Free Bloodthirst by J.M. Dillard Page B

got was a demotion.” Lisa sighed. “And you know, it’s really hard for me to believe, after meeting him.”
    Lamia shook her head slowly in disbelief. “No wonder Tomson yelled at him for being late.”
    â€œEveryone’s been gossiping about him and avoiding him, so I felt like the least I could do was try to be nice to him. I really
was
trying to be nice when I asked him to the table.” Lisa’s expression was still one of remorse. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the promotion. It was like rubbing salt in an open wound.”
    â€œWell, he’d have heard about it somewhere else, then.” Lamia leaned across the table and patted Nguyen’s arm. “Don’t feel bad, Lisa. He’s the one who made a mistake. If he can’t handle being reminded of it, then he doesn’t belong in Starfleet.”
    She was talking about Stanger, of course, but in a way, she knew the words applied to herself as well.
    Christine Chapel adjusted her visor and gave a worried glance at the patient behind the crystal barrier as she lowered the tray into the vacuum lock. No matter that Adams was a suspected killer—he was a patient, first and foremost, a patient that had Chapel very concerned. There was a soft
swoosh
as the lock sealed itself and reopened inside the isolation chamber. Robot arms lowered themselves from the ceiling and deftly ferried the tray with the steaming bowl to Adams’ bedside. Just as efficiently, they disappeared again.
    â€œYou’ll feel better if you eat something,” Chapel said into the intercom beneath the crystal. “I refuse to give you another IV. You’re not sick enough. Now eat.”
    The man on the bed continued to lie with his face turned toward the wall.
    â€œDon’t make me have to sound like your mother.” Chapel’s tone was light but firm. “I’m not leaving until I see you eat something.”
    She amazed herself sometimes with her ability to put on a good show. Adams had gone into a sudden, rapid decline; within a matter of hours, he had deteriorated to the point that he looked—to Chapel, anyway—like a skeleton. He had the look of death to him it was only hours away now, and Chapel was frightened for his sake. But she was too damn good a nurse to let on. She’d seen miracles before—people who lived, who had no business surviving. They just simply hadn’t known any better. Hadn’t realized they were close to dying.
    But Adams realized it. He’d already slipped into a depression. If she could somehow convince him that he had a chance
    She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m
not
leaving.”
    He sighed and stirred. Chapel saw him glance at the bowl next to the bed. After all that time in the unlit chamber, she bet he could see better than a Vulcan in the dark.
    â€œWhat is it?” Adams asked feebly.
    â€œSome nice chunky soup.” She tried her best to make the words themselves sound delicious. “Or stew with broth. Whichever sounds best to you. Good and hot.”
    He raised his head and looked up in the direction of her voice. “Why should I eat? I’m just going to die.” He said it with the simple, unself-pitying bluntness of a child.
    â€œYou’re not going to die,” Chapel answered with what she hoped was convincing exasperation. “You’ve stabilized. And our lab is very close to a breakthrough on this.” Both lies, of course, but if it took a lie to help him, then she would never speak the truth again. Her tone became lightly teasing. “Besides, I wouldn’t waste this good food on you if you were going to die. Now, eat up. You must be awfully hungry.”
    He was still looking in her direction, though she knew the light blinded him so that she was invisible. He seemed to be thinking hard about something; and then, his face relaxed.
    â€œAll right. I’ll try to eat a