Territory by Deb2

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BLOOD

DAYS 41-43

The forest was thinning out. It wasn't grassland by any means, but the clumps of trees, often with grazing beasts at rest in the shade, were avoidable. The path of least resistance was a time consuming zig-zag. Grasses cropped short by the increasing number of animals made up for the lack of well-defined trails.

Morgan was quite happy. Feeling that his former relationship with van Helsing entitled him to do so, he assumed a possessive attitude toward the maps. This was infuriating or amusing depending on one's relationship with Morgan. The bureaucrat magnanimously permitted Devon to maintain physical possession of the maps, since Yale was the most qualified to interpret them-- with Morgan's insight (and two cents' worth) to aid him. The conclusion of the whiteroot preservation project had put the government man in a most generous frame of mind.

The kids fashioned bows and arrows; Devon confiscated Uly's and gave Danziger a look which clearly meant he should take True's. The ensuing argument was pointedly ignored by the rest of Eden Advance, until Yale had had enough. The tutor suggested permitting the children to play with the toys under adult supervision only. He volunteered to watch them; it would be a wonderful opportunity to teach the children the history of the weapons and the differing cultures which used them.

John and Devon accepted the compromise. True and Uly enjoyed their new toys in spite of Yale's lectures sometimes getting in the way of imagination. A talk about making arrowheads (during which the children were permitted to hold van Helsing's) piqued True's interest, and she spent the better part of an entire day head down, looking for raw material. All the girl got for her trouble was a sore neck and a smashed finger: she tried to bust open a rock to see if it would flake. Uly was sympathetic in a 'told you so' kind of way.

The weather was reasonably cooperative. It was too hot, but remained dry until a midnight cloudburst of exceptional strength opened over them. Alonzo dubbed it a 'frog strangler'. The entire camp woke and watched the torrents. Other tents were visible only as faint blurs of light. Communication was by gear. Little thunder and lightning accompanied the storm; however, the bolts hit so close to camp, there was no discernible lag between blinding flash and a roar which was felt to the bone.

The storm ended abruptly, after dropping enough water to flood the entire camp ankle deep. Eden Advance, for the most part, waded outside to check the damage. Denner and Magus crawled sloppily from under the heap they'd known as a tent less than an hour earlier. Julia examined the women in spite of their protests and confirmed they were uninjured.

True and Uly, each with a Luma-lite, splashed around stomping to see who could raise a fountain the highest. Devon watched them wistfully. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this, 'this' being enduring a violent storm, and 'this' being the pleasure of watching her son enjoy the flood waters.

Danziger sloshed up to her side. "Some of the lights are down. The vehicles seem to be fine, considering. Can't really tell how much damage we've sustained until daybreak."

Devon looked at the sky. The clouds were drifting innocently away to reveal stars twinkling as if nothing had happened. She glanced at the kids, then to John. He was watching them, too. "Looks like fun, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. It's amazing how well the kids have adapted to life on the planet. Racial memory, maybe?" He turned to Devon.

"Maybe," she replied. Her sense of responsibility butted in. "What about the perimeter alarm?"

"That's Baines' baby."
"Umm," she acknowledged. Leadership instinct satisfied for the moment, Devon indulged herself and watched the children.

DAY 43

There was no doubt they'd remain camped for at least a day. The water had quickly disappeared, sucked up by millions of thirsty roots, but mud adhered to everything it touched, as did the occasional blob of manure. Morgan suddenly began dancing around, shaking his hand vigorously and declaring at the top of his voice just exactly what he was trying to remove from said hand. Everyone, Bess included (her back discreetly turned), laughed. They were more careful about cleaning, tho', not eager to learn Morgan's dance.

Devon grimaced at the thought she'd let Uly splash in the polluted water. Julia's report of no detectable pathogens in the water or manure did not ease Devon's mind.

The sun baked the mud dry, simplifying cleanup. Alonzo and Cameron convinced Danziger they'd be more useful hunting than chipping dirt, and conned him out of the DuneRail. Devon was left out of that loop entirely.

At the edge of a woods a few miles from camp, the men parked the 'Rail and began searching for supper. They walked a parallel path thru the trees. Herding grazers would feed them longer, but were harder to bring down. Winged creatures, relying on flight to get away from earthbound predators, tended to hang around long enough to be shot. Cameron spotted a flying mammal they'd eaten before, perched high in a tree. His shot was good. The animal plummeted to the ground nearer to Alonzo. The pilot-retriever congratulated Cameron via gear and trudged toward the kill.

'Lonz stopped suddenly. Cameron realized he'd seen something, and asked about it.

"It's a baby grazer, not a meter from me. I think it might be hurt; it hasn't moved," answered Alonzo softly.

"Leave it alone," said Cameron, an uneasy feeling coming over him. "Back off."

"Hey, it's just a baby. Probably weighs 45-50 pounds, but it's definitely young." Alonzo circled carefully, inching closer. The calf? foal? fawn? remained motionless.

"Back off, man. Get out of there," advised Cameron. He scanned the landscape anxiously.

"It looks like the mother abandoned it. She could be dead or injured. The baby'll starve," replied Alonzo in a whisper.

The reason for his uneasiness swam to the top of his brain and Cameron blurted, "Bambi!"

"What?" 'Lonz remembered a Bambi from decades ago, a cute brunette.

"Get out of there, Solace! The mother hid that baby to protect it from predators!"

Alonzo slowly moved away from the no longer appealing little grazer. He'd just lost sight of it when he heard simultaneously Cameron shout a warning and the blast of a MagPro. The darkhaired man whipped around and saw mama grazer bearing down on him, a red wound in one massive shoulder barely slowing her. Alonzo took off at right angles to the beast, heading for a climbable tree.

Cameron aimed again as the animal swerved in pursuit of Alonzo, fired and missed. The thing was gaining on Alonzo, moving through the sparse woods with disheartening speed. She ignored saplings and brush, barrelling right though them, and tightly bypassed larger trees on a basically direct course for the pilot. 'Lonz would never make it to safety without help. Cameron attempted to get a fix on mama. He fired, knowing the action was useless. And then he gripped the MagPro painfully tight as he watched his friend turn and try to fire pointblank at the enraged animal.

The great beast lowered its hornless head and knocked Alonzo to the ground. It rammed him, rolling his body over, and trampled the man's back and legs, miraculously missing his head.

Cameron relaxed his hold on the MagPro; he drew a bead on the grazer as he watched the animal trot back to her offspring. She gave a gentle call and the baby rose and walked delicately to her side. The grazers were soon out of sight, probably leaving the trees for the grass. Cameron was too concerned about Alonzo to feel any relief; he mechanically switched channels on his gear as he picked his way to Alonzo.

"Eden Advance," he heard himself say woodenly, "there's been an accident."

The kids sensed immediately something unexpected had happened. The adults' expressions and growing soberness hinted it was pretty serious. True sped to the comtent with Uly right on her heels, and they slid to a halt at the entrance, True bumping into Baines on the way in. Cameron's face on the monitor looked blank, kinda like van Helsing's. Devon evicted the kids from the company, but not before the youngsters knew Alonzo was hurt. True managed a quick study of Julia's face; she looked worried, but still had that intense sort of expression she got sometimes when in full doctor mode.

Baines wouldn't let them hang around close enough to hear much. True curled a lip at him and was rewarded with a glare she had every intention of returning when Uly grabbed her arm and casually led her away. With the boy's gear, the kids gleaned a little more information which aroused a morbid curiosity in both.

After Julia and Danziger raced off in the ATV, the kids were remembered, and Devon gently explained about Alonzo. True noted with carefully hidden impatience that the woman downplayed the seriousness of the situation. Then Yale babysat them until Cameron returned with the ATV; after that, Bess and Morgan took over the kids, telling Yale Devon needed him.

So, here they were, sitting side by side on a pallet in the floor of the Martins' tent. Bess smiled forlornly from the cot, doing what Uly guessed was 'wringing' her hands. When she noticed him watching, she forced them still. Her smile briefly widened in what was supposed to be reassurance, but the bleak look in her eyes told the truth. Uly lowered his head and gave True a sideways glance. True shrugged almost imperceptibly. Seemed like they'd been there for hours. They heard the 'Rail and hushed voices.

Morgan left the tent, summoned by Matazl. He returned shortly, white around the mouth, like he was going to barf or something. The shaken man visibly attempted to pull himself together--even Uly saw that--and grimaced what should have been a warm smile.

"They're back?" asked Bess anxiously, and unnecessarily. "Yeah," breathed her husband. "They need you...out there." He cocked his head toward the door. "It's awful. I've never seen so much blood."

Bess immediately shot a look at the kids, who stared back wide-eyed and receptive. She gave Morgan's hand a quick squeeze on the way out and told him to stay with the kids.

However, True's observation that Morgan looked like he would throw up was correct. With a rushed, "Don't leave!", he flew from the tent, more green than white. The kids shared a glance which confirmed they were thinking alike: get out. Young Danziger wanted to slip over and see Alonzo, if possible. She figured Uly had the same thing in mind, so was a bit surprised when he hefted the everpresent lightning stick and softly trotted off for the woods. The girl, bereft of her 'disciple', consoled herself with the thought that if Uly came along, he would probably do something to get them caught.

Yale was appalled at the extent of Alonzo's injuries. The man still breathed, his heart still beat; however, that was a very temporary thing now. The cyborg's respect for Dr. Heller grew as he watched her work. No doubt the chromo-tilting played some part in enabling her to put feelings aside, but the discipline Julia exhibited was not entirely genetic.

Alonzo felt nothing and could not be made any more or any less comfortable. It was the Eden group which drew comfort from tending the man. When everything possible had been done for their companion, Julia sought out Yale and haltingly informed him Alonzo would not survive til nightfall.

Yale nodded his understanding and slowly walked away from camp, hands clasped behind his back.

Alone under the forest eaves, the old cyborg prayed. He believed in miracles, when they served to promote God's will. But Yale didn't expect one. He prayed to bring himself and his family comfort as they lost another of their own. And then the tutor turned to composing the eulogy.

He couldn't. The words would not cooperate. Yale did not want to preside over another funeral. He raised his hands toward the heavens and cried aloud for the miracle he didn't expect.

The heavens were silent.
The earth wasn't. With a muted rumble, it spat out Terrians. Yale lowered his arms and looked around. Four Terrians stood around him, two before, two behind. Directly in front of him, three more figures emerged. Two Terrians bracketed van Helsing, strong hands clutching his upper arms.

The woodsman sighed and without meeting Yale's eyes, murmured, "They've asked me to help."

"Help?" repeated the tutor encouragingly, as if van Helsing were a shy, uncertain pupil.

"The dreamer. The Terrians value him." Yale considered the Terrians towering over van Helsing, unable to determine if they were an escort or captors. It appeared that the man was being compelled to offer aid. Yale looked curiously at him; van Helsing still avoided eye contact. His expression was hardly more revealing than the Terrians'.

"I fear he cannot be helped," said the old man with care. "His injuries are too many and too serious."

"It doesn't matter," van Helsing said tonelessly. Yale had no desire to cause the strange little man distress. The Terrians would likely release him if they understood the situation. "Can you communicate with the Terrians?

A stiff nod was the answer.
"Do they realize how grave Alonzo's condition is?" Van Helsing startled Yale by gazing up into his eyes. "They know more about it than any of you."

"And yet they believe you can help him?" Yale had the distinct feeling the other man was about to say something more than the 'yes' he eventually bit out.

Trilling sounded a short distance away. One of the Terrians behind Yale trilled and warbled in reply. The old man looked over his shoulder. With a frown of concern, he turned. Uly! And he appeared to be alone.

"Ulysses Adair!" Yale scolded, the pair of crossed staves obstructing his march to the child in no way affecting his intent to reprimand him. "Were you not told to remain in the tent?"

The small boy squirmed. "Yessir."
A warbling Terrian drew Uly's attention. Their conversation flowed and eddied about them, meaningless to Yale. He regarded van Helsing speculatively.

Yale moved closer to the skittish man, dwarfing him, and murmured, "Would it be an imposition to ask you to translate?" The cyborg felt a twinge of satisfaction as van Helsing's face showed quite plainly astonishment.

Van Helsing snorted and a wry smile flashed before expressionlessness masked his face again. "They're briefing the changeling."

The 'changeling' squared his narrow shoulders and pointed at van Helsing in a comically regal manner. "We have to take Mr. van Helsing to Alonzo," Uly said decisively. "He knows what to do."

The troupe moved toward camp, Uly at its head flanked by two of the natives. The tutor's attempt to come abreast of the boy was thwarted by the Terrians; Uly was certainly in no danger from them, so Yale accepted a position beside Van Helsing, who'd been released by his guards and walked with the enthusiasm of a condemned man. He listlessly brushed the evidence of his underground travel from his clothing. Yale studied him intently. If the diminutive fellow *could* aid Alonzo, he must have knowledge of a very powerful healing agent, indeed.

Julia's request to be alone with her patient had been honored. She stood at the foot of the cot, awkwardly pleading with the God Who was a stranger. Her rational self was embarrassed, not really acknowledging Him. But the emptiness inside prompted an ashamed spiritual side to turn belatedly to Him, desperately hoping He existed and would acknowledge *her*.

She jumped guiltily at the rustle of the tent flap. The doctor turned, angry. She gasped. Van Helsing walked in as if he dropped by whenever he was in the neighborhood. Devon stepped in just long enough to inform her the Terrians had sent him for Alonzo.

He approached the cot and regarded the dying man. Julia read no reaction on his face. No concern, no sympathy, no amusement.

"He'll be dead by sunset," she said, her monotone matching van Helsing's impassivity.

The horseman nodded. And whether her intuition went into overdrive, or she grasped at a final straw, Julia never determined. She was suddenly next to van Helsing, actually placing her hand on his arm.

"You know how to save him."
He shrugged her away. He nodded again, and began stripping off his shirt. "He's lost a lot of blood?"

"Yes. There's internal bleeding. I don't have the equipment here to deal with it," she replied bitterly.

Van Helsing unwound the bandage from his arm, exposing the crook of his arm. "You do have the equipment for a transfusion?"

Julia pushed her hair back impatiently, the angry, grieving woman overriding the doctor. "Transfusion?--he's mortally injured-" Her heart sank and the strain came through in her voice. "I can't stop the internal bleeding! A pint of blood isn't going to help!"

"Mine will," he said reluctantly.
She looked doubtful.
"It will increase his rate of healing," so softly spoken she barely heard it.

The chromo-tilt doctor resurfaced, pushed the grieving lover aside, and went to work. She scanned this man who'd been so adamant about keeping his distance from her. The unbandaged arm showed no sign of recent injury. It showed no sign of injury at any time. Dr. Heller grew increasingly excited as the examination progressed. The readings were incredible. Granted, she was limited to what the glove revealed, but it revealed van Helsing was extraordinary. He was undoubtedly the healthiest person she'd encountered. Every system, every organ was flawless. The only thing "wrong" with him was a somewhat enlarged thymus. Dr. Heller inwardly cursed the lack of equipment to study him. "Would you object to a more detailed blood analysis?" she asked.

He shook his head, eyes downcast, resignation personified. The blood was drawn and studied. Julia became remotely aware of a need to attend to personal matters. She ignored it, concentrating, trying to understand what was in that blood. In a little while, she rubbed her eyes and turned to van Helsing.

"You know about this," she stated, indicating the samples and test results spread out before her on the table.

"Of course." Van Helsing stood near the door and was watching Julia. She feared that any second he'd change his mind and bolt.

She ignored her apprehension. Alonzo was slipping away from her, needing care she couldn't provide. The nearest suitable facilities she knew of were 22 light years away. What van Helsing had offered with his blood was hope. If he had access to some herb, if his condition could be duplicated in Alonzo--

"Your immune system appears to function at a higher level than average."

"It works," he said curtly.
She rescanned the arm broken in the fight with Danziger. Not a trace of the injury, none. Why the bandage? Because a normal person would need one and he wanted to hide his difference? Her eyes grew large. Julia looked up from the readings and remembered to breathe. "This healing ability of yours is transferrable?"

Van Helsing nodded. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't." The usual flat distain returned to his eyes. "If you lack the equipment for a transfusion, simply feed it to him. It works almost as well when ingested."

The doctor blanched. What? How had he found that out? So many questions crowded her mind that she didn't speak, realizing the result would be stuttered and stammered half-sentences.

Van Helsing closed the short distance between himself and Julia. She stepped back, uncertain. He extended his arm.

"Get it over with," he said in a tone which caused Julia to feel she should offer him a blindfold before the execution.

She hesitated, one more question forcing its way through her lips. "What do you expect to gain from helping us?"

The man cocked his head to one side in the peculiar manner he'd evidently adopted from the Terrians. "Nothing. Absolutely-- nothing," he replied, his voice fading to less than a whisper.

Dr. Heller briefly considered his answer, then went to work. Within minutes, the doctor had him lying on her cot, a primitive system of needles and tubing rigged to carry his remarkable blood to Alonzo. The worst thing it could do was hasten death.

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