~ TEMA ~

If the Gods had a sense of justice, Caroline Ballard would not be lying ill in a hospital bed. Not Caroline. Why, of all people, did it have to be her?

Caro had been Tema’s first boss, after she’d recovered from the nightmare of Balking. Back then, she still wore the mask of a man. She couldn’t let her guard slip. On one of her days off, all made-up and wearing a cute russet skirt, she’d found herself face-to-face with Caroline in the streets. Tema had quickly turned away, and hoped she hadn’t been recognised. But Caroline had called out her name—her old name, the one she didn’t use anymore—and she knew she’d been caught. She expected to be fired on the spot. Women like her were for domestic service, mundane jobs, not important professions. But Caro just complimented her choice of clothes with a smile. “Do you have a name you’d prefer?”

For her next shift, Tema had dressed up in the most feminine uniform available, a pink-lined dress with tights and bow-pumps. She’d strode into the hospital, greeting her co-workers’ stares with a crimson face, and knocked on Caro’s office door. “Call me Tema,” she’d said, then, and Caro always had.

It was a cruelty that she had to be sick.

She’d come a hair’s breadth from turfing Oliver Wrack away when he’d appeared at her door. The nerve of the man to take himself along to her private place. But something about his face had bade her listen to him, and she was thankful she had. “Doctor Ballard’s sick,” he’d said. “I thought it for the best you knew.”

Oliver had left her with her head in a whirl. Caroline was the only buffer she had from Maynard and Staniforth. With her gone, there’d be nobody with the power to intercede if either doctor decided to turn their claws on Tema. Her job would be gone. Her fresh start would die with it. And yet she couldn’t call herself a friend to Caroline if she didn’t go to help. The fact of the matter was that whatever illness she had it must have been a bad one. Nobody would knock on her door in the night if Caroline just had an upset stomach. There was no reason at all for Oliver Wrack to bear the message, unless it was somehow serious enough that he thought she ought to know right away.

All those years of study and practice had been to save lives. Caroline’s was a life worth saving, even at the cost of her own happiness. It took a little while to break through the fog of fear that clouded her, but once she did the answer was clear. She donned her coat with the echinops on and tied her prettiest bow of pink lace into her hair, and went at once towards the hospital. If Maynard or Staniforth wanted to take issue, they were welcome to cause a scene.

As she opened her door to leave, she was greeted by Janna Davis, bright red and glistening with sweat. Janna had her hands raised as though just about to knock. She practically fell into the open door, and straight away went towards a glass which was sitting on Tema’s sideboard. “Miss Tema. I ran from the hospital. You need to come.” Janna was panting as she gulped down the water.

The water was Tema’s. There was a tickling in her throat, which she’d been trying to drown before it developed into anything more. It was quickly forgotten. “You should have called through,” she said. The Eia was hooked up to an intercom system. Her chambers had a direct line to the hospital, in case she needed to be reached in an emergency. Janna need not have run here.

No time for that,” said Janna, shaking her head. “It’s urgent, Miss Tema. Miss Caroline’s come in critical. We don’t know how to help her.” There was worry pooled in her eyes, overflowing. It broke Tema’s heart almost as much as Caroline’s being ill. Janna was a little delight, soft of face and kind of heart. Even when wit had failed her, it was hard to do more than roll eyes and play along. If she were to grow disheartened, it would be a loss to the hospital. She escorted Tema at a run to the hospital—Tema hadn’t realised it was possible to get there as quick as she had done.

She chose not to tell Janna that Oliver Wrack had already told her the bad news.

Emmeline Maynard was there to greet her, arms folded behind the front desk. One of the nurses, young Lucy Jaine, stood beside her with a sheepish look on her face.

Best to be polite, Tema thought. Now wasn’t the time for feuding. “Doctor Maynard,” she said, putting on a friendly smile. “What’s the situation?”

Maynard didn’t return the smile. “You’ve got some nerve showing your face.”

“Would you rather I went and hid? Doctor Ballard’s ill, so I’ve been told, making me acting chief doctor. It’s my duty to come.”

Maynard pouted. “If you’d just pick an appropriate uniform—”

“Does now seem like the time to be worried about uniform? Doctor Ballard needs care. Who’s with her?”

“I left Morton in her ward,” said Maynard. “I meant to send Davis, but she wasn’t here.”

“Sorry, Miss Emmeline,” Janna began. “I only went to fetch Miss Tema.”

“Lucy told me what you went to do,” said Maynard, only vaguely concealing the threat in her voice. It was brimming with it. Tema could taste the seething. “You’re not to leave your post unless you’re explicitly instructed to. And if you have any hope of finding somebody to sponsor your doctorate, Miss Janna, you’ll learn to address your superiors in the appropriate manner.”

“Enough, Doctor Maynard,” said Tema. “There isn’t time for your posturing. Come on, Janna, you can help me.” And she strode past Maynard, ignoring the woman’s glares.

Janna had jogged with Tema all the way to Caroline’s bed, run a dozen errands while Caroline was being stabilised. Two hours later, when Tema finally felt she had the right to leave Caroline’s side, she broke down in the hallway outside. Janna was the one to hug her and tell her it’d all be okay.

Caroline, so strong and assured whenever Tema saw her, looked so suddenly frail in that bed, hooked up to a drip and with a bleeping monitor displaying her vital signs. She’d assumed Caroline would be there forever. It was the same as when she was very young, expecting mother and father and Aunt Danyer to be there looking after her eternally. Long as those halcyon summers stretched, autumn always brought the leaves down eventually.

This couldn’t be Caroline’s autumn. She was too young for it, too kind. The sun might as well have been her. And yet to look at her had been to stare the browned canopies in the face. To think of her gone... It was all too much to bear thinking about.

Her head was throbbing. All of a sudden she was exhausted. Taking care of Caroline had sapped her dry.

And it would be dereliction for her not to. She was the senior doctor. Hers was the final say.

“Stay by her side,” she told Janna. “If anything happens, find me.” And she stumbled out of the ward, towards the calling comfort of her bedchamber. Sleep came to her before she was able to lay down.

No dreams filled her sleep. The clock on the far wall mocked her, dancing around in her vision before coalescing on the actual time. She’d slept for an hour, maybe slightly longer. It could just as well have been a single second. To her it was just the blink of an eye.

She felt better though. The headache was gone.

She took a brief detour via the staff kitchen to grab a cup of water, and headed back to check on Caro. Technically, she was coming to the end of her shift. In twenty minutes, she’d be under no obligation to stay and work. Already she’d sat ten hours at Caroline’s bedside.

Somehow, going home didn’t feel like it was an option. What if Caro got worse while she was lazing in her own bed?

Lily Day greeted her at the door outside Caro’s ward. She had in her hand a couple of old rags, with buttons sewn on for eyes. She’d had the same with the man Jem, in simpler times.

“More puppet shows?”

Lily nodded. “Doctor Ballard’s enjoying them, I think.”

“Keep them up, then. Anything to make her happy. Just wash them after every show. I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Don’t worry about me, Doctor Caerlin,” Lily smiled. “I don’t get sick. Never have. Mumma said I must have one of those iron immune systems.”

“All the same. Until we know what’s wrong with Doctor Ballard, there’s no reason to take risks.”

She left Lily, and stepped into the ward. Caro was sleeping. The monitor behind her was blipping lazily, and Tommy Morton was watching it. Bab Flower was changing the linen on the other beds in the ward. Janna was nowhere to be seen.

“Is Janna about anywhere?” she asked Bab. When people like Janna Davis weren’t where they were supposed to be, there was almost always a reasonable explanation for it. She’d probably just slipped out for a quick bathroom break.

Bab shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t say I’ve seen her today.”

Tema glanced down the ward. Bab was on the fifth bed from the door. The four nearest to it were all freshly made, the sheets stiff and starched. “How long does it take you to do a bed, Bab?”

“One that’s not too dirty? Five minutes. Ten if I’m tired.”

Four fives were twenty. Bab must have been in here for twenty minutes at least. There was a restroom directly across the corridor from this ward; there wasn’t really any reason for Janna to spend that long in the toilet.

Unless she was ill.

Two close friends in one day was beyond plausibility, surely.

The toilets on the wards conformed to the same basic design—two cubicles at the far end, and a sink on a central bowl in the middle of the room. All of the visible wall space, for some reason, was mirrors, with the exception of the two feet closest to the floor and the ceiling, which were painted a sickly shade of green. Whoever thought it was a good bit of design, they probably didn’t belong in the job.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Both of the cubicle doors were open. There was nobody here, that much was obvious as soon as she stepped in. Still, she called Janna’s name just to be sure. No response, just as she expected.

So where was Janna?

Wandering aimlessly around the hospital wasn’t a good use of her time, especially not with Caroline helpless in a bed. But she was worried. Janna was the sort of person who would be frightened by the mere prospect of doing something she’d been told not to do. She wouldn’t have left without a good reason.

Briefly, Tema’s mind flitted to kidnap. She’d used to love reading all those stories of people who disappeared without a trace. Her childhood brain had been morbid.

She dismissed the idea. Who would kidnap someone from the middle of a busy hospital in broad daylight, on a planet hundreds of light years from the rest of the Unity? Someone foolish enough to try would be too stupid to pull it off. And even if they did, why would they want Janna?

Viola Watling was wheeling a trolley of chemicals from a supply cabinet. She was close in age to Janna. They were probably friends.

“Viola!”

Viola turned. “Doctor Caerlin? Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m looking for Janna. Have you seen her?”

“Janna? Janna Davis?” Viola thought for a second. Then her eyes lit up. “Yes, I think so. She’s the one with the mousy hair, right? And that stupid fringe? Quiet?”

It was a bit unfair to describe it as stupid, but Janna did have a fringe. “Where did you see her?”

“She’s on the reception desk.”

Tema thanked Viola and headed for the central staircase, as always devoid of life. She took the steps two at a time. Her shoes clicked on the stone, loud enough to be heard over the roaring water. There’s got to be a way to switch these waterfalls off, she thought. It’s a huge waste. That was something to be filed away for later.

At the bottom of the stairs, it was just a quick walk past the maternity corridor and she was at reception. Sure enough, there was Janna, sat looking thoroughly bored behind an empty desk. She was playing around with a pen, swinging it through the air like a child with a toy rocket. And there Tema thought skiving was supposed to be fun.

“Janna,” she said, in the most imperious voice she could muster. “Did I tell you to attend the desk, or did I tell you to stay with Doctor Ballard?”

Janna flushed. “Miss Tema,” she said, rising to her feet. “Miss Emmeline said I was wasting my time there. Too many people. She told me to come here.”

Interesting. Maynard had never overruled Caro, when she was well. What could possibly be the difference here? She simply couldn’t fathom... “There’s nobody here,” she said, gesturing to the silent reception. “And there’s an intercom if anybody does turn up. You’re wasting more time here.”

“Sorry,” Janna said, head bowed and pale.

Tema softened slightly. “You’re not in trouble, Janna. But in future, when Doctor Maynard gives you an instruction, you check it with me first.”

“Yes, of course, Miss Tema.” Janna jumped to her feet. “I’ll run back to Miss Caroline now.”

Tema shook her head. “Don’t worry about it now, Janna, you’ve done enough. Shift’s over. It’s time you got yourself off.”

Janna had been known to still be in the hospital working three or four hours after she was supposed to go home. She didn’t like to be rude and leave when there was work that needed doing, even when she’d been told it was okay to go. Often Tema found her stumbling in tired of a morning, having worked herself to exhaustion before she left the night before. She didn’t want Janna to be exhausted. She stood at the desk watching until she’d seen Janna out of the door.

Then she went to find Doctor Maynard.

Maynard wasn’t difficult to find. She was sat in her office, cowering behind the soundproofed door. Tema watched through the frosted glass as Maynard supped on coffee, leaning back in her seat. An open folder was lying on the desk in front of her. She paid it no mind. Had she no concern for Caroline? No thought for the oath she swore to uphold?

She knew it was useless, but Tema knocked on the door nonetheless. She knocked, and she knocked, until Doctor Maynard happened to glance her way. They locked eyes, and reluctantly Maynard got to her feet. And how she dragged her feet. Nobody whose age was less than triple digits would walk that slowly unless they were doing it deliberately, to prove some sort of point. From the sly look on her face, that was exactly what Maynard was doing.

But eventually she reached the door, and unlocked it to let Tema in.

The last time Tema had been in here, it was with Caroline for company. The reason was forgotten, but it had been early on. Well before Doctor Maynard had taken it into mind to look at Tema’s file. She’d seemed so sweet and thoughtful then. It was funny the masks that fell away when people thought they were superior. Tema would sooner take the duplicity of Maynard’s mask than the unpleasantness of the face behind it.

“I’ve just spoken to Janna Davis,” she said, deciding it best to be forthright. “I’d instructed her to stay by Doctor Ballard’s bedside, and yet I found her attending the reception desk. Why is that?”

Doctor Maynard shrugged. “I sent her away. The ward was getting crowded.”

Tema shook her head. “See, that’s nothing but a crock. Caroline’s the only patient on a ward fit for eighteen. Are you really going to have me believe that it was crowded?”

“It doesn’t matter how many the ward’s fit for,” said Maynard. “Five’s too many if they’re all crowding around the same bed. As a trainee, I thought it best if Davis stood aside. This is a serious case, after all. We want nothing but the best care for our dear Doctor Ballard. Davis was best served at the front desk. So I told her to go there.”

“Who said you could do that?”

“Nobody said,” Maynard laughed. “I just did. What, are you going to tell me I’m not capable of making my own decisions?”

Tema seethed. Little riled her more than smarmy people. “You don’t have the authority. There’s a chain of command. Until Caroline is well again, I’m in charge. She was very clear about the chain of command. Very clear that I was her deputy—not you, or Doctor Staniforth. Me. And that means I’m responsible for her care. Janna was in attendance at Caroline’s bedside under my explicit instruction.”

“You can play silly buggers with the rules all you like,” said Maynard, “but I swore an oath to save lives, and Lightness take the rules if they get in the way. I’m not beholden to your bad decisions.”

“There’s no need to be disingenuous. Nobody was going to live or die because of where Janna was sat.”

“Then why do you care so much?”

“Because you undermined my authority.” Tema hated shouting. It strained her voice, pulled it down to the lower reaches. She quelled the shout as soon as it started. “I need to be able to trust you to follow my instructions. If I can’t trust you when it’s not important, I won’t be able to when it is. Do you see how our working relationship would be impossible?”

Maynard shrugged. “Then quit.”

“What?”

“Quit. Your days are numbered here anyway, Mister Caerlin.” Maynard swivelled her chair lazily. “So if you don’t want to work with me, you can quit. And because I’m kind, I won’t even tell people what’s in your file.”

Tema could have thumped Maynard just then. Instead, she forced herself to think of pleasant things. “I could fire you. You understand that?”

“Go ahead,” said Maynard. “But then I’ll definitely have to tell everyone the truth about you.”

It was tempting, for a hot minute, to go for it—to be shot of Emmeline Maynard and the burden of her past in one fell swoop. But no. Maynard would never have the satisfaction of victory.

“Are you threatening me? Using information from my confidential records as leverage?” Tema spoke soft and slow. “No, you couldn’t be so stupid. That would be far beyond a fireable offense. We both know I’d have to call in the Constabulary. You’d be arrested, and you’d never practice medicine again. So clearly I’ve misread the situation, and we were just having a friendly chat. Am I correct?”

Maynard pursed her lips. “You’re correct.”

“Thought so. I usually am.”

Maynard rolled her eyes. Perhaps she thought that Tema wouldn’t notice, but if so she was so very wrong. “What’s your problem with me, Emmeline? And don’t give me any more crap about Doctor Staniforth, because Staniforth isn’t here right now. You have an issue with me. You. What is it?”

Emmeline Maynard looked scared. No, bewildered. In fairness, Tema was a bit bewildered herself. She’d come to Maynard’s office with a rage, but not such a powerful one. “You’re arrogant, Tema. You act like you’re better than everybody else, oh so superior, and nobody can touch you because of your special circumstances. Well, I don’t give the slightest care to who you used to be. I’m not Doctor Staniforth, I’m a worldly woman, so don’t paint me as a frightened little bigot. My issue is with who you are now.”

The idea was laughable. Tema had been called many things, some so horrible she’d consciously worked to erase them from her memory. But arrogant? There was no chance she was arrogant.

“Let me be clear: I am a woman, just like you are. If you have a problem with me, that’s fine. If you think I’m arrogant, then think away. But if you ever use my gender as a weapon to hurt me, as some idle fact you can respect or not as best suits your needs, your career here is over. So can I suggest kindly that you do yourself a favour,” she said. “Grow up, and leave your issue outside the hospital where it belongs.” And she left, striding towards Caroline’s ward.

Only Janna was there when she arrived, sat diligently at Caroline’s bedside. Too crowded? Maynard was spouting nonsense. A plastic cup full of yellowish water was resting on the table next to Caroline’s headboard. That hadn’t been there before.

“I thought I sent you home,” said Tema.

“Sorry, Miss Tema,” said Janna. “As I was leaving I thought maybe Miss Caroline would need something, so I went to check.”

“And?”

“Miss Caroline woke up, and she asked for lemon juice,” said Janna, by way of explanation. “Only, she was asleep again when I got back with it. So I thought I should leave it here for next time.”

“That was a good call, Janna,” Tema smiled. Though a better call might have been to go home and get some sleep.

“We always had lemon juice when we were sick, at home. It’s a powerful remedy.”

“No substitute for medicine,” said Tema. “But it can’t hurt. And it usually tastes better.”

Janna laughed. “The lemons were bitter at home. Something in the soil made them grow that way. One time, my cousin had a virus, and the Lightness gave him lemon juice squeezed from the fruits of the church garden. He was actually begging for medicine instead.”

“Did he try cutting it with honey?”

Janna shook her head. “Honey isn’t allowed at home. Dad believes that since it only serves to sweeten the taste of things, it should be cast aside. He calls it the first step on the road to Shadow. A trick laid by Malorre.”

“No honey.” Tema whistled. “Tough life.”

“Dad’s always getting ideas in his head,” said Janna. “Nobody can talk him out of them. We even had the Lightness visit, to explain that there’s nothing wrong with honey. The Good Mother ate honey for nine days in the Books, you know? Dad didn’t know, and he didn’t believe it either. He’s convinced he knows the Books better than the Lightness does.”

“How did he take it when he found out you were going to Essegena? I don’t recall much in the books of the virtues of stellar travel.”

“He gave me six bushels and told me to keep to a decent bedtime,” said Janna. “He’s not a bad man. Just a bit strange.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tema murmured. She let her eyes wander over to the bed where Caroline lay, silent and still. Angry red pustules had sprouted all down her arms and on her neck. “We’re going to save Doctor Ballard, you and I. Whatever’s the matter, we’ll make her better. And that’ll be a story for you to tell your dad. If he’s not proud of you after that, he never will be.”

“Dad once said that the best day of his life was the day I was born. The second best day was the day I got into the academy. Where I’m from, people don’t go to the Unity. We work our farms for enough food to eat, until we’re too old to work any longer, and then we hope our children care enough for us to keep us fed in old age. He wept when he learned I was going to study medicine. Mum would rather I’d stayed at home and married off. If she had her way, I’d be two children deep by now. She’ll only be proud of me if I come back with a golden band around my finger. But not dad—dad’ll be proud of me whatever I do.”

“Unless you start a honey farm, presumably.” Tema stood, and pulled Janna up as well. “Come on, it’s time you rested. You must have done double your shift by now.”

Janna stifled a yawn, as though her body had only now realised—upon being told—that it was supposed to be tired. “I could do double again,” she said, though she looked uncertain.

“I don’t want you doing yourself damage,” said Tema. “And neither will Doctor Ballard. Go on, sleep. I’ll walk you as far as your dormitories.”

Tema was yawning herself when she parted ways with Janna, and stumbling when she stepped back into her own chambers. She kicked off her shoes and pulled free the ribbon, and clambered into bed with her dress still on. By the time her head hit the pillow she was asleep. The warm air of the grove told her that she was back with Fréreves.