“Dorden, chief medical officer, Tanith First.”
“Surgeon Ana Curth, Inner Hab Collective Medical Hall 67/mv,” she replied, nodding to him and glancing around the dingy hall. “Captain Daur, your liaison officer, was troubled by the state of the facilities and called my hall for support.”
“As you can see, Ana, it is a long way short of adequate,” said Dorden with a gentle gesture that took in the decay.
She frowned at him briefly. His use of her forename surprised her. Such informalities were rare in the hive. It was discourteous, almost condescending. She’d worked for her status and position as hard as any other hiver.
“That’s Surgeon Curth, medic.”
Dorden looked round at the woman, surprised, clearly hurt that he had offended her in any way. Behind Dorden, Langana smiled.
“My mistake. Surgeon Curth, indeed,” Dorden looked away. “Well, as you can see, this is no place for wounded. Can you possibly… assist us?”
She looked him up and down, still bristling but calming a little. There was something in his tired, avuncular manner that made her almost regret her tone. This was not some bravo trooper trying to hit on her. This was an old man with slumping shoulders. There was a weariness in his manner that no amount of sleep could ease. His lined eyes had seen too much, she realised.
Ana Curth turned to Langana. “I wouldn’t treat cattle in a place like this. I’m issuing an M-notice on it at once.”
“You can’t—” Langana began.
“Oh, yes I can, commissar! Fifth Bill of Rights, Amendment 457/hj: ‘In event of conflict, surgeon staff may commandeer all available resources for the furtherance of competent medical work.’ I want scrub teams from the hive sanitation department here by morning, with pressure hoses and steam scourers. I want disinfectant sluices. I want sixty cots, bedding, four theatre tables with lights, screens and instruments, flak-board lagging for the walls and windows, proper light-power, water and heat-links recoupled, and patches made to the gakking roof! Got it?”
“I—”
“Do you understand me, Political Officer Langana?”
Langana hesitated. “I will have to call House Command for these requirements.”
“Do so!” barked Curth. Dorden looked on. He liked her already.
“Use my hive caste-code: 678/cu. Got it? That will give you the authority to process my request. And do it now, Langana!”
The commissar saluted briefly and then marched away out of the chamber. He had to push through the smirking Tanith orderlies to exit.
Dorden turned to the woman. “My thanks, Surgeon Curth. The Tanith are in your debt.”
“Just do your job and we’ll get on fine,” she replied bluntly. “I have more wounded refugees in my hall now than I can deal with. I don’t want your overspill submerging me when the fighting starts.”
“Of course you don’t. I am grateful, surgeon.”
Dorden fixed her with an honest smile. She seemed about to soften and smile back, but she turned and led her team away out of the door. “We’ll return in two days to help you set up.”
“Surgeon?”
She stopped, turning back.
“How overrun are you? With the wounded, I mean?”
She sighed. “To breaking point.”
“Could you use six more trained staff?” Dorden asked. He waved casually at his fellow medics and waiting orderlies. “We have no wounded yet to treat, Emperor watch us. Until we have, we would be happy to assist.”
Curth glanced at her chief orderly. “Thank you. Your offer is appreciated. Follow us, please.”
Varl supervised the store detail, carrying more than his share thanks to the power of his artificial arm. With a team of thirty, he ordered the stacking and layout of the Tanith supplies. There was plenty of stuff in the barn already, well marked and identified by the triplicate manifest data-slates, but there was still more than enough room for the supplies and munitions they had brought with them.
Another truck backed up to the doorway, lights winking, and Domor, Cocoer and Brostin helped to shift the crates of perishables to their appointed stacks. Varl allocated another area for the munitions he had been told would arrive later.
