Chapter 46
The best that we can do is to be kindly and helpful toward our friends and fellow passengers who are clinging to the same speck of dirt while we are drifting side by side to our common doom.
- Clarence Darrow
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Scrambling in the dark for a pulse, Harper brought his head up sharply in the doctor's direction. "Is he –?"
"No," Dr. Kesler cut him off before he could finish the sentence. "He's resting now. The nanos are doing their job."
Harper breathed a huge sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. His over-sensitive ears had picked up the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.
"Doc," he whispered urgently as he tried to move quickly out from under Twig, "someone's coming."
Roughly – there was no time to be gentle – the doctor pulled him away from the boy. "Thank you for your help with the IV, Mr. Harper, but you should be resting. You're still too ill to move," he said loudly. "Don't worry, son, Twig seems to have taken a turn for the better, as I hoped he would. The child is still weak and will need more care, but should be able to return to work eventually…"
Gritting his teeth to keep from crying out at the sudden, forced movement that jarred his already nauseous body, Harper steadied himself against the barrack wall with an elbow and tried to control his breathing, falling back on long buried talents from years spent on Earth in hiding. He zoned out the doctor's loud, steady cover story and focused on the sounds around him. He could hear the footsteps stop just outside the curtain, but it wasn't brushed aside. The steady, healthy breathing told him it was a Nietzschean standing there, listening, observing, waiting…
It was like an unrecognized contest, a "hear-down" if you will. Genetically-enhanced ears versus necessity-enhanced ears. Who would slip up first?
Twig moaned a little and Harper felt the doctor tense, but his steady stream of false conversation never faltered. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Harper heard the figure outside their curtain move on, apparently satisfied with what he heard without having to look. Still Harper waited at least another minute just to be sure.
"He's gone," the engineer whispered at last, relief and exhaustion in his voice. He actually physically felt the doctor sag next to him. Silence reigned for several minutes while they pieced their nerves back together, then the old slave forced himself back to work.
Harper listened as the other man settled Twig into a more comfortable position, propped up slightly to ease his breathing, then untangled the IV and tucked the blanket firmly around the boy's thin frame.
"Now, it's your turn," Bartholomew said, turning to the young engineer. Harper noticed right away that the disapproval was back in the doctor's voice. Apparently his escape from bed hadn't been forgotten. "Are you all right?" the man asked, referring to his less than gentle shove earlier.
"Yeah, peachy," Harper replied with a forced grin.
"Smiling won't stop the lecture, son."
"Dang," he grumbled, but it was mostly for show. Weak and shaky, he let the doctor maneuver him back onto his mattress and gritted his teeth as the IV was withdrawn and replaced in a new, less-abused vein.
"From now on, stay in bed means stay in bed, understand?" Dr. Kesler commanded. "I can't keep putting you back together so stop pressing your luck."
Thoroughly chastised, Harper nodded.
"How are the hands?" the other slave asked, surprising Harper with the change of subject and the return of warmth to his voice. Just like his blindness, he now sometimes forgot that his hands hadn't always been crippled and in constant pain.
"They're fine," he said shortly, not wanting to talk about it since there was nothing either of them could do. "Those nanos you gave me worked…" Harper trailed off as something ran through his mind suddenly, catching long rusty creative wheels.
"Mr. Harper," Dr. Kesler said, sitting down on the mattress beside the engineer. His voice was suddenly serious, and it drew Harper back from his mental musings for a moment.
"What?" he asked, hesitantly.
"There's something I have to do. I don't want to, and I've been avoiding it as long as I can, but that scare just a moment ago reminded me I can't put it off any longer. If that guard had opened the curtain and seen you…"
"Do what?" Harper asked again, starting to get freaked. Then he heard the familiar clank of metal on metal.
"I was supposed to put these back on last night, son, but I couldn't do it, and now we've run out of time."
"Oh, is that all?" Harper said with a small laugh, holding out his wrists. "Slap 'em on, Doc. No biggie."
The doctor laughed too, but it sounded rather hollow as he gently took hold of one of his arms. "You know I hate doing this, don't you?" he asked again, carefully unwrapping the bandage from around Harper's sore wrist.
"Doc, right now I'm warm and lying on something soft. I actually got hot food to eat today, and a day without being whipped or yelled at. To top it all off, Twig's gonna be all right and you didn't get in trouble. A little thing like you putting the stupid chains I'm already used to back on is not gonna ruin my life, okay?"
"I see why you survive," Doc Barty replied after a moment, taking off the other bandage and sliding the familiar coolness of metal into its place. Despite his words, Harper couldn't hide the small flinch as they clicked closed and his hands were trapped once again. "I honestly can't understand why my master keeps these on you. No other slaves have ever been kept in restraints inside the camp," the doctor continued, sounding upset and troubled.
"Not Adoniram," Harper corrected tiredly, "Felix. Doesn't like me much…thinks I'll run away again…" He gave a hollow, dead sort of laugh. "So, Doc," he said, trying to distract himself from that unpleasant subject, "tell me something. Why are you even here? I mean, how often do you actually get to offer help to us grunts?"
The doctor adjusted the heavy manacles and then pushed the engineer's hands gently down before he replied.
"It depends on Andoniram's whims," he replied softly, sadness tingeing his voice. "Sometimes I'm asked to treat slaves with aliments as simple as cuts and bruises, and sometimes I must stand by and watch as others are tortured to death. Or worse, die from something as curable as the flu, knowing I could help but aren't allowed."
"Why do you keep trying?" Harper asked, subdued.
"How could I live with myself if I stopped?" the doctor countered. When Harper didn't answer, Dr. Kesler turned it around. "And why do you keep trying, Mr. Harper?"
"I don't know," Harper replied honestly. "Too darn stubborn for my own good I guess."
"Or perhaps you have people worth struggling for?" the man said as he got slowly to his feet, his knees cracking.
Harper's head turned instinctively toward the mattress next to him even as his mind flashed to thoughts of Dylan, Beka, and the rest of the crew. "Maybe," he muttered, wondering if that feeling in the pit of his stomach was the beginnings of a renewed will to survive and tell the Niets where to shove it. He sure hoped not, just when he'd made peace with this whole dying slowly thing. That would just be annoying.
The old doctor patted his good hand affectionately and then turned to leave. "Hey, Doc?" Harper called out, dragging his mind back to the present and remembering something important. "Do you use nanobots often?"
"As often as I'm allowed."
"Are they activated before or after they enter the body?"
"After. Why?" His voice was puzzled.
"Nothing… Just wondering."
"Enough wondering, more sleeping, Mr. Harper."
"Gotcha," Harper replied distractedly, his brain already a million miles away.
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Sometime later, he had no idea if it was day or night, Harper awoke from the most restful nap he'd had in a long time to find that he wasn't alone. Small, rough fingers were gently tracing the edges of the cuffs locked on his wrists, tugging him back to awareness. He realized that at some point while he slept, Twig had crawled over and curled up right next to him, pressed against his side.
"Hey there," Harper whispered gently to let the boy know he was awake.
"Hey," Twig answered. His voice broke the stillness around them, sounding quiet and solemn. "They put them back on," he added sadly, stating the unchangeable as his fingers continued their soft circles around the chains on Harper's wrists.
Harper turned his head in the direction Twig's voice came from, wishing he could still put his arm around the boy. "Yeah," he answered, surprised that the child had even noticed their absence considering how ill he was.
"I'm sorry," Twig whispered.
"It's all right," Harper lied. The truth was, despite his flippant words to the doctor earlier and his casual denial to Twig now, he hated having those chains on his hands. Except for the precious two days spent in this hospital barrack with them free, his hands had been bound in one way or another since the moment they were first captured back on Sommer's Drift, all those long, long months ago. It got old really fast.
"You feeling better?" Harper asked his small friend, changing the subject.
"A little," Twig replied.
"You sound better," Harper told him. And he did. The harsh breathing had evened out and though he could tell the boy was still fighting pain, he didn't sound ready to give up anymore.
"That man, the one you call Doc, did he fix me?"
"As much as he can," Harper answered carefully.
"He's nice."
Harper smiled for real. "Yup, he is, but he won't like it if he catches you out of bed… Might get a tad grouchy… Believe me I know! Better scoot back over there."
"Okay," Twig replied. Harper could almost hear him smile and a huge weight seemed to lift from the engineer's chest. The little boy slid back to his own mattress and, as they lay there in comfortable silence, Harper found he sorta missed the warmth of Twig being next to him.
"Harper?" Twig asked suddenly. "Who's Colleen?"
Abruptly, all breath left Harper's body in a gasp. "What?" he choked out.
"Colleen," Twig repeated. "Sometimes when you sleep, you call for them. And for Beka, but you've told me who she is."
Harper felt…he didn't know what he felt! He was in shock and for a long time he couldn't answer as his eyes misted over and his throat closed up. Finally, he forced his tongue to work. "She was…just a girl I used to know, Twig," he said softly, turning his face away to hide the small drops of water leaking out of the corners of his eyes.
"Was she on the Maru with you like Beka and Trance?" Twig continued, oblivious to Harper's distress.
"No…no she wasn't," the engineer whispered.
"Okay," Twig replied gamely. His voice sounded tired again and he fell silent for some minutes. "Can I hear more about Jack?" he finally asked.
"Yeah, sure," Harper gulped, grateful for the change of subject as he tried to collect his shattered composure. "Where did we leave off?"
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"Hey, Doc?"
"Yes, Mr. Harper?" the older man returned, his hands not pausing as they tied off the bandages. Twig was sleeping deeply on his mattress next to them, oblivious to their conversation and his health finally starting to show some improvement, so the doctor had taken a moment to steal a look at Harper's abused feet. The young man's socks, so strangely and graciously given to him, were almost worn through and pretty soon his feet would once more be at the mercy of the harsh ground. Harper hadn't said anything about it, knowing he was lucky to even be allowed this recovery period and the treatment the doctor had been able to offer, but Dr. Kesler had noticed anyway. Before the engineer was once again dragged from his care and forced back to work, the doctor wanted to make sure his feet were as protected as he could make them.
"Can I ask you for a favor?" Harper said, tilting his head to one side as he listened to the other man work and tried to use the sounds to picture his actions.
"You can ask, son, but I can't guarantee I can do it. You know that…"
Harper smiled a little. "Don't worry, Doc, I don't think this one will get the Ubers breathing down your neck."
The doctor set the foot he was doctoring back down on the mattress and gently tucked it and the other back under the blanket, arranging the cumbersome chains. "What can I do for you then?" he asked, settling down at his side.
"I was just wondering…I don't really need to know but…well… What does Twig look like? I know it's a stupid thing, but it really bugs me not knowing about people, especially him."
The doctor laughed softly. "No, it's not a stupid thing. It's a very natural thing to wonder. He's a very sweet little boy, actually, which is amazing considering that he's grown up here."
"Well, I know that, Doc," Harper said, rolling his blind eyes. "I was thinking more along the lines of eye-color, buck-teeth…that sorta thing."
"I know, Mr. Harper," the doctor teased with a smile. "Well, for a start, he's quite small for his age, as I'm sure you've figured out. He hasn't exactly had the chance to have proper nourishment. And his hair is shaved off, like the rest of you, but, judging by his eyebrows, if it were allowed to grow I'd guess it would be a dark brown. His eyes are a deep brown as well and they appear huge against his pale, dirty skin. And would you believe, under all that dirt, there are freckles, scattered across his nose and cheeks? I discovered them when I gave him his bath."
Harper laughed lightly. "Of course he has freckles. It would be just wrong if he didn't have freckles." For the first time, the mental image of Twig that lived in his brain started to flesh out. It was nice.
"Anything else you'd like to know?"
"No, I'm good now. Thanks, Doc."
The doctor patted his leg in a fatherly fashion and then stood up. "Then I had probably better get back to work. You…just rest."
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"ON YOUR FEET, MULE!"
Harper jerked painfully awake at the harsh words yelled right in his face. His eyes flew open in surprise and he found himself being hauled roughly to his feet by the chains around his wrists.
"You've lain around too long, lazy trash! You're healthy enough now, no matter what that Kludge crack says. Time to go back to work!"
The IV was ripped harshly from the back of his hand as Harper struggled to get his sleepy wits about him and his feet underneath him. He heard Twig whimper slightly in the background and mentally willed him to just stay quiet and fly unnoticed under the radar.
The truth was, if it hadn't been for the shock of being dragged so suddenly out of sleep, he really wouldn't have been all that surprised. He'd been expecting to get the boot for some time now, knowing Doc Barty couldn't justify keeping him there for much longer. Six days of slave sick leave with food was pushing all known Nietzschean limits. And he was ready. Not ready to go back to the toil and pain and grind of the mines, never ready to go back to that, and not anxious to leave Twig behind but at least knowing he'd be okay, but ready to see Dylan again and let him know they were alive. He was pretty sure the big guy was in full out panic/self-reproach mode and needed to be kicked out of it. And, except for the lingering, pesky headache, Harper actually felt physically better than he had for a long time.
So instead of protesting, Harper just gritted his teeth and kept his mouth shut while the Uber he didn't know man-handled him through the hospital barrack by the back of his shirt, a small trickle of blood itching as it ran down the back of his hand and dripped on the floor. They stopped at what he assumed was the door.
"I'm checking your patient out, Kludge. See that he gets to his barrack," the guard spat, tossing Harper on the floor in a careless heap before walking away.
"Not big on filing proper forms and documents around here, are they?" Harper joked ruefully once the guard was gone and Dr. Kesler was helping him back to his feet.
"Ah, no," Bartholomew agreed. "Come on, let me stop that bleeding and then get you to your barrack before he comes back. And don't worry, I'll watch over Twig."
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With an extremely weary sigh, Dylan dumped the rest of his watery soup on the ground and stood up to rinse off his dishes. He knew he should eat it, no matter how bad it tasted, but he had no appetite now. There was just no point…to anything anymore.
He was the universe's biggest failure. Why should he worry about eating crummy food just to stay alive in a crummy prison as a crummy slave knowing he'd been unable even to protect two helpless kids?
And, if you got right down to the heart of the matter, he was lonely. He never thought he'd say it but he missed Harper. A lot. Twig as well. This place could get to you fast, suck out all your will to live in just a few short hours of back-breaking drudgery; it took talent to survive. Maybe Harper had been right; he really wouldn't be able to survive as a slave without the young man around, "watching" his back and keeping him grounded and sane.
There was a strange buzz in the air of the barrack when Dylan entered to try and get some sleep. Simon, Ethan, Dakin, and Peter, along with quite a few others were crowded excitedly around his pile of straw. Before he could ask what was going on, Peter saw him and nudged the others. Bodies quickly parted leaving a clear view to his bed.
The captain stopped short in shock.
Sitting on the old, familiar, musty straw, Harper heard the clank of chains and raised his head, smiling slightly. "Hiya, Boss," he said softly.
The room around him fell into complete silence, as if holding its breath.
"Hey, Harper," he finally heard, Dylan's own voice quiet and just a tad shaky.
"Good to hear your voice again," Harper said after a minute, struggling to his feet.
"It's good to see you again. I thought they had kil – I was…worried about you. You look better," the older man said, awkwardly.
"Smell better, too," Harper quipped with a grin, trying to downplay the emotion. "Got the hospital special full-body sponge bath while I was there. Shame they had no pretty nurses…"
Without warning, Harper suddenly felt Dylan's hands on his shoulders and, despite the chains, found himself pulled into a bone-crushing, back-pounding hug by his stoic and aloof captain.
"Oof," he muttered as the air momentarily left his lungs. More than a little surprised and embarrassed, he tried to return the favor with his good hand, not at all sure what to do in a situation like this. "Um, thanks, Boss. I'm okay, really…" he added. "You can let go now…"
The room around them exploded in applause and laughter as the other slaves expressed their excitement and delight. Dylan released him and stepped back while Harper blushed furiously.
"Sorry, Mr. Harper," the captain said sheepishly, his voice still heavy with suppressed emotions. "I won't do it again. I just…well…it's just been a long week."
Harper grinned as he nodded. "Oh, yes it has."
"Good to 'ave ya back, Seamus," Peter said, squeezing his left shoulder as their small group of friends closed in around him.
"Hey guys!" the engineer exclaimed and then smiled through several minutes of greetings and careful pats on the back or shakes of his hand. "Twig asked me to tell you all hi," he said when he could get a word in. That brought another round of cheering from the group.
"You mean he's okay?" Ethan and Dylan breathed at exactly the same time.
Harper's smile died a little. "He's alive and getting better," he answered, "but he'll never be as strong again," he added sadly.
"He's alive," Simon said solemnly. "That's what matters."
"Yeah," Harper agreed, forcing himself to smile again. "Doc should let him go in a few days. In the meantime, you guys gotta help me think of some more stories. He used up all my supply this last week. I even had to resort to the tale of Jack and the Three Little Perseids."
Around him, everyone laughed and for the first time in a long while, Harper's spirits rose. He was still blind, he was still crippled and in pain, and he was still a slave, but he wasn't alone. In the last half-year, he'd relearned how to appreciate the little gifts in life; he would take his joy wherever he could. Besides, this little adventure had given him several rather interesting things to think about… He smiled again and let his friends hammer him with questions, asking a few of his own in return and just generally enjoying their companionship
Well into the night, the good spirits continued in Barrack 6B. One of their own had cheated death and the Ubers and come back against all odds. That was worth celebrating.