a magic bullet sort of thing. And they've been exposed now, too. Not as bad as us, but bad enough. Remember our nuclear training?" Dan nodded. "The worst radiation isn't the blast, it's the heavy gamma particles in that first fallout. That's what this ship flew through to get to us. They have shielding, it's a space ship after all, but it's not meant for high radiation zones either."
"Still, this 'not a magic bullet' cure?" Dan prompted.
"We have devices that will help absorb the radiation coming off your body. Other than that, healing radiation sickness is mostly a matter of fixing problems as they occur," Kavi said at his side. She caressed his arm. "Soothe and treat the burns, heal damaged chromosomes as they appear, repair damaged organs, whatever we need to."
"How long will that take?"
"Depends on the amount of damage," Speckman said, "but for us to reach safe exposure level, about six weeks. We will be moving into orbit shortly and be in lockdown, quarantined on this ship for that time."
"And then?"
"We are not prisoners. They will arrange for us to be returned to America," Speckman said.
Six weeks? Dan thought back to six weeks ago. The political situation with the Others had changed dramatically in that time. What would the next six weeks bring?
Dan nodded. "Okay, so what now?"
"I am charged with getting the crew settled on this ship. They've got a crew of nearly three hundred. With casualties, we are right around three hundred as well. It's going to be tight, but they've got quarters enough, they say. I've seen mine and believe me, you aren't going to have any more leg room or privacy than you did on the Cambridge."
"Well, we're sailors," Dan replied with a grimace. "We should be use to that."
"Here, this is Bakala," Speckman said, gesturing at a young man at the nearest table. Bakala was broad and muscular. He eyebrows were bushy and brow heavy, neanderthal. He was wearing a tight fitting blue shirt and matching pants. He gave a short bow to Dan.
"Bakala, quartermaster of the Corelean Medical Evacuation ship, at your service. I am in charge of getting you lot settled on the ship, quarters, mess, all that sort of stuff."
"Thank you, sir," Dan replied, snapping a salute.
"No formality, please," Bakala replied. He tugged on his shirt. "I'm civil service, not military. I've moved most of my civil crew and all the junior healers together in the left halls. That frees up the right for your crew. We are using every single bunk on the ship, but everyone's got a bunk."
"There's just one small problem," Speckman said, "a question of protocol as well as room. You are a petty officer but also presumably acting chief petty officer for your command..."
Dan saw where this was going. "No, sir," he replied. "Just put me with my crew."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Speckman replied. "Cuz we are out of officer's quarters."
Thanks for reading! Check back on Sunday, Wed. and Fridays for the next segment in the series.