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“Isn’t meningitis kind of serious? And I thought that disease was cured,” I said, holding Grace’s hand. They were cold and clammy.
“Meningitis is indeed serious and can be fatal if diagnosed too late,” Farland said while analyzing the sample. “You are correct that meningitis has been cured on most planets, mainly due to vaccination protocols. However, I understand this young lady grew up in an orphanage where medical care is minimal at best. It is doubtful she received even half the standard vaccines. Also, alien species have different mutations of the bacteria.”
Reading between the lines, I glowered at him. “What are you saying?”
The analyzer beeped. Dr. Farland nodded and rummaged in his medical bag, pulling out a hypospray and a box containing small vials of blue liquid.
“That she does indeed have bacterial meningitis, and that you more than likely gave it to her,” Farland said, matter of fact.
The expression on my face must have communicated that I was close to bashing his head against the wall.
“Please understand that almost everyone in the main civilized species carries the bacteria in the back of their throat or nose – including humans and Braxians,” Farland said, shifting on his feet. “Considering the nature of your relationship, you probably transferred it to her through a kiss in the past twenty-four hours. Sneezing or deep kissing are the most common methods of transfer. Had she been properly vaccinated, it wouldn’t have happened.”
I still wanted to punch him, but I felt too relieved to know her punishment wasn’t the direct cause of it.
But I would have noticed sooner without that damn punishment.
Plagued with remorse, I watched Farland inject her in the neck with a hypospray.
“I’m giving her antibiotics that will get rid of the infection. She should be coherent again in the next couple of hours. Here are five more doses,” Farland said, handing me the vials. “You must give her a dose every six hours.”
“Will she be okay?” I asked, trying to hide my concern.
“Yes, Mr. Myers. We got it early enough. There should be no lasting effects. But have her come see me the day after tomorrow for a check-up after she has taken the last dose. The good news is people rarely catch meningitis again once they’ve had it. But to be on the safe side, after she’s fully recovered, it would be advisable to get her up to date on all her vaccines.”
You better believe she will.
“Thank you, doctor,” I said, ready for him to leave me alone with Grace.
Getting my meaning, he nodded, grabbed his bag and walked out of the room. I ran my hand over Grace’s hair and softly kissed her damp forehead. Walking to the closet, I rummaged through her clothes. I grabbed a red silk nightgown to dress her in. Her breathing improved and the fever slowly dropped.
The Braxian delegation would be here in the next twenty minutes. Reluctant to leave Grace, I tried to come up with a valid excuse to postpone – in vain. I crawled on top of the bed and gathered Grace into my arms. Her eyes fluttered but she merely sighed. I rested her head in the crook of my neck. Pulling the covers over us, I held her close for what little time remained.
We sat the living area to keep the meeting informal and, hopefully, short. Historically, Braxia’s wealth and economy mainly relied on hiring out our army. With our size, strength, and speed, Braxians were formidable on a battlefield. However, over the last century, the number of interplanetary armed conflicts significantly dwindled thanks to peace treaties negotiated by the Galactic Council.
The shift destabilized our nation’s fragile economy. Only a small fraction of our population had trade skills to adapt to changing times. Gerwin, Jarvis and Toran’s clans were among them. From their humbler status, their clans rose to the top of the economic ladder during the transition. Under my grandfather’s leadership, my own clan saw its status plummet from elite warrior clan to lesser farming clan, struggling to make ends meet on inadequate lands.
Under the new Magnar’s rule, fundamental changes were taking place in Braxia. He wanted to fix our broken economy by educating the population in non-traditional fields for our people – especially science and commerce – and increase the volume of outbound trades with neighboring planets. The success of my Hive Network had piqued the Magnar’s interest and he ‘strongly encouraged’ the elder clans to explore off-world ventures. As an ‘expert’ in that field, he expected me to provide whatever support I could. Needless to say, being mentored by a mutt didn’t sit well with Gerwin.
“I revised some of the proposals you put together,” I told Elder Pattel, under the watchful eyes of the three younger Braxians. “I’ve forwarded you a report for each with pros and cons to consider. There are a couple of them I might want to invest in, assuming certain adjustments are made. Once the stakeholders review them, we can arrange additional meetings.”
Elder Pattel sighed with relief, his shoulders relaxing; he didn’t want to return to the Magnar empty-handed. It was ironic that a ‘lesser being’ such as myself could make the call on which project to invest in.
“This is excellent news, Anton,” Pattel said, with his usual friendly demeanor. “The Magnar wants us to move quickly on this. But I understand there were a few proposals you wished to discuss tonight?”
“Correct,” I said. “The gladiator arena your own clan submitted is of great interest to me. You’ve been very thorough. It’s solid and well thought out.”
Pattel puffed his chest at the praise and cast a smug smile at his companions. Gerwin nodded but pursed his lips.
“Well done, Elder Pattel,” Toran said, grinning.
“Indeed,” Jarvis said with an enthusiastic nod.
Those two took brownnosing to another level. That they would lead their clan after their fathers was a joke in and of itself. They weren’t particularly smart and confused leadership with bullying. This was largely due to their enduring childhood friendship with Gerwin, their little group’s leader, and role model. Removed from his toxic influence, Toran could possibly be redeemed. Jarvis, however, was a lost cause.
“Your arena concept falls perfectly in line with my entertainment network,” I told Pattel. “As such, I would like to propose an exclusive partnership with your clan. Instead of one gladiator arena, it would be seven; one for each of my Hives. The biggest one will be here on Venus Hive and hold an annual championship.”
As expected, my four guests gasped. This offer was beyond generous and would completely turn around the future of the Veelan Clan. As their leader, Pattel had done well for them and managed to maintain their elder clan status. However, like my father’s own clan, Veelan was mainly a warrior clan. Fertile agricultural lands saved them when Pattel’s father swiftly leveraged them. The Veelan Clan wasn’t struggling per se, but this contract would propel them to the top.
