Pay Me, Bug!

Chapter 17

WHEREIN Our Hero Awakens in a Strange Place, to Familiar Circumstances

When Grif regained consciousness he realized two things:

First, the smell told him he was in some kind of medical bay. Second, the smell also told him it wasn't the medical bay on board the Fool's Errand.

He tried to sit up, but couldn't. He was strapped down to something: first he thought he'd been tied to a bed, but a moment later he realized he was actually attached to a device that ran down the side of his bed, covering his left arm and part of his chest. He panicked as he realized he couldn't feel his left arm.

"Don't move," someone said.

Grif lifted his head and tried to focus on the direction of the voice. He saw a white blurry figure to his right, in a moment the blurry figure sharpened into a man in a medical uniform looking at a monitor at the foot of his bed. He looked up at Grif and smiled politely.

"Moving. Your head is still moving," the man said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Grif sank back into his pillow and stared up at the ceiling. The white light panels set in gleaming white tiles filled the room with bright, white light.

"Disorientation is normal," the man said. "Especially considering how long you've been under. We've had to immobilize parts of your body to speed the healing process along. You probably feel a little numb over there right now--that's normal. We're re-growing your shoulder, and we haven't unblocked the nerves yet."

"Re-growing?" Grif's voice was cracked and hoarse. He wanted a drink.

The man nodded. "You were pretty banged up when they brought you in here... plasma eating through what was left of your arm and shoulder. Seeping into your side, too; you were lucky you got here when you did. We also had to extract a fair amount of shrapnel out of your body. Someone wasn't fond of you."

Grif thought back. "Yeah."

"It was easier to re-grow the shoulder than try and put it back together." The man looked at Grif, then the monitor, then at his watch. "I guess I'll let your friend know you're awake. She's been here a while."

The doctor turned to leave. As he reached the door, he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Don't try to get up," he warned. "Regrowing an arm is complicated, and you've only been credited for one."

With that, the man left.

Only credited for one? Grif wondered who had credited him for it in the first place. Re-growing bones, muscle and skin was expensive.

The door opened again. Grif lifted his head and saw Amys walk into the room, smiling slightly.

"You don't look dead," she said. "I guess that's a good thing."

Grif grinned. "Matter of opinion I guess. I expect Mavis would disagree. How long have I been here?" His voice was still hoarse but getting stronger.

"About a week," Amys said. Seeing the look of alarm on his face, she added, "it was because they were re-growing your shoulder. It's almost finished now."

"They?" Grif asked. "Who is 'they,' exactly? I assume it's not 'us,' because this doesn't look like a hospital we could afford..."

Amys didn't answer.

"You know, Amys, whenever you don't answer I tend to assume you're trying to find a way to put bad news in the best possible light."

"I am."

"Oh, good." Grif leaned his head back on his pillow and steeled himself. "So where are we, exactly?"

"We're in one of the restricted access recovery wards in the first city... it's a MediCorp facility. Fairly close to the Tyrelos estate..."