Chapter 169: (Nemta) (1/2)
The day after his talk, Nemta relapsed, returning to fever, muscle cramps, blinding headaches, vomiting, and delirium. He knew what was happening, in his lucid moments, but was unable to stop it. He remembered begging Friend Terry to kill him, that he couldn't do it. Begging Mother to help him, to make the pain stop. He crawled out to one of the green mantids and begged them to make him the medications, promising that he just needed a little to take the edge off.
Several times he had to be restrained to his bed, where he twisted and moaned, snapping at anyone who came near him. For three days he screamed from the pain and agony, his internal organs on fire. Even his bone marrow hurt. His joints were full of ground glass, agonizing when he moved.
The whole time the broodcarriers cared for him. Cleaning him when he needed it, helping him eat when he could, giving him fluids, and singing to him to try to ease his discomfort.
More than a few times he wept for things he felt the loss of but didn't understand. Often he cried out for Mother, but didn't mean the Hamaroosa, yet cried with relief when she appeared to comfort him.
They prayed, quietly, for him. Asking for strength and endurance to be granted to him. Asking for his pain and suffering to be shouldered. Sometimes it made him angry, other times it filled him with emotions he didn't understand, still other times he cried for reasons he didn't understand even as he prayed with them, mumbling along as he writhed.
Finally, one morning, he was able to sit up on his own. His hands shook, and he realized that he had on a medical wrist band with a plastic tube that ran up his arm to where a fluid pack was taped to his shoulder.
”Shh, Nemta sweetie, is safe is warm,” a broodcarrier he didn't recognize said. He marking were different and she was missing two fingers on her hand, her arm scarred and the fur patchy.
”Thirsty,” he managed to rasp.
The broodcarrier held up a squeeze bottle and let him drink. The fluid squirted into his mouth and the feeling of having eaten sand for a month eased up.
”Terry? Mother?” Nemta asked.
”Will get. Rest, Nemta sweetie, will get,” the broodcarrier said. She limped out of the hut and Nemta saw several long thick scars down her back.
Nemta laid back, staring at his roof. The lights were dim, easy on his eyes. He still hurt, all over, but he didn't feel like he was going to start screaming just from the light.
Friend Terry came in, the broodcarrier admonishing him to be careful, to be gentle with Nemta.
Friend Terry sat down, stroking the broodcarrier down the back, looking at Nemta. ”You look like hell, kid. How do you feel?”
Nemta almost busted up laughing, but managed to get it under control. He swallowed several times, took a sip off the offered squirt bottle, and stared.
”How... how long?” Nemta asked.
Friend Terry shook his head. ”You aren't stopping us from leaving. We can't leave yet,” Friend Terry said. ”I take some of you into jumpspace and you'll die. I'm not even sure some of you could survive being inside a ship right now.”
Nemta swallowed. ”Us?”
Friend Terry nodded. ”You aren't the only one detoxing. I found a couple groups in the two nearby cities. They've been living off the food from the city's food dispensers, which mean a couple days after being here they started doing through the same thing you did.”
Nemta put his face in his hands and started crying with relief. It was so strong it almost dragged him down. He had never felt it that intense, not even when he had managed to land his fighter craft after the battle, not even when he had made the cutoff to get to the next phase of pilot school.
The broodcarrier gently rubbed his fur, cleaning his face off with a cloth when he was done crying. Nemta let the broodcarrier lay him back on the bed and cover him back up with his blanket.
”I'm sorry,” Nemta said, looking up.
Friend Terry shook his head. ”A long time ago, I took a hit the head. Blew my head clean off,” Friend Terry said. ”Took me nearly a year to recover. One minute I was fighting the next I was waking up in a therapy bed. I don't know exactly what you're going through, but I can relate. My brain took two months to unscramble. I cried like my heart was breaking because the nurse was proud of me I'd finished my jello once.”
Nemta nodded, resisting the urge to draw back from Friend Terry at the idea that he'd been killed and returned. ”I do not understand what I am feeling. I am angry at you that you are not feeling like me, jealous that you are already past it, and afraid of you because you could die and come back.”
Friend Terry nodded again as the broodcarrier made soft crooning noises and wiped Nemta's face again with a warm dry cloth.
”It's all right, kid,” Friend Terry said. ”You aren't the only one.”
”Bit,” the broodcarrier said, ducking her head shyly and glancing at Friend Terry.
”It's OK, Selvi'isha, I understand,” Friend Terry said, petting her neck. ”You were sick and thought I was the one hurting you.”
”She bit you?” Nemta asked. She couldn't imagine a broodcarrier hurting anyone.
Friend Terry nodded. ”Yup. The broodcarriers recover faster than anyone else.”
”I hadn't even thought it could happen to them,” Nemta admitted. He started crying again, petting the broodcarrier's arm. ”I'm sorry.”
”Is OK. Nemta sweetie sicky sick,” the broodcarrier, Selvi'isha, said shyly. ”Nemta good, Nemta strong, Nemta get better soon.”
Nemta nodded. He yawned, feeling exhausted.
”Get some sleep kid, Selvi'isha or Phreni'ima will take care of you,” Friend Terry said, standing up slowly and carefully.
”What will you be doing?” Nemta yawned.
Friend Terry shrugged. ”What I've been doing since they got me up and running again. Working on getting you guys off this planet and somewhere safe.”
Friend Terry left and Nemta closed his eyes. He fell asleep quickly.
And dreamed strange, disconnected dreams, where his emotions whiplashed and whipsawed through him.
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Mother sat down on the chair, sighing and shifting until she was comfortable.
”How are you today?” She asked Nemta after she took a drink from her carafe.
”Head hurts,” Nemta admitted.
”Lulvi'ina told me you were able to take a bath today,” Mother said. ”Do you feel better?”
Nemta nodded. ”My fur doesn't feel sticky and gross. I'm just really tired and not sure if it's worth it to get out of bed.”
Mother made a hmm noise and slowly nodded. ”You are starting to recover. I felt much the same way a year ago. You will need watched closely.”
”Why?” Nemta asked.
”Fear, sadness, feelings of worthlessness, can combine to make you so despondent that you are willing to end your own life,” Mother said. ”Then you will start to get better, eventually.”
”I feel as if we can't leave because of me,” Nemta admitted. He started to turn over, turn away from Mother, when she reached out and put her hand on his chest.
”You are not to blame. After Friend 303 and Friend Terry found Phreni'ima and the littles, he became extremely agitated, angry at himself for not searching better,” Mother said. ”He spent days searching for others.”
Nemta looked at Selvi'isha and Mother nodded. ”Indeed. We have gone from a bare dozen to nearly fifty, not counting the littles. More than half were living in the nearby cities eating from the food dispensers and thus are suffering the same things you are. You are further along than all but the Telkan broodcarriers. They recovered quickly, and have no periods deep sadness.”
Lulvi'ina reached out and patted Nemta's leg. ”Busy. Many sicky sick. Is OK. Will take care.”
Mother nodded, then reached out and put her hand on Nemta's forehead. ”You'll have good days and you'll have bad days, but soon the good days will outnumber the bad ones, the good moments will outweigh the bad ones.”
”My whole life before now is a fog. Like it happened to someone else,” Nemta admitted.
Mother made hmm noises as she moved her hand back and forth on her cane, obviously thinking. ”In a way, Nemta, it did. I feel much the same thing, looking back on my life. Eventually you will be able to remember things more clearly, but right now you're brain is trying to figure out how it should feel about those memories, so it tries to avoid them.”
Nemta nodded.
”Friend Terry asked me to make sure you are no longer afraid of him,” Mother said. She gave a low chuckle. ”Like many others, you became afraid of him,” she laughed softly. ”Friend Terry has begun wearing a spray on scent he calls cologne so that his scent does not frighten.”
”Why is that funny?” Nemta asked.
”It smells faintly of flowers and some of the younger podlings and cuddles have bitten him thinking he smells good,” Mother said.
That made Nemta laughed. Just the mental image, so so clear, of Friend Terry lifting his arm and sighing with a couple of podlings and a cuddle hanging off his arm by their little teeth. He could clearly visualize Friend Terry's expression of put upon exasperation as the littles looked around with their big eyes, obviously confused while they bit.
Mother smiled widely, as if she knew what Nemta was thinking.
”When can I get out of bed?” Nemta asked, still smiling.
”Tomorrow, if you are still feeling good, we'll take you outside to sit in the sun. I must warn you, there have been many changes,” Mother warned.
Nemta opened his mouth to protest and ended up yawning.
”Rest well, Friend Nemta,” Mother said, reaching out with one hand to pat his chest.
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