“Sowing gives you blisters. Reaping gives you fruit.” Private Affe Berg.

Besh opened his eyes to the white ceiling. The white rat was beside him in the cage, with Warrior watching it from the foot of the bed. Besh sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his hair and beard from his white long-sleeved top.

“I’m sorry I opened my eyes,” he said to himself.

After a satisfying yawn, he replied, “Why not ask them for sunglasses?”

“They said we might get out soon,” Besh said.

The figment answered, “That should be fun.”

Doctor Brock stood by the monitor observing the patient hold a conversation with himself. The patient’s file hung from a retractable hook in the wall. The Doctor looked at it and shook his head. Radiation doesn’t just go away. The patient needed a full battery of tests, but the Thornburg simply wasn’t equipped.

He looked up to find Xander standing beside him, a silent demand behind one raised brow. Corporal Langley stood behind the Brigadier with a tray of food in her hands. As usual, her expression was reserved but pleasant. Brock pulled a hand down his nose and squared his shoulders.

“Well, I just don’t know what to tell you,” he said to Xander. “The rads are down by half. I’ve looked at his blood and found a radioactive parasite, but I have no explanation.”

“How is Oscar?” asked the Corporal.

“I’ll need to run some tests,” answered Brock, “but he seems to be alive and well. When you deliver the food, bring Oscar to me.”

Xander turned to the Corporal and said softly, “Go.”

The Brigadier and the Doctor turned to watch the Corporal leave. She had proven herself a competent officer and was well-liked by the crew. It also helped that she was extremely attractive. The Doctor turned to the Brigadier with a question in his eyes.

“She has proven herself time and again,” said Brock.

“I know. I know,” Xander replied. “I just like to pick my own crew. At any rate, she has asked to transfer when we reach Pendragon. Tell me about the patient.”

Langley walked to the glass barrier with a smile on her face. “Good morning,” she called to Besh. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did,” said Besh rubbing his hands together. “What’s for breakfast?”

Langley slipped the covered tray through the slot. “S. O. S.”

“No complaints here,” Besh replied placing the tray on the table. “I’ll bring your rat. He snores, by the way.”

Xander stood close to the Doctor and asked, “Can the parasite be removed?”

The Doctor folded his arms and lowered his head thoughtfully. “That’s an issue for a well-equipped hospital,” he answered, looking up. “I did some research. Blood filtration; blood replacement, both viable options, however,” Brock left his sentence unfinished.

“However,” prompted the Brigadier.

“Well,” said Brock. “It’s just that both procedures are limited. If the parasite is in the muscle tissue, there is little to be done.”

Xander turned at the Corporal’s approach. He said to the Doctor, “We’ve been friends for years. I’ll trust your recommendation, but if he poses a threat to my crew, he stays put.”

Brock turned to receive Oscar from the Corporal and answered the Brigadier with a sigh, “I’ll run another scan.”

Besh chewed his breakfast with delight, swallowed, and sipped orange juice from a half-pint carton. Warrior worked a large bone on the floor by his feet. He looked up to see the Brigadier enter with a roll of printed synth under one arm. Dressed in casual khaki, the Brigadier pulled a folding seat from the wall and seated himself beyond the white line in the floor.

Xander shook out the synth and read aloud. “Ben Edward Shuller. Origin Terra. Age undetermined.”

“Fifty-four,” said Besh.

The Brigadier continued, “Last known location, Pendragon.” He stopped and folded the printout into his shirt pocket. “We have absolutely no information on you.”

Besh ran his finger around the oily plate and licked it. He turned in his seat to face the Brigadier with a smile. “Thanks for the grub,” he said. “I think the loss of information is due to my files being destroyed when I was sentenced to Miner’s Moon.”

“Right,” said Xander. “I had forgotten we did that. Corporal Langley tells me you escaped. I would like to know how.”

“Alien portals,” said Besh. “They have them everywhere.”

“Which aliens are we talking about?” asked Xander.

“The Nashtatra,” answered Besh. “They are the watchers of the universe. My friend Cosmo ambushed one of them on Miner’s Moon and used her key to access the portal. I found the poor thing and nursed it back to health. When another came through, they gave me a key for my kindness.”

The Brigadier folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head in focused appraisal. Besh felt uncomfortable under the Commander’s heavy glare. He added, after a guilty sip of juice, “Little skinny people with iridescent skin.”

The Brigadier cleared his throat. “Corporal Langley tells me you were friends both with the Overlord and the King of Pendragon.”

“Yes,” answered Besh. “I was helping David find his missing son when I discovered that the Overlord was actually my old friend Cosmo. Imagine my surprise.”

The Brigadier stood. Besh followed. Xander said, “My Doctor has a few more tests to run. If you check out, I’ll release you from quarantine.” The Brigadier walked boldly to the glass wall to glare at Besh in a manner that made Besh anxious. “Mind you,” said Xander, “that would be a temporary condition until I can transfer you to the Royal Hospital in Central City.”

Besh asked in surprise, “We’re going to Pendragon? That’s wonderful news. I would very much like to see my friends again.”

The Brigadier grunted and turned to replace the folding seat. Pivoting at the door, Xander said casually, “I understand that the King is your nephew.”

Taken aback, Besh asked, “Al is King? What happened to David?”

Xander walked back to the glass wall and said sympathetically, “Sorry. I suppose you couldn’t have known. The King and Queen died in a fire last year.”

“Oh, no!” said Besh. “No. No.”

Xander felt bad for the old man. He had been told he lacked tact. Here was the proof. Well, he thought, there is no remedy for hard truth. His own internal scars bore witness to that fact. Xander said to the old man, “I’ll send in the Corporal with details.”

Besh turned away from the glass wall, his eyes burning, his heart in pain. He sat on the bed in shock. Besh made friends easily. He had many friends up and down the arm, but some friends were more dear to him. David and Elizabeth were his dearests. The King and Queen dead? Could it be? Poor Al, he thought.

Leaving the bone behind, Warrior sat by Besh and placed its head across his knee. Besh reached down and placed his hand on the dog’s head. A wild dog, abandoned by its pack, sensed the disconnect in its master. Besh looked into the dog’s sad eyes. Was it the dog, or was it the parasite? He scratched lightly behind the dog’s ear.

“Sorry for your loss,” said the figment.

“Thanks,” replied Besh.

He looked up to see Heaven on the other side of the retaining wall, sorrow in her eyes. Besh stood and walked to the glass. He noted tears on her face and felt a hot tear roll into his whiskers. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he reached out and placed a palm against the glass barrier. Heaven placed her hand over his and spoke softly.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I didn’t know how.”

Besh dropped his hand. “How is Al?” he asked.

“He’s not the same,” she answered, wiping her face. “It’s like something broke inside.”

“I know how he feels,” said Besh.

Heaven said, “I feel sad for you.”

Besh sniffed and bravely squared his frail shoulders. “They were the best friends,” said Besh. “David was a wonderful King. And Elizabeth, well, she was the most beautiful woman I have ever known.” He tried to smile and failed.

Closing his eyes, Besh leaned forward to place his forehead against the cool barrier. Heaven took a deep, tremulous breath as she watched the old man cave in. How empty must he feel! She watched a tear fall to the floor near the old man’s feet, and her heart twisted in her chest. She could not imagine his sense of loss.

Major Brock rolled the portable scanner into the quarantine and stopped short. The old man stood with his forehead against the glass. Corporal Langley stood before him, her head bowed in silent sympathy. Xander had confessed to him that he had dropped the news without preamble and felt guilty. He cleared his throat.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked. “I can return later.”

Langley turned, wiped her face, and stood at attention. The old man raised his eyes and spoke sadly. “No,” he said. “Please, come in.”