Prisoner of Conscience Read Free

been assigned a name at random, like other Nurail bond-involuntaries, to destroy even so small a bit of information that they might have had about one another.
    “It must have been in food-stores three, as the doctor please. Because this troop can’t quite remember. With respect.”
    Still Joslire was formal with her. Formality was safety, for bond-involuntaries. It was all a part of their conditioning. Doctor Bokomoro palpated the ragged edges of the wound in Joslire’s thigh with delicate care, frowning a bit. “Well. You’ll do for Station Four when it clears. You’re the last of it, are you?”
    Her question was directed at Robert, who looked back over his shoulder down the length of the corridor, checking the triage line. They seemed to have hit a slack period.
    “There aren’t many in queue just now, Doctor, no, ma’am.” So she could afford to set them aside, and let the officer perform what triage he liked. There would be time.
    Doctor Bokomoro nodded. “Right. Take Joslire across, Robert, take these with you. Next?”
    “These” were Toska and Kaydence and Code, the rest of Security 5.4. All of them weary. None apparently injured. When Station Four cleared, Robert took the lead to their assigned slot, pushing Joslire on the mover before him.
    The officer was leaning on the treatment table with both arms braced stiff-elbowed to the surface, frowning in evident anxiety.
    “I am becoming bored with bleeding people,” his Excellency was saying, his frustration clear in his tenor voice. “When is the Captain going to get to it, and take this ship out of harm’s way?”
    Shaking off wordless offers of assistance, Joslire slid awkwardly from the end of the mover to sit on the edge of the treatment table, facing the officer. Koscuisko scowled thunderously when he saw the exposed gash in Joslire’s leg.
    Sarse Duro, the senior medical technician teamed with Chief Medical, took one look and broke open a fresh gross-lacerations pack. “Shouldn’t be too much longer now, sir. They said three eights to close.” Noticing Robert, Sarse shut up to concentrate on Joslire’s wound. It was out of respect for his feelings, Robert knew. He appreciated Sarse’s delicacy.
    Eild was Nurail.
    He was Nurail, though he was from Marleborne.
    “Erish is to be uncomfortable, but has not too seriously been injured. Joslire, you are bleeding, you had noticed.” His Excellency changed the subject without comment, putting a dose through at Joslire’s thigh. Joslire steadied himself against the surface of the table, and Koscuisko put one hand out to Joslire’s shoulder to help stop him from falling over. Muscle relaxant, maybe. Powerful pain medication, almost certainly.
    “Kaydence. You are not moving as beautifully as usually you do.” Their officer talked as he worked, Sarse Duro content to keep supplies coming. “I should make you all sit down, but then I would not be able to see you. Metal coming out, Joslire.”
    Along with a freshet of blood damped off almost immediately with a stop-cloth. “Talk to me, gentles all, how do you go? I have seen none of the others, at least so far.”
    Well, he didn’t have to answer this question, Robert told himself. He could just stand here and listen. That way he would find out before the almost-inevitable embroideries began. That could be useful for later.
    “Kaydence did it,” Joslire said, his head bent to watch Koscuisko clear the wound. “We were only there to wa — ouch.” Something seemed to twinge unpleasantly; Joslire raised his head to meet Koscuisko’s mirror-silver pale eyes, and Koscuisko smiled. Robert had always considered that Andrej Koscuisko had a very pretty smile, all those white teeth, and all of them in such an even line.
    “You are a very great liar, Joslire, if I may hope to be forgiven for saying it. And you should be ashamed.”
    Grin answered grin, now. Joslire had known the officer for even longer than Robert had, and they had known him longer