Saving him had been the right thing to do. A sensation of calm came over her. Whatever happened in two weeks, she wouldn't regret her decision.
* * * * *
It took more than an hour to ferry all three carts of food to the barracks at the end of the slaves' work cycle. It would be cold by the time the men came in from the mines, but that didn't really matter. It was still food, and they would be hungry. She had their dinner ready and waiting by the time they arrived back from work, escorted by several Pilgrim men she had known in her childhood. Of course the men didn't even bother to acknowledge her presence now. Several of the slaves looked toward the storage room with vague curiosity, but none seemed inclined to go over and visit. They seemed too tired to care about their fallen comrade.
Bragan came over to check on him as soon as he pulled off his pressure suit and stowed it in a locker.
She could see the fatigue in his face, but the doctor still took his time while checking his patient over.
Bethany searched his face anxiously for some sign of what to expect.
"There's no real change," Bragan said, sitting back on his heels. "He's dehydrated, though, and if he doesn't wake up soon he never will. Of course, if we had even the simplest of equipment here I could do something about that, but I don't even have a way to get fluids down him as it stands."
He sat back and sighed heavily. "I'm too old for working in the mines. Usually I don't have to do the heavy labor, but they've got me substituting for him right now." He gestured toward the man with his chin.
"I'm going to get my food now. Is it all right if his bunk mate visits him for a minute, before the lock they barracks down for the sleep cycle?"
"Sure," Bethany said. She stood and stretched tiredly. "It's been a long day. You must be eager to sleep."
"That's the truth," Bragan said. He stood and walked out of the room. A few seconds later a tall, muscular man with deep black hair came in. His face was streaked with dirt, and he scowled at Bethany.
She shivered, and suddenly realized she was alone with him. His eyes roamed up and down her body, stripping her naked, then looked away from her dismissively.
"How is he?" he asked in a low voice.
"Bragan doesn’t know how he's doing," she replied. To her disgust, her voice cracked. There was something about this man that scared the hell out of her, but she stood her ground, watching as he knelt beside the man and touched his face with surprising gentleness. Then he stood again and walked out of the room without speaking. Bethany exhaled heavily, and sagged against the wall. It was all too much, she thought. Far too much for one day.
She shook herself, then turned to her patient and made sure he was tucked in for the night. She went back out into the main room and started hauling the empty food carts back to the kitchen. The few men who weren't in the barracks watched her with blank eyes as they patched their pressure suits and checked their equipment. Finally, her work completed, she watched in silence as the guards locked the men in. Then, walking behind them as a good woman should, she made her way out the main door of the slave compound and into the tunnel connecting it to the main habitation bubble. Another cycle was over.
* * * * *
That night as she slept, she dreamt again and again of the man's injuries. Each time they were slightly different. At one point, his leg was crushed, and he was crawling toward her, one hand outstretched and pleading for help. Another time he was blind, stumbling through the mine, trying to find her. She tossed and turned as dream after dream hit her, buffeting her with their intensity. Every time his injuries were worse and she never managed to help him. All the dreams ended the same way, though. Her father, leading a group of Pilgrim guards, would drag them to an airlock. The doors would slide shut and the air would be pumped out with a wheezing, hissing sound. Then, their lungs bursting within them, she and the slave would die.
Chapter Three
One cycle after the mine collapse
Logan had trouble sleeping that night, his mind spinning with possibilities. If removing Jess' implant worked and Jess survived, they had a whole new hope for survival. If Bragan could remove one in an oxygen tent in the mines, he could remove more. They could escape.
He forced himself to stay in his bunk, conserving his energy despite the restless tension that filled him.
When the wake-up sounded, he jumped to his feet. Time to find Bragan. The doctor came into the main barracks to get his food a few minutes later, and Logan pulled him to one side.
"How is he doing?"
"He's doing great," Bragan said. "He woke up in the night. Seemed a little confused and in a lot of pain, but I managed to get some water into him. I told him about the implant, too."
"What did he say?"
"He was glad we'd done it," Bragan said, wiping one hand across his forehead nervously. "Started talking about escape right away, about rescuing his sister. I was relieved to hear it, I have to admit."
Logan nodded. No point in rubbing it in.
"How long was he awake?"
"For about an hour, on and off," Bragan said. "He woke up several times during the night. We've decided that we'll keep him 'unconscious' for several days. That way he'll be completely free to listen and spy on them without any suspicion. He'll report what he finds out through me, and together we can come up with a plan."
"That's great," Logan said, grinning fiercely. "I want you to take out my implant today. We'll switch partners in the lift. I know someone who owes me a favor. He'll cover for us."
Bragan stared at him.
"I won't do that," he said. "It's completely irresponsible. For one thing, I'm not a surgeon. We don't even have any anesthetic. There's a good chance I could kill you!"
"I don't need anesthetic," Logan said coldly. Bragan laughed.
"You think you’re pretty tough, don't you?" he asked. "Well I won't do the surgery without some way of sedating you. You think you don't need any pain killers. You're wrong. Even the slightest movement during the surgery could be disastrous, and then I'd have a body on my hands. Not only that, you need to be able to work the next day. There is no way you'd be able to do that without some kind of medication.
Even with medication, you'd be doing well to be up and walking around."
"How did you get the alcohol?" Logan asked. "Wouldn't that work?"
"It's a very poor substitute and I doubt I could get any more," Bragan said. "And what little I do have needs to be saved for emergencies"