May I Enjoy My Life: Entry 15

Entry 20, Day 39-41

I feel like shit. Not because I’m still sore from what Texas and Exusiai did to me, but because, well…turns out sometimes it’s not the super cancer, or the world ending apocalypses that wear you down. Sometimes it’s the day to day struggle of working as a doctor. Or being a complete idiot. But we’ll start with the doctor stuff, at least I’m kinda good at that. 

So, there I was, actually starting my first rotation at a hospital. I’m going to skip over day 38, because it was extremely boring onboarding. Lots of “welcome, employee drone! Here are our company policies and procedures!” 

Like, they needed to do it and stuff, but the routine training was boring as hell. 

So, after one day of basic training and with my paperwork fully filled out, I, Dr. James McCoy, started my first shift at the ungodly hour of 0500 Zulu time. At least, I think it’s Zulu time that means local time? Whatever. 

I’m just coping at this point, so here’s what happened. 

Sussurro and I started the shift in the trauma ward of Rhodes Island. I was introduced to the various doctors and medics as we got the charts and numbers on the patients, and reviewed treatment plans for various individuals. Oh, and had my blood drawn, just to confirm my levels.

“We’d like you to use your arts on these patients in critical condition,” Folinic told me, as she was the one doing the briefings, though she was Dr. Louisa Mangusheva. “Dr. Sussurro will be your attending for the day.”

Texas and Exusiai were present at the briefing as well, and Folinic turned to them. “As for you two, you’ll be on call in the security room. We can’t have you in the patient rooms due to standard protocols. You’ll be just moments away, though.”

“Are patients likely to become combative?” I asked, thinking of my experience dealing with druggies or those having a psychotic episode I’d seen during my clinical rotations in med school. 

“It happens, especially when we have enemy combatants that come in, though they’re treated in a separate, high-security ward and you won’t be around them,” Folinic told me. 

“OK, what about drug seeking patients? I haven’t heard about that here, so let me clarify that I mean those seeking addictive drugs, such as opioids or anti-psychotics?” 

“We do see that, but frankly, if they’re infected, give drugs first, ask questions second. We do have some regulars that Dr. Sussurro can warn you about. Besides, you won’t be prescribing medications, Dr. Sussurro will.”

“Gotcha, I’ll do my best to follow the treatment plans then,” I agreed. 

After that, we started with a few patients in intensive care. These were mostly combat casualties, some of them from last week in Leithanein, others from more recent action. Some of them needed replacement organs, others had suffered amputations, others were simply healing from grevious wounds. 

We started with an Operator Code Name Glimpse, real name Geneva Harrow. She was an Elafian who’d been involved in a Contingency Contract in Columbia and had been gutshot. She was still recovering, but was conscious, if on a lot of pain meds. Parts of her small and large intestine had been removed, and she was on a special diet. 

“Hey doc,” she said weakly as Sussurro and I approached. “Can I get some more water? My throat’s real dry.”

I looked at her chart, and saw that she was strictly limited on her fluid intake because of her intestinal injuries. “Let’s try something else first. I’m Doctor McCoy. How are you with pain right now?”

“Good. I’ll let you know when the drugs wear off. I…I didn’t want to be a junky, but…” she shuddered. “Sorry, this has made me a total bitch.”

She was not infected, just someone who needed a job, perhaps, but I decided to confirm. I could scan her, but it’s best to ask. “According to this, you’re not Infected.”

“No, no. It’s…it’s my little boy. Isaac. He is. Stepped on an originium shard some asshole left…so, I joined Rhodes Island to use my skills with a crossbow to get him treatments. My bastard of a boyfriend ditched us as soon as Isaac was diagnosed…”

I nodded. “Alright, I’m going to try an arts treatment for you. It may hurt. To do it, I’m going to have to remove your bandaging here.”

She nodded. “Sure, sure, whatever you docs think is best.” Then laid back and closed her eyes.

“Push 10 more CCs of morphine?” I asked Sussurro. “This is going to smart.”

“Good call,” she said, and nodded to Myrtle, who was tagging along as our nurse. She administered the morphine, and I used surgical scissors to cut open the wound. There was still a lot of trauma, and I ran my hands over the sutures gently. I could feel the wound, the missing parts of her. 

“Beginning arts treatment.”

Geneva gasped, eyes fluttering open as I opened her back up with a knife, then rapidly healed her missing intestines and restored the large amounts of blood she was still short. Myrtle and I quickly mopped up the blood, then released the restraints on Geneva, who sat up, looking baffled. 

“I…I feel fine. What…what did you do?” 

“We’re sending you to imaging to confirm, but I think I just repaired your internal organs and filled up your blood bank. If everything checks out, you’ll be released today and get to see your boy,” I told her. 

Tears filled her eyes, and she nodded. “Thank you, Dr. McCoy! I thought…I thought I might lose my job!”

“There was never any danger of that. Rhodes Island takes care of its own,” Sussurro told her. “But this will likely get you back in the field.”

“That’s good. There’s still a lot of battles to fight. For my Isaac, for all the Infected,” Geneva said. She was wheeled out, protesting that she thought she could walk, to get the imaging done to confirm.

“Right, let’s check your vitals,” Sussurro told me. I let her do the battery of exams with Myrtles help, everything from blood pressure to pupil dilation. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, unfortunately,” I admitted. “Not exhausted, more like I ran a couple of miles and need to catch my breath? Sitting here has actually pretty much fixed me up, honestly.”

“Normal after heavy arts use, you’re good to go still,” Sussurro pronounced. 

“That was pretty incredible, though!” Myrtle said, taking off the pulse and O2 monitor along with the BP cuff. “I have healing arts, but nothing like that! I’ve never seen anyone with arts so strong!”

“Really? I mean, I get they’re strong, but it can’t be that odd, can it?” I asked.

“James, everything about you is highly unusual. All the other Earthlings seem immune to oripathy and are completely incapable of using arts. Not to mention your terminal case of Adhaerente pede oris.” 

My meager Latin came up with the answer. “Har har. Foot in mouth disease? You’re hilarious, Lucia,” I said with a roll of my eyes as I stood, towering over both women. I have noticed that I’m unusually tall. Terrans, on average, seem to be shorter than Americans. I would blame the asian developers, but honestly this place is so real it probably just runs on different rules. 

The next few cases were similar, but different. I did find I could not completely repair amputated limbs. I could heal the limb quite nicely, but if it was gone, it was gone. I could also regrow damaged organs, but if one was simply missing entirely, I was out of luck. Even a scrap of kidney let me grow one, or even clone the other, and then fix it on the opposite side, but if it was gone, I had no blueprint to work with. 

“That is interesting. We really need to study how your ability works,” Sussurro said, transcribing some notes on her tablet as I sat and drank some juice, taking a breather. 

“Hmm, early signs of arts overload, he probably needs to rest for a while. I can take him to the break room while you do rounds,” Myrtle told Sussurro. 

“Yes, we don’t want to push it too far. Do another blood draw and ship it off to the lab, as well as measure his lesions to see if there’s any change,” Sussurro ordered. She took my right hand and examined it, then peered into my eyes. “Will you be alright, James?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. You go be a doctor instead of a babysitter,” I told her. 

“It’s hardly babysitting, and you’re certainly a doctor yourself by this point, James. Get some more fluids in you and eat some salty snacks, those help with arts overload. You’ve got my number if you need to page me.”

I nodded, then we parted ways as Sussurro went to continue the rounds. Myrtle and I went to a stereotypical breakroom, where Exusiai and Texas were sitting and looking very bored. It had the usual posters up reminding you about mental health, various codes, and workplace regulations. There was a fridge, microwave, and water cooler, along with plain tables and chairs with boring white walls with blue trim.

“Hey, what’s up?” Exusiai said, pulling off her headphones and standing eagerly. “We got a mission?”

“No, I’m just needing a break from using too much arts,” I said, as Myrtle used the IV line they’d put in me to take a quick vial of blood. She was practically a vampire herself, and obviously had years of nursing experience. 

“He’s in early overdose stages. Not there yet, so an hour or so of rest and he should be fine!” Myrtle said. “I’m going to be monitoring his vitals every ten minutes or so, but for now we can just hang out. Who likes to play cards!?”

We ended up playing a game similar to Hearts, with Myrtle keeping track of my vitals. It was fun, but I could tell that Texas and Exusiai both were getting antsy. 

“Not used to just sitting around?” I asked them. 

“No, usually it’s one mission done, then out for another,” Exusiai said with a shake of her head. 

“Too much downtime. Only so much training to do,” Texas agreed. 

“Yeah, I agree,” Myrtle said, laying down her card. “The field is where it’s more fun! But I have to do hospital rotations to keep current. It’s boring but necessary.” 

Just then, the loudspeaker chimed, and a voice came over. 

Attention: Incoming Code Orange. I repeat, incoming Code Orange. All available personnel to the flight deck. Repeat, incoming Code Orange. All available personnel to the flight deck. 

We were all already on our feet as soon as we heard Code Orange, and Myrtle cried, “This way, follow me!”

We dashed after Myrtle, up an elevator and onto the flight deck at the very top of Rhodes Island, where multiple doctors and nurses were already setting up, including Sussurro. The hospital codes were, mercifully, the same as the ones I was used to. Code Orange indicated a mass casualty event, requiring all hands on deck. 

“Alright people!” Warfarin shouted over the wind. “We’ve got three incoming VTOLs loaded with patients! There was another bombing on the Victoria/Tara border, and we’re the closest trauma center. I’m going to be taking a team there to deal with the aftermath once we get this sorted out. They’ll be here in minutes, we’re looking at 46 hurry cases. Every moment counts! We don’t have them properly sorted between infected and noninfected, and frankly, there’s going to be some recategorization, as it looks like it was a dirty originium bomb. Full precautions for the uninfected among us. Now, let’s save some lives!” 

“Forty-six?” I gasped, going a little pale. I looked around, and there were maybe that many doctors, nurses, and medics out here on the helipads. But to treat 46 hurry cases, you needed two or three times that many doctors. 

“Not the worst I’ve seen,” Sussurro commented grimly. “But a dirty originium bomb? That’s going to be nasty. The entire area will be contaminated.”

“I thought that was all over after the Londinium Crisis. What the hell is going on?” I demanded. 

“Tara declared its independence, and Loughshinny has assumed rule, but Vina can’t get the Londinium parliament to recognize Taran independence. In the meanwhile, Dublinn has fragmented, and the hardcore elements have reorganized into the Taran Liberation Front, or TLF,” Sussurro explained. “It seems they’ve moved on to full-scale bombing campaigns. There’s going to be hundreds of dead and potentially thousands of new infected from this.”

“It’s the fucking Troubles all over again,” I muttered under my breath, and Myrtle shot me an odd luck. Sussurro just kicked me. 

“Focus, James. This isn’t the first or the last time that Rhodes Island has had to deal with a mass casualty event. Get ready, here they come.”

Three black dots were growing rapidly closer, and soon I could hear the thump of rotors as three VTOLs with flashing lights and RHODES ISLAND AIR AMBULANCE on the sides approached. The backwash of the rotors ruffled my scrubs. I already had on a mask and face shield, but I still ducked my head reflexively. The first VTOL touched down, and Warfarin immediately moved in with her team as Rhodes Island medics began to move a dozen or so stretchers off the helipad. 

Fortunately, they’d already triaged them, and the most urgent cases came first. 

“BONES! Get your ass over here!” Warfarin called, and I rushed over to find a stretcher with an elderly feline man being hauled out onto the flight deck. 

“Feline, male, aged approximately six decades, previously uninfected,” the medic said. “Severe head trauma, originium poisoning, pressure wounds to internal organs. Needs immediate cranial surgery to remove originium fragments from the brain.”

“What can you do for him? Don’t suck the fragments into you or try to cure him,” Warfarin told me, which earned her a double take from the medic. “He’s going to die in minutes.”

I put my hands on the man’s head, and felt the originum there. “I can’t pull this without causing additional trauma, and possibly absorbing it. I can do something about the abdominal injuries, but-”

“Priority 5, set him to the side,” Warfarin interrupted, and the medics complied. I felt my heart sink.

When triaging, Rhodes Island used a tiered system. Triage level 1 is an extremely high priority with life-threatening injuries that need immediate treatment, such as cardiac arrest, not breathing, or third-degree burns on the face or internal organs. Level 2 requires treatment very soon and is life-threatening, think uncontrolled bleeding, a stroke or seizure, or burns over 20% of the body. Level 3 is Urgent, but not life-threatening: Broken bones, severe to moderate pain, or persistent vomiting. Level 4 is somewhat urgent, but not life-threatening. Something like a severe cold, a urinary tract infection, or a cut on the arm that would require sutures. 

Level 5? Level five means that there is no saving this patient, or it would require so many resources that you don’t have the ability to save them. So you move on. In a mass casualty incident like this, every second, every heartbeat, counts. You can’t save everyone. The job is to save as many people as you can. 

So though it made me want to cry, though I felt like I was going to vomit, I moved on as the old man was set to the side. He died a few minutes later. An originium fragment had pierced his brain, and he likely would have been a vegetable or suffered permanent disabilities, not to mention acute oripathy. Even if I had brought him back, the oripathy in his brain would have killed him in a matter of intensely painful months unless I cured him. 

But I didn’t have time to think about that in the moment. Next was a middle-aged woman with a large splinter in her neck. Somehow, she hadn’t died yet, but she was struggling to breathe and coughing up blood. 

I scanned her quickly. “She’s going to develop oripathy, she’s inhaled originium, but it’s not a priority, that neck wound is. She’s also got internal bleeding in the abdomen.”

“Do it, Bones,” Warfarin ordered, even as she started treating a child with a severe injury to an eye. “She’s priority 1!” 

I removed the splinter and healed the neck injury, but I didn’t touch the internal bleeding. I judged she would survive it, though she would need surgery later. I had to conserve my arts, and she was stable for the moment. I passed her on and moved to the next case, even as the two other VTOLs touched down. 

It all went by so quickly. A young woman who was pregnant, six months along, and there was a good chance the trauma of second and third-degree burns would cause her to lose the child. I managed to patch her up quickly and stabilized the baby. A middle-aged man who had lost his foot at the calf, that I just passed over. He’d live, for now.

And then a little girl, four years old, feline. Originium fragment in her arm, burns all over her body. I hesitated. She was going to develop oripathy. I could already sense the granules flowing from the fragment into her blood stream. But I could stop it. I could cure her.

A hand rested on my forearm, and I looked down at Myrtle, Sussurro had moved on to treat others as there were just so many patients. “Hurry cases, Bones. There’s more.”

I nodded, and used forceps to remove the originium fragment, then rapidly cleaned the wound and bandaged it, before healing just enough of the burns to keep her stable. Then I moved on again. 

It was like that for hours. More and more medical staff showed up as people who had been off shift dropped everything and came running. Exusiai and Texas even were helping out, transporting wounded and providing the basic first aid they knew, or doing chest compressions to save a life. 

I, however, did not last hours. I lasted 20 minutes, and then very nearly collapsed from arts overuse. My temperature was spiking, I was seeing spots, and my lesions were aching mightily. 

I thought about keeping going, pressing myself harder, but if I did, that would just add another casualty that would require treatment. “I’m tapped on arts,” I told Gavial, who I was working on a patient with. “Sorry. I need…I need a breather.”

She glanced at me, then nodded. “Take one. You’re still new to arts, and you’ve been treating the worst cases. Go take five, evaluate yourself, and then decide if you need a nap before coming back.”

I stumbled to the side and collapsed into a chair, we were back at the hospital level now. I ended up conking out right there, despite all the hustle and bustle around me. I woke up groggily after half an hour, when Myrtle came to check my vitals. 

“Hmm, you’re still borderline for arts overdose. Go to the break room and drink some juice and eat a snack, then check yourself again in half an hour. If your vitals look good, come back, otherwise take a nap. There’s no hurrying arts overdose symptoms.”

Reluctantly, I did as ordered. I drank some apple juice and ate a bag of pretzels. After half an hour, my numbers looked good enough that I went back on duty, but I couldn’t use my arts. Not unless it was an emergency and doing so would save a life. 

Now I had to work treating patients, providing what lifesaving care I could, and often without a more senior physician’s supervision. I was setting bones, doing sutures, administering basic medication, and triaging patients who needed better care. 

It was long, exhausting work. Over and over again, I was tempted to use my arts, but I was tapped out. I used a little here and there to stabilize, but not so much I’d push myself into overload again. I knew I was capable of fully healing several patients, but for now, I was just giving the minimum care to keep them stable. 

This time it lasted hours and hours. More flights came in with more patients who desperately needed help. Warfarin and a dozen personnel, including Myrtle, left on the second flight back to provide care in the field. I didn’t work a 12-hour shift; I worked an 18-hour shift. By the end of it, I was exhausted, bloody, and near dead on my feet. I didn’t even make it back to my room. I just collapsed onto a cot in the breakroom and passed out.

Then I got up and did it again.  Long, grueling hours of providing care and treatment, using my arts in bursts to treat the most acute patients. The second day, I did put myself into arts overdose after six hours, but I did so on the orders of Folinic. We had an adult female, aged approximately twenty, who was going into cardiac arrest on us even as we unloaded her due to a shard of glass that had cut the heart. 

“Bones! What do you got?” Folinic demanded even as she tried to use her own arts. 

“She’s infected, but we can get this glass out and I can repair the heart, but I’m borderline already. I’ll be useless after that, though,” I warned her. 

Folinic nodded. “Do it! We lose her otherwise!” 

I repaired her heart after we removed the glass, but didn’t address her developing oripathy. That much was too much for me though, and I went into full-blown arts overdose, as I’d already been using it on and off. 

I paged Sussurro, and a few minutes later she hurried over. “Arts overdose?”

“Yes. I want you to give me an arts amplifier,” I gasped. “It might knock me out, or it might let me keep going. Start with a small dose, work it up.”

“Alright, but this is risky,” she warned me. 

“This situation is fucked. Hopefully, I just pass out and take a nap. But if I can heal just one more person…”

“The worst case is you die, James. Arts amp when you’re already overloaded will kill you a good percent of the time,” Sussurro said, but produced a syringe. “But I think you’re right. We’ll start with a quarter dose. Drop your drawers.”

Great. Shot in the ass again. It burned like fire going in, but then spread like ice. Within a few minutes, I felt much better. My symptoms began to abate, my fever reducing, my pulse and blood pressure lowering to normal. I was afraid they’d keep right on dropping, but they stabilized at safe levels, and I got back out there. 

Then, I started to get the brain fog. It was probably a dose of exhaustion to go with all my other issues. We’d been going for close to 40 hours, and I’d gotten maybe seven hours of sleep if you counted me passing out from overdoing it on arts. But the arts amplifier was acting like a heavy dose of Benadryl. 

Soon, I had a decision to make. I could keep working with my ability to make judgements impaired and my reactions slowed, or I could tap out. It was a hard choice. We were still working to save lives, though most cases were now stable and things had slowed significantly. 

Finally, I found a senior doctor, and to my horror, it was Kal’tsit. She was coming out of surgery, and looked up at me. After only a moment, she said, “Go sleep, Dr. McCoy. You have done enough for today.”

“Sorry…Director,” I said, feeling as though I had cotton in my mouth. “Took…took an arts amplifier…makin’...makin’ me sleepy…”

“I can see. Exusiai, take Dr. McCoy to his rooms and do not allow him to leave for 9 hours. He will require at least that much sleep. Texas, take Lucia and make her rest as well. I can see the symptoms of overuse of arts suppressors from here.”

“I’m fine!” Sussurro protested, but she was twitching slightly. “We have more lives to-”

Texas put a hand on Sussurro’s shoulder. “You may walk, or I will carry you. Choose.”

Lucia slumped in her scrubs, clearly just as exhausted as I was. “I…I might need you to carry me…I…I’m too tired to walk.”

I had to lean on Exusiai while Texas had to support Sussurro. We were both dumped in our rooms. I had the wherewithal to shower off before I fell naked into my bed and passed out for a full ten hours. When I groggily came too, it was halfway through the third day. I picked up my phone and found a message from Kal’tsit there. 

Dr. McCoy,

Doctors from Victoria and our clinics have arrived to pick up the slack. You are hereby placed on leave for 48 hours. Do not report for duty. I have suspended operator training and informed Texas and Exusiai that you are not to engage in strenuous activity. I have informed Dr. Sussurro of the same. 

PS:

I did tell you that you had more choices for companionship than Lumuel. Do try to be more aware. I have deposited your first paycheck into your account. Try to make good use of it.

I sent a text to Lucia, but didn’t get a response. I guess she was still out. I showered again and stepped out to find Exusiai and Texas there, leaning against the wall. 

“You guys waited there the whole time?” I asked, feeling guilty. 

“Nah, we put a monitoring device in your room. It told us when you woke up,” Exusiai said, her expression deadpan. 

“You did WHAT?!” I demanded. 

Texas nodded. “My idea. Don’t worry, no picture. Baby monitor. Senses motion and noise.”

I groaned and rubbed at my face. “Super. I guess…let’s go get breakfast. No shooting me in the ass, please.”

“That’s Lucia’s job now,” Exusiai laughed.

“Great, well, I got paid, so I’m treating you both to breakfast,” I sighed. 

“Ooo, shouldn’t  you do that with Lucia?” Exusiai asked. 

“I messaged her, but I think she’s still out. She was as fried as I was,” I said, yawning. Then I frowned at her. “Why?”

“Well, duh, after your hot date, I figured you two would want to spend more time together,” Exusiai said as we walked. 

Texas frowned at her, looking as confused as I felt, but she didn’t say anything.

“Hot date? When did that happen?!”

Exusiai actually stopped cold and Texas nearly ran into her. I had to pause and turn. “James…you have got to be kidding.”

“About what?”

“Last Wednesday!? You’re tugging my wings, right? Come on, Texas, you saw that!” 

“I recall you pulling my tail and stating they needed alone time. I still believe we should have monitored them,” Texas said, frowning at her partner. 

“Because we’re not a pair of peeping toms! Oh come on, she even went into his apartment!” 

“Uh, just until I showered and changed. Come on, I am seriously starving,” I said, turning and walking away. “Let’s go to Dreams and Spices, they have all-day breakfast.”

Exusiai hurried to catch up to me, as did Texas. “James. Did you not SEE what Lucia was wearing?!”

I blushed slightly. “Uh, yes, I did. She, um, looked good.”

“I hope so! Texas, you tell him!” 

“She was very attractive. If I were not dating and she were gay, I would consider dating Lucia,” Texas said.

Exusiai actually face-palmed. “Oh Holy Law. You have got to be kidding. You two cannot be this dumb.”

“I mean, uh, I’m not opposed to dating Lucia, it’s just, I mean…what if she said no?” I said, feeling increasingly nervous.

Exusiai gave me a flat look. “James. She came to your apartment. In a cocktail dress. With good nylons on. She had done up her hair, put on extra makeup, and was wearing the sort of heels you ONLY wear if you’re trying to impress a hot date, because they hurt like hell but are dead sexy. Did you not notice this?!”

“Uh, sort of? Didn’t realize she was wearing extra makeup,” I admitted. She’d just, you know, looked really good. “I thought she just wanted to dress up for a night out, you know.”

“I never wear heels,” Texas said, looking straight forward. “They hurt my back. And hamper my movement.”

“Sora, how do you put up with this idiot?” Exusiai muttered, and shook her head. “Texas, how the hell did you and Sora even start dating?”

“Ah.” Texas looked mildly embarrassed. “Well, you see, she had been coming over to my apartment. To watch anime.”

“Uh-huh. What sort of anime?”

“It was…Hagane no Hanabira,” Texas said, blushing. 

“Steel Petals. Hmm,” Exusiai pulled out her phone and tapped away. Then laughed. “Oh, seriously?! It’s set at an all-girls military school in Higashi, and is about high school girls falling in love with one another?”

“I…enjoyed it,” Texas admitted. “It was…stimulating.”

“I bet. You watch this shit, James?” Exusiai asked, showing me the pictures. It was all of that soft, big-eyed pretty girl stuff that you see in shojo and yuri. 

“Uh, I’m not really into high school shows,” I said with a shrug. 

“That was the first. We finished that, but then Sora…she wanted to watch…” Texas fell silent as we walked. 

“Go on,” Exusiai prompted. 

“...Kurenai no Kinu, Shiro no Yaiba…”

“Crimson Silk, White Blade…” Exusiai tapped that in and I peered at her screen. She looked it up…and promptly started laughing. 

It was, ah, a very mature show. 

“A highborn courtesan named Crimson Silk is kidnapped by the famous Ronin, White Blade. To save her own life, Crimson Silk seduces the White Blade! Ok, Texas, you have got to tell me what happened here.”

“I…was unaware of the content,” Texas admitted as we entered the cafe, and Beanstalk gave us some menus and coffee. Texas was quiet for a few minutes as I studied the menu. Hmm, French Toast. That sounded good. Even if they called it Gaul Pancakes. 

“Come on, keep talking,” Exusiai prompted. 

“Ah. You see, I was…unaware.”

“You said that,” I said. “Didn’t realize it was an H show?”

“No, it was pornography,” Texas said, and both Exusiai and I face-palmed this time. “No, I was…unaware…that Sora was gay.”

“Texas. If a woman asked me to watch girls love anime with her, especially this Kurenai no Kinu thing, I would know she wanted to go down on me,” Exusiai said, shaking her head. 

“Ah. Are you…?” Texas frowned, tilting her head to one side. 

“No, Texas. I like dick. You’ve SEEN some of my dates!”

“I did not wish to make assumptions.”

“Uh-huh. Come on. Finish the story.”

“Well, ah, we were halfway into the show, and, well, it was…very stimulating. I do not typically…consume such media. But, um, I began to realize that…Sora was enjoying it…as much as I. Then, she was, ah, kissing me. And I…kissed her back. I am…not certain as to the plot of the rest of the show. We were…distracted.”

“Netflix and chill,” I said with a nod. “I’ve tried to pull that. Succeeded once or twice, actually.”

“Ok, so then you realized that Lucia has a thing for you when she showed up at your door in her battle regalia, right!?” Exusiai demanded. 

I hung my head. Battle regalia? “Uh, a little? But, um, I didn’t want to…you know…presume.”

Exusiai looked back and forth between Texas and I, then sighed. “You two…are completely hopeless.”

Texas and I ate our gaul toast in silence, both of us looking deeply embarrassed. 

“Alright. Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to tell Lucia that you enjoyed your date. You are going to ask her to come on a second date. Where’d you two go?”

“Frankies.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, there aren’t a whole ton of options on the landship for a date night. Frankies is really it. After?” 

“Poly Vision, she likes arcades…”

“Again, not a lot of options. There is a movie theater…what’s it showing…hmm, it’s a kids movie, bad choice. Do the arcade again,” Exusiai said, scrolling through her phone. 

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, remembering what Kal’tsit had said earlier. 

She looked up at me. “James. If you are so dense that you can’t even figure out when a girl is taking you on a date, it is my duty to at LEAST wake you up enough to get you to ask her out properly. Now eat your damn breakfast and wait for her to text you back.”

“I dunno if either of us will feel like going on a date,” I said, pushing my last bit of french toast around my plate. “It’s…it’s been rough the past few days.”

“It’s Rhodes Island.”

I looked up at Texas, frowning at her, and hoping she’d continue. After swallowing, she added. “It’s always like this. You’re alive. Keep living.”

“Wisdom from the fool!” Exusiai said, throwing her hands in the air. “Yes. Look, you’re both doctors at Rhodes Island. Life is gonna be some real bullshit for both of you most of the time. Just go and have some fun, OK?”

“What about you? You’ve seemed…I dunno, kinda bored,” I said, feeling guilty. 

“Yeah, so what? Last few days kept us busy, even if…if…” Exusiai put her head in her hands and let out a sob. I was taken aback by this, but Texas put her fork and knife down.

“Do you want a hug?” Texas asked, and when Exusiai nodded, she gently put an arm around Exusiai, who immediately slumped up against Texas. 

“I…I could feel…so many of those deaths,” Exusiai whispered, tears streaking her face. “It wasn’t…it wasn’t quite Empathy. Just…I was working with them. I’m not a medic, but…I couldn't do what you do, James. Not every day. I’ve seen death. I’ve killed people. But…but that? So…so many died…who shouldn’t have…”

“I…I didn’t realize you were taking it so hard,” I said, feeling horribly guilty now.

Exusiai shook her head. “I don’t know that I did either. Not until I had a day to think about it. Went for some long runs, shot at the range…it helped. A little. I just…I feel cooped up.”

“We stay on the move,” Texas said with a nod. 

“Yeah…I…ugh. Sorry.” Exusiai sat up and dried her tears. “Sorry! That’s not what you need from me.”

“No, it’s fine. You don’t have to pretend to be happy for us,” I said, putting a hand gingerly on Exusiai’s own. 

She sniffled, then nodded. “Yeah, thanks. I just…I’m gonna get some fresh air. Texas, call me if something happens.”

With that, Exusiai strode away, leaving her breakfast plate scraped clean. She’d had waffles with whipped cream and strawberries.

I watched her go, then glanced at Texas. “She usually need alone time?”

“She won’t be,” Texas said. “She’ll call the other Sankta. There are several on this ship.”

“Oh. That…helps?”

“Yes. She is a good friend, but she is still Sankta.”

“Huh.” 

We sat in silence, finishing the last few bites, and Beanstalk brought over the bill, which I paid, and asked for a couple of cups of coffee to drink for a bit. The cafe wasn’t too busy, so she didn’t mind. 

Texas had her coffee with plenty of sugar and creamer, which surprised me. I put in a little creamer and we sipped for a bit. At last, I asked, “Do you really think Sussurro, Lucia…is into me?”

Texas pondered that, then shrugged. “You should ask her, not me.”

Well don’t that beat all. Guess I’m dumber than an autistic wolf.