Free Gates of Hell by Susan Sizemore Page A

of the
Tigris
. Was that all? She’d been arguing with the Captain to be allowed to do just that. Because she risked losing her husband? She remembered what it had felt like to heal Sagouran Fever. No, that wasn’t all.
    A voice calling for the Captain and Physician to report to the bridge to accept a communications transmission saved her from having to confront this fear. She felt like a complete coward as she eagerly followed Eamon out of sickbay, leaving the distraught couple for Hernandez to deal with.
    ———
    “Do you wish the
Tigris
to continue with the border patrol?” Eamon asked the plump, gray-bearded Terran visage on the flatscreen after the official greetings were done with.
    “No,” Admiral Gunderson responded. “It’s been decided to keep a large-enough force on our side of the Rose to let the Borderers know we’re aware of them, but to reassign most of our combat vessels to sector patrols. Police work,” he said apologetically. “I realize that you aren’t used to that sort of assignment.” He somehow managed to look like he was personally addressing everyone on the bridge.
    The bridge crew all looked back with properly serious expressions. Roxy was glad the admiral didn’t know any of them personally, or he would have recognized they were hiding amusement and annoyance at his patronizing assumption that they were a bunch of blood-thirsty, trigger-happy Trin killers who disdained anything less than major space battles.
    We used to be like that
, Roxy thought,
but we got better. Mostly. We haven’t done anything that could be prosecuted as a war crime in months
, she added cynically. Reputations were hard to outgrow. Outlive. Whatever.
    Admiral Gunderson beamed another kindly smile around the bridge. The bridge beamed a collective smile back—a little too toothy, Roxy thought, but not bad. Eamon’s serious face helped tone down the effect. Gunderson then settled his benevolent gaze on her. She didn’t have to be a telepath to know what was coming.
    “Physician Merkrates.”
    “Sir.” She knew Eamon knew as well as she did. Her husband didn’t show his fury, but the deep burn of it stabbed through her and left a scar. She kept her gaze on the admiral.
    “I’ve been asked to relay a request to you from the Council to join the planet-based medical team on Bonadem to assist in the relief effort of Sagouran Fever.”
    She expected the invitation, but had thought it was MilService’s turn. This time Roxy and Eamon exchanged a glance. MedService was one thing, her relatives—all koltiri were related—another, but The All Worlds Council was the ruling body of the United Systems, though only eleven beings ever sat, squatted, or floated on it at any one time. Why would The Council send a message to her? Why was an admiral delivering it?
    “Sir?” Her normally deep, smoky voice came out as a high-pitched squeak.
    “Your service is being requested to implement an evacuation plan. A plan that will save the lives of thousands of children on several worlds affected by the epidemic.”
    She had just been given the means to override all of Eamon’s personal and professional objections to her leaving the ship. And she wished she didn’t feel so triumphant about it. Marriages weren’t about winning.
    And she wished she hadn’t met Sagouran Fever deep inside the Thensilans’ dying flesh. Then she wouldn’t really know what she was up against. She wouldn’t be frightened to go. She reminded herself that this was a war for her to fight, and that she was good at that. She said, “A plan to save children? I’ll do whatever I can to help, sir.”
    I’ve felt what this thing can do
, she thought at her husband who did not like telepathy.
I’m sorry, my love, but I have to go
.
    His only answer was silence, of course, along with rage, and offended pride. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t have any expression on his face as he said to Gunderson, “I’m sure Physician Merkrates will serve as