ARTISTS: DO NOT PLACE ADS FOR ARTWORK IN MY COMMENTS. I WILL REPORT YOU! THIS MEANS YOU!
The former medical droid 11-4D fed a small vial of blood into the coagulation monitor in the small medical lab it had put together in an unused closet. He-—privately the droid preferred to regard itself as male, although the current master never called it anything other than "droid" and would certainly never consider or refer to it as having gender—had transported the master safely back to the Naboo Delegation apartment at 500 Republica, official residence of Chommel Senator Sheev Palpatine: the Sith lord Darth Sidious.
11-4D knew the master must be monitored carefully. Autoimmune hemolytic anemia had an unpleasant tendency to incite disseminated intravascular coagulation, and that would be terribly dangerous. The organic medics nicknamed it "Death is Coming" for a reason, and the master must never be allowed to suffer it again.
His packed cell volume had dropped by 3.269 percentage points, but then leveled out and was holding steady. Perhaps the entire cascade could be avoided this time. If the machine displayed normal clotting times, 11-4D could take his alarm circuits offline … this time, at least.
Sith suffered such strange medical problems. 11-4D considered the idea of some kind of preventative for the next Sith mission the master undertook. Steroids would be ideal, but the master hated them, complaining of prickly heat and bloating, and would probably refuse to take the prescribed doses. Too, steroids weakened the muscles and could increase the chances of sprains or strains from which it would be difficult to recover, a common problem of the Human over forty years of age.
Then again, they would help with the tendency toward rheumatoid flares. Perhaps just a light dose or two before the anticipated activity?
11-4D would have to consider the idea further. The master was certainly obligated to receive the steroids now, and in heavy doses, too. Perhaps he might concede the wisdom of a "Less now, none later" argument. Many natural and synthetic drug profiles existed from which to choose. 11-4D had just connected itself to the holonet to compare drug monographs when the annunciator chime sounded for the main entrance.
The master had furloughed his human staff, as he tended to do when feeling unwell, leaving only 11-4D to attend the door. He walked through the apartments, from the small residential wing the master actually lived within through the large formal rooms, hardly ever in use.
The main door slid aside to reveal the master's political consultant/mistress; 11-4D was a bit hazy on this last. The data on Human sexual behavior applied here at least half of the time. The other half of the time, 11-4D wasn't exactly sure what descriptor applied. As the only woman frequently in the house, she met the qualifier mistress in the droid's lexicon in more ways than one.
"Hi, 4-D," she said. "Is the master home?" She seemed well-recovered from her own illness of the week preceding. Her hair was down in long red curls, the way the master preferred it, and she'd come nicely dressed in a long, ruffled black dress with asymmetrical tiers of lace. She leaned in to look about; 4-D moved to block her.
"He is, but the master is unwell," the droid said. "I am uncertain he will accept company."
"Unwell?" Her chin pulled back; her dark eyes narrowed. "Poor Sheev. He didn't catch what I had, did he?"
"No, Madam, this is something entirely unrelated."
She grew quiet. "Well, how is he? Is he all right?" Her eyes flickered over his shoulder and into the room; her brow furrowed in a common Human expression of anxiety. "What 's wrong with him, 4-D?"
"I am not at liberty to say without the master's permission." The droid swiveled to block her again. The master had not thought to expect her so had left no explicit orders, but the fact that he had dismissed all sentient staff and simple observation of his demeanor led to the obvious conclusion that he would not wish to be disturbed.
Her russet brows rushed together to meet over her nose. "4-D. Let me in."
He swung right to block her once more. "The master does not wish to be disturbed."
Her gaze met the floor for a moment; her fists met her hips. Behavior template: Stubbornness. Behavior template: Unknown.
"Is there someone else here?"
"Only I, and the master."
"Then let me in." She sidestepped left and the droid followed. Dance template: the Sidestep.
"I am quite certain the master will be displeased."
"Is he asleep, 4-D?"
Currently the master sat at his desk in his study in the dark, but he was not asleep. 4-D was not programmed to lie unless specifically instructed to do so.
Regrettable, that. "No, he is not."
"Did he leave orders to turn me away?"
"He did not know you were coming, Madam."
"Then let me in." She turned to sidle between 4-D's long arms and the door. "Do not tear this dress, or I'll tell the master." 4-D weighed his options and elected to give up.
Sereine Lumisol strode through the quiet formal rooms, heels tapping, skirts rustling, and made her way to the residential rooms where the master sat, blearily trying to focus on a datapad and treating his eyes with steroid drops.
"Sheev, are you all right?" The mistress stopped short in front of the desk and crossed her arms.
"Droid," the master rasped. "I gave orders that I was not to be disturbed."
11-4D glided to a stop in the doorway. "Actually, master, you did not."
A testy sigh from behind the desk. Behavior template: Angry outburst forthcoming. An indistinct mumble: "I had to have."
"Zora, why are you sitting in the dark?" The mistress reached for the light fixture on the desk. Light seared across the room.
"Ah!" The master shielded his eyes with one hand. "Turn that off!"
"Sheev?" Her long curls swung forward as she stooped to look into his face. "Sheev, your eyes!"
The master ducked his head and shielded his face again. "Yes, my eyes," he snapped. "Turn that off!"
11-4D glided smoothly forward and complied.
"What happened to you, Eder?"
"It's called uveitis, it's autoimmune, I have drops for it." The master fumbled for the small bottle and held it aloft. "It will go away. Now, go home!"
But the mistress had spied his red, swollen knuckles. Her voice took on a different tone.
"Sheev!" Behavior template: Tenderness. "Your hands! What happened, my love?" She caught his hand in midair, drew close, lifted it to her lips. She breathed on, kissed, his knuckles. "Your hands are hot, Zora. What's the matter?"
The master growled and jerked his hand away. "Ah!" He cradled the hand to his chest. Behavior template: Pain. The mistress flinched in response. Behavior templates: Surprise. Hurt.
She crossed her arms again and spoke to him quietly. "Sheev, what's wrong with you?"
"The old name for it is rheumatoid arthritis. I'm having a flare. I have medication for it, and I will be all right. You can't help me. Go home." The master hunched miserably over his desk, one hand shielding his face again in the dark.
"Sheev," the mistress whispered. She stepped closer and put her hand on his shoulder. "I can stay. I'm sorry you don't feel well. Do you want me to make you some tea?"
The master exploded against the seat back. "I said, go home!" One hand swept the air in an arc. Behavior template: Contempt.
"I don't want you here, Sereine. Leave me alone!"
The mistress backed away two steps. A shiver shook her. She crossed her arms and rubbed them with her hands.
The master's voice dropped into the low register. "Go home." Behavior template: Lord Sidious.
The mistress pulled back and her head went down. Her skirt rustled as she slow-footed for the door.
She stopped in the doorway and turned halfway around, still hugging her arms, head down.
Behavior template: Deep thought.
She turned all the way around and lifted her head. "I'll leave you alone, Sheev, but I'm not going to leave you alone. You're sick."
The master did not move.
"I brought some work with me. I'm going to go sit in the kitchen." She waited another moment, then turned and walked away. Her heels tapped far down the corridor.
11-4D waited attendance on the master, who sat hunched over the desk, contracted into himself, unmoving.
Behavior template: Unknown.
11-4D turned away. He had data waiting in the lab.
Next ... Murder Three. These next four chapters may be a while coming. I need to step back and sketch them out.