The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [69]
He turned away, looking toward the window. “So with all of the knowledge you have gained aboard Enterprise, can you really fault the idea that the God we were both taught about might exist- right alongside other planes of existence in which all Gods might be real? Or that in certain other realities, none of them exist?”
Trip wasn’t sure how to respond to such deeply metaphysical questions- or to the mind-boggling scientific revelation Phuong had just made- but he was saved from having to do so when a trio of Adigeons entered the chamber.
“I am Carver MoulMa’s,” the lead creature said- at least according to Trip’s translation device- his vertical mouth undulating as he spoke. “I will be the principal carver in your operation. I see you have been prepared, so we will proceed.”
A jolt went down Trip’s spine as he heard the words. He hoped that “carver” was just the translator’s way of saying “doctor” or “surgeon.”
“I trust our instructions remain clear,” Phuong said, a slight edge to his voice.
“Certainly,” MoulMa’s said. “When your operation is complete, you will be fundamentally indistinguishable from a Romulan.”
“Which means we’ll look like what exactly?” Trip asked.
The three Adigeons made some noises that sounded like glass being crunched beneath a hard boot heel. On one hand, Trip hoped he was hearing whatever passed for laughter on Adigeon Prime; on the other hand, he was worried at least a little that they might actually be laughing.
“You will look much like you do now,” MoulMa’s said. “Only with the superficial distinguishing characteristics of a Romulan rather than those of a Terran.” He then gestured back toward the direction from which the trio had come.
“Your financial arrangements are nonreversible. Your carving is scheduled to commence in selb dakkiwso. So, unless you wish to abandon your plans, we should proceed presently.”
“No refunds,” Trip said, aiming a wry smile at Phuong. “Guess we’d better stay and get our money’s worth.”
Phuong met Trip’s gaze steadily. Then he stepped toward the Adigeons. “I will be the first to be…’carved.”’
Trip had remained within the confines of the surgical theater’s observation gallery for as long as he could stand it, watching the three Adigeons and their various assistants “carve” into Phuong. Unlike the medical procedures he’d seen Phlox undertake in sickbay, this one seemed almost brutal, and was definitely far more bloody. He exited the room swiftly and threw up in what he hoped was a trash receptacle, then returned to his solitary viewing post, where he kept his eyes either closed or averted for the duration of the procedure.
After what seemed to be several hours, the assistants began wrapping Phuong in regenerative bandages. With so many surgeons and their assistants crowded around Phuong at the moment, Trip couldn’t see precisely what his fellow operative looked like, but he was heartened to note that no limbs appeared to have been discarded. Of course that doesn’t necessarily mean they haven’t attached a new limb or two, Trip thought with a small shiver.
Minutes later, the assistants gently placed Phuong into a hovering antigrav chair, then carefully pushed him out of the surgical theater and into an adjacent sterile white area that Trip guessed was some sort of recovery room. The patient was definitely conscious, but seemed unsteady. Bandages entirely covered his skin, making him look like the Mummy in one of Trip’s favorite series of monster films. With the addition of a hat and a pair of sunglasses, he would have been a dead ringer for Claude Rains in The Invisible Man.
“Can I talk to him?” Trip asked one of the Adigeons.
“You appear to be capable of speech,” the creature said, and the others made the crushed glass sound in response.
Now Trip was sure that this was the sound of Adigeon laughter. He did his best to ignore having made himself the butt of one of their alien jests.
“Tinh?” He kept his voice low. “Are you all right?”
Blinded by the bandages, a woozy Phuong