Expendable - James Alan Gardner [43]
“And now you’re here.”
“Now you see me, soon you won’t.” His hand, lying across my shoulders, ruffled my hair for a moment. “Sorry to leave you on your own.”
“I’ll survive,” I said lightly.
“Make sure you do,” he answered, with full seriousness. “Make sure you do.”
“Do you think I’m going to kill myself? I can’t—I’m programmed not to. In the early years of the Explorer Corps, the Fleet had too high a suicide rate. Isn’t that a surprise? Explorers becoming depressed just because they’re unloved freaks, shunned by the regular crew and as expendable as toilet paper. Why would that bother anyone? So the Admiralty started protecting its investment by indoctrinating us. It made sure we died on official missions rather than choosing our own place and time.”
“I know how you’re programmed,” Chee said. “And I know people can overcome their programming. Maybe not the first time you try and maybe not the second; but eventually, you wear down the mental blocks. Determination is a powerful thing. But I want you determined to live, not determined to die.”
“Why?” I asked. “Living well is the best revenge?”
“No. The best revenge is getting back to New Earth and cramming the council’s misdeeds down its throat.”
“I’m a murderer. I can’t leave Melaquin.”
“God damn it, Ramos!” Chee roared. “You may feel guilty, but you are not a—”
That was when he had his stroke.
Suh
We were almost to the top of the ravine. A few paces ahead, the trees gave way to the meadow where we had landed. Off to the west, I could see the last thin yellow of sunset fading into the purple of night.
Chee slumped like deadweight, slopping off my shoulders and falling into the crackle of forest leaves. I was so busy looking at the sky, I didn’t react fast enough to catch him.
“Suh,” he said, face down in the leaves. “Suh.”
I knelt quickly and turned him over. Already, the left half of his face was dead. The Explorer paramedic course had talked about this, but it had just been words: Loss of control over one side of the body…a telltale symptom of stroke. But now it wasn’t a symptom, it was something that had happened to someone sprawled in my arms.
The right half of the face still had Chee in it. The left half was empty—unoccupied flesh, controlled by nothing but gravity.
“Suh,” he said urgently. His right hand grabbed my arm. “Suh!”
Last Wishes
“Admiral,” I told him, “try to be calm. I might have something in the first aid kit—”
He slapped his palm over my mouth…a fumbling clumsy swipe that would have hurt if he’d had any strength left. “Suh!” he shouted. “Suuuuh!”
I leaned back, just far enough to dislodge his hand. It fell limply across his chest. “Admiral Chee,” I said with choked self-control, “you have had a stroke. It has affected your left side, so it probably happened in the right lobe of your brain. Most people have their speech nodes predominantly in the other lobe, so there’s a good chance you can still speak if you relax.” I didn’t know if that was true, but I said it anyway. “Imagine you’re speaking with the right half of your mouth. Maybe that will help you focus.”
“Suhhhh…suuuhhh….” He pursed his lips with great effort, then tried again. “Suhhhhh….”
“Something about the sun?” I asked. “Sand? Soil? You’re sorry?”
His hand flopped across my mouth again. If he hadn’t done it, I would have stopped myself in another word or two. This was not the time for guessing games. The man had suffered a stroke thirty light-years from the nearest med-center. That was bad enough; but this was the start of YouthBoost meltdown—it would only get worse. And what could I do about it? Grab my scalpel and see if I could make it two-for-two?
“Suhhhh….”
He lifted his hand to point. For a moment, it aimed toward the ravine—south. Was that it?