Dark Matters_ Shadow of Heaven (Book 3) - Christie Golden [59]
He swallowed hard. "Okay," he said. "You've got yourself a deal."
He felt better when he left. It had been strange to be without a weapon on this planet, and downright unsettling to be without a combadge. A dozen times a day he'd find himself tapping his chest, trying futilely to communicate with someone. It had gotten so that the children teased him, lifting their right hands and touching their left breasts when they saw him.
And he was glad he'd persuaded Trima to take the combadge. He knew she hadn't wanted to, and frankly, he was furious that there was a need for her to do so. The Culilann ought to be safe. They were hurting no one. Grimly, Paris thought of his talk with Chakotay, about Earth's Ghost Dance and the fact that the more
technologically advanced group had felt so threatened by a less technologically advanced one that they had to round them up and, on occasion, kill them for good measure.
He was very much afraid that he was about to see the same thing happen here.
It was about then that he passed out.
"You've got to send a Recovery team after Paris right away," said Chakotay over his shoulder as the doctor and Ezbai were leading him out.
"That will be considered," said the Implementer.
"Considered? He's got no access to proper medical care, he can't even get the treatment I'm going to get. You've got to Recover him at once!"
"Implementer," said Ezbai, "I would be willing to lead a team-"
"What, and miss Paris a second time?" Chakotay saw Ezbai cringe at the criticism and his heart went out to the young man. It hadn't been Ezbai's fault that Paris was off in the jungle when the Recovery team had arrived.
"Chakotay is right," said Ezbai. He looked as surprised as the rest of them at his assertiveness, but continued. "We don't know how fast this cellular-I don't know what you'd call it, cellular transfer or whatever- is progressing. He is a stranger on our world and he may be dying."
"We can't get a team together," said the Implementer, "and besides-"
A strange beeping noise interrupted him. Grunting, he thumbed a control. There on one of the screens was the same black-and-white lettering as before, again translated for Chakotay's benefit: The Stranger Paris is ill Send Recovery Team as soon as possible. The Silent One.
The Implementer's ugly face looked even uglier in annoyance. "See?" yelped Ezbai. "Even our spy wants him gone!"
The Implementer sighed. "I suppose you are right, for once. Still, there is no time to get a proper team assembled. Everyone is on assignment."
"I'll go with him," said Chakotay.
"Absolutely not!"
"Let me check in with your doctors and see what they can do for me," Chakotay persisted. "Then let me go with Shamraa Ezbai. I know the Sumar-ka. They won't suspect anything if they see me. Perhaps I can fabricate a way for Paris to leave the village and then we can both depart."
Something seemed to break in the Implementer. He sighed heavily and ran his hands over his balding head. "We had order, we had structure. Now you come, Chakotay, bearing tales of dark matter and madness. We've got a missing Shamraa and a sick stranger and someone or a group of someones out there murdering Culils. It's all but spiraling out of control. Go, then. Take whatever and whomever you need, but return here as quickly as possible. There's too much going on for teams to be out now. Do you understand?"
Ezbai nodded. "Yes, Implementer."
"Thank you," said Chakotay. But the moment of honesty and softness had vanished, and the Implementer merely growled and waved a dismissive hand.
"There are a couple of people who were in the last patrol who might be willing to go out again," said Ezbai. "I'll see if I can locate them. You report to the doctor, and let him