After Rashel disappeared, we hurried to the hardline, exiting just as Rashel had just been thrown down the sewer. Lock

hurried to the cockpit, while I ran to the hatch with the others, held on as the ship lurched and rolled. It seemed an

eternity before it opened, and a claw reached down to pick up a naked, bedraggled form. I willed myself not to, but my eyes

flicked southwards. Definitely not 5 inches, before Niobe wrapped him in a blanket and whisked him away. Sparks docked the

ship, and the lurching stopped.

Later, the rest of us were in the Mess Hall. Sparks was washing the dishes. I had offered to help with the dishes, but

Sparks had told me to tired since I had to be "exhausted from my first recruiting mission." He was right, and before I could

protest I promptly walked into the edge of the table, banging my knee hard. Sparks smirked, told me to sit. So I sat on the

edge of the bench, picking at my hair elastics while Lock and Bella drank sports mix and played chess in the flickering light

of the dying lamp. It was a beautiful set, ebony black and ivory white, knights with combed manes, kings with the crosses

painted gold. It was antique, one of the many rarities Locke gave Niobe on Zion leave, among others. Perfume, hairties,

books, now this chess set. They were meant for her, and only her. But Niobe never wore makeup, used barrettes instead of

ties, barely had time to read, and chess could only be played with two. So Bella got hold of the makeup. I got the hairties.

And the books and chess set placed in the mess hall for free time fun. I liked chess, the clarity of the rules, the

crispness of the strategies. It was a welcome break from the pandemonium we lived in, though tonight I was too tired to

play.

"Hah!" cried Bella, "check."

Lock smiled, moved his bishop.

"Never announce check with vanity."

Bella grinned.

"Right, guess you win." She wasn't always such a bitch. Just when she was talking to or about me. Other than that, she was

actually alright, a good soldier, dilligent worker. Her humor wasn't all that bad either.

"Good job with the recruitment," said Sparks as he sat down, the dishes dried and stacked neatly in the cabinet.

I was too tired even to shrug, just nodded, rubbed my temples before letting my head drop onto my arms.

"Tired huh?"

"Mmm…" I just might fall asleep in the mess hall.

The door creaked open.

"Nausicaa?"

I jerked up. Niobe.

"I want you to come with me."

"Now?" Sparks.

"Yes, now."

I got up, picked my elastics off the table, followed Niobe down the hall.

"What?"

"Rashel. He's your charge. I'm going to teach you to be reponsible for him."

"So I have to help rebuild him, train him, all that jazz."

She smiled crookedly.

"That'd be right."

I flipped my hair into a pony tail, hooked my bangs behind my ears, before following Niobe up the ladder. Then down a

walkway before reaching a door, slightly bigger than the rest of the doors. But still a door.

The medbay was cold and well lit, a stark contrast from the mess hall. I had to blink several times before anything came

into focus. Rashel lay in the middle, on a surgical table encased in perspex. He reminded me of the time I went to the

morgue to identify the corpse of Rafaela. They had put ger in a cabinet, covered her with a sheet. I still remember the tag

on her toe. 14253. 14, the unluckiest number in Chinese superstition. 4 sounded like death. And 10 sounded like sure.

Fourteen meant sure death.

"Ghost, Nausicaa will be your assistant in this. Teach her. I expect her to at least know how to rebuild muscles by next

week."

I caught on quicker than I thought I would. The sterilizers and the gauze, the scalpels, the miasma of needles not too unlike

that of acunpuncture. I worked day and night with Ghost, from lights on to lights out, and then some more, when the ship lay

silent as a tomb and we had to worked by the light of emergency flourescent tubes. For the most part, Rashel lay in his

plastic coffin, I learned to get used to the sight of his member.

By the end of three weeks, I had learned to rebuild most of external muscles, and was rebuilding Rashel's arms while Ghost

did the more delicate procedure of his eyes.

"Ghost?" I asked one night when we were both working on his chest.

"Hmm?"

"How long have you done this?"

"Long enough. I started off a medic's assistant. Then Niobe got the Logos and I joined."

"I see," a pause, "how many mes have you trained?"

"You? None. Medic assistants. Quite a few. Not on the Logos. Mostly back in Zion. I help out at the Academy."

"How are they like?"

"Who?"

"The medics you train."

"Most of them are freeborns. Helf come because they need a job and the academy is free. The other half come because of

promises. Dead brothers, cousins, fathers. A very slim proportion because they want to."

I didn't have to ask why. How could any freeborn stand to look at us, the Matrix born, the illusioned. We were there to

remind them of the history of our kind. why they couldn't come out of hiding, why they couldn't breathe, why the sky was not

sky but a black burned mass. Our cruelty. Our callousness. How could anyone stand to be reminded day and night of their

sin?

"Have you ever trained a Matrix born?"

"No. Never had to."

"Why do you have to now?"

"Because Niobe told me to."

Or was it because the living were so unwilling to help others live that they'd have to find the dead to do so?

At this point, Rashel's eyes flickered open.

"Kaesa?" He whispered. I rolled my eyes.

"Nausicaa." I saw the hint of a smile on Ghost's lips, shot him a look.

"Where am I?"

"Shh," the gentleness in my voice surprised me. For a second I thought I heard Rafaela. I touched my hand to his cheek, knew

it would feel cool, "go to sleep Rashel. There's plenty of time for that."

For a long white, I practically lived in the med lab, only tearing myself away to take a quick sip of water (alcohol was noy

permitted for medics) and a bowl of slop. Core work was left to Bella and Lock, both of them more than thrilled to have the

chess set and sports mix all to themselves. I hadn't talked to Trinity in weeks. And I was afraid I'd forget how to decode

the Matrix. The med lab chair seemed to be the only thing I had ever slept in. Poetry was nonexistant.

Finally, Ghost declared Rashel fit enough to be taken from his case and moved to his own room. Sparks helped Ghost in this.

I was given the day off, and slinked gratefully to my room, read more poetry and attempted to write. But my head pounded and

my hands were shaking from the effort to stop them for the past three weeks, and in the end I gave up, curled in my bed,

boots on, and fell asleep. I was too tired to dream.

I was woken by pounding on my door. I groaned, took off my shoe.

"Go away!" I yelled. I threw my shoe at the door.

"Nausicaa!" called Sparks.

"Nausicaa. Nausea...leave me the fuck alone." I pulled the threadbare blanket over my head.

The pounding only grew louder. I threw my other shoe at it, but it didn't die down. Jesus. I kicked the blanket off me,

groaned and half crawled my what to the door.

"What?" I hissed, when I opened it. Sparks better have a good excuse for waking me up. At lights out too.

"Thank God you're up," Sparks gestured down the hallway, "its Rashel. Dude, he won't stay still."

"And what makes you think I can make him?"

"He wants you."

As if on cue, a scream erupted from down the hall. Kaesa, Nausicaa, Rafaela.

"He's delirious right? Tell Bella or Niobe to pretend to be me and let me sleep."

Sparks lips dipped into a grin.

"Niobe says he's your call. If he wants you, all the better."

Shit, for a second I wished I hadn't found him. If Bella knew how I was feeling, she wouldn't be jealous of me.

"Fine. Fine," I grunted, "wait a sec."

I closed the door, dug through my drawer and dug out my thickest sweater. I threw it on, before reaching up and running my

fingers through my sleep tangled hair. Fuck the elastics. I needed all the heat I could get.

I followed Sparks to the end of the hallway, into the end room with the sloped roof and pipes laced across one wall. Rashel

was tossing and clawing.

"Kaesa!" he was screaming, over and over. Every now and then he choked on his own spit. His blanket was stained with vomit.

Ghost could barely hold him down, much less stick the IV into him. When he saw me, he nodded.

I knelt down, laid my hand on his forehead, his cheek, putting to work all I had learned from Rafaela. How she would touch

her hand to my face when I was sick. How she would wrap me in sheets dipped with cloves and lavender. How everything would

always be cool.

"Rashel..." I whispered, stroking his face. Had I been like this when I was unplugged, crying, screaming, tearing at my

plugs, my IV? Maybe. I'd have to ask Trinity the next time I was online. I thought of the nights I was out, when sleeping

felt like waking and waking like sleeping. Not too different from Rashel.

I leaned forward to whisper in his ear, at the same time gesturing for a new blanket.

"I know you're scared. I was too. But listen to me. You'll be alright. Hear me? You'll be alright..." my voice trailed

off. Ghost smiled. The IV needle slipped in.

"And its Nausicaa, stupid," I sat back against the wall, cold even through my layers. It was going to be a long night.

"Kaesa," he whispered, calming, "Kaesa..."