Inti’s Satellite
Peter woke up gradually, not quite sure how he’d fallen asleep. He could hear Marie and Grace talking in low voices, but didn't bother trying to listen in.
Everything was sore. Nothing hurt as he lay unmoving, but he suspected something was going to hurt quite a bit if he sat up. Assuming he even could sit up.
After ten or so minutes there was a lull in the conversation, and then Marie called out to him.
“Peter, stop pretending; you’ve been awake for a while now.”
“He has?” Grace asked, alarm in her voice.
Peter smiled. “Don't mind me, I’m just trying to figure out what all’s damaged.”
A hand touched his shoulder, and he finally opened his eyes to find Grace looking down at him with a worried expression. “You all right?”
“Fine,” he grunted, sitting up. He looked at the casts around his arms. The one on his right arm went from his bicep to wrist, while the one on his left covered everything from his shoulder down. “Not fine, apparently.”
A part of the wall opened, and a raven hopped out. “Please do not move your arms. The healers are still operating. We have numbed and locked everything from your elbows down for your comfort.”
“Oh. Uhm, thanks?” He looked at the casts again. “What are they doing?”
“Trying to save your arm,” Marie answered. She was sitting in the corner farthest from him, carving a piece of wood.
“Do you remember what happened?” Grace asked, still touching his shoulder.
Peter flexed the hand not in a cast. There was the echo of pain from faded red lines all over it. “There was a jellyfish, and then a shark bit me… three times?” He paused, smiling at her. “You punched it.”
“Well, I couldn't let it eat ya,” she shrugged, trying to smile through the tears in her eyes.
“Seabirds know how to handle sharks,” Marie said in a faintly mocking tone. “The first two bites weren't bad, but the third severed important arteries.”
“Oh,” was all Peter could say.
The raven perked up. “The healers were able to fix your right arm, and need to know if you would prefer to erase the scars there or not.”
“Erasing means it’ll heal faster?” Peter asked.
“Yes.”
“Erase them,” he said.
“Very well.” It turned, and a picture of a forearm appeared on the wall. “This is your left arm. The shark cracked your radius bone here, and its teeth scratched your ulna bone here.” Parts of the image were highlighted. The crack was almost in his wrist, while the scratched bone was two inches down from his elbow. “The healers report that complete repair might not be possible. The tendons and muscle have been severed in a way that would make full recovery unlikely. At the moment they are holding everything together, but request you decide if you’d prefer they complete the operation to the best of their ability, or amputate the arm. They recommend amputation.”
Peter stared at the raven, his mind going blank. “They… want to cut my arm off?”
“Yes,” the raven said.
He’d seen amputations before, in the army. No one he’d known well, thankfully, but the screaming and the blood and the cracked teeth and the blood and the gangrene followed by a feverish death-
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Marie said from her spot in the corner. “For starters, you won't be conscious during the operation. Then they’ll be sure and keep it healthy until it fully heals. When it does, you’ll get a prosthetic which will connect to your nerves, so you’ll have a working hand.”
“So… You think I should let them?” he asked.
Marie finally looked up from whatever she was working on. “Aye, given the other option. I’d rather you not be in daily pain with a half-lame arm.”
He looked at the raven. “Would I be in daily pain?”
“Most likely, yes,” it replied. “Not severe pain, though. You wouldn't be able to fully extend your arm due to muscle damage, and your grip strength would be significantly reduced.”
Peter looked at Grace. “What should I do?”
She shrugged, running her fingers through his hair. “It’s your arm. Neither option is good. I… I’m just glad you’re alive.”
Everything bad faded for a moment as she smiled. Nothing could be too wrong in a world where she was smiling at him.
“You have to make a decision in the next two hours, or repair will be impossible,” the raven interrupted.
“Understood,” Peter said, feeling his chest tighten. He pulled his knees up, hunching over slightly.
Marie got up and walked over, shooing Grace back. She reached behind him, and he finally saw that they’d replaced the pillow with his old red poncho. Not looking him in the eye, Marie unfolded it and draped it over him, making sure it was properly in place before stepping back to let Grace move closer again.
Automatically, Peter pulled his arms in under the garment and felt like he could breathe easier. The rough fabric felt like a well-needed hug, telling him he’d be all right.
“You know my opinion,” his captain said. “But the decision is yours.” With a nod to them, she left.
After a moment, Grace tugged on the fringe of his poncho. “You look more like you now, Poncho.”
“I feel more like me,” he admitted. Then he smiled faintly. “Can you tell how many limbs I have under this?”
“No,” she said slowly. “But I’m worried about- How well will you be able to do things? Will you still be able to play piano?”
The raven cleared its throat. “Yes. Most prosthetics are designed for full digital mobility.”
Peter thanked the raven, then looked back at Grace. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
She sighed. “I don’t like the idea,” she told him. “But you’re the one who will have to live with whatever you decide.”
“Yep,” he said. “Mind… if I decide alone?”
“Yeah, sure, no worries,” she said, taking a step back. “I’m… glad you’re alive.” Flashing him one last smile, she hurried out of the room.
Peter looked at the raven as the door closed. “How many people here have something missing? I wouldn’t be the first human you try these prosthetics out on, right?”
“No,” the raven answered. “There are seventeen humans here with prosthetics of various types. Three have the same basic type as you would receive, should you choose amputation.”
He absently scratched the cast on his left arm, then paused, wondering why. He looked at his free hand. And then back at the raven. “Could you tell me more about… everything?”
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“Of course.”
Inti’s Watcher
Sophie paced impatiently back and forth, waiting for news. She and Marie had seen the attack, after which Marie had run off to help, but Sophie had no right to follow her. She had no right to be among the first to know how Peter was.
Razan finally came out of his room, having spent far too much time washing off the salt water and changing clothes. In her opinion. He saw her, gave absolutely nothing away with his facial expression, and went to the kitchen to make tea.
Sophie followed him. “Is Peter alive? Is he going to be all right? Are you all right?”
Razan finished filling the kettle and turned it on before acknowledging her questions. “He is alive. I do not know if he will be all right. I… swore to Captain Marie that I would keep you both safe, and I failed. If we were in Japan I know what my punishment would be, but I do not know what the captain will order.”
“Punishment?” Sophie echoed, not fully understanding. “He was attacked by a shark; how is that your fault? Why should you be punished?”
“Because I took responsibility!” he snapped, glaring at the kettle. “I asked for her trust, and then proved I wasn’t worthy of it! I thought it would be easy; I thought nothing truly bad could possibly happen. As the person in charge, it was my duty to make sure no one got hurt, and I failed in that duty.”
Sophie took a step back, surprised at the anger in his voice. “Razan…”
“Yes?” he bit out.
“You protected me,” she tried.
He finally looked at her. “No, Rani protected you. I just watched.” He paused, then bowed slightly. “I’m sorry for having raised my voice. That was unnecessary and rude.”
Sophie froze, not sure how to react. That was the first time anyone had ever apologized for yelling at her. Usually people just hit her for having made them yell. She found herself taking his hand, moving closer to him.
“I’m sorry,” Razan repeated in a soft voice. “I didn’t- I couldn’t- I’m sorry.”
“It's all right.”
She kissed him, needing to feel his arms around her. He slid his hands onto her waist, pulling her closer as he kissed her back. If the kettle hadn't eventually started boiling, the sound making him break away, Sophie wasn't sure when they would have stopped.
Razan cleared his throat, getting out the tea leaves and teapot. “Would you like some tea?”
She nodded, staying close to him.
“It is not proper Japanese tea,” he said apologetically.
“I doubt I could tell the difference,” she admitted.
“You will be able to,” he told her matter-of-factly. “As soon as I get some, you will be able to taste its clear superiority.”
Sophie wondered how hard it would be for her to get tea from Japan. She wondered if he’d notice if she replaced their normal tea with it. If he didn’t, it would be amusing, but if he did, he’d surely be impressed and thankful. She decided she had to ask about it.
“What are you planning?” Razan asked, watching her suspiciously.
“Nothing,” she said innocently.
Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a door opening. Marie came into the room, a worried look on her face. Sophie stepped away from Razan, turning towards her.
“How’s Peter?” she asked.
Marie looked at them. “He’ll live.”
“That is not precisely an answer,” Razan pointed out.
“He gets to choose between an arm that’s permanently damaged, or an arm that’s gone,” Marie said. “Other than that, he’s doing well. Is that answer enough?”
Razan flinched, bowing. “Yes, Captain.”
Marie sat down at the table and rubbed her face. “It’s not a good situation, no matter how it plays out. Samurai, where do you think the blame lies for this?”
He bowed lower. “It… was my responsibility-”
“Get rid of that idea immediately,” Marie said dismissively. “If we can convince the rostari they and their inaction alone is at fault, Peter’s life will be easier. Or at least much cheaper.”
Sophie took Razan’s hand. “I told you it’s not your fault.” She looked at Marie. “He’s not leaving, is he?”
“I highly doubt it,” Marie said. “We’ll have to think a bit more seriously about which contests to join, though.”
Razan cleared his throat. “Captain, if the rostari weren’t completely to blame, where would the responsibility lie?”
She turned and studied him for a few seconds before replying. “You warned him about the shark, and you’re the one who killed the damn thing. What more could you possibly have done as a single unarmed man? I know- I understand how you feel, but we cannot put blame anywhere but on them. Besides, you only made one very basic, reasonable command. This isn’t like when you sent Sophie to the Masks.”
He finally nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
Marie rubbed her face again, then checked the time. “Still half an hour before everyone else gets done, if all goes well. Shall we watch together?”
“Certainly,” Sophie said.
Razan bowed again. “I was planning to watch regardless; watching with company would be ideal.”
“Good,” Marie muttered, moving to the couch. “I don't think I'd do well alone right now.”
Marie waited for news in the shooting range. It wasn't a place she’d normally retreat to, but it offered plenty of distractions and actively encouraged weapons.
She focused on the target, aiming with her rifle. A deep breath, and she pulled the trigger. Paint hit the exact center of the target.
The blue-green paint looked nothing like blood, which was good. Marie almost wished they’d chosen bright, neon colors; something so obviously artificial it didn't even look like it could do damage.
She slowly reloaded, her hands moving through the familiar motions without needing any focus.
The line between decision and consequence was often more like a winding river. People didn't live and act in isolation. Some responsibility always fell to her as leader, but never all.
If the rostari had chosen to send everyone half an hour later, if they’d put people in different places, if Peter had been moving faster, if Sophie hadn't left, if Razan hadn't had them change places, if those jellyfish had been ever so slightly higher, if the shark had already eaten… A thousand things could have been different and it would have resulted in Peter being fine.
This wasn't an excuse. This was something she’d had to remind herself every time someone under her command had been hurt. Every time someone had died. She could have done any number of things differently and this might not have happened, but dozens of other people could also have done things differently.
The door opened, and Louis peered in. He saw her and smiled, walking over.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked.
She shrugged, taking aim again. With steady hands, she pulled the trigger. Paint hit the center of the target.
Louis told the watching hawk to bring his rifle, then leaned against the barrier. “I was too far away to see what precisely happened…”
Marie reloaded. “Tiger shark attacked Peter. Razan and Grace killed it.”
“What did he lose?” Louis asked. His face and tone were truly serious; a rarity from him which she appreciated.
“Left arm.”
“Did the shark bite it all the way off?”
“No,” she said, taking aim again. “It did enough damage the rostari said it wasn't fully repairable, and suggested amputation. He accepted, and is currently in surgery.” With a bang paint again hit the center of the target.
Louis got his rifle and slowly loaded it, still serious. “What do you need?”
Marie slowly grew still, not sure how to answer. Not sure what the question meant. “To go back in time to this morning,” she finally muttered.
“As far as I know, that is still impossible,” he said with a smile, then grew serious again. “Marie. Why are you here? What do you need?”
She finished loading the rifle, not looking at him. “I need to be able to protect my crew. I need- I need them to be safe.”
“Aye, and I need the people I love to be happy.” He took aim and fired, hitting his target just off-center.
Marie passed him her rifle, suddenly having no desire to shoot. She watched him put blue-green paint just above his dark green paint, then moved to lean against him as he set the weapon down. His arms went around her. It made her happy.
“You dislike reminders that accidents happen and things aren't your fault, don't you?” he asked after a moment.
“I find them pointless and hollow,” she confirmed.
“Then I won't say anything of the sort,” he promised with mock formality. “Marie?”
She moved back to look him in the eye, her hands going to his shoulders. “Yes?”
He pulled an impressively detailed gold ring out of his pocket and held it up between them. “Will you marry me?”
The fact that they were already married was brought up in Marie’s mind, but she pushed it aside as she took the ring, examining it from all angles. She focused on it, forcing her attention away from everything unpleasant. “That depends on where you got this.”
“London,” he said. “Your thief insisted she knew what size you wear and helped me choose it.”
“Is that what took you so long?” Her breaths were already coming easier. This wasn't a perfect distraction, but she appreciated it regardless.
“Aye, we had to go to a dozen shops.”
She tried it on. It was a perfect fit; with Sophie’s involvement this didn't surprise her. “Why wait until now to give it to me?”
“I was going to wait for the perfect moment, and then I forgot it existed until this morning when Asani was trying to convince Nali that the monument we went to is full of golden jewelry and other treasures, if only we could get inside,” he said.
“Not sure I want to marry a man with such a fickle memory,” Marie said thoughtfully, then smiled. “But I very much want this ring, so yes, I will marry you.”
He beamed. “Wonderful!”
She still had guilt and worry in the back of her mind, but somehow it all felt less dire.
Do you pronounce the "S" is "Louis"?
