Tale: Fever

“He’s breathing. Stable pulse. A bit low but definitely stable…”

“What happened?”

“We’re looking into it now.”

Kaldoran held a thermometer strip against the Threan-type’s forehead. His skin temperature was a bit warm, but nothing too out of the ordinary. He placed a second strip on their tongue. This result was much more worrying. A higher readout.

“You think it’s a fever, Kaldoran?”


“Patient got agitated, lashed out at another patient then collapsed.”

Kaldoran did another quick check with a third thermometer strip, just to be certain. It was definitely a high temperature. “Had the patient complained of being hot?”

“Only briefly to another patient.”

“I see…”

Arkay slowly began to stir from his sleep. He was in a large bed. It wasn’t his normal bed though, this one was made up with the more traditional white sheets. For a brief but blissfully ignorant moment, he’d forgotten about being ill, being in hospital, about all those horrible recent events.

In his arm, his left arm, was another needle, feeding him salted water via a drip. The skin around it was bruised and sore. How many needles had they stuck into him?

A medic appeared, peering their head around the corner.

“Ah, you’re awake! How are you?”

The little Threan-type tried to speak, but no words came out. His mouth was dry and his tongue was disobeying his brain. He tried to signal for a glass of water or something to drink, only to find his right arm was anchored to the bed.

“Oh, that. You were having seizures. It was decided that it would be better to strap you down. You ripped the drip out three times. I’ll get you some water.”

The medic disappeared, leaving Arkay alone once more.

So that was why his arm was so bruised…

“I wonder when he’s coming back…” Veeyel sniffed as he sat at the table, idly doodling on some scrap paper. Opposite him sat Zitel, who had a sad, guilty look on his face.

“I wonder if he will come back. Not like the kid was getting any better… Unless you were referring to Aybee-En…”

“No. That fucker deserved it. N-Class Ksa are always cunts. Always.” Veeyel scrapped his pen against the paper, tearing it.

“He is coming back though. Once the medics finish stitching him up.”

“It was a scratch across his face. Boo fucking hoo!”

Zitel sighed. “I know. Surprised no one had punched him in the face sooner. But the kid was delusional and took it out on Aybee-En. Just flat out passed out afterwards.”

“I hope he’s okay…

“Me too…”

Elenar gently closed the door to the Exemption Bay and walked down the hallway. All the beds were filled with sleeping Ksa. Apart from one empty bed in the corner. That bed’s owner had been moved elsewhere, to a private bedroom while he recovered from a small, infectious but otherwise simple illness. He’d be back soon, when the illness had passed.

At least, that was what she’d told them.