Three days after he’d heard that Merleth was being reassigned to Kyeros, Dav was getting something to eat when he got an alert on his aucomm. His usual rescue team was on back-up, so he had not expected to be called.
Around him, in the commissary, other agents were putting down cups and eating utensils as they too got alerts. Looking around he could identify people on six different teams. It was not a good sign.
Kyeros had so far not had any major incidents, just an occasional fire, small explosions or the recent drattle attack, the sort of thing that one or two teams could deal with easily.
“This looks big,” said Bereg, head medic on his team, joining him. “Ready to go?”
“Let me finish my kavine, and this meat-bun,” Dav said. “I have time. Ada and Suia were going to spend a nice intimate evening together. They will take longer to shift gears.”
Bereg laughed and nodded his big square head.
“We can't leave without Ada, that's for sure.”
Ada Gove Itty was their best vehicle operator.
*****
In the horivert leading to the transport level, they met Marten and Joss. Marten was complaining about the great game of cards the alarm had interrupted. Joss was grinning.
“You were losing, huh?” Bereg asked Joss.
“That's right. Saved by the alarm. And they say there isn't any Benevolent Deity out there!”
Even Marten had to laugh at that.
“All the same, I wish we didn't have to go out tonight,” Joss said as they walked off the horivert and gathered with the others who were getting ready. “It must be something pretty bad, or they wouldn't need so many teams.”
Racing down the movealongs from the residential building, Ada and Suia joined them before the others had finished pulling on their protective suits. Suia was still fastening the shoulder of her tunic, but Ada was fully dressed.
“What's the emergency?” asked Ada, grabbing a protective suit and beginning to put it on.
“Your guess is as good as anyone’s” said Bereg. “All we know is that it must be big.”
“Explosion and big fire in the city,” said someone from another team. “The Jaraidans have actually requested our assistance, but we would have come anyway. Karet was outside when the explosion happened, and he says there’s a huge cloud of smoke. Pack a lot of EF masks and supplementary respirators as well as O-masks.”
Dav wondered how the Jaraidans had requested assistance—had they sent a messenger? He wished he could learn more, but the emergency took priority.
They were directed to form their teams in the transportation center. While robos and droids brought and loaded emergency supplies into the ambulances and rescue vehicles, the teams waited for instructions.
Senior Moymassin was in charge, which showed the seriousness of the emergency. As the head of rescue operations, he usually delegated, but here he was, addressing the teams directly instead of relying on the aucomm.
He explained there had been a sizable explosion in a Jaraidan stonework, and that there had been an appeal—the first since PASS had brought its mission to Kyeros—from the Jaraidans. With more than 15 thousand people at risk, PASS would be sending 10 rescue teams initially, and holding back 5 teams to rotate teams every five hours, ensuring that there would always be at least five relatively fresh rescue teams in action. There would also be 3 engineering and two medical teams as support in the emergency, with more called up as needed. Extra medical personnel would go on duty at the medicenter within the next half-hour, to prepare for the first ambulances.
Most of the agents had never been involved in a rescue effort of this magnitude. They looked at each other somberly, grabbed their helmets, and went to their assignments. Dav was glad that his team was one of those which was being sent straight to the emergency. He would have hated to have to induce sleep for five hours when all this was going on.
*****
Inside their grandflit, equipped to serve as an ambulance later, the exact location of the emergency was flashing on the display screen. Dav recognized it as the west corner of the Kalesthal stonework. It was on the same side of the city as the PASS base, but even at top speed, it would still be some five or ten minutes to get there.
“Let's go folks,” said Bereg.
“Everybody ready?” Ada asked.
Without waiting for an affirmative answer, she flipped on the power and zoomed ahead of the other two grandflits in their end of the hangar. Ada would get them to the emergency first if she possibly could. It was a matter of pride with her. She never used the auto-pilot.
By the time they were closer to the fire, however, Ada slowed down to let the big foamers from engineering go first. She knew there would be little for the rescue team to do until the fire was under control.
They got to the edge of the stonework just after the foamers. The Jaraidans had already begun foaming, and they had their own rescue teams working busily. Even with so many people collaborating to control the fire and save lives, the task seemed overwhelming. The air was thick with smoke. The Alliance teams adjusted their mask respirators to maximum filtration and joined the Jaraidans to save as many people as possible.
Since there were already enough casualties evacuated from the stonework, the PASS teams split up. All the first level medics and the more skilled among the second level turned to help the injured while the others on each team went in with the engineers to foam and to bring wounded people out.
The Jaraidans seemed to be doing the same thing. Some of their people were going inside to bring out casualties while others stayed with the injured and tended them. The PASS rescue teams and Jaraidans worked efficiently side-by-side until it came time to load the first PASS ambulances. Jaraidans had been accepting first aid from the PASS medics, and, for once, there had been a request from the locals for PASS assistance, so Jaraidan objections to being loaded on the ambulances were a bit of a surprise.
Surely the people understood that with so many casualties the infirmaries and the psi-healers would need help. Wasn’t that why there had been a request for assistance from PASS?
Dav, who, after a stint with the foamers, had been assigned to triage, tried to reassure the people.
“You must let us take you to the medicenter. We will not use any treatment you do not allow,” he said to the people around him in both Arand and Mehland. “Your infirmaries won't have the resources to deal with such a big crisis.”
The people looked frightened and murmured among themselves. He could tell that some were worried about the rule against unnecessary contact, so he argued that medical help was necessary contact.
Some seemed reassured, but others muttered about contamination and something else he didn’t understand. Probably it had to do with their religious prohibitions, so he reassured them that PASS would not do anything against the Code.
He wished Taasi’s guardian, whose name he still didn’t know were around. It was unlikely, since she had said she was only passing through Kyeros. There had been no sign of her in the past two threefs—though he had run into Taasi once.
He approached a Jaraidan, whose yellow tabard over his protective clothing suggested he might be a healer, and tried to explain in Arand that PASS wanted to help.
“We could take any injured persons who would not need treatment forbidden by the Code to our medicenter and relieve your infirmaries,” he said in Arand.
The man thanked him politely but said that it would not be necessary.
“We can manage,” he said. “And our people will be more comfortable with us.”
Dav sighed and repeated that they wanted to help and that they would respect the Code of Jaraida, but the healer had already turned away and was examining patients PASS medics had already looked at and, in many cases, provided with O-masks.
Meanwhile, injured Jaraidans were struggling to get out of stretchers and gurneys as though they were being kidnapped by PASS. Only a few were willing to listen, to accept that treatment at the medicenter would be quicker and would not violate any restrictions.
Dav was trying to reason with a woman suffering from severe chemical burns that she should at least allow him to apply some cooling gel over the foam that inadequately covered her arms when the woman’s insistent refusal stopped suddenly. She was looking over Dav’s shoulder, so he turned to find Taasi’s guardian.
He wasn’t sure how he recognized her because she was dressed and masked like most of the rescuers down to the yellow tabard of a healer.
“Can you help talk sense to these people?” he demanded without bothering with greetings.
She nodded and crouched next to the woman for a moment, easing her pain as she had done with Taasi and the boy with the internal injuries.
When she stood up, the injured woman’s eyes were shut and Dav could tell she was resting.
“She needs a jelly-crib,” he said. “And so do these others.”
He gestured to the rows of burn victims surrounding them.
Except for those who were unconscious or in too much pain to speak, all of them were refusing to be transported to the medicenter—and it made no sense. Jelly-cribs did not violate any of the restrictions established by the Code.
The woman agreed.
“Will you help?” he asked again. “Your infirmaries will surely be overrun with casualties.”
“How well equipped is your medicenter?” she asked. “How many jelly-cribs?”
He checked through his infi-link to make sure he had the right number and told her.
She was silent for a moment, probably communicating with someone, he thought. Then she nodded again.
“These can all go to the medicenter,” she said, indicating most of the burn victims.
“But not this one,” she added, referring to one who was a mass of raw flesh beneath the medical foam.
He was unconscious and could probably have benefitted from an IV drip, but the PASS team that had brought him out of the stonework had respected the prohibition.
“He is the worst hurt,” Dav said.
“Your medics will think he needs skin grafts. That goes against the Code, and we can heal him with psi.”
“I see,” he said, understanding.
“But can you persuade the others to stop fighting us?” he asked.
She didn’t answer him directly, but climbing on a med-cube to be more visible, raised her voice to make an announcement in a language that was neither Arand nor Mehland. Her voice carried even though it was rather hoarse.
He did not understand more than a word or two, but she must have been reinforcing the message telepathically because he could follow the message clearly.
“Allow the PASS medics to assist you. Their hospital is the best place for the care of burns,” she was saying. “And the care they offer is in keeping with the Code. A priest will visit you.”
Even through the block he had set up against their pain, he could sense the people relaxing.
She looked around and gestured for the medics and rescuers who had been trying to help others while waiting for Dav to persuade the Jaraidans to go to the medicenter.
“These can go with you,” she said to the medics in Panlex before jumping off the med-cube and gesturing to two Jaraidans—women or youths, he could not tell—to take the more injured man away.
“What language did you use?” Dav asked. “I didn’t recognize it, even if you made it possible for me to understand.”
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“It was Jarand,” she answered. “It tends to carry more authority, but since not everyone—not even Jaraidans—understands it, I used psi to translate.”
“Jarand? I thought it was a dead language,” Dav said, surprised. He knew the Code had been originally written in Jarand but the version he had access to was in Arand.
“Some of us still speak it,” she said. “But for most people it is mostly ceremonial. I use it when I want people to take me seriously.”
Her voice carried a smile, as she turned to go.
“Wait,” he said. “What about all the other casualties who do not want us to take them to the medicenter? Is there some way to let everyone know that PASS is not going to hurt them? That we will take only those who we can help without violating any of your rules?”
She tilted her head as if considering his words.
“There are six PASS ambulances out here. There may be more. Must we go through a battle each time we try to load one? Can you make your announcement in Jarand to each group of casualties? Or maybe pass the word on to the other Jaraidan healers, if you have the authority?”
“I don’t have the authority to tell other healers what to do,” she said. “And, it would be very impractical if I or someone else has to go from group to group telling them to accept help from PASS—especially if we don’t know what attitude different PASS medics will take.”
For a moment she glanced away and he guessed she was contacting someone telepathically.
“I’d need to talk to your chief medical officer, the highest authority at this incident,” she said.
Dav thought for an instant. The highest-ranking medic out today would be Fazew-lju. He looked around, couldn't locate him, and called him through the au-comm.
Fazew-lju responded immediately.
? What is it? ?
? I've got someone—a local with some influence—who wants to speak to you. It's important. Stand up and wave so that we can pick you out in this crowd. ?
*****
Fazew-lju was near another grandflit ambulance, on the far end of the area. He too was dealing with a group of injured people who refused to be taken to the medicenter, but these were not all burn victims.
“This is Senior Medic Fazew-lju,” Dav introduced quickly. “I don’t know your name?” he said to the woman.
She sighed, but this time she answered.
“I am known as Ash’la-na, among my people,” she said.
Fazew-lju acknowledged the introduction with a polite nod, but his mind was on the casualties who were trying to struggle out of their stretchers and gurneys, and the relatives who were trying to interfere with the PASS folks who were trying to take the patients to the ambulance.
“Can you get your people to stop fighting with my medics?” he asked. “We don’t mean them any harm, only to get them to the medicenter.”
Ash’la nodded.
“Tell your people to stop trying to put folks in the ambulances for a moment,” she said. “I need to talk to you first.”
Fazew-lju nodded at Dav.
“Pass the word.”
Dav broadcast the message over the au-comm. From the body language of some of the medics nearby, he thought they were relieved. Most Jaraidans had been accepting first-aid measures. They could go back to that until the medicenter issue had been worked out.
Ash'la must have done some broadcasting of her own because the Jaraidans stopped struggling against the PASS medics.
“To avoid problems,” she was saying to Fazew-lju. “You may take to the medicenter anyone that isn't going to need skin grafts, transplants or other physical replacements.”
“But the worst hurt people...” began Fazew-lju.
“They'll have to go to our infirmaries. We have psi-healers who can deal with their problems.”
She paused a moment then went on, “Our religion forbids skin grafts, transplants and so forth, you know.”
“What?” Fazew-lju cried.
“Did you know this?” he demanded of Dav.
“Yes,” Dav answered. “We’ve been aware of this for a while—I circulated a data-sheet explaining these prohibitions from the Jaraidan Code at least three threefs ago. You only got here, or you would have seen it.”
Over the au-comm, he supplied the link to his summary of what Jaraidans would and would not accept.
He was glad that Ash’la had insisted on speaking to someone in charge. Fazew-lju had only recently been assigned to Jaraida. He needed this information, and he needed to take it seriously to be willing to enforce it.
“Oh, shadows!” sighed Fazew-lju. “But most of these people,” he said with a gesture of his arm, “will die or be seriously maimed if we can't perform skin grafts.”
“They will be fine,” said Ash'la. “We have psi-healers. What we don't have is enough psi-healers to treat everyone. If you will take the cases that you can treat with a jelly-crib, bones set or other help with natural healing, you will relieve our infirmaries considerably.”
“I see,” said Fazew-lju.
He nodded, understanding the situation. Though it went against his training to leave the worst hurt people behind, he was apparently flexible enough to recognize that this was the only way that PASS could help at all. Dav, who had only met the man recently, was relieved.
“It's an old prohibition. If you don't respect it, you will always have trouble getting people to the medicenters, no matter what I or anyone else tell them.” Ash'la warned Dav subvocally.
“I know,” he answered. “And Fazew-lju understands, now that you have brought it to his attention. But will your people really accept the medicenter if you tell them that we won't perform skin grafts or anything else offensive to their religion?”
“Most of them will. They won't like it, but they understand that there aren't enough psi-healers in Kyeros –or space in our infirmaries to deal with something like this.”
Aloud she said to Fazew-lju, “I need your word that your people will not try to perform any treatment that is offensive to our religion. Jelly-cribs, pressure bandage, sutures, oral medication, and sprays will be accepted by all.
“Some people will accept IVs, others will be opposed. A few extremists will object to pressure shots and injections. Always ask.
“What if the patient is unconscious and there is no family to make decisions?” Fazew-lju asked.
“If possible, pass the patient to one of our healers,” she said as she had told Dav before. “Or get approval from one of our priests. They can provide a tag like this one.”
She pulled a what Dav would have called a medi-strip about five centimeters wide and ten long out of a pocket in the underside of her smock and handed it to Fazew-lju.
“This is a healer tag,” she explained. “The priestly ones have different symbols, but they are the same size and have the same effect. They indicate that certain medical treatment has been performed or approved in accordance with the Code.”
“You are a healer?” Fazew-lju asked.
“A very weak one,” she said. “But useful in a crisis.”
“Where do we find a priest?” Dav asked. He had never seen a priest that he knew of, though she had told him what they would wear.
“Usually, they will be wearing the dark green or reddish-brown tabards.” She said. “Though sometimes, if they are also healers, they may be wearing the dark red or dark yellow ones.”
“What is a tabard?” Fazew-lju asked.
“These sleeveless, open-sided smocks are called tabards in Panlex,” Ash’la said impatiently, indicating her yellow garment.
Dav understood her impatience, since Fazew-lju could have just checked the infi, but gave the head medic a break because they were all in a rush and it may have seemed easier to ask.
“Oh, a poncho,” Fazew-lju said. It was a far less common word than smock, but maybe more common than tabard.
Ash’la shrugged.
“You told that other group of people that a priest would come to the medicenter,” Dav remembered.
“Yes,” she said. “A priest will visit the casualties at the medicenter to reassure them, but not until much later, after we have sorted this out.”
She looked into the distance for a moment—communicating telepathically again, Dav thought.
“We should start loading the patients into the ambulances,” she said.
“All right,” Fazewlju said. “Will you tell the people you think should go to the medicenter to let us do our work?”
She nodded. “I’m passing the word,” she said.
Fazewlju sent the message out on the au-comm.
? Take only patients who are conscious and who will not need replacements or transplants. Ask permission to insert intravenous medication and plasma before you load on the ambulance. If they refuse, leave them for the Jaraidan medics. Candidates for jelly-cribs should get priority. ?
Dav thought it was a good message. On an impulse, he forwarded it telepathically to Ash’la. He had not tried this in a long time, but it worked. She seemed slightly surprised, then pleased.
“Thanks.”
“Did you study medicine off-world?” Fazewlju was asking Ash’la.
“Briefly,” she said. “I didn’t anticipate ever having to do more than first aid as a medic. I am not much of a psi-healer.”
She gave a rueful shrug before she suddenly turned formal.
“We are grateful to PASS for coming to our aid, and I especially appreciate your willingness to work with us on selecting which patients should go to the medicenter. You will save lives.”
“It is our duty,” said Fazewlju, responding to the formality with a little bow.
She bowed back and then quickly walked away in the direction of the big gaping hole in the stonework wall through which most of the rescue operations were taking place.
*****
Dav did triage for another hour and then took a turn going inside the stonework for casualties. By this time everyone who could get out of the affected area of the stonework on their own had already done so. The inside of the stonework was a mess of rubble, blood, and the foam that had been poured in to contain the fire. The luminescent greenstone walls had crumbled in parts, but often was the only light except for the beamers that some of the rescuers wore on their helmets to free their hands.
A long time later, when a fourth group of ambulance grandflits had been dispatched to the medicenter, Dav recognized Taasi—with two braids sticking out under her protective helmet—passing out gel packs and water to the wounded while he was doing triage.
“Bring some water over here, child,” called the man that Dav had been checking.
Taasi came over.
“Hello, Agent,” she said as she squirted water into the man’s mouth.
“I’m glad to see you again,” he said.
She nodded at him in a friendly way, and seemed about to say something when the man began to choke strangely, and a reddish foam came out of his mouth. Dav, who had stood up after daubing some healing gel on the man’s burns and suturing a cut on his hand, knelt again quickly.
“Niagmo! Over here!” called Taasi in Arand.
A little boy—no more than 8 or 9, Dav thought—who had also been passing around water, jumped over a few recumbent casualties to join them quickly. He bent over the coughing, choking man.
“He must sit up!” he said urgently in Arand, so Dav put the man in a sitting position. The man's skin was raw and clammy from the burns, and the coughing brought blood to the skin. The reddish froth from the mouth concerned Dav most. It indicated some sort of contaminant had been in the air the man had breathed. The rescuers had supplied him with a regular respirator, which he had pulled up to drink the water, but though he had seemed to breathe easily before, something had gone wrong when he drank water.
The child, Niagmo had his hand on the man's chest and throat. “Breathe,” he was saying in Arand, his childish voice determined. “Please breathe.”
The coughing eased a little. The man gave a choked gaspy sort of breath, coughed more softly, gasped again. Even with the EF mask back over his face, he was still struggling, still coughing.
Dav held the man up and tried to soothe the man’s fears, since that was all he could do. The little boy seemed to have some psi-healing ability but would that be enough? Was it too soon to offer an O-mask? Would it help?
Large male hands joined Niagmo's. Dav sensed the little boy's relief as he withdrew his small hands.
The man, a healer wearing a dark red tabard, crouched awkwardly next to the patient. He was intent on the patient until the choking suddenly stopped, and the breathing resumed, ragged at first, then stronger.
“Clean O-mask,” requested the healer in Panlex. Dav handed him one and watched the healer fit the respirator over the man’s face then keep his hands on the chest of the man until the breathing seemed normal.
The healer stood up a bit awkwardly and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You did well, enchkinot,” with approval and affection.
Then the healer turned back to Dav, his Panlex as impeccable as Ash’la’s.
“Please alert your people to check for pek dust inhalation among the folks they take to the medicenter,” he said as he touched his belt-printer for a strip with a diagnosis in both Panlex and Jaraidan script which he attached in some way to the man’s jacket.
Dav passed the message through the au-comm. The folks at the medicenter were going to have their hands full, checking for pek dust as well as everything else.
People who inhaled pek dust would seem all right, only very thirsty, until given something to drink. Then they might choke to death. It would be very tricky to treat these people, especially since they couldn’t use intravenous injections on some of them. The medics would have a challenge.
“You should stop giving water,” the healer was saying to Taasi and Niagmo still speaking Panlex. “Until you can be sure that the victims haven’t inhaled any pek dust. I wish I knew what part of the stonework these people came from,” he muttered.
“All of these people probably came from the second gate,” volunteered Taasi. “Mani will know. She brought them out.”
Dav thought he heard the healer curse in Farnese, of all languages, but he said nothing else until he turned back to Dav.
“We will take over triage here,” he said gesturing to the area around them. “We have a good idea who may have been in areas contaminated by pek dust. If we send any of them to your ambulances, it will be people who will accept IV treatment.”
Dav nodded and reported to Fazewlju who sent him back into the stonework with another team. The next few hours were very busy.
*****
The Jaraidan dawn was beginning when Dav realized that he was having trouble walking straight. It was time to stop. His own team had returned to the base some time ago, but he had been needed as an interpreter at that moment, so he had stayed behind. He'd lost track of time, just kept helping where needed.
Sixteen hours. How many people had they saved? How many people had they lost? He realized for the first time that the Jaraidans must have been taking away the dead. There were no bodies around and most of the injured were gone also. Only two or three more ambulance loads now, he reckoned, glad they were not his responsibility. A team fresh from the base was dealing with this last group of casualties.
The Jaraidan rescuers were mostly gone too, he noticed as he walked over to a boulder and sat down. He'd hitch a ride in the next grandflit that was ready to go back to base. He was too tired to be of use any more. He needed a long bath and a longer rest.
“Hello, Agent,” said a weary voice.
Ash'la had come to sit next to him. Her protective outfit, he noticed was scorched, not just stained with blood and dust as his clothes were, and she was no longer wearing the yellow tabard. She had been going into the burning stonework, he realized. She had taken off her helmet now, though she kept the face-shield and respirator over her face, as one had to in the thin air, especially with all the smoke and dust.
Her black hair was braided tightly around her head. In the half-light he could not tell her eye-color, but he made sure his shoulder cam caught as much of her face as was visible over the mask. Wearily, she rubbed her forehead with a bare, long-fingered hand.
She looked as tired as he felt.
“Seven-hundred and fourteen dead,” she said. “Eighteen hundred and twenty casualties taken to your medicenter. Nine hundred and forty-six taken to our infirmaries. Another two or three thousand given first aid and sent off to stay with relatives, because their homes are gone. And at least 3000 others have lost their homes, I’d guess, but I have only the basic information.”
He had not thought to check the numbers yet. They didn't really matter until after the incident was over. Was it really over?
“Just about,” she said, replying to his thought. “The fire is out. Everyone that we could help is being helped. We’re lucky the fire was contained. It could have been half the city.”
“What caused the explosion?” Dav asked wearily.
“We’re not sure,” she said. “We believe it was sabotage of the transformer, but until things cool a bit we can’t confirm.”
He was too tired to focus, but he knew he’d be interested tomorrow. Right now, he needed that restorative.
“Do you want one?” he asked, holding out one of the restorative drink pouches from his pack.
“Yes!” she said taking it eagerly. “I can certainly use it. Thank you!”
“Did you figure out the source of the pek dust?” he asked after he’d sipped enough to feel a little better.
She seemed surprised, as if she hadn’t expected him to know about the pek dust.
“I was with young Taasi, a boy called Niagmo and a Jaraidan healer when the first case was discovered,” he explained. “Taasi said you had brought out the group the man who had inhaled pek dust belonged to.”
She nodded understanding.
“The source was the outer ventilator system for one courtyard cluster. Why that cluster, I cannot guess. Possibly the pek was supposed to be in all the ventilation systems but this was the only one the saboteurs could reach? If so, we were lucky.”
She paused then added, “It was not too bad, since we identified those exposed quickly. No deaths.”
Then she sighed, shook her head, and went on.
“It’s more than I can say about the results of the explosions. A group of children were playing near some walls that collapsed. It’s always bad, but when it is children, it is worse.”
“Yes,” he agreed. After another pause, wanting to say something positive, he remarked, “Your people did heroic work.”
“We did what needed doing,” she replied, and took a long sip of her restorative. “And I am grateful –we are grateful—for PASS’s help.”
Dav murmured the usual things about his duty as a PASS agent.
The healer who had diagnosed the pek dust problem limped over to them. It was unusual for a psi-healer—for any healer at all, really—to have a limp. Dav assumed it must be a recent injury. Like Ash’la the man was no longer wearing a helmet, only a full face-shield and respirator, but he still had his dark red smock—as soiled as the rest of his clothes.
The man was about Dav’s age, and wore his single braid in a knot at the nape of his neck. He had spoken Panlex easily, so there was a good chance that like Ash’la, he had studied off-world.
Although the man greeted Dav with a friendly nod, his attention was on Ash’la. He sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asked her in Panlex.
“Worn out, no more,” she replied with a smile. “You?”
“Worn out as well. But we’ve got everyone sorted out finally,” he said. “We can go.”
“I want to wait until the PASS crews pick up the last few loads,” she said.
“Thodin or Munli can do that,” said the healer. “They’ve only been here eight hours, instead of almost seventeen, like you.”
“And you too, Let’yo,” she said standing up.
“We both need some rest,” she added. “And lots of food.”
The healer nodded wearily.
Dav remembered that psi-healing, a form of telekinesis, used up a lot of energy. No wonder she had been so grateful for the restorative drink. He wished he had another to offer the healer, “Letiyo.” Probably a family name and not the name he had traveled with, but worth looking up.
Ash’la took the healer’s hand and pulled him up to stand next to her.
“We still have much to do,” she said. “So, we better hurry up and rest. You should also, Agent Arteyn,” she added.
“I am headed back on the next grand-flit that has room,” Dav assured her, and she nodded approvingly.
"Good," she said before she walked away with her arm around the waist of the limping psi-healer who was holding on to her shoulders with affection—and exhaustion.
