The severity and variety of the wounds left her appalled. She knew that modern warfare often inflicted even more ghastly wounds, but usually at a distance. The idea that enemies could stand face-to-face and hack each other apart to produce wounds like those she saw made her skin crawl like the sight of a bullet wound would never have done. She was in so far over her head that she felt her composure and her previously unshakable confidence beginning to slip. With sudden clarity, she thought she knew precisely how Matt must feel, caught up in events far beyond what his training and experience had prepared him for. He'd done a pretty good job, she reflected, even if he didn't know what he was doing. Somehow he always managed to act as though he did. That might work well in matters of leadership, but it wasn't the best approach when it came to medicine, she thought wryly. Or was it?
Adar and several apprentices hovered nearby, talking with Lieutenant Shinya as she sewed. Many other Lemurians, young and old alike, watched her work intently. Besides her efforts, however, there was virtually no other treatment under way. She finished suturing a long gash in a young Lemurian's leg while it stared at her unflinchingly with large, liquid eyes. She stood and tried to wipe hair from her eyes with her forearm. It was covered with sweat and she only managed to paste the loose hair to her face. Without a word, an uncustomarily attentive Dennis Silva poured alcohol on a rag and handed it to her. She began wiping blood off her hands and trying to get it out from under her fingernails. The harder she tried to get it all, the madder she got.
"Lieutenant Shinya? Would you be kind enough to signal the ship and ask Captain Reddy to send Pharmacist's Mate Miller and Ensign Theimer over to help? My God, there must be two hundred or more I haven't even seen yet!" She paused, considering. "Also, please ask Adar why none of his people are helping. They may be unaccustomed to this kind of medicine, but all I'm doing is sewing them up." She gestured around. "And I know they can sew!"
"Of course, Lieutenant." Tamatsu turned and began to speak. Adar answered and Shinya relayed his message. "He said he didn't know you wanted help. It's customary among his people for those with specialized skills to guard their methods. He said their healers—many of whom are watching you work even now—would like to try the methods they have seen, but are afraid you will be offended."
She shook her head and almost screamed with frustration. "The only thing that offends me is they'd be willing to let their people suffer over something that silly!"
"Then I will tell him you will freely share your expertise. I will not relay your last statement, though," he said just a little primly. "To them, I am sure it's not silly at all."
"Then tell them to bring boiling water! And find out if they have any alcohol or anything I can use for an antiseptic! I'm just about out!"
Shinya nodded curtly and spoke to the Lemurian official again. Sandra wasn't sure how fluently the two communicated because the Japanese officer punctuated his statements with hand gestures and repeated phrases, but Adar seemed to grasp what was said and soon barked commands. To Sandra's surprise, within moments a cauldron of boiling water appeared, as well as a dark earthen cask, or jug, that had a pungent aroma. They must have had the stuff nearby, she thought. They'd have been using it already if I hadn't been here. Chagrin surged through her. She realized she'd just naturally assumed she knew more about medicine than these "primitives" and dived right in. They may have even been as angry with her as she was with them! It says something for the regard they must hold us in, she thought. Otherwise, they might've just killed me! She shook her head and pointed at the cask. "What's that?"
"It's a fermented spirit they make from fruit, Lieutenant Tucker," Tamatsu replied. "They call it seep."
Silva leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Hey, Jap, ask him if it can be drank!"
Tamatsu looked at the big destroyerman a moment before he replied. "Gunner's Mate Silva," he said in an icy tone, "I have given my parole to your captain, as well as my word of honor. But I'm still an officer in the Japanese Imperial Navy. If you do not address me with the respect due my rank, or at least that due one man of honor from another, I won't ask him that, or anything else for the remainder of our visit today. I do not think Captain Reddy would be pleased if our communications broke down entirely because one of his men was rude."
Silva bristled. The words "mighty uppity for a stinking Jap" actually formed in his mouth, but somehow he caught them and clenched his teeth. At his full height, he towered above the other man, but Tamatsu merely looked at him, unconcerned. Silva visibly uncoiled, and after a moment a grin spread across his weathered, stubbly face. "Well, I'll be damned, but you've got guts, Jap . . . I mean Lieutenant Jap." He held up a hand with a wider grin. "No offense, but I don't know your name."
Tamatsu bowed slightly. "Lieutenant Tamatsu Shinya," he said.
Silva nodded back, but his face darkened. "I ain't gonna call you sir, no way in hell. You are a Jap. But I'll call you Lieutenant Shinya, if that makes you happy."
"That will suffice, Gunner's Mate Silva," he said, and a slight grin formed on his face as well. "And, yes, the Lemurians do drink seep, although there's no telling what it would do to you."
Silva arched an eyebrow. "Well! In the interests of science, and prob'ly diplomacy too, I reckon it's my duty to find out!"
Sandra, who'd managed a grin of her own by now, cleared her throat.
"Your duty, Mr. Silva, is to assist me and stay out of trouble. That duty most emphatically does not include testing the local booze. Do I make myself clear?"
Silva glanced at the cask and licked his lips. With a force of will, his expression changed to a beatific smile. "Aye, aye, sir!" He blinked. "Uh . . . ma'am—hell, that's a mouthful!" His face lost all expression whatsoever as Sandra looked at him sternly. "Perfectly clear!" he managed at last.
Sandra straightened her back. There was a pain high in her hips that had grown more intense from leaning over to tend the wounded. For the first time in a while, she looked around. Already, Lemurian healers had swept into the "hospital area" on the open deck between the center and the shattered forward tower. They treated the injured in their own way. Some examined the stitches she had made, and jabbered in their quick, excited tones. Obviously, body language added a great deal of meaning to their speech, and she was growing convinced that their blinking eyes conveyed much as well. She walked into the almost-shade under the catwalk above. She couldn't venture farther because that was where a sort of orchard of large pear-shaped fruit began. She'd heard it called polta fruit. The orchard ran entirely around the ship for a width of about fifteen feet. The wide catwalk was pierced at regular intervals by gratings that allowed light to the plants. The fruit itself, despite its familiar shape, had the color and shiny texture of purple grapes and grew in bunches as well, nestled in a mass of waxy, yellow-green leaves.
At the edge of the orchard was a Lemurian she knew was tall by the standards of his people, and his upper body was more muscular than most. He wore nothing but a bright red kilt stained dark by the blood matting his brindled fur and still seeping from a couple of cuts. He leaned on one knee over the still form of a female of similar color, raising her head so she could drink from a cup. One of the swords, like a cross between a machete and a scimitar, lay beside a blood-encrusted axe.
The female had clearly been in the fighting. Sandra had treated others as well. The first time she removed a bloody leather tunic from one of their "professional" warriors and discovered furry breasts beneath, she was shocked. Adar and his entourage were standing right there, though, and made no sign that the discovery of a female in the ranks was unusual. As she'd said earlier, the semi-nudity didn't surprise her—although she'd finally rounded savagely on Silva and his buddies when she overheard their comments about the "cat-monkey booby farm"—but she hadn't been prepared to find females not only fighting for their lives in a desperate situation but doing so as actual warriors.