OK, the second of the Lantern series is complete. Last time I looked at the Yellow Lantern's fear, this time, the compassion of the Indigo Lanterns.
The idea is that when all seven are done, then the characters featured will become fully fledged Lantern Corps members in their various Corps. Then, write the stories of their lives in the Corps.
Well, that's the plan anyway, tell me what you think. Generally about the concept and about the two instalments so far.
The Indigo Light of Compassion: Dral's story.
Prologue.
"Administer 17 krells of dikronile-56 and schedule another course of cerroniz therapy, nurse"
His thin fingers checked off the patient's bio-chart.
"Zon-Kre-Cir will want this."
He passed over the small record crystal the chart's built-in replicator had just extruded.
"See he gets it."
"Yes, sir ...healer...I mean Doctor, sir." came the nervous, stammered reply.
The young orderly, fresh on this particular shift, scurried away, nearly tripping over his own feet in haste.
"And try not to injure yourself, use all three legs when walking."
"Yes, sir, sorry Doctor."
Dral-Kon-Tor was used to the state of anxiety, almost bordering on nervous panic, that he seemed to cause in others,...well, others of lesser Houses, of lesser repute, of lesser standing, that is to say, nearly all the population of the Loraleic System. He'd been fortunate enough to be hatched into the Kon flock, second only to the Vir, the Primarch's own brood. That alone would have set him apart, but he'd also developed the Talent young and gone on to become one of the system's foremost Healers.
He looked over the patient, a mid to low ranking functionary in the Department of Information, a respectable enough House, the readout informed him. A minor case of Orazzonian 'Flu, probably contracted on his recent vacation on ...yes, Dumos. The pleasure moon was a meeting point for cultures and a melting pot for minor infections. This patient would be fine within the drell, no need to use the Talent here, his training and knowledge, backed up by the medical advances of millennia, would suffice. Dral went on with his rounds, simple routine checks and ministrations. It was only occasionally that he needed to use his special abilities. Three cycles ago, an important patient, a Mil flock lady of advancing years, had had a severe bout of Tol-Rir's Malady and he'd been required then. That took him a day to recover. That was the downside to the Talent, it took its toll on him, drained him somewhat, but it could reach cases beyond other help, and she did pull through.
It was a good life he had, a privileged one, to be sure, but he had been born to it and knew no other. He was content.
Rictus.
Some cycles later, Dral was returning from a very pleasant stay at the estate of a colleague on the colony world, Taranax, when the starliner he was travelling on was forced to make an unscheduled stopover on the moon Vron-simar for a minor repair on the astrogation avionics, or some such system, he didn't pay that much attention to the details of the announcement, it wasn't his field of expertise. An overnight stay would be required to complete the work. The cabin attendant apologised, profusely, and at length, but there it was, he would be a day late back on Ornitha.
Vron-simar was on few people list of 'places to visit', the small agricultural moon was a backwoods colony with little to offer. The hotel on the spaceport complex was the best the worldlet had, and it was poor enough, at least it was only for a day. He'd ascertained this from his comlink to the infonet before even leaving the spaceship and the actual experience lived down to his expectations. "Oh well, any roost in a gale."
His room, 'the very best' he'd been assured, was sparse, all the basics were there, but no style and the quality fell far short of the standards he was used to. Worse of all, there was no off-world com link. He'd have to get access to one, there were people he needed to speak to, arrangements that must be made. "This...world...useless little rock." He muttered under his breath, as he made his way to what passed as a lobby and the reception desk.
"Oh, excuse me; I don't seem to have an offworld link in my room."
He addressed the young girl behind the counter.
"Sorry sir, none of the suites have that. We only have one in the hotel."
"May I use it?"
"It's offline, virionic alternator's shot, gonna need a new one."
A man dressed in work overalls interrupted as he approached the desk.
"And I don't know when I can get a replacement."
"I'm most terribly sorry, sir. I really don't know what to say..." the young receptionist apologised.
"You seem to know more than most around here." Dral addressed the technician. "Where would I get offworld coms, it's most vital, I assure you."
It wasn't exactly vital...but it would be convienient...and if the tech thought it was important...
"Ain't too many places got 'em on this moon, it ain't exactly Ornitha, you know."
"How do you know I'm Ornithan?"
"Sorta stands out."
"Well, do you know where I can call offworld, or not?"
"Nearest place, that I know's got a working setup is the local medcentre. By the skies, they've been using it enough, what with all the problems they got."
"What's wrong at the medcentre?"
"Most call it the Rictus."
"The'Rictus'?"
"Some sorta plague, half the damned moon seems to have got it, and half of them's dying, now if you'll excuse me…I gotta go bury my wife…..it took her yesterday."
The man stormed out of the foyer.
Dral, shocked into momentary silence by the revelation, turned slowly to the receptionist.
"How come we've had no news of this plague on Ornitha?"
"Well….sir…" She managed to get out. "lots of what goes on on the outer moons doesn't get much attention….guess people on the Central Worlds don't really wanna hear about our troubles…..it's not like we're important or anything…"
"Hmmm. Just where can I find this medcentre?"
Well, you'll have to leave the Spaceport complex, go into the town proper, like sir and…..well, it's not fancy, like here…it's a bit more…..rough, like…basic…sorta…."
"Yes," he looked around the 'fancy' surroundings, "And?"
"Well…..just go straight outta the main gate and down onto the town square and the medcentre's just to the right, behind the Market Hall. Don't go left or you'll end up in the stockyards, and straight on…..well….just, you don't wanna go that way…that's Shiloh. No-one goes there who don't have to….sir."
"What's wrong with Shiloh?"
"It's the place you go if you can't afford anywhere else and I heard the Plague's worse there, some say it started there, sir…there's those that just wanna flame the whole place, sir. I shouldn't really be gossiping like this, sir. If you're set on going to that medcentre, you just follow where I told you…..and be careful, sir."
"Thank you, my dear… I will… I'm sure I'll be fine."
Dral left pondering what he'd just learned. Slum areas – a deadly plague – and all within Ornitha's own system as well, he'd heard nothing like this on the news feeds. Maybe the girl was exaggerating, but then… the technician and his dead wife. He'd have to find out for himself, someone at the medcentre could fill in the gaps, and he could make that call there.
The walk through town proved quite….informative. What struck Dral was the…slapdash nature of the place, its unkempt appearance and the look that it had been just thrown together. None of the buildings were new; they looked as if they had been put up using whatever materials the early colonists could find. All were, if not actually in disrepair, in a far less than satisfactory state.
He found the town square easily enough; at this time of the morning there was brisk foot traffic, citizens about their business. But these too showed he was not on Ornitha, their appearance matched the town….rumpled. He turned right, out of the square and looked for the familiar gleaming white façade common to all Ornithan medical facilities. They were always painted a brilliant white so all could see, at a glance, that here was a house of healing. No sign of the centre…..he walked down the row of ramshackle buildings…..nothing looking remotely like a medcentre.
"Excuse me, sir. Could you please direct me to the medcentre?" He enquired of a passing man wheeling a large cart.
"You gone right past it, squire, it's just before you get to the town square."
"But…." Perhaps it wasn't gleaming or even white here, maybe it was one of the dirty greyish places he'd dismissed. "Thank you, sir."
Dral retraced his steps and, after a second enquiry of a passerby, found the facility he'd been looking for. Low, squat and unprepossessing, if it had ever been painted the traditional white, years of dust and dirt had faded it to a dingy grey-brown. The place looked more like a warehouse for goods than a hospital for the sick. Still…Dral strode purposefully to the main doors….only to be nearly knocked off his feet by a pair of paramedics pushing a gurney at some speed.
"Sorry, mister, emergency." One of them shot off as they disappeared into an ancient van which soon sped off down the street raising clouds of dust in its wake. Dral by now considered the pervasive dust Vron-simar's main feature.
It took ten dreels to get the story from the desk clerk and two after that he was on the ward floor looking at a young patient in the diseases final phase.
"All we've been able to do is offer palliative care, Doctor Kon, it doesn't respond to any of the usual treatments, and to be frank we're stretched to the limit doing the little we can."
The speaker was a late middle-aged man, Dr. Ran-Slu-Dok.
"Do any of your doctors have the healing Talent?"
"Anyone who does tends to get off this rock as soon as they can, few actually choose to live here, and something like that… well no-one here does."
"It happens that I do, obviously I'll do what I can."
"Thank you, Doctor."
Dral turned to his patient.
Three and a half borans later he sat back…..exhausted…..and beaten. The remainder of the morning and a good part of the afternoon had passed, but Dral hadn't noticed the passing of time, the healing had absorbed him totally, and right now he had no more to give. Usually, when he used the Talent it was as if he felt an initial resistance to his effort, he pushed against it, and then…..at some point it 'snapped' and he was through, healing would commence, either that or it just didn't work at all. Some ailments were like that. But this time…the resistance seemed to…..well…..stretch….and …bend…like elastic. It would accept his 'push' but would just 'snap back' when he released the pressure. He'd never felt anything quite like it. Obviously this was going to be harder than he initially supposed.
Wearied by his efforts, he made his way out of the ward and spoke to one of the orderlies.
"Where's Dr. Ran-Slu-Dok?"
"Should be in his office, sir. Do you need directions?"
Soon he was seated in Dr. Slu's office.
"Never felt anything like it, Doctor. Usually either the Talent doesn't have any effect at all, or it will sort of….break through and start the healing process. But this…it resists, it's hard to describe it's as if it 'bends'….. I'm sure I can help but I need….Well, an upsilon wave analyser, a psion particle polarity reverser and as many other Talented healers as you've got."
"And if we all had our wings back, we could just fly away and live happily ever after….I'm sorry Dr. Kon, we just don't have those kinds of resources here. This is a farm moon, and not even a very good one; I've tried to get help from Ornitha, Deltron, even Parsilan, but nothing. They barely even bother to answer anymore. As far as the rest of the system is concerned, it's not their problem."
"What have you got? Who else is working on this?"
"The local physicians are overrun just caring for the sick, we've no research base, and no-one really qualified to start one. You've seen this facility, and this is the best Vron-simar's got to offer. We just aren't going to get any outside help with this,…believe me…..I've tried."
"Well, I can extend my stay here, see what I can do, maybe I'll find a way to weaken the Rictus, be able to use the Talent… Where's the centre of the outbreak?"
That'll be Shiloh."
Then that's where I need to be. Now, that comlink, there's a few things I need to arrange."
Dral had set up in an abandoned grain merchants he'd rented in the centre of Shiloh. The place was barely standing, but it had plenty of space for beds and separate office rooms for lab work. His credit balance took a sizeable whack setting the clinic up, it wasn't O City Central, but it would do.
A basic lab, a rudimentary clinic and ward space, and before long, they came, slowly at first, suspicious of outsiders offering false hope, but they came…..and they died. No matter what he did, how much he exhausted himself, they died, some slowly, some quickly, but they all died in the end.
Dral was at a loss to find the agent causing the affliction, and still his talent met that yielding but unbreaking resistance. Every patient he lost, every life gone, every failed healing cost him, but he found he couldn't give up. These people had nothing but their hard lives on this moon, and the Rictus took even that. The fit and the strong, the sickly and the weak, the old and the young. It seemed to make no difference. The Rictus took indiscriminately and left some to simply bury their dead.
He was trying to formulate an improved drug in the hope that it would weaken the plague's grip just enough for his Talent to break through. Dral wasn't hopeful; he'd tried hundreds of variants of this treatment. All to little effect.
"Excuse me, doctor." One of the young volunteers who manned his makeshift clinic interrupted his train of thought.
"There's a man who insists on seeing you, says he may have something to help you in your work."
Dral looked up from the compscreen with its seemingly endless array of peptides marching past.
"Did he say how?"
Many had come, offering anything from folklore remedies to divine intervention, all had been a complete waste of time.
"Says he's a Talentologist, or something like that, says he's been working on a way to boost his Talent."
A Talentologist….At least he hadn't heard that one yet.
"Show him through, I need a break from these blasted formulae anyway."
The man who entered the chaotic labspace was a dishevelled, grey haired human of medium build and, Dral judged, medium age for his species. Vron-simar had many human colonists, usually ranchers, few were scientists.
"Dr. Kon-tor, I assume." The new arrival extended his hand in the human fashion that was fast becoming universal.
"Call me Dral, please." He returned the handshake. "And please, do take a seat….."
"Sorry, Lillian, Ralph Lillian…Dr. Ralph Lillian actually." The man sat in one of the chairs scattered in front of the bank of flickering compscreeens.
"Rak-mir said you had something that may interest me."
"My work is with Talents, I'm a minor telekinetic myself, and I've been trying to understand how they operate and see if they can be boosted or improved. It's all still experimental, of course, but I heard there was a healer trying to do something about this plague and…"
"Yes, I've tried, but I can't get through to the thing, it seems there's a strange kind of elastic resistance, I've never encountered it before."
"Well that's a familiar pattern for minor Talents in all fields, a sort of flexible countering force to the operation. That's what I've been working on. There is….there was a quite powerful telelocator living here in Shiloh, an eccentric old bird, but we were working together….."
"You said 'were'."
"Yes."
"The Rictus."
"Yes."
"My sympathies."
"Thank you. Well now I want you to have my research."
"You want…"
"I have it, early stages, but it's certain."
Dral noticed now, for the first time, the characteristic curl of the fingers which presaged the onset.
"I don't know what to say…."
"Just use this if you can" he handed over a data crystal.
"But it's not without danger, I've only tested it on myself and tho' I got results it really took it out of me. And I'm only a level 2 kinetic, healing's even more draining…
"And I'm a level 17 healer."
"Exactly, no telling what would happen, we need tests, we need time, we need resources…."
"None of which we have."
"I know."
"Why don't you work on it with me here, and when…..well, when…."
"Deal"
He extended his hand again.
"Thank you."
They shook again.
"Thank me when you're cured."
They worked tirelessly, running simulations, limited trials, rejigging formulae and ministering to the dying…but still they died…
Within five turns Dr Lillian had developed the full symptoms of the Rictus, two turns later, despite Dral's efforts, he was dead…. And still the Rictus claimed its victims….so many…..and still they came.
Dral was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally drained by the enormity of the suffering he saw. It wasn't right, some, himself included lived among the dying unafflicted, seemingly immune to the disease, while around them friends, colleagues, family members died. The Rictus took one and left the other, one brother lived, one died, mothers buried daughters, sons mourned fathers. Two twin infants were brought in, identical twins, except in one respect, the Rictus took one and left the other, never to know her lost sister.
"Enough" he thought. "No more."
Ralph's warning was clear, but the risks were worth taking. He made the serum and filled a vial.
'Pssshtt', the hypospray spread the nanomicrobes through his system.
"Now I need a patient."
He had plenty to choose from.
Marsi-qon was a young mother, expecting a new nestling, or she was before the Rictus, neither her nor her unborn child would survive more than a few turns.
Dral sat by her bedside.
"I'm going to try something, my dear, just relax and let me do all the work."
"Will it?"
"Shhh… I can only try…."
He spread his consciousness into her. His Talent felt, despite his tiredness, strong, stronger than ever, an immense wave of power waiting to be unleashed. Power beyond anything he'd felt before. He felt the Rictus and pushed. The usual bending elasticity gave before his force, but he had more now, he pushed further. Stretched beyond its limits the resistance finally gave with an almost audible 'pop'. His Talent didn't stop, another Rictus resistance, another stretch, another 'pop' then another, then another….He felt his power spreading out seeking the Rictus. And where it found it, pop, pop, pop, the plague dissolved into a seeming vapour to the backdrop of a susurration of sound. And still he spread, outward and onwards through the clinic the town, until his healing force covered the whole moon.
Back in the clinic, Marsi-qon felt the weakness fading, the tightness relaxing and opened her eyes.
In front of her gaze Dral –Kon-Tor was fading into translucence and beyond. Within seconds, he was gone.
"Thank you, Doctor."
Epilogue.
The Rictus in Shiloh, indeed all over the moon Vron-simar had gone as mysteriously as it came.
No more cases had been reported and those who had the disease were recovering from their ordeal.
In further news, eminent healer and prominent citizen, Dr. Dral-Kon-Tor has died.
It is assumed he was one of the Rictus' last victims.
A memorial service is planned.