A7 Doctor Visit (Patreon)

The next chapter of Executioner's Gambit. This version is very similar to the previous. In fact, the first 2/3 are nearly identical. The last third, however, goes in a new direction.

A3 New Lodging
A4 Argument
A5 Introductions
A6 Under Your Tongue

———

Up on Level 4, the attractive older male gasped in shock when Tori opened the door. He rushed over and immediately apologized, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. You startled me.” He held out a paw, and Tori rested her weight upon it, then he led her slowly across the empty med bay to a reclining exam chair.

“It’s okay,” said Tori. Her heart beat quickly. She had such terrible memories now of being in a med bay, but if this doctor really could help her… More than anything, she was afraid to get her hopes up. “I’m getting used to it.”

“Sulfur exposure?” he confirmed, just barely touching the sides of her face with his pads. When she nodded, he added, “But not aboard this ship. I would have heard about it.”

“I just transferred here, yesterday.”

His fingers hovered as if he wanted to push her eyelids open farther but was hesitant to touch, so she opened her eyes as wide as she could. “I’ve never seen such extensive damage in a living patient … but your eyes? Your lungs?”

“Cloned replacements,” explained Tori.

“Marvelous! You’re so fortunate, but you’ve been so badly wounded. I suspect that with any additional exposure, not even cloned replacements would save you,” he said with a hesitant smile. Then, he took a step back and rested his paws on his hips. Unlike the usual horror she saw in people’s expressions, the doctor’s ears were up, optimistic. Tori’s heart fluttered.

“With your permission, I’d love to write an article—a series of articles, actually—about the long-term effects of such a profound case of sulfur poisoning.” Tori’s ears fell, but the doctor kept talking. “There’s been plenty of documentation about injuries this severe, of course, but I’ve never read a study about anyone who has survived it. Well,” he corrected himself with a shake of his head, “some has survived, but I’ve never read a case where the company had authorized reconstructive surgery—”

Tori sat up straight, composed herself, and tried to lock her self-pity away in the corner of her mind. “Actually, Doctor Amhela,” Tori interrupted, despite how he’d not gotten around to introducing himself, “I came here to find a surgeon who could fix me up.”

The doctor’s blue eyes opened wide, and his brown ears fell. “Oh… No… I’m so sorry. I don’t know who misled you, but”—he gestured helplessly at her scar-speckled coat—“there’s nothing I could do to fix this. The damage is just too—”

Tori’s heart pounded. Aziz had warned her that this wasn’t going to be easy, but for her to get what she wanted, she would have to pretend that it was. “Nonsense, Doctor,” she scoffed. “I happen to know that if anyone in the geroo fleet could perform a successful brain transplant, it’s you.”

His ears flattened, his expression puzzled, he stared for several long seconds before speaking again, and when he did, the words came slowly, his voice significantly quieter. “I suppose,” he said, “it’s physically possible to clone you a new body, and I might have the skills to transplant your brain into it. But in the past four hundred years, I could probably count the geroo who’ve survived the procedure on one paw.”

Tori swallowed. “I’m willing to take the risk, sir,” she said. “Dying on the table or getting a new body—either outcome is far better than living like this.”

“What you need,” the doctor explained slowly, as if she were a cub, “is counseling. Post-injury, you’ll need help accepting the limitations you now face. Let me schedule someone—”

“No!” she nearly shouted, angry about anyone doubting the path she’d gone through to get this far. She hated that she had to defend her decisions with each new person she spoke to. “What you need to do is listen to me.”

There was a longish pause before Amhela nodded. He rolled a stool up in front of her and sat, his paws folded in his lap while he waited for her to continue.

“Thank you,” she sighed. “I’ve been through therapy, and I’ve been through rehab. As I heal, I might be able to make some more small gains, but where I am now is more or less the best I can hope for for the rest of my life. I’m in chronic pain, but I can’t increase the dosage of my pain meds if I want to be conscious and coherent enough to actually live a life.”

She held up her ruined paws and demonstrated just how little she could bend her fingers. “I’ve lost so much dexterity that I can’t do my own job anymore. I can barely walk. I can’t smell or taste. It’s painful to hug someone, excruciating to be hugged, and going to the bathroom…”—she closed her eyes and allowed her head to hang lower from her neck—“that’s torture.”

Tori wiped away a tear with a paw curled into a hook. “Cubs cry when they see me, doc. I expected that, but I wasn’t ready for just how much it would hurt. Every. Single. Time.” She sighed. “I’ve been fortunate to fall into a job that can accommodate my limitations—such jobs are nearly non-existent aboard a gateship—but the one I have isn’t going to last. In months, or perhaps just weeks, this job will end. I’ll be unemployed, and you can bet that there won’t be another job for me to take.”

The doctor swallowed then licked his lips. He quietly repeated the words that every crew member knew, “Everyone works aboard a gateship.”

“Everyone works aboard a gateship,” she agreed. “When I can’t find work, the administrators will have no choice but to give me a big orange pill. No one is allowed to consume resources if they can’t contribute to the mission.”

Tori drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’m okay with that,” she said, “I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m on borrowed time. My mate accepts the situation too, and despite the risks, he understands that you are my only chance for continued survival.”

She chuckled. “You could tell me there’s only a one percent chance that the procedure would work, but I’d still take it,” she said. “Because I know there’s a zero percent chance that I’ll live without it. Do you understand?”

The doctor rubbed a paw over his muzzle for what seemed like hours but was in reality probably only seconds. Eventually, he nodded. He managed a smile, barely. “You’ve given that talk before,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “I’m sorry. I should have been able to reason through all of that on my own, but it’s an … occupational hazard in my profession to try and steer patients away from needless risk. Thank you for your patience.”

She nodded, steeling herself.

“But whether I could do the procedure or not is purely semantics.”

“Because you won’t,” she grumped.

“I would, absolutely,” said the doctor. “I chose this profession because I wanted to alleviate suffering—and you’re obviously suffering—but it’s not up to me—”

Of course, thought Tori. Had it not been for her friend Administrator O’lia bullying the other administrators, she never would have gotten the cloned lungs and eyes. They would have just recycled her after the accident.

But she had to project positivity! She had to convince Doctor Amhela to help. “Administrators are easily bribed,” she reassured him, smiling wide. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever met a geroo who wasn’t. Some just expect more credits in their strand than others.”

He sat in silence, his expression unreadable. “I’m very sorry to do this to you,” he said quietly, “but now you have.”

Her ruined ears lifted. “I have … what?”

“Met someone who can’t be bribed.”

Tori’s stomach tumbled, but despite it, she straightened her back. “Ten thousand credits,” she said with confidence. When he didn’t react, she said, “Twenty thousand… Thirty.”

Still, he said nothing, but he leaned forward slightly, and with a single finger, he ran a pad across the beads on her necklace. “You may not believe this, but you’re not the first patient who has tried to bribe me with obscene amounts of money,” he said quietly, “but I dare say you’re the first to try it while wearing plastic beads.”

Tori gasped and covered her necklace with both paws. This had been her first opportunity to speak with Dr. Amhela, so she’d come up here without giving it a second thought. How could she have been so stupid? She could never pass herself off as rich with plastic beads and an aluminum bracelet!

Her heart pounded so hard, threatening to leap from her chest. Sweat exploded down her back, and her mind raced, trying to concoct any plausible story. After what seemed like far too long, it dawned on her. “Oh, geez,” she whispered, “I forget I’m wearing this. I don’t see it unless I look in the mirror, and since the accident, I do that just as little as I have to.”

Amhela pulled away, and Tori composed herself, forced herself to sit straighter. “People think that rich geroo can do anything,” she explained, “but one thing they can’t do is disappear. Only poor geroo can disappear. Only the poor can transfer to another ship without raising the questions that I’d rather not answer.”

The doctor sat very still for a long while before he finally stood and slid his stool back to where it belonged. “I’m sorry,” he said at last, “but I don’t want your money.”

“Fifty thousand credits,” she said. “Come on, doc. Everyone has their price. Name yours.”

“No, I’m afraid not,” he said. “I’d love to help you, but I live a very comfortable life. I don’t want anything that money can buy, and I’m not willing to risk it all just for wealth.”

She frowned. “So, what do you want?”

He sighed and pulled out his strand. With a long series of taps, he finally flicked a file toward her. Tori pulled out her own strand and opened the document. It was a standardized form that read, “Authorization for Elective Surgery” at the top.

She scrolled down. There was surprisingly little to it: fields for her name, a description of the surgery requested, a reason why the surgery was requested, and signature fields for her and an administrator.

“Keep your money,” said Amhela. “I’d gladly do the surgery for free, but you’ll never get me the three things I want.”

“And they are?” asked Tori, her voice steely.

“First, complete that form—all of it.”

She glanced back down at the space for an administrator’s authorization. She hated the thought of having to bribe Holly, but she was prepared to do it nonetheless.

“Second,” he said, “I want the captain’s authorization too.”

She winced ever so slightly. Tori had yet to meet the captain and didn’t know what he was like. Could he be bribed?

Ever so carefully, Tori stood and stared the doctor in the eyes. “And the third thing?”

Doctor Amhela returned his strand to the holster on his arm. “Permission from the commissioner as well.”

———

Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sOSHaeJ-wtpD0lSeh4lT0NsBn9uqER78mhF3-_AYY24/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?