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Epos (Maltia)
7 December 2355
Ethan’s 47th day on Tersain
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“Did you… really attack Jervis?”
Ehliana is staring at me, dumbfounded. Usually, the philosopher restrains herself from showing her reactions too openly, but right now she simply cannot manage it.
Embarrassed, I look away from her gaze. Ah, I shouldn’t have told her. I don’t even know why I confessed it…
“I know it wasn’t nice, raising my hands,” I say.
“In fact… no,” the young woman agrees, though in a calm tone. “… did he deserve it?”
“Maybe, a little, yes,” I mutter.
In the end, my “incident” will not require another hospitalisation, but I have still caused a bit of damage. Sitting on a bunk in the iatreion, I was letting Ehliana finish adjusting the splint on my broken arm, which had shifted because of the punch with which I struck Jervis. With her calm manner, the philosopher gently asked me how I had managed to make such a mess, and… it came naturally to me to be honest.
I don’t know—this woman has a strange effect on me at times, inducing me—even though we are not that close—to trust her, despite there being no particular reason to do so.
Curious. And dangerous, if she should turn out not to be truly worthy of trust.
“And why did you end up punching him?” the philosopher asks again, with not a trace of judgement in her attitude. “Not that I know you well, but it doesn’t seem like you.”
“… I don’t really know. The blood rushed to my head…” I begin.
Immediately afterwards, I stop myself. No… I feel that I am stating something inaccurate. I didn’t lose control… it was I who let it happen: rationally, I allowed my mental inhibitions to switch off. This because…
“I didn’t want things to go on the way he wanted,” I declare, meeting her eyes again. “It seemed to me that he was… exerting an invisible pressure, with his ambiguous behaviour and his brazen character, one I couldn’t oppose in a normal way. The situation was slipping out of my hands… and I didn’t want that. It was unfair… I had to rebel somehow, or I would have lost something I didn’t want to lose. Does what I’m saying make sense?”
“Broadly speaking,” the woman smiles.
“I know it wasn’t the best course. But in that moment, it seemed to me that if I did nothing… I wouldn’t have any other chances,” I add. “I had to force myself to act, no matter if it was in a less than optimal way… even knowing full well that I risked consequences. But it was precisely those consequences that paralysed me, placing me in a position of weakness. So I deliberately ignored them… an injustice to remedy another injustice, and set things right.”
“… so one can expect choices like that from you as well,” she comments. “Interesting…”
“… are you studying me?”
“Oh no… not really.”
The smile with which she says it is far too pronounced, as if, deep down, I had hit the mark, and she were both amused and embarrassed by it.
Better to leave it be. I’m not sure I want to probe more deeply into this mysterious way of hers. Something else concerns me more…
“… are you going to report me now?” I ask.
I know that Jim took the blame for the scuffle. Not that I like it, but in theory he did throw his “share” of punches too, so on paper he bears a portion of the responsibility. Still, I’m sorry that he is being punished alone, so I would be fine with being reported myself as well. In fact, it’s likely that Jervis has already done so.
… or maybe not? He too was treated here, yet Ehliana knew nothing of the truth. Strange.
“Oh, let’s see…” the philosopher says, lifting her gaze. “Mm… we are still talking about Jervis, aren’t we? It seems to me that now we both have a secret that concerns us and him.”
I blink, confused by such a remark. Then, I have a flash of insight: she is referring to when I witnessed the moment in which the rebel dumped her. Right… I hadn’t taken that into account.
With that, then, she means…?
“So… I don’t speak about what I saw that time, and you don’t report me?” I ask, to be sure.
“You’ve put it so coldly… it sounds like we’re holding each other hostage,” she protests, looking at me. “Think of it more as mutual trust.”
I have no idea what to reply. Deep down, I was half hoping she would report me, and now she is creating this situation in which… I don’t know, it almost seems as though this exchange of secrets is something nice, something I would ruin if I turned myself in.
What kind of psychological magic has this woman just hurled at me? I have to remember that, if only slightly, she is older than me: she could twist me around her finger more easily than I imagine.
What’s more… she would leave me with a smile. Because right now, I find myself smiling faintly.
Having finished adjusting my arm, she now walks away without adding anything else.
◊◊◊
With a few steps, Ehliana moves into a side room of the iatreion. There, after closing the door behind her, now that she is alone she raises a hand to her mouth and… starts laughing.
Jervis got punched. By Ethan, no less—someone you would never expect it from. It’s such a funny thing!
In the end… he has reaped what he sowed!
A little, the philosopher feels guilty for being so cheerful about such a thing. It’s not that the idea of violence and conflict appeals to her… not at all. Nor does she harbour any great resentment towards Jervis.
But… now it feels to her as though the world were, at least a little, more in balance than before. And that gives her a wonderful feeling.
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Epos (Maltia)
12 December 2355
Ethan’s 52nd day on Tersain
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One week after my discharge from the iatreion, the Epos is preparing to leave the industrial island where it is moored. It has remained there even longer than expected, in order to carry out a series of inspections and repairs; staying any further could be dangerous.
On the day of departure, I am suddenly contacted by Jim, who directs me to Archeos. The man is waiting for me at the iatreion.
“Why this summons?” I ask, as soon as I meet the old man.
“Something must be done about that,” the philosopher replies, indicating my splinted arm.
“In what sense?”
“We need to make you operational quickly,” the man explains. “So we will accelerate your recovery.”
“I don’t like this,” I say suspiciously. “I have the feeling that forcing the timing is dangerous. And besides, why all this haste?”
“We want to send you back on a mission.”
“I thought you would keep me back longer.”
“Recent events have forced Martin to reconsider his decisions. Come on, then…”
Well, would you look at that… and here I was thinking my situation would worsen after I got into a fight with Jervis. Instead, not only has nothing happened to me for some reason, almost as if he hadn’t reported me at all… but now I am even being reinstated.
Poor Jim… even though I was somewhat “nudged” by Ehliana, I still feel guilty about how he took responsibility on his own. I owe him a big favour.
Aimond Lacelet leads me into a small outpatient room. There is the same philosopher who covered up my assault.
“You want to use mayea, don’t you?” I guess.
“How perceptive!” Archeos confirms.
From what I understand, Ehliana here is the doctor most accustomed to using the mayea for healing purposes. Not that she works only with that—far from it… she relies much more on “traditional” medicine. But given that with the latter they have already done all they could, finding myself faced with this young woman immediately made me think that the only way to shorten the time is a “magical” recovery.
A pity that, given the fact it has not been used until now, I consider there to be excellent reasons for not resorting to such a convenient solution.
“Go on… tell me the contraindications,” I demand curtly.
Ehliana steps closer to me.
“Normally, one avoids using the mayea to heal,” she explains. “It is difficult to manipulate the symbols of the universe perfectly, and that is often unacceptable in delicate processes such as regeneration. But in this case, the advantages balance the risks.”
“Obviously, they’re not advantages for me, but for the Resistance,” I comment.
“Details,” Archeos downplays.
Just look at him…
“Details, my foot! Are we joking?” I protest, raising my broken arm. “Can’t I leave like this? My brain still works! You’re not thinking of sending me to fight again, are you?”
“Not that,” the old man shakes his head. “But it’s better if you can rely on a minimum of physical ability. As always, there are risks.”
Not insignificant risks, I presume, if they are worth this reckless healing. By now I no longer swallow the idea that the missions they send me on will turn out to be calm. They are the first to be aware of that.
“Don’t worry, Ethan,” Ehliana intervenes. “I’ll do a basic job: I’ll limit myself to forming the callus at the fracture. The bone won’t be in full shape, but at least you’ll be able to use the arm.”
I stare at her, doubtful.
“Can I trust you?” I ask.
She raises her hands. She doesn’t seem offended by my distrust, but her expression conveys a certain restrained pride.
“I consider myself fairly good,” she asserts. “It’s an operation I’ve done many times.”
I hesitate a little longer. Despite my guarded attitude, I have a strong desire to put the fractured limb back in order.
Reaching the moment of freeing it from the splint ahead of time would be really nice.
I hope I won’t regret it.
“All right, then—but be careful,” I concede.
“Good. Lie down on the couch,” Archeos invites me.
I was hoping for a bit more notice.
I obey the philosopher. Once I am lying down, Ehliana removes the bandages and the splint from my left arm. After examining the injury, she comments:
“The skin lesion is in pretty good shape. I can work on that too, along with the bone.”
“Will it hurt?” I ask.
Archeos hands me a little roll of cloth.
“Here!” he says. “Bite!”
“I’d prefer an anaesthetic, thanks.”
“Don’t joke! Why increase the risks?”
Damn antiquated medical technology… don’t they even have safe anaesthetic techniques?
“Let’s begin,” Ehliana warns.
I hurry to put the fabric in my mouth. I see the philosopher create mayeutic circles in the air, then let them descend onto my arm. I feel a sort of numbness as the sensitivity of the limb diminishes. It’s not like a proper anaesthetic, but maybe it will help.
“You’re too kind, Ehliana,” Archeos asserts.
“Don’t distract me, master.”
“If you inhibit his nerves during the operation, it’s obvious it will be harder for you to concentrate.”
“Archeos… don’t distract her,” I mumble, trying to speak despite the cloth.
More symbols appear, and lines of light form in the air near my forearm. They join together into a sort of luminous parallelepiped enclosing the limb. Ehliana moves her hands as if compressing that geometry, which shrinks until it includes only the fractured area.
More movements of her hands, and I begin to feel a burning sensation under the skin.
“Urgh!”
“Don’t move!” Archeos warns me.
I bring my right hand to my forehead, contorting my face as I try to control the impulse to pull my arm back. The burning intensifies for a while, until it becomes steady. Then, it turns into a pulsation.
“Well done, Ethan,” the woman encourages me. “Hold on a little longer.”
It takes at least half an hour to complete the operation. Not such a long time, but to me it feels like an eternity, with that discomfort on the edge of pain tormenting me every second. And to think that, apparently, Ehliana is even making sure I don’t feel it fully.
When the bone is fused and the wound closed, the philosopher makes the symbols of the universe disappear. The nerve inhibition also ends, giving me a fresh stab of pain.
Sweating all over, I spit out the cloth in annoyance. Ehliana rests a hand on my head.
“I’ve seen people do much worse,” she praises me with a smile.
“I don’t blame them,” I reply, pulling myself upright.
“Easy,” Archeos reproaches me. “Don’t strain the arm. Full recovery will still require several weeks.”
Carefully, I lift the limb, testing its mobility. Then my gaze goes to the spot where a sutured cut had been visible before. Ehliana has removed the stitches, because the edges of the skin are now joined together by… I imagine some kind of bodily secretion over which normal skin, or a scar, will later grow. Be that as it may, now it no longer looks as though the wound could reopen with a tear.
The mayea really is miraculous, I reflect. I wonder if it would work on Earth as well.
I have no idea what principle allows it to exist here, but if it is some physical law peculiar to Tersain, then it is possible that on my world it simply wouldn’t be usable.
I turn to look at the philosopher.
“When will you brief me on the mission?” I ask. “And above all… when is the departure scheduled?”
“In two days,” the old man replies. “As for the details, I’ll speak to you about them in private at the appropriate moment.”
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Amathia (Maltia)
Same day
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Fleet Admiral Ivor Jericho is in the study of his home. Ever since he was entrusted with the task of recovering the relics of the Prophets, he has been poring over a great many documents supplied by the higher-ups. Between consultations and investigations aimed at determining how to direct the search, a great deal of time has passed. Soon he will have to decide how to employ the considerable forces placed at his disposal to carry out the operations.
While reading the day’s correspondence, his eye falls upon one letter in particular. Seeing the sender, he decides to give it priority. He opens the envelope and reads the sheet inside. A half-smile appears on his face.
So, Ewan Pandromio has managed to extract some information from Cyrus Sanders.
It seems that his subordinate avoided classic torture, preferring methods better suited to his own abilities. The details are not explained, but drugs are involved to stimulate the prisoner’s mind, so as to bring the most significant memories to the surface. At that point, Pandromio had only to collect Cyrus Sanders’s thoughts. It appears, however, that the rebel put up a fierce resistance, managing to hold on to the information for almost a month.
Agathe Munro, from the fragment of Risingdeep. So she might be able to interpret the map.
Ivor immediately begins to organise an expedition. He will send Pandromio, but he intends to follow the affair closely.
