Archerfish Ch. 14
02:00 hours (UTC +10), 34°57'20.4"N 145°34'31.1"E
Day +7
It was the oddest sensation. Floating. Buoyancy. Weightlessness. Calm and peaceful. Slightly damp, but not unpleasantly so.
Then I opened my eyes.
All around me, as far as I could see, was white. Nothing but white. I was lying on my back, looking up at a white ceiling. The walls were white. White pipes ran along the edge of the white wall, near the white ceiling. I was lying in a white bed, covered with white sheets and a white blanket. There were white beds to my right and left. Even the air smelled . . . White. Clean. Antiseptic.
Ah, I thought: hospital. Wait – hospital? Was I dreaming? Had I been dreaming? Had I fallen overboard from the Hole, and been rescued? HAD I DREAMED THE ENTIRE THING?
My sudden awareness of my situation prompted me to thrash around, and in my thrashing, I managed to sit up.
A blue-haired woman in a slate-grey suit jacket and trousers leaned into the doorway.
"Ah! You're awake then? Subarashī! How are you feeling? Any pain?"
"Wahh!" Not a dream, then.
She walked over to my bed, along with Michele. She reached out and put her hand on my forehead.
"Hmm," she said. "Open your mouth, please."
"What? Wh-" She stuck a thermometer in it before I could finish my word. She then grabbed my right arm and held my wrist while looking at her watch.
"Um-hm. Um-hm." The thermometer beeped, and she pulled it out of my mouth. "Good, good," she said, looking at it. She turned around and produced a blood pressure cuff, which she then proceeded to strap on my bicep.
"Hey, wait a second, where-"
"Shh! No talking! You'll throw off the readings," she said, as she pumped up the cuff. I sat, quietly fuming, until she poked me. "And no pouting! That also throws off your readings."
I sighed, took a deep breath, and tried to think serene thoughts. My usual inner mantra of "Calm blue ocean" didn't seem particularly helpful.
"Good, Good". Then she unwrapped the cuff and put it on my right ankle, pumping it up again.
"Look, -" I started to say.
"Shh! We're almost done." Michele stifled a giggle at my predicament, and I satisfied myself by sticking my tongue out at her. She cocked an eyebrow at me and pointed to her rear end. That almost made me laugh. Almost.
The blue haired lady (Rigel, wasn't it?), finally finished her monitoring and hung her stethoscope around her neck. "Well, young sub, you're better than you have a right to be. Your reactor core temperature is running a little low; gave us quite a fright at first when we thought you were overheating and going to blow, until we realized you were nuclear. Your pressure hull integrity is almost back to normal, coolant pressure and reserves are weak, but better, and your main screw has been removed. Straightening never works quite right; you're going to have to grow a new one. We'll get you in a wheelchair, and then off to the repair baths with you."
"Wheelchair? Repair baths? Grow a new one? What exactly is going on?" I demanded.
"Cliff's Notes: we're on a ship," Michele explained. "You're in the med-bay of the JS Izumo, and we're on our way to Yokosuka. You were hurt pretty bad, and the repair ships have kept you in a coma so you could heal. Your fairies have been worried."
"Briareus, Akashi, and I all tended to you, but we've done what we could. Now it's off to the baths with you!" Rigel said, as she walked away, presumably to get the aforementioned wheelchair. Speaking of which . . .
I turned to Michele. "Wheelchair?" I asked.
She looked dismayed. "Oliver. . . Your leg was hurt really bad."
"How bad? Gone, bad?" Now I was getting worried.
"No, no," she rushed to reassure me. "It's still there, it was just . . . mangled. But look – "She reached down and yanked the covers off me. "See? Still attached!"
I did look. I was wearing blue pajamas with the left leg of the pants cut off. My left leg was wrapped in bandages, from the upper part of my thigh to just above my ankle. Also, the pajamas were dotted with little blue anchors, which inexplicably made me feel a bit better.
Oh, good, You're ready to go!" Rigel was back with the wheelchair. She and Michele helped maneuver me into it; I couldn't bend my leg, but the chair had upper supports that it could rest on. Then it was down the passageway and several turns to the repair baths.
We entered a large room, lined in tile and decorated with plants and mosaics. There were low wooden benches and small white cabinets placed around the edges, but it was dominated by a large swimming pool in the middle. There were smaller pools along the walls, to each side, separated by railings; eight in all. The room was warm and humid, with steam curls rising from the water. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus and rosemary, and a few other things that I couldn't place. The lights were soft, and soothing music was playing. Rigel wheeled me to the left, to one of the smaller pools, which had a bench by its side, and a handrail and stairs leading into the water. It was about eight feet across by ten feet long, and there was a wide tile bench that ran around the edge, so you could sit comfortably in the pool, or stand/float.
"Yoshi, kokoda!" she said, as she turned the chair around. "Let's get these bandages off, and you can get in the healing waters." She produced a pair of scissors, and began cutting through the wrappings, from my ankle toward my hip, on the outside of my leg. She ran her hands over my muscles as she did so, poking and prodding, and making brusque sounds of approval. "Alright then, if you'd take off your clothes, we can get you in the bath."
I unbuttoned and slid off my pajama top, feeling a bit self-conscious, and then stood on my right leg and put my thumbs in my waistband to push down the pants. That's when I realized I wasn't wearing any underwear! "Um. No."
"What do you mean, 'No'?" Rigel asked, surprised.
I could feel myself turning red. "No."
"You need to get in the baths."
I was getting redder. "No."
"Nazena no? Why not?" she was getting a little red herself.
"I'm not taking my bottoms off" I crossed my arms across my chest. I'm pretty sure my entire torso was red by now. She must have bought a clue at that point, because she turned to Michele.
"Would you excuse us for a few moments, please? See if you can find orderly Winston, that would be a big help, thank you." She watched Michele leave the room before turning back to me. "Okay. She's gone. Now Get. In. The. Bath."
"No." I said looking at her pointedly.
She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have to get in the water. These are healing baths. They have to contact your skin directly or they won't work right." She looked up at me. "Look, kid – I'm not interested in your 'torpedo'. I'm a repair ship. Parts are parts. And if you ever want to walk on land or swim again, you will Get. In. The Damned. Bath!" She glared at me one last time, and then turned to walk over to one of the cabinets.
Grumbling, I shimmied out of my pants and hopped to the rail. I held on for dear life, and slowly lowered myself into the pool.
The water was warm and soothing. I situated myself along the wall, where I could see the rest of the room, and sat on the ledge, leaning back against a conveniently placed cut-out for my head. The water churned slightly, so it wasn't quite transparent. That made it easier when Rigel came back over with some towels.
"Here", she said, placing them on the low bench next to the tub. "These are for later. You are to stay here for a few hours. Relax, sleep, listen to the music, whatever. Just stay put until I come back to get you. Do you think you can do that?" Her face softened a bit. "I know you've been through a lot, and this is all strange and new, but you've got to work with us, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am." I replied, suddenly feeling very tired and a bit foolish. "I'm sorry."
"Not to fret," Rigel replied. "Just heal up, okay?" and with that she was gone.
I leaned back again, and listened to the soothing music. Once I was certain I wouldn't slip under the water, I relaxed, and before I knew it, I drifted off to sleep.
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