Ground mission

    “Up, early to bed, early to rise.” Emmie ignored the tone, the voice that nagged her to awaken.  Ms. Smith reached over and shook her, but Emmie tried to hold fast to her dreams.  It was so calm there, so pleasant and she felt so…loved.  Something she really didn’t feel in the Tower, something she wasn‘t sure she could quantify.   Emmie rolled over and in an uncharacteristic manner, covered her head with the pillow.
    Ms. Smith immediately ceased her morning litany and removed the pillow from Emmie’s face.  Her wrinkled face was pensive, almost concerned.  It was still a cold look and it clashed with the sweet feeling of peace that had been a part of Emmie’s dream.  The older woman immediately took hold of Emmie’s wrist and began to take her pulse.  She peeled back her eyes and checked their reactions. 
    Annoyed Emmie pushed her aside and sat up.  “I’m fine.  No fatigue, no headaches, no shortness of breath.”  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. She felt more than saw the serious stare of her Guardian.  Ms. Smith decided to let the issue drop and turned to briskly making the bed.  She smoothed the white sheets and twitched the duvet over the top. 
    There was precious little to keep neat in Emmie’s quarters, but Ms. Smith went about pushing in a chair to the desk and tidying the books and papers.  No mementos graced the shelves, merely texts and volumes on medical terms, conditions and treatments.  The computer was dark,  no bright screen saver.  Only the large window in front of the table gave any color to the room.  The muted tint allowed only the deepest greens and browns of the Tower grounds to seep through.  The blue of the sky, the yellows of the wildflowers nestled amongst the trees, all tamed to monochrome, flat tones.
    Emmie stood in the doorway of the bathroom.  She stared out the window, wishing for a clear view.  Wishing for a moment in the sun, a breeze to lift her hair, all things that she doubted would happen, at least today.  She felt cold, deep within herself, though the room was maintained at a constant temperature.
    “Better?” Ms. Smith was laying out the breakfast.
    “Yes.  I guess I’m just bored.  Haven’t had a field mission in a while.”  Emmie sat at the table and took the linen napkin that was handed to her.  She ran the fabric through her fingers several times.  It was smooth, but the edges had been rolled with thread, giving it an odd bump right as the smoothness ended.  She had never noticed it’s texture before.  She caught Ms. Smith’s expectant look and began to eat her breakfast.  Eggs and whole wheat pancakes again.  A fun change from the routine.  Her last weigh in must have been under, she was getting larger portions and heavier foods.  She felt like she was being rewarded, there was even syrup.
    “Well. No need to push you too far. I am sure as soon as Dr. Reyes clears you through the Committee, you can do more of your work.”  She went to the bathroom and began to tidy in there.
    Emmie chewed her food slowly.  Not really to savor it, but to delay.  Ever since her collapse, she was given only study tasks.  She hadn’t seen or touched an actual patient.  While brushing up on her studies was great, she buzzed with untapped energy. She felt that she almost vibrated with it. Sometimes she felt the endless days like ants crawling on her limbs.  She frowned.  She had never seen an ant outside of a text on toxic insect bites.  Still she was twitchy and irritable as she had never been before.  Ms. Smith’s tolerance to it was starting to wear thin.  She came out of the bathroom and gave the plate another significant look.  The look that said the portions had best be consumed before they chilled.  Emmie bent her head back to her plate, chewing.
    The door chimed and the light over it flashed green.  Emmie eyed it warily, half expecting one of Dr. Reyes’s techies to come in wanting to run another needless test on her, but to her delight it was Darren.  Even better, he carried a mission folder.  His grin was more restrained than last time, but it still showed his delight in seeing her.
    She fought down an urge to jump up and hug him.  Such behavior had been firmly schooled out of her years ago, but the compulsion persisted.  She smiled back warmly, grateful to see him after such a long time.  He had not come back to see her in the infirmary.  All of her requests for information had been denied or put off and Emmie had feared that she would ever see her Watcher again.  She had had little contact with anyone and she felt the lack of social stimulus acutely.
    “Please. Please tell me you have a mission for me.” Emmie stood and tossed her napkin to cover her plate.  Here was hope that another dry day was beyond her.  Here was hope that she might get outside her small walls.  She might see colors today.  She might feel weather today.  Someone might tell her something of the world that stretched beyond her window.
    Darren smiled fully this time.  Her eagerness was contagious.  He held up the mission folder and nodded.  Emmie smiled, her teeth flashing whitely.  He grabbed her dark blue Tower marked blazer from the wall hook and motioned for to the bath room.     “Ms. Smith, not to worry, this is a one stop, one patient affair.  Emmie is only playing back up to a surgical team.  Emmie, please go dress in business attire.”
    Ms. Smith nodded, wisely not mentioning the last mission.  Emmie flew into the bathroom with its clothes drawers and closet.  She pulled on her dark plaid skirt and  white button down shirt.  She grabbed knee socks and her loafers. Darren and Ms. Smith were still quietly staring at each other, the silence charged.  Though Emmie had heard no voices, the looks they exchanged  had volume.   Emmie grabbed the blazer with the small stone tower embroidered on it and elbowed Darren.  He looked down at her and smiled  The red light flashed and Emmie smiled to know she was out of her room.  She felt recharged and almost bouncy.  Darren gently guided her down a hallway.  After about fifty feet, another door light flashed red and Maggie and her Watcher stepped into the hallway.  Maggie was dressed just like Emmie.
    “Half the Tower’s been mobilized,” Maggie’s Watcher commented to Darren.   He gestured to Emmie, “Don’t forget the pinger.  Gotta have something for Maggie here to find.”  He was tall, but not with the narrow build often seen in tall men.  Emmie studied him as he pulled Darren aside to speak  in hushed tones .  He had to be about six foot five inches.  Broad shoulders stretched the material of his uniform.  He gave every appearance of being in command.  She noticed his belt was more complex and held more equipment than Darren’s.  Dark metal things that looked dangerous.
    Maggie bounced beside him, her youthful energy making her almost glow.  She was the dark color of the young man that had asked God to bless her, Emmie realized.  Her black hair caught up in barrettes beside her face and the rest spilled freely down her back in a mass of soft waves.  It wasn’t contained in a braid, confined to a bun.  It looked so soft.  So carefree.  She patted her own business-like braid.
    “I get to go out.  On a mission!!  I don’t know where I get to Skip, but where ever it is, I can find it!” Maggie clapped her hands and looked up at her Watcher, who held out his hand to her, palm out.  Maggie leaned over and whacked it with her own hand.  She giggled fiercely and jumped in place.
    “That’s my Bull’s Eye girl.” He tugged on her hair and then turned back to Darren. “I guess I see you at the de-brief.  Hopefully we all won’t have to do much but babysit and drink stale coffee.”  He took Maggie’s hand and they went down a side corridor, Maggie chatting away at her Watcher, who laughed occasionally at her comments.  Emmie paused to study them, such a small girl with such a tall capable man.  And both seemed so content, happy even.  Maggie obviously loved her missions.
    “Let’s go, Emmie, “Darren spoke quietly, searching Emmie’s face.
    “What does Maggie do, exactly?” Emmie asked as they continued down the hall.
    Darren glanced at her, then along the hallway.  Only the silent white corridors looked back, marred at intervals by blank doors with lights over the top. Over each door, one red light, one green., none of them lit.  Sound bounced oddly and Emmie realized that the rooms beyond the doors were shielded.
    “You know the Tower has many programs, many skilled girls.  Maggie is a Skipper, just as you are a Nightingale.  She can Skip from one place to anther, geographically.  She’s being trained to work with a Hound, these are girls that can fetch things without having to touch them, but their range is very limited.  Maggie is especially gifted because she retains a sense of every place she has Skipped.”  He glanced at her thoughtful frown.
    “That would explain her knowledge of geographic regions and terrain.  I suppose all of the girls in the Tower have specialized training and education?”
    “Yes.  The Hounds study mass, density and physics, Skippers study geography and Nightingales study biology and physiology.”
    “But I’m the only Nightingale left, aren’t I?”
    Darren stopped short.  He  didn’t look down at her, didn’t turn his head.
    “Why do you say that?”
    She paused too, and frowned slightly. She turned to look at him, but he still stared straight ahead.
    “After the last mission, I overheard some of what you and Dr. Reyes were talking about. Am I right?”
    “Yes, you are the only Nightingale.  Which is why your collapse after the last mission caused the Committee to re-evaluate your mission status and the parameters under which you work”
    He started walking again, his usually open face, clouded and worried.  Emmie took the hint and didn’t ask anymore questions.  She really wanted to know what happened to Kay.  The other Nightingale had been only a year younger than Emmie.  She had been something of a friend and study partner rolled into one.  Emmie had often looked forward to their practical training together.  But she had not seen Kay in some time.  Or Kay’s Watcher.   She could only assume now, that Kay was dead.
    The thought saddened her.  She seemed to be without a companion, even though Darren walked by her side. The only one of her kind.  She knew Darren would lay down his life for her, knew he would give up everything he had and was to see her safe, but it wasn’t that safe.  It couldn’t be.  Kay had had a Watcher, and now where was Kay?  Where do people go when the body no longer functions.  Not for the first time Emmie was confused by this issue.  So if it was safe, if her Watcher was even half as good as Darren, what had happened to Kay? Emmie understood the process of decay, but what about Kay, the part of her that laughed at funny sounding Latin terms and loudly proclaimed that eating kidney beans was cannibalism? Where had she gone?
    Darren took a side corridor that Emmie had not used before. Emmie was still deep in thought as Darren handed paperwork to two guards at the corridor entrance.  A red light rotated and flashed and a small tone echoed through the hall.  Emmie looked up as Darren fastened a chunky bracelet to her wrist.  It had linked bands and where the two pieced joined was a small bird perched on a caduceus.
    “Just a little added insurance. “ He smiled at the two guards and herded Emmie towards another door at the far side.  Emmie poked at the bracelet, a small LED glowed on the side facing her wrist.  She held up her wrist and jiggled it at Darren.  It’s weight unfamiliar on her wrist.
    “Insurance?”
    “It’s a pinger.  I’ll explain it in the car,” he whispered tersely.  A sleek long black car pulled up outside the door and the driver came around and opened the back door.  He saluted Darren and gestured for Emmie to enter.
    With ill concealed glee Emmie got into the car.  She had never ridden in a car before.  Whenever she had left the Tower in the past, it was by chopper.  The novelty of being in a car excited her and her young mind forgot about the dark conversation  in the hallway.  She scooted across the seat to give Darren room to enter and eagerly looked out the far window.  The tint was too dark for her to make out more than the flooring of the parking structure.  No sun yet, no wildflowers and fresh breezes, but a car ride!!!  She rubbed her hands along the smooth seats.  The textured soft and supple. 
    Darren tapped her shoulder and gestured for her to buckle her seat belt.  He handed her a bottle of water and a protein bar.  After making sure she was secured, he gave a signal to the driver and the car pulled forward.  Emmie watched as the lights on the ceiling ticked by at regular intervals.    The sensation of rolling forward made her head swim slightly.  It was so different from the swift uplift of the choppers.
    She nibbled the food as light began to grown in front on them.  The car pulled out of the underground structure and into the muted light of a forest.  Emmie completely lost interest  in the food as she gasped at the sight of the green trees, the ferns, the black topped road.  The sun flickered overhead, chased by clouds, the shadows moving in and out in response.  Emmie watched as the black topped road met with another road, and traffic began to filter around them.  Other cars passed, various colors, and people were inside them, driving, talking, and moving.  Many, many people.
    Suddenly the windows darkened completely and Emmie couldn’t even make out the road that hummed under the tires. “Hey!” She protested.  Darren raised a surprised eyebrow at her outburst, but didn’t reprimand her further.  A dark solid panel went up between the driver and the back seating.  Emmie sat back, demure.
    “Pardon me, “ she said quietly.  Her early Tower training stressed positive and compliant behavior.  Acting out, fussing and complaining were harshly punished.  She felt that after her last mission, things were going to be very much by the book, to the letter.  She wistfully recalled a mission that had ended early.  Darren had whispered to a staff member and they gone out and come back with an amazing treat for her.  Emmie didn‘t think she would be treated to ice cream again any time soon.
    She tugged at the bracelet again, “What is this thing?”
    Darren checked the bracelet secured to wrist. “It’s called a Pinger.  Get used to it.  Our Skippers are now skilled enough that in case you are ever,mmm, separated from me, one of them can locate you and retrieve you with the aid of a Hound.”
    “Oh.  Do I have to wear it all the time?”, she moved it up and down her wrist.  Emmie really didn’t like it, not being used to any form of jewelry. “It tingles.” 
    Darren frowned, “It shouldn’t be doing anything to you.”  He peered at the connection and the glowing LED.  “I don’t feel anything.”
    “I do.  It’s hard to explain and I am not sure, but I don’t think I like it.”  In fact it tingled quite a bit, but Emmie was afraid that if she complained too much, the mission would be scrubbed.  She couldn’t face another day of being confined to her rooms.
    “Well, for now it is only when you are on field missions.  Just try and ignore it.”  He dug into his mission folder and pulled out a stack of papers.  “ This is a very unusual mission for us.  There is a man, an important man who is having heart surgery today.”
    “Why is he bothering with surgery?  We’ll be there soon, right?  I can help.”  She wrinkled her brow at the thought of traditional surgery, so invasive!  Granted, it was easier for her to heal an organ if she touched it directly, but she could still fix them if there was no incision.  It simply took more time and energy.
    “This case is different.  It is very high profile and the Tower likes to keep a low profile.  You just can’t go in and heal this man.  I am told the surgery is routine, the surgeons are the best and the man is in otherwise excellent health.  You are to be nearby in case of a problem.  Not seen, not heard.  Only in the event of an emergency will you be summoned to the OR .”  He handed her a thin packet of information.
    She studied it briefly, noting particulars.  It was very minor.  Oh, sure, if left unattended the blockage would likely cause a massive coronary and kill the man, but Emmie could have the heart and vessels corrected and in perfect shape in twenty minute, thirty tops.  There was very little detail on personal information and there was no picture.  Emmie handed back the file.   Looking back at the window, she composed herself for a potential mission.  She hated to get her energy going too much if all she did was end up sitting around.  Still, she was trained to always provide the best she could.  Emmie made sure she had her hand wipes and protein bars tucked into her blazer pocket.  She may be the only Nightingale left, but she was still determined to be her best.
    The car ride was uneventful.  Darren was no longer talkative.  He was uncharacteristically quiet.  For the first time since he was Emmie’s Watcher, Emmie felt uncomfortable with him.  She didn’t have the social skills needed to start a random, non-mission related conversation.   She stared out the car window, trying to peer beyond the extreme tinting that was on it.  Without warning the tint was dropped and Emmie could see soaring buildings, cars upon cars, and people were everywhere.  Most of them appeared to be in military uniform.  The buildings were inter sped with greenbelts of grass and trees.  Birds flew in groups over the roof of one building, landed, only to fling themselves into the air again.  Emmie, eyes unblinking, looked over at Darren.  He wore a sheepish grin and winked at her.  He put a finger to his lips.  She took the hint and didn’t say a word, just continued to stare out the window.  She felt a glow inside at the return of Darren’s usual self.  This was the Watcher she had known.
Her delight in the sun, colors and people was short lived as the car quickly turned a corner and then descended into an underground parking structure.  Emmie sat back into the seat.  She felt calmer and happier.  Darren no longer seemed a stranger to her.  The car pulled up to a bank of elevators.  A group of serious faced and dark suited men stepped forward and opened the door for Darren.  He stepped out and handed over his paperwork.  One of the men, an unsmiling blond man, motioned Darren to step forward and then held out his hand for Emmie.  Darren moved back and whispered a few terse word to Blondie.  The man shook his head and motioned Darren away.  Blondie leaned back into the car and offered his hand to Emmie again.
    Emmie hung back, trying to see beyond Blondie to Darren.  This was way past a breach in protocol.  Emmie was not supposed to have contact with anyone but Tower personnel and her patients.  The man snapped his fingers at Emmie and gestured for her to come out.  Emmie slid closer to the car’s door but was reluctant to touch the man,  He exuded impatience and negativity.  His face was set in frown lines, the marks prematurely etched into his face.  He hadn’t said a word, and Emmie felt that he was angry and disapproved of her.  Her head swam as foreign emotions settled in on her.  Why was he angry?
    “Just don’t touch her,” Darren was arguing with the other men now, his attention divided between Emmie and the suited men.  He moved to go back to Emmie and two of the other men reached over and restrained his shoulders.  As Blondie reached over to grab Emmie’s arm, the driver from the Tower car was suddenly between him and Emmie.  He was tall and built much like Maggie’s Watcher.  Emmie sank back in the car, protected, grateful to be shielded from such an angry person.
       “You were briefed.  Nobody touches the Nightingale.”  The driver simply stood, large and imposing.  He didn’t speak further.  Blondie glanced back.  Darren’s face was deeply red, redder than his brush cut hair.  His eyes were flashing and the two men holding his shoulders were straining so hard their suit coats were stretched taut.
    Emmie didn’t understand the factions that were at play.  She didn’t understand the turf war that was unfolding in front of her.  She understood enough to see that there were too many strong willed men, and that there was a power contest in play.  What she did understand, and understand well, were the rules that governed her life.  The largest Tower rules were that girls of the Tower have no contact with outsiders, unless approved by their Watchers.  Obviously the driver was more than just a chauffeur.  He hadn’t looked quite so large when he had been sitting behind the steering wheel.
    The silence thickened.  Then the one man who was not holding Darren cleared his throat.  Blondie looked back.  The other man nodded briefly and Blondie stepped back.  Emmie looked to Darren.  Darren looked pointedly at the two suits holding him.  They stepped back.  Darren moved forward and clasped the driver on the shoulder.  The driver nodded and stepped back.  Darren reached into the car and offered Emmie his hand.
    Emmie stared a moment and then grabbed his hand and let her help him out of the car.  She straightened her clothes and tried not to look at the other men.  She was afraid and it was such an unnatural feeling for her. In her short life, she had always been shielded, never had she felt fear.  Never had she felt a fear for her own safety.  The pinger tingled more, a distraction.  She felt out of balance.  She was unsure of herself.  Her normal energy that propelled her into a field mission was shattered.  She was awkward as they entered the elevator.  As soon as the doors slid shut, Darren dropped to his knee and cupped her chin.
    “Are you all right?”
    “I guess so,” she felt so tired, her energy was more like the end of a mission than the beginning.  “They don’t think the patient is going to live.  I could feel it coming through them.  They don’t want me here.  They think I’m a mistake.  They think I am going to kill him.  And that would be very very bad for everyone.  Why do they think that?” Only her Tower training kept her tears from spilling down her cheeks.
    Darren dropped his hand and looked deeply into her face and spoke slowly, “What are you saying?  You could read their thoughts?”
    Emmie grimaced and shook her head. “No, it was more like…it was more like their feelings were talking.  Only not in words.  And, Darren, they are worried and so very angry.”
    Darren looked at her and then stood up and awkwardly hugged her shoulders tight to him.  He sighed.
    “This is new isn’t it?”
    She sniffed, calmed by the contact, secure in his solid form next to her. “Yes, it never happened before.  I don’t like it.”  She took a deep shuddering breath and let it out in a slow controlled exhale.
    Darren released her and dug into his pocket and handed her a hanker chief.   He dabbed gently at her face and pushed back her hair.  He smiled down at her. His calmness settled her.
    “This is more than likely only going to be a waiting game.  Chances are, we won’t have to do anything.”  He sighed again and looked up for a moment. “Compose yourself and when we get back to the Tower, we can ask Dr. Reyes some questions.”
    Emmie nodded.  She didn’t know why, but when the disagreement at the car had happened, she could suddenly feel the emotions of those around her.  She was used to feeling the pain and injuries of patients, of sensing where the problems were coming from, but never had she connected with anyone on an emotional level.
    As the elevator slowed  and the doors opened with a quiet hiss, Emmie was glad she could feel Darren's emotions.  He was a rock.  He was a solid wall of calmness and security.  His focus was Emmie and right now, she really needed to feel safe.

Awakening

    Emmie woke slowly.  Her head throbbed and her eyes resisted opening.  There were voices arguing, quietly but heatedly.  The voices alternated between roaring through her ears and whispering  beyond her range.  Likewise, the bed she knew she rested on felt harder than stone, then she felt she was sinking in softness.  Emmie knew that her senses were not functioning correctly.  She guessed that if she opened her eyes, her sight would be distorted.  This could cause nausea and Emmie really did not like to throw up.  Of all the bodily processes, that was the one she hated and avoided at all costs.
    Keeping her eyes closed she waited for her other senses to gain their balance, to find their resting point. Gradually the bed maintained an even firmness, the room didn’t dip and sway.  The voices fell to a soft but urgent murmur and the sounds became distinct.  Words rather than a blur of sounds.
    “…saying, the brass was there and we had orders.  It wasn’t my choice-“
    “It is your responsibility to protect her, she is more important that the mission.  It’s not as if we have another Nightingale, trained or even coming into training.  You know what happened to Kay-“
    “This is nothing like that, don’t you even dare of bringing up Kay.  That situation was beyond the control of her Watcher.  That was a Committee decision, a horrible thing-“
    “You don’t have to tell me.  I wasn’t even given a chance to vote on that one-“
    “Well, then when you go report this to the Committee-
    “Darren-“
    “Don’t, Doc, I know you have to report it.  This can work in her favor.  Tell the Committee there needs to be a fail safe.  There needs to be a way for me to override an order.  A way to keep her from overdoing it.  There has to be a way for me to do my damn job.  You know how she is, how she’s been conditioned.  She will keep going until she kills herself if she is told to.”
    “I’ll do what I can.  There has been some talk of moving Emmie.  Ever since Kay…well let’s just say that Emmie seems to be the sum total of the Nightingale project.”
    “Emmie is it?  I know about Kay, but what about the two others?  And what about that boy?”
    “Darren, the two others suffered the same failure that Kay had.  We were able to…end the misery before it got too far, but in the end, we could do nothing.  The boy, his talent never manifested.  The Fort reported that in the end, he was an anomaly and they are continuing their line of talents, separate from the Tower.  All other attempts for another Nightingale have failed.  Most aren’t even-“
    Emmie listened to the conversation.  Confusion warred with curiosity.  As much as she wanted to hear more, to understand more, her confusion was causing her head to throb even more.  Despite her attempts to keep her eyes closed, they fluttered open and the flashes of light caused her stomach to turn.  She felt a sweat break out on her forehead.  Her stomach clenched and without being aware of how she got there, Emmie found herself  leaning over the side of the bed, heaving.
    Quick feet sounded through the horrible retching and Emmie felt hands gently holding her head and easing her back into the bed.  Carefully she was tucked back into the covers and her hair smoothed away from her face.  Only then did Emmie open her eyes fully.  The light flashed and her stomach rebelled and churned, but it was empty.
    Darren’s concerned eyes stared down at her.  Unfamiliar worry lines etched his face and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.  Beyond him Dr. Reyes was digging into the drug locker and filling a syringe.  As Darren used a wet cloth to wipe her face, Dr. Reyes injected the contents of the syringe into the port in Emmie’s IV.  It was only then that Emmie realized that she had the small catheter  placed into a vein the back of her hand.  A burning sensation traveled along her hand and into her arm.  Idly she felt the pathway the burning traced, the radial vein, the median cephalic to the cephalic vein.
    “Here, Emmie, I know how much you hate that.  This will help, but as you know, it will leave you tired.”  Dr. Reyes smiled, her face tight with concern, her eyes searching the monitors above Emmie’s bed. “Though, I think that sleep is what you need most.  You’ve only slept eight hours and given your efforts, I think you need more.”
    “Hey, Emmie, I’ve got to report in, fill out paperwork, but I’ll be back really soon.”  He gave her hand a final pat and stood.  Emmie noted that his uniform was wrinkled and sweat stained and rumpled.  His face had a shading of stubble when normally is was clean shaven.  He gave Dr. Reyes a knowing look and left.
    Emmie nodded and as he left she noticed she was in the ICU bed in the infirmary.  It was a confusing view for her.  She had only been in the infirmary a handful of times, to help Dr. Reyes and to study.  The cool green tiled walls didn’t seem so soothing.  The crisp smell of disinfectant rankled her nose.  She glanced at Dr. Reyes.  The woman was clearly upset, her dark eyes tired, her hair wisping  down from the up swept clip she usually wore so neatly.
    The short physician noticed Emmie looking at her and smiled down at her.
    “Do I look that bad?”  She forced a tired smile.
“No, not really, but you look far too worried for me to just need some sleep.”  Emmie tried to sit up and Dr. Reyes quickly moved the bed adjustments to incline her head.
    “Emmie, Emmie, Emmie, I guess there is no lying to you.  You have me terrified.”  She sat on the edge of the bed and tilted her head to the side.  It reminded Emmie of a gesture she had seen from a small bird once.  She had been staring out of a window instead of studying another dry text and a small dark brown bird had flown to the sill and peered in.  Emmie was certain that it couldn’t see her through the tinting, but when she had leaned her face down to see it, the bird had hopped closed.  Then it tilted it’s head slightly sideways, as if that gave it’s eye a better view.  When Emmie had reached out and touched the window, the small creature had flown off.
    Dr. Reyes didn’t draw back.  She gently held Emmie’s hand. “You went beyond you own limits.  You exhausted the energy reserve your own body needs to function. “  She frowned and hesitated. “About ten minutes out from the Tower, we got a report from the pilot that you stopped breathing.  You had respiratory failure.  Darren preformed rescue breathing and when you landed, we intubated you.  You have only been off the vent for about an hour. “  She seemed to be waiting, poised to hear Emmie’s response.
    “That explains the sore throat?” Emmie said, her mind clicking over the drama and latching safely onto the dry scientific facts.  Part of her panicked.  It had been her, not another who was in distress.  It was she, Emmie, the Nightingale of the Tower who needed help.  Part of her was interested in the way her body had coped with the energy loss, the exhaustion, possible electrolyte imbalance.  The part of her that was still a child held fear deep in her spirit.  A dry mouthed fear that made her toes curl even as her mind clicked over clinical terms and measures.
    “I am not going into your case with you in much detail.  It is-“
    “Against the rules.  What’s the plan now?” Emmie pushed her curiosity aside.  It was made easier by the fact that the anti-nausea drug was now hitting her system.  Her stomach no longer protested, but her limbs felt heavy and her eyelids weakened, begging to drift shut.
    “Rest, little bird, just rest.” Dr. Reyes patted her arm and rose.  Checking one last monitor she picked up her clipboard and walked out.  Emmie listened to the steady beeping on the monitor that was her heart.  Her mind was getting muted, the thoughts not coming clearly.  Vaguely she was surprised that her breathing failed and not her heart.  She must have a strong heart.  Maybe it had been her mother’s heart.  God bless you.  The phrase flitted through her mind.  She remembered the reverent way the young man had uttered the words.  It meant something.  She drifted, perplexed as to who would bless her, and with what.
    “Dr. Reyes,” she whispered, her mind fogging with the drug’s soporific properties, “Do you talk to God?”
    But the short woman had already turned and didn’t hear the small voice.

Third post

The ride was uneventful, again, the pilot quiet and efficient.  Emmie stretched in her seat, checked her pockets for her  energy bars and hand wipes.   Within thirty minutes, the chopper landed on the roof of a medical complex that was very obviously on some form of military base.  Emmie had a working knowledge of military, but Darren’s warning glance told her that she had best be on her good behavior.  Not that she was ever permitted to indulge in inappropriate behavior, but she still felt warned.  He gave her those looks in places the strictly discourage any form of site seeing or lingering.
    Two armed MPs met them as Darren helped Emmie out of the helicopter, Darren’s hand cupping her head protectively until they were out from under the rotors.  With hand motions they ushered Emmie and her Watcher to a door set in the building’s roof.  As soon as the door closed the noise from the chopper cut off.  The taller of the men turned to Darren  and blocked him with an arm.
    “Our orders were to meet a representative from Project Stone Tower.  We are not here to give an extended tour to a VIP brat.” His frown and tone of voice gave away the tension in him.  What ever was going on had everybody worked up.  Once again, though, no one was expecting a twelve year old, no matter how advanced her skills or studies.  It was possible they were also not expecting a civilian.
    Darren pulled out a set of credentials with a grimace.  He hated wasting time.  He also hated pulling out paperwork.   The system never worked as well as he wanted it to.  Emmie guessed he was ex-military himself and disliked the gulf that now existed between himself and others in uniform.  The first M.P. leaned in to examine the small set of cards he produced.  Whatever was printed on those cards made the man purse his lips.
    “As you can see, we are here from the Tower.  This is the Nightengale you have been expecting and quite frankly need.”
    The man glanced up from the credentials.  He looked at Emmie.  She knew better than to smile.  She also didn’t feel like smiling.  There was a hum to the air in the corridor.  She could almost feel the pain, the chaos.  She knew they were very close to where ever the men in the photos were being treated.  Her palms started to tingle and she bounced lightly on her toes, eager to work.  Her scalp tingled as if a current of electricity ran through her.  She could almost hear a faint echo of voices.
    “Well, the paper work is in order-“ he didn’t get a chance to finish.
    “Great.  If you want to do more paperwork, we can mention it to your CO that you decided to stop and chat while there is a crisis to attend to.  Someone pretty high up had to call in a favor to get us out here and you just would rather question us in the hall?”  Darren gently propelled Emmie forward, though she was all but bouncing now to get on with it.  She barely heard Darren exchanging more comments and veiled insults with the two MPs.  Darren was like that with military.  Well, everyone really.  He seemed more of a bulldog than a Watcher.
    Pushing aside the buzz of their arguments she turned a corner into a medical disaster.  There were shouts and blazing lights, bright colors and high voices.  Personnel ran to carry out orders and to pass items to one another.  Emmie stopped abruptly and turned left, down a dim corridor.  She always seemed to know where they would set up her room.  She couldn’t work amidst the swirl of conflicting energies, over powering noises and the chaos of too many personalities.
    She stopped abruptly in front of a thick leaded door with a radiation symbol on it.  Darren reached over her shoulder and gave the door a hearty shove.  Emmie waited while he entered first.  She hadn’t barged enthusiastically into a room since she was nine.  Ever vigilant, he secured the room, made sure it met her needs and then  motioned her in.  The two MP exchanged raised eyebrows and remained in the hall.  Their doubt was palpable. 
    The room was sound buffered and the noise dropped considerably when Emmie walked in.  The walls were unadorned and the only lighting came from to small exam lights pointed straight up.  There was a man on a gurney in the center of the room, his form shrouded by a sheet, blood staining it.  A woman, doctor or nurse, stood by his head adjusting an IV that dripped into his hand.  His head turned to Emmie as she walked in.  The woman looked up with a frown.
    “I want to know under whose authority my patient was-“ She stopped abruptly when Darren put a hand up and spoke over her, gently but firmly.  Her eyes, bright with anger, opened wider.
    “If you are quiet you can stay.  You already signed the documents?” Darren flipped through his paperwork.
    “Of course, it’s standard for situations like this but why have you brought a child-“
    Once again Darren put a hand up.  Her eyes were indignant now, a cool blue fire that took in Emmie as well as Darren.  Darren put his other finger over his lips.
    Emmie moved next to the man and rolled back the sheet to expose his chest.  Wet looking burns criss crossed his dark skin.  His forehead was wrinkled in pain and there was dark bruising on the unburned skin.  The woman opened her mouth to object to Emmie’s lack of gloves, her audacity at approaching this man  but quickly backed down with a warning glance from Darren.
    “What’s your name?” Emmie asked as she place her small hands on the man’s shoulders, heedless of the mangled flesh and burns.
    “Dave,” he managed to gasp. He turned his head, watching this strange, calm girl.  His eyes slowly cleared and he was able to focus on her. 
    “Dave, I want you to relax as much as possible.  I’m trying to help you with the pain, but if you don’t trust me, the pain will return.” Emmie leaned over him, speaking directly to his face.  She was small, and had to stand on her tip toes to see him.  His eyes were a sharp bright brown and locked into hers.
    “I trust you.” He closed his eyes and Emmie felt him loosen his hold on the pain and settle into the gurney.  He almost seemed to sink into the sheets, heavier somehow.
    “Oh, good.  I could do this without your trust, but it takes longer and I have to fight all the much harder.  This way there is no fight but your own, and Dave, you are already half way there.  You must be tough or you wouldn’t have made it in time for me to get here.”  Emmie babbled on, murmuring compliments with encouragement.  As she spoke she felt her hands warm.  She felt the rush of energy from her core and moved her hands over his injuries.  Her mind cut out all of the world except the ragged and torn man in front of her and even that narrowed to each injury.  Her memory, well trained, flashed her all of her studies.  The techniques and procedures she had spent endless time concentrating on came flooding back to her, bypassing her conscience mind,  seeping straight into her hands that moved on their own.
    The woman observer gasped and stepped back.  She cast an expression of half horror, half wonder at Emmie.  The injuries were closing, The skin in areas smoothed out, pale, but cleanly healed.  The swelling slowly shrank down.  Dave’s forehead lost a set of wrinkles, and then another.  The sweat dried on his cheeks and wasn’t replaced.
    Emmie continued going over his wounds.  A deep unseen injury caught her attention.  Internal bleeding, she noted in one part of her head.  The liver, there, several lacerations in the organ, blood pooling in the abdominal cavity.  No wonder they didn’t want him pulled aside to a room to wait.  Her hands moved along his side, found the deep laceration that tunneled to his organs.
    Not even hearing the startled hiss of the woman, Emmie lightly plunged her hangs into his body.  Her fingers curled around the liver, massaging out the tears.  Emmie could feel the tissues knit back together, feel the organ resume it’s normal function.  In her mind’s eye she reflected on all of the medical texts and videos that she had studied.  Color, form, texture, all relevant to getting this man to health.  She slowly withdrew her hands, the various layers of his exposed viscera pulling together, healing, the flesh fragile, but growing stronger.
      Moving down  she checked over him, correcting injuries, burns and even a slightly inflamed cut on his foot that had no doubt happened days earlier.  But once started, Emmie was committed to the very end.  So long as there was life in him, and an injury, she would stay and fight.  At times, she wished she could stop, could give someone just enough, so she might keep going, moving on to another.  Yet, her talents didn’t permit it, she was compelled in way she couldn’t understand or control, to give the person at her finger tips every last bit of healing they needed.
    Finally Emmie stopped her quiet whispering, her hands resting on Dave’s feet.  He slept soundly, oblivious to anyone.  Emmie swayed slightly, coming out of her healing and into the real world.  Even the dim light seemed to harsh and her ears roared with sounds.  She staggered and felt Darren’s familiar grip guiding her to a chair.  She felt out of practice and realized that it had been at least six months since she had worked on any form of major trauma.  She mostly had been correcting small cancers and arterial blockages.
    Emmie sat, caught her breath and looked up.  The woman stared from Emmie to the patient and back again.  Her mouth opened and closed several times, stopping and starting various statements and questions.  Emmie pulled out her hand wipes and washed her hands.  She took the bottle of water that Darren offered and stood, drinking the water down in one gulp.
    “He’ll sleep for at least a day, maybe more with as bad as he was.  Expect him to be very hungry, but try not to let him over eat, at least at first. Next, please.”
    The woman looked at her again, her eyes bulging, “Yes, of course.” She said reverently, wheeling the gurney out and shouting orders to bring in the next in the queue.  Her gaze flitting back to Emmie.
    Darren grinned as he took back the empty water bottle.  “The pure science ones always have the hardest time excepting it.  But when you convince them, Emmie, you’ve got a friend for life!”
    “Ready for round two?” Emmie asked as she greeted the next man to be wheeled in.  Darren grinned and helped move the gurney into position.  The woman physician with the vivid blue eyes was obviously in awe still.  She moved aside without being asked and watched Emmie go to work.
    This man was not as badly injured so Emmie leaned over to look at his face.  She like to study faces.  Was his strong narrow nose from his father or his mother?  She understood genetics, as a purely scientific way to understanding  inherited conditions, but physical traits fascinated her.  Of course, anything she found fascinating and engaging was considered not needed.  Ms. Smith always found something drier for her to study.  She gently placed a hand lightly on his temple.  His pulse raced under her fingers, his pain and fear masked in his voice when he spoke.
    “Aren’t you a bit young to be a doctor?”  He glanced at her unmarked fatigues.  “A little young to be in the Corp, too.”
    Darren shifted forward, but Emmie spoke before he could.  “Old enough to know that you must be feeling miserable.  And unless I miss my guess, you have a case of sinusitis, too.”
    The young soldier’s eyes widened.  Did such a golden brown come from a hazel and brown genetic combination?  Emmie smiled softly to reassure him.  Did he see his father in his own features?
    “I’ve got some years behind me…..I’m older than I-“
Darren cleared his throat loudly to interrupt her.
    “Relax and let her work.” He said to the bewildered man and then  turned towards Emmie with a raised eyebrow that was all the reprimand she needed.  Apparently this was a chatter free day.
    “I’m sorry, sir” Emmie began to run her hands lightly down the sides of his face.  His expression became startled as he inhaled freely, his nose clear.  Emmie smiled as he winked at her and lay back, relaxed. 
    The young man’s injuries were mended and like the first, he was breathing deeply in sleep as he was wheeled back into the hall.  The two MPs that had escorted them exchanged glances as yet another injured man was wheeled in.  Their faces more curious and appraising than skeptical.
    Emmie did a quick scrub with her hand wipes and chugged down water again.  She was bouncy again.  The energy in the area began to lighten, she felt less closed in, less gloomy.  Quickly she stepped to the patient, her urge to chatter was gone as the full swing of her healing caught up to her.  She focused quickly, moving surely and cleared this patient in far less time.  The next two patients barely had time to question why a young girl was in the room before she had them healed and asleep.
    So into the rhythm of the process was she, she never noticed when Darren caught the Doctor at the door and asked for a five minute break.  She only sat in the chair provided when Darren gently steered her there and pushed her shoulders for her to sit.  Once sitting, she felt fatigue roll through her.  Her back burned and her arms felt like lead.  She had no concept of time. Even her patients faces had blurred, they had simply become a line of injuries awaiting her attention.
    She blinked several times, her mind having to adjust to the pace change.  Darren pulled out two protein bars and unwrapped them.  He only had to hold them out to her for her to grab them and eat them at a fast rate. Now that she had food, she realized that her body was screaming for calories.  She looked around and found her water bottle.  She leaned back into the chair and burped, and was busily unwrapping the next bar.  She started chewing into it before the wrapper was fully off.
    “So lady like,”he chided her. “All of the high priority are finished.  Can you handle the not so priority?”
    Emmie stretched and twisted her back, the popping sound making Darren wince.  She shook out her arms and felt her muscles loosen.
    “I’m good.  I’ve got at least another critical in me, plus a few extra.”  She bounded to her feet,  her energy restored. 
    “Okay, you’re the boss”  Emmie snorted in response as Darren opened the door and motioned in the hallway for another patient.  The  blue eyed woman smiled broadly at Emmie this time.  Her faith in Emmie’s abilities was evident and as she entrusted her patients fully to Emmie, she no longer remained in the room to monitor them.
    This particular patient had obviously been given medication for the pain.  The man waved at Emmie and began a rambling conversation to Darren.  For his part Darren smiled and nodded in all of the right places before finally, growing weary of the man’s wayward chatter, tipped his head at Emmie as he caught her eye.  Emmie leaned over and gently touched the man’s forehead with the tip of one finger.  His eye lids slid shut and his mouth hung slack.
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”  Healing always put Emmie in a good mood.  She finished with the chatty man and waited for the next to come through.
    The next several hours passed smoothly.  The patient’s wounds were less severe and Emmie wasn’t required to leave them in a slumber. Under Darren’s direction,  the doctor had her patients forewarned not to speak to the slender young girl with the intent grey eyes.  Which was good, as her energy was waning and the breaks to eat protein bars wasn’t picking her up anymore.
    Wearily she looked at Darren as one young black man thanked her profusely as he was wheeled away.  He kept testing the motion of his previously broken arm, amazed at it’s healing.   “God bless you, little lady, God bless you all your days.”  The MP’s exchanged more glances with each other and shut the door.  Emmie sank to a chair and took out her hand wipes again.  She had gone through two packs and opened the third with slow hands.
    “I’ll tell the pilot know we’re about done.” Darren patted her head and moved towards the door. Emmie leaned back into the chair, her head tipped to rest on the chair’s back.  With her eyes closed the world stopped it’s slight spinning.  Fatigue, partial dehydration, sensory overload, she unconsciously began to cataloged her own well being.
    “She’s not finished yet.”
The new voice was commanding and drew Emmie slowly to her feet.  Darren looked over at the man in the doorway and saluted smartly.  The man returned the salute, but never took his eyes off of Emmie.  His grey hair was cut short in a military style, his fatigues sported various bars and stars but Emmie was too tired to try and figure then out.  Military insignia was much harder to figure out than genetically linked cancers.
    “We need all minor burns erased.  We don’t want any long term injuries or exposures showing up.”
    “Sir, with all due respect, the Nightingale is-“
    “With all due respect, Sir, you are not responsible for what happened here and the powers that be are demanding this.  You don’t have a choice.”  The man nodded once at Emmie, glared at Darren and opened the door.  He motioned with one hand and stayed inside as another patient was wheeled in.  He crossed his arms and waited.
    “Obey the brass, but when you reach your limit, tell me ‘respite’.  Emmie?”  Darren leaned over her, shielding his words from the grey haired man.
    Emmie nodded and shook out her shoulders.  Throwing her braid to her back she flexed her hands and approached the newest patient.  He was an impish looking young man, his arm well wrapped and in a sling.  He obviously had questions and just as obviously wasn’t about to speak up in front of a superior.
    Emmie felt somewhat inhibited with the high ranking man in the room.  She went forward to the man with a wan smile and moved aside the white gauze on his wounds.  Again the energy surged up through her and she smoothed out the damaged skin, the seeping wound and the minor fracture.  The lingering warmth in her spine refreshed her a bit.
    The now healed man looked startled and opened his mouth to speak, but Darren motioned to have him moved quickly.  There was now a line in the hallway of walking wounded, the soldiers moving under their own power, talking quietly while waiting.  Their conversations , while whispered, cut off as they saw the stern look on Darren’s face.
    The line moved quickly now, without having to wait for gurneys to be wheeled in and out.  Emmie ignored the looks, the sometimes frank stares and the exclamations though periodically, the young men called on God to bless her.  She filed away the perplexing comments for the future, her healing mattered now.  She was in her own mind, seeking what was broken, burned or torn.  She didn’t hear Darren tersely ordering the men.  She didn’t notice the grey haired man circling the room, pacing and watching her closely.  Her only thought was the healing.  All of her years of study running through her mind.  She stopped drinking her water, her protein bars still sat on the chair against the wall.  The urge to heal had gripped her.
    How much longer it was, Emmie was not sure.  She felt the walls spinning around her.  Sounds had a strange muffled and echoed quality.  She felt her hands slip from one patients forehead.  He was finished, she was aware of that much.  The minor burns on his forehead had been smoothed out.
    She suddenly was flooded with awareness, not of her physical surroundings, but of the people around her.  Darren’s anxiety was thick, almost smothering, the doctor gave off waves of awe mixed with envy and surprisingly the grey haired man had pride and concern.  She spun suddenly to face the men.  Her vision was blurred around the edges.
    “Respite,” she murmured and slid bonelessly to the floor.  The grey haired man was closest and managed to catch her before her head hit the floor.  Darren was quick to move in and lay her carefully on the floor.  His face had blanched of all color. 
    “Emmie?” his call was urgent.  He patted her face and put his fingers to her throat to catch her pulse.  The woman was also on her knees, her hands checking for a pulse in the wrist, her face terrified, as if she saw a rare creature in peril.
    “Is she alright?”  The grey haired man asked, a frown bending his face.
    “No! She’s not all right.  She’s never pushed so far before.  But she’s been trained, molded to keep going!  It‘s possible she could push her self straight to death.”
    “I’ve got a pulse.  I’d like to run some tests.” The doctor looked up not towards Darren, but to the high ranking officer. 
    “No, she needs to get back to the Tower.  Our medical staff there will know how to treat her. “ Darren stood and hoisted her gently into his arms, his expression grim.
    “Your chopper has been notified and you can lift off immediately.”  The man nodded his head at Emmie. “Please know, this wasn’t my idea.  I’ve  read the file on Project Stone Tower.  The Nightingale is incredible.  You both have my fullest respect.”
    “Thank you, sir.  But we need to leave.”
    “Of course.” The man held the door open for Darren and continued to walk with him to the roof door.  Darren carried Emmie easily, her weight no strain to him.
    As they came to the door, the rhythmic thud of the chopper was heard even with the door closed, the high ranking man put a stalling hand on Darren’s shoulder.  Darren stopped, but his frustration was evident.
    “Just let me say, while I am grateful for the Stone Tower, I don’t approve of it.” He glanced at Emmie, “I have granddaughters her age.  When she wakes, tell her the she is in my debt.  Several of my people wouldn’t have made it without her.  Tell her if she ever has a need, General Rudy Westin will answer her call.”
    Darren nodded again, but didn’t speak.  He just pushed open the door with his shoulder and ran Emmie to the chopper.  The general watched from the door until the aircraft was just a speck on the horizon.