I drifted in and out for a long time. Sometimes there were people I knew in the room, more often there were medics I didn't know talking over me. Sometimes I was alone. I heard fragments of conversations that meant little to me.
"…a higher dosage of the nasgenis. What do the scans read? Try a bit more…"
"…going to the dance tonight? That's what he said."
"Try a bit. You can do it. Easy, now…"
"…engines are completely shot, but they keep telling me they're paying for the whole thing. Including an entire revamp of the thruster system. You hearing any of this, Dace? Dace?"
"I think we can back off on the sedative. See what happens. Keep a close eye on those…"
In and out. Eyes open. Eyes closed. The universe went on without me for a while. I felt as if I were wrapped in clouds. I was floating, weightless. I was disconnected from reality. I had no idea how much time passed.
"Rise and shine," the medic said cheerfully.
My eyes snapped open. He was the one who had been with me the first time I'd woken up. I had a vague notion that his name was Bruce.
"How are you feeling?" he asked with the nonchalance that medics use when they are extremely interested in your answer.
"As if I've been drugged," I answered. I closed my eyes and took a tally of my aches and pains. To my surprise, I had very few. I was tired, slightly dizzy, and very hungry. I looked back at him. "What did you do to me? How long have I been lying here?"
He grinned. "You'll have to talk to Dr. Sipecio to get the answer to the first question. The answer to the second is eight days. Well, not quite. It's morning this time."
"That made almost no sense," I complained.
He turned away from me. "If you want to eat, you're going to have to prove you can sit up. Otherwise, it's more of the restorative."
I made a face at the thought of drinking more of the pasty yellow liquid. I pushed myself upright. I had to clutch the side of the bed. I was light-headed. I blamed it on hunger.
He put a tray in front of me that held all sorts of good food. I looked down at the tray and remembered other food. I saw Rivian's face as he died. He'd shot Shomies to save me because I hadn't had the guts to do it myself. I hadn't been angry enough to shoot her down. No matter how horrid she was, I couldn't bring myself to kill her. Not even in self-defense. I squeezed my hands into fists. I didn't shoot Luke, either, when I had the chance. I didn't want any more blood on my hands.
"Something wrong?" the medic asked.
I shook my head and relaxed my fists. "Just thinking."
He didn't say anything about my answer. He jotted notes on my chart as he left the room.
I picked apart the egg dish and tasted a bite. It was bland. It was normal food. I ate it and started on the rest of the tray, my appetite returning quickly.
The medic returned, his inane smile still on his face. He put a stack of clothing, neatly folded on the end of my bed.
"Your friend sent these over for you," he said. "There's a shower in the lavatory. I left clean towels in there for you."
"You're letting me out?"
"This isn't prison, it's a medical ward. We've got one of our transitional rooms for you at the end of the hall. We need to keep monitoring your condition for a while. If you start feeling ill or dizzy, come back immediately. We'll expect you back at night for further monitoring, but you're free to come and go as you please during the day." He picked up my tray. "Dr. Sipecio would like to talk with you when you're dressed. His office is at the other end of the hall."
He left, carrying my tray. I stared after him and then looked at the clothes on the bunk. They were mine, from the ship. Jasyn had bought them for me years earlier. I had never actually worn them. I fingered the soft blue tunic. I would give anything to be back then, when life was simple. At least what I knew of it had been simple. Not knowing is sometimes much easier.
I slid out from under the blanket on the bunk. My feet were bare. I wriggled my toes before trying gingerly to stand. I held onto the bunk for a moment until my head stopped spinning. I took a breath and let go. I felt as if I'd been in bed for a long time. It was nothing I couldn't ignore. I grabbed the clothes and went into the bathroom.
I pulled off the medical gown. I couldn't stop myself from looking in the mirror. I looked like a victim of starvation. My ribs showed down to the start of the scar across my left side. I ran my hand over the ridged skin. It wasn't tender any more, but it would always be there, a mess of white scar tissue threaded through with healthy skin.
I was afraid of what I would see in my eyes if I looked too deeply. I turned away, pushing into the shower as if it were a refuge. I hit the button for water and let it run over me, warm and steaming and smelling of soap.
I began to cry, tears running down my face. It had to have been delayed reaction. I was safe. I was alive. Tayvis was waiting for me. I leaned on the wall of the shower and sobbed with relief.
I don't know how long I was in the shower. The fit passed, leaving me drained and emptied. And feeling much better. I pulled on the clothes, normal clothes, clean clothes, and almost started crying again. I made myself stop. It was crazy to cry now, when everything was good again.
Jasyn had sent my spare boots for me. I hadn't thrown them out when I'd bought new ones and now I was glad. They were mine. They were familiar. I put them on and felt like myself again.
"I am Dace," I whispered as I used my fingers to comb my hair. "I am strong. I'm alive." I stared myself in the eye. "And I am not alone. Never again."
I felt strong, I felt alive, as I went down the hall to meet with Dr. Sipecio.
He was older, his hair streaked with silver. He looked fit and lean and energetic. He shook my hand and waved me to a chair across the desk from him.
"I've been reviewing your file," he said. "I won't lie to you. Whatever drug you were given left a lot of damage behind."
My good mood evaporated. I sat rigidly in the soft chair. "What did it do to me?" My voice was tight with strain.
Dr. Sipecio tapped his desk. Files scrolled past under the surface. He paused on a diagram that looked like a humanoid figure traced with strings.
"Your nervous system," he said. "The drug affected every nerve on the cellular level. It rewired your nerves to require the drug to function. Your seizures are a direct effect of that damage. We've managed to get them under control, but." He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out two boxes of medpatches. "You will need to use these every day. We need to monitor the dosage to make certain your levels remain in the normal range."
I stared at the boxes, angry now. I shoved myself out of the chair. "I don't need you to tell me how that witch ruined the rest of my life," I shouted at the medic. He never lost the calm look on his face. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life taking drugs."
"Then you won't live very long," he said quietly.
I scrubbed my hands over my face, trying to wipe out the pain I knew was coming. He wasn't through.
"What else?" I asked.
"Please, sit down, Dace," he said gently.
I sighed and dropped into the chair, my anger at Shomies evaporating. She was dead. Nothing I did now could hurt her. Even if she could still hurt me.
He tapped his screen and brought up more scans, more diagrams. I stared blankly at them.
"If we could synthesize the drug," he said, "you wouldn't have to take anything for the seizures. But we can't, not without a sample."
He paused, watching me for another outburst. I stayed sitting, staring at his desk, waiting for the rest of the bad news. He didn't continue. I looked up at him. He watched me intently.
"You can't synthesize it because you don't know what it is," I said. "And the only person who does is dead. And if I remember right, her entire laboratory was burned to the ground. So no drug to analyze."
"It's related to dreamdust," Dr. Sipecio said. "An extremely complex variant. But that isn't the real problem. This is." He tapped one particular scan. White blotches twisted through a shadowy human figure. "Even with the drug you would be dead within a matter of weeks, maybe months. The drug restructured more than your nervous system. Your entire immune system has been altered. Your hormones are also completely unbalanced."
"What are the white things?" I asked. I didn't really want to know, but I had to know.
"Cancer," he said bluntly. "Extremely aggressive tumors triggered by the drug. Your body is feeding them, encouraging them."
He tapped the screen and the flickering images disappeared. He pulled four more boxes of pills and patches from his desk and lined them up by the first two. I stared at the row of medications my mood dropping straight through sour to bleak.
"We've managed to remove the largest tumors," Dr. Sipecio said, "and reversed the growth factor for the rest. With these, we should be able to keep them under control. We may even be able to reverse the growth entirely." He smiled as if it were good news. He tapped the first two boxes. "One patch a day of these, preferably in the morning. You won't need to worry until tomorrow. You should still have plenty of both in your system. If you experience a seizure, come back immediately and we'll adjust the dosage again. These next three," he tapped the boxes, "should stabilize and regulate your immune system. With time, maybe over the next few months, you may regain some functioning. It depends on how badly the cells themselves have been damaged and whether the drug affected your stem cells and DNA. The results of those tests aren't in yet."
"And that one?" I asked, pointing at the biggest box on the end. I was going to be popping pills and slapping patches whether I wanted to or not. The alternative was to die, very painfully. I hated Shomies. But she was dead. Hate wasn't going to fix what she'd done to me.
"Vitamin and mineral supplement with added hormones," he said. He opened the box and pulled out a packet containing at least thirty pills. "One packet a day. The instructions are inside. Some need taken with food, others on an empty stomach. Morning, afternoon, evening, night, all of it is on the instruction slip. They should be color coded."
The row of boxes was intimidating. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life worrying about when to take my next dose. My dismay must have shown in my face. Dr. Sipecio slipped the packet back into the box.
"I'm hoping these will only be temporary," he said sympathetically. "There's a new technique of nerve regeneration that may help you. Which is why I'm asking you to return here every night. We can set up the treatment then. Do it while you sleep."
"Because it's painful?" I asked.
"Possibly," he said. "As I said, it's a new technique. The Trythians—"
I slammed my hand on the table. "What do they have to do with anything here?" I'd spent too much of my life on their world as a slave. They'd done everything they could to kill me. I'd thought they had killed Tayvis. I didn't want anything to do with them. Ever.
Dr. Sipecio studied me warily. "They are advanced in medical technology," he said carefully. "I was under the impression contact with Trythia was limited and heavily supervised by the militia. How do you know anything about them?"
"I got to live with them for months," I snapped. "Don't tell me Roland invited them into his Federation?"
"Under strict guidelines and rules," he said. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you know them?"
"I'm the one who escaped and brought in the Patrol."
His eyes were wide. "You did that? I knew about Dadilan, and Vallius, and Targon, and—"
"Don't tell me how famous I am. I'm trying to forget. It brings nothing but trouble. I had to join the Patrol over Trythia. And I still lost." I felt the old pain of losing Tayvis. Lowell told me he was dead. I had no reason to doubt him. Not then. But Tayvis was here. It was over. All of it. Except for the hero worship. I wasn't expecting that. I wasn't mistaken about the expression on Dr. Sipecio's face.
"My wife's cousin was on Trythia," he said. "I don't know how to thank you."
"You saved my life. Call it even." I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair. I hated people knowing who I was. It was getting to be all too common. How much worse was it going to be here, on Roland's ship? "Look, since I'm coming back here later, can I just leave the medicine with you?"
He glanced down at the boxes on his desk. The look of admiring fan on his face changed to professional medic. He pulled out a packet of the supplement pills and a small slip of paper. "These are the only ones you're going to need today. At least until seven this evening. Make sure you're back here on time."
I took the packet and the paper, slipping them into my pocket. "So where are the docking bays?"
He looked confused. "Your ship is in drydock, in vacuum. I can't authorize you for that kind of work."
"Drydock?" It was my turn to look confused.
He shook his head. "I'm a medic. I don't know. It's only what I heard. I do have this, though." He handed me another slip of paper. "Your friends should be listed in the ship directory. Or you can ask someone where their suites are located."
I took the slip of paper. Meet me at Renaldo's, around noon. I recognized the handwriting. Tayvis hadn't forgotten me. As if I thought he would.
"You're free to go pretty much anywhere on the ship," Dr. Sipecio said. "As long as you're back here by seven tonight. You know where to find us. We'll keep your room open."
"And my medicine warm," I added.
He smiled at my comment. "We'll do the best we can for you," he promised.
"Thanks." I walked out of his office and the medical wing, wondering if this was what prisoners felt like, looking through their bars and wishing for freedom. I know it's how I felt. The bars were medical, not physical, but they were just as real, just as confining.
I reached the end of the hallway and stopped in astonishment.
The ceiling soared high over my head. I counted at least five levels of balconies above me. Trees reached for a synthetic sun in the fabricated sky. I even saw birds flitting between the trees. It was incredible. It was what I expected from Roland. His ship. He never did anything halfway.