Chapter Seven

Verity stifled a shriek as a huge green walking-stick bug emerged from an inner office. Its pointy jaw made grinding noises as it clicked at her.

Seconds later, her translator kicked in. “You must be Verity Vale. I’ve been expecting you. I’m Dr. Twygg,” the bug said.

“Uh…yeah.” Politeness urged her forward to shake his outstretched hand. Spindly and super tall, he towered over her. With his bulbous eyes peering at her from above, she felt like a human under a bug’s microscope. “Nice to meet you,” she managed. Now I know how Brody feels.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve desperately needed a nurse. It’s been a one-man show.” Humor glinted in one eye. “I’m happy to share the spotlight.”

“I hope I can be of assistance. All my nursing experience involved humans. I’m not familiar with other species or alien technology and medicine,” she confessed .

“You will learn the tech. There are some similarities in anatomy and physiology and with disease processes and treatments. I’ll supervise and guide you with the others. And, of course, the infirmary has excellent diagnostic equipment.

“I’m most thrilled because of your experience with humans. That is something I lack. Until recently, there were no humans at Haven Ranch except for Maven, who is half Tracorian. But now we have several, and I had a recent case that puzzles me. I’m hoping you might have insight.”

“I’d be happy to help if I can.” She was flattered by his regard. He ranked above her in the pecking order.

“Is it common for humans to heal rapidly?” he asked.

“Depends on the individual human, and the particular kind of injury or condition,” she said.

“The human was gored by a horniger, suffering critical injury. Frankly, it should have been fatal. A lung, his liver, and one kidney were pierced by the animal’s antlers. In addition, he got thrown high into the air and fell from a significant height.”

“It’s a miracle he survived. But he recovered quickly, you say? How fast?”

“Within minutes—twenty perhaps. ”

“Twenty minutes?” Her jaw dropped.

Dr. Twygg nodded. “I rushed him into the RSU—the robotic surgery unit—but his organs had already repaired themselves, and the internal bleeding had ceased.”

“That is not common. In fact, it’s…impossible. Are you sure he’s a full-blooded human, and not just humanoid?”

“Human is what he listed on his intake document, but it didn’t occur to me to run a DNA scan until afterward, and he refused to participate in further tests. That’s his right, of course, but I was most disappointed to not learn more about your species.”

She frowned, recalling the limited number of humans on site. Besides Brody, the only other males were Fury and Jason Steel.

Fury was obviously, perfectly human. The man had no physical flaws. Tall, broad-shouldered, blond with baby-blue eyes and a cheeky dimpled grin, he resembled a celebrity heartthrob, the kind of leading actor who got the girl onscreen and off. Except, this time, he didn’t get the girl he wanted.

If the injuries were as serious as the doctor stated—and she had no reason to doubt his assessment—then the patient could not have been a full human. The patient had to be Jason Steel. Why would he disavow his alien heritage? No one would care. Everyone here was an alien to one another. Why keep it a secret?

On the other hand, everyone had something to hide. She’d kept the existence of her son under wraps. She wondered what skeletons Fury had in his closet.

“Are there nonhuman species that heal quickly like that?” she asked.

“None that I’ve encountered so far. I’m mystified as to why he’s not dead. Pleased, but mystified.”

“Was the patient Jason Steel?” Better not to assume.

“Yes, it was.”

I guessed right! Of course, she’d had a 50/50 chance. “I wish I could dazzle you with an explanation, but I don’t have one. It should have taken him weeks or even months to heal—and that’s with surgery. Serious internal injuries don’t self-heal like that. I would have expected him to bleed out without treatment.”

“Exactly what I thought. Your confirmation is very helpful. Thank you.” His insectile grin scared her a tad—he looked like he could bite her head off—but she knew he meant well .

The medical mystery Jason Steel posed made her realize she knew nothing about her future husband—not what brought him to Refuge or what he’d done for a living. She doubted he’d been a rancher on Earth. Focused on gaining his acceptance of Brody, she’d neglected to ask basic questions. While theirs wouldn’t be a real marriage, they would be cohabitating for a year. She should get to know the man she’d be sharing a bed with, even platonically—especially since her child was involved. What if she’d inadvertently married an axe murderer? I’ll talk to him tonight.

Thinking of Brody and Fury reminded her she needed time off. “Today is my first day, and I hate to ask for favors, but I must take my son to the mess for lunch. Starting tomorrow, he’ll eat a box lunch at school. Then, this afternoon, I need to leave a little early to get married.”

“I understand. You just arrived, and you must take care of business.”

“Thank you.”

The infirmary door opened, and two tentacled aliens slithered in, one of them leaving a trail of green slime. The other carried a severed, wiggling limb.

“This is a waste of time. I don’t need a doctor!” said the injured one. “Tell her, Doc!” The creature appeared to be peering at Dr. Twygg, but Verity couldn’t tell because it had eyes all over its face.

“It’s not a bad idea to minimize the blood loss,” Dr. Twygg said.

“I told you so!”

“Come this way,” Dr. Twygg beckoned and then looked at Verity. “You’ll want to observe. If this happens again, you can handle it on your own.”

A severed limb? She considered herself to be a damn good nurse, but reattaching body parts was beyond the scope of her training.

He focused on the aliens again. “Willa, George, this is my new nurse, Verity Vale.”

“Hello,” she said.

“Nice to meet you,” the aliens responded.

“How did this happen?” Dr. Twygg asked as he led the couple to an exam room.

“Willa slammed my arm in the conveyance door.” Multiple orbs glowered on George’s face.

“It was an accident! I thought you’d gotten inside.”

“Obviously, I hadn’t!” The patient crawled onto the exam table.

Dr. Twygg stuck his hands under a sterilizer, and she did the same. At least there’s one piece of equipment I recognize .

“This is a coagulator,” he explained as he pulled an unfamiliar machine attached to a swinging arm over to the patient. “It’s used to staunch bleeding and close external wounds instead of suturing or cauterizing.” He tapped a screen on the device. “You input the patient’s species from the pull-down menu. George is a polypus. You need the species name to adjust the concentration of the beam because what is a serious injury for one species may be minor for another.”

A robo scooted into the room, cleaning up the trail of blood.

“What if you don’t know the species name?” She had no idea what anybody was.

“Ask them.”

“Are there species not listed in the machine?”

“Many.”

“What do you do then?”

“Use your best judgment.” He pointed to a number icon on the screen. “You can adjust the strength of the beam here. The system recommends a one point five for George, since his injury is minor.”

“Like I said!” The patient glowered at his wife.

“Yeah, but now we have another kid.” Willa held the wiggling limb.

“And whose fault is that?” he countered .

“Put junior on the table, too,” Dr. Twygg said.

Junior? What the heck was he talking about?

Willa placed the wiggling, oozing tentacle next to her husband. With the coagulator, Dr. Twygg closed up the bleeding end of the severed limb before training the beam of purple light onto George’s injury. Within a minute, the bleeding ceased, and the wound had closed.

“The area will still be tender for a few days, so treat it gently,” Dr. Twygg said as George slid off the table. The doctor passed the severed tentacle to Willa. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks, Doc.” Willa cradled the squirming limb.

The tentacled couple left the infirmary, arguing about names.

Verity shook her head. “I don’t understand what happened.”

“Polypis reproduce asexually by fission. When they wish to have a child, they detach a limb. Their limb regenerates, and the severed arm grows into another polypus.” Dr. Twygg grinned. “The couple have five other children—all accidents. Four are adults now. One is still a child. Now they’ll have two at home. ”

She remembered the tentacled alien in the schoolroom. “Is their other child named Bob?”

“Yes, I think he is.”

“I assume both sexes can reproduce? They get a male if they use one of George’s arms, and a female if they use Willa’s?” She hoped she wasn’t being too nosy but rationalized her curiosity in the name of science. A nurse should understand the anatomy and physiology of the patients she might treat.

“Polypi don’t have genders. Or you could say they only have one. Despite their names, Willa is no more female than George is male.”

“Why Earth names?”

He shrugged. “They like them. Many people here use an assumed name.”

The idea had never occurred to her. “Is that necessary? I thought we were safe here. Untouchable.”

“You are.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s a matter of choice. Fresh start, new name.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief.

The robo wheeled over to sterilize the exam table.

“Let me give you a tour and an orientation while it’s quiet.” He stepped away from the table so the robo could work. “The other exam room is identical to this one. Both rooms have the same medical equipment.” He pointed out a diagnostic scanner, a bone knitter, and various monitors, and gave her a brief rundown on how they worked.

I hope I can remember all of this.

The clinic was larger than it appeared from the outside. Besides the two exam rooms, the clinic housed an operating suite with the latest robotic surgery tools, a recovery room, a sick bay with six beds, and an isolation chamber.

“Just one?” she asked about the latter.

“We use that for patients who insist on a private room. Fortunately, we’ve never had to deal with a communicable contagion requiring quarantine. If a widespread outbreak occurred, we would have to confine the patients to quarters.”

A small closet held miscellaneous medical supplies as well as a locked cabinet for drugs. Dr. Twygg had her peer into the viewer as he keyed in a code. “From now on, to get a drug, look into the viewer, and the cabinet will open.”

“If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask. For a while, I’ll have you observe then learn by doing. Eventually, you’ll be triaging the patients, treating minor incidents yourself, and assisting me with the more complicated cases. ”

“Other than impalement and severed limbs, what kinds of cases do you usually get?”

His chuckle sounded like a sawing noise. “Fortunately, those are rare. We see fractures, allergic reactions, infections, a few chronic conditions, and frostbite during the winter. The most common problem is an adverse reaction to food, either an allergic response or poisoning. Foods safe and nutritious for one species can be lethal to another.”

Oh my god! I didn’t think of that! She’d given no thought to the meals, letting Brody eat dinner and breakfast—insisting he eat. Why didn’t she taste-test it first? She could have poisoned her own son. “The food in the mess hall—”

“Is perfectly safe. Your species is coded to your pay card. They only serve what you can safely digest. Humanoids get one meal. Insectiles get another, etc.”

“Where are people getting the bad food, then?”

“They buy it. You can purchase groceries at the mercantile. Either they don’t know what they’re buying, or they’re adventurous and insist on trying alien cuisines. Maven keeps watch and steers them away from harmful foods, but she can’t monitor everything, and we don’t know how every single substance will affect every being. ”

They left the supply room. She liked Dr. Twygg’s unassuming manner and the respect he afforded her. The amount she had to learn was still daunting, but, once she got the hang of it, she would enjoy her job.

“Thank you again for letting me have the time off to take my son to lunch and to get married.”

“I’m happy to do it. I can manage alone for a few hours. How old is your son?”

“Six.”

“Little, then.”

“Yes.” She smiled. He would hate being called little, but he would always be her little boy even after he became a grown-up man. “Do you have a family or a…spouse?” She’d started to say wife, having assumed Dr. Twygg was male, but given Willa and George’s asexual biology, she shouldn’t assume.

“I am alone. I will never mate,” he said with an odd vehemence.

“I’m sorry.” She sensed the usual platitudes, don’t give up or I’m sure you’ll meet someone special , were not appropriate. Nor had he asked for her advice. Not everyone wished to couple up.

“I chose life over mating,” he said. “That’s why I’m here.”

“I don’t understand. ”

“I am a phasmid. My species mates by instinct. It is a biological drive that cannot be denied by either sex. It is the only way we can reproduce and propagate our species. It is not a choice but an imperative. When the female goes into heat, she exudes an irresistible pheromone. The male is compelled to impregnate her. Immediately after mating, the much larger and stronger female kills the male by biting his head off.”

“Oh my god!” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

“I had become a physician. I wished to continue to practice medicine and live .”

“How do they get men to sign up for that?” she asked, aghast.

He smiled wryly. “As I said, it is not a choice. After a man reaches maturity, if he encounters a female in heat, he cannot avoid mating no matter how much he tries. It is like the Earth moth to the flame. We are taught it is a great honor to give one’s life for the preservation of the species—and a dishonor punishable by death to avoid it.”

“Either way, you die.”

“Exactly.”

“How did you avoid it, then?”

“As I got close to the mating age, before I became susceptible to the pheromones, my mother helped me escape. Despite killing my father, she loved me, and she wished for her son to live. She got me off Phasma. I wandered the galaxy until Refuge opened up. I was one of the first refugees to come here, and one of the first residents of Haven Ranch. My home world considers me a coward, and I would be executed if I returned.”

She was still reeling. “That’s…heavy. Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

“Doc? Hey, Doc! I need help!” someone called from the waiting area, and they rushed out to deal with the next patient.