Chapter 14

"Jeff, Wainwright is here," Laura said over and over. "Come on Jeff, you have got to wake up."

{{{?? }}}

After hearing Laura call him as if in a dream, Jeff's mind was finally able to focus well enough to try to talk to the healer. Little One, Jeff thought, trying to send mental images of what he was trying to say. Wainwright is here. Like Diana tried to tell you earlier, I need to be fully functional, and I need to get a shirt on so they don't see how bad the injury is...

Although it was not complete speech, Jeff saw images, and impressions that he thought meant the following: {{{ I am in the process of growing missing nerve fiber, and reconnecting the major nerve bundle in your arm. I cannot stop and restart the process. I will not stop it, although I will allow you to be awake for a period of time. }}} It did manage to clearly convey that it was more than a little aggravated.

Jeff was suddenly completely conscious, and for the first time, he fully realized how much the healer had been anesthetizing his arm. It wasn't anesthetized now. It felt like he had just grabbed a live wire. There was no doubt that the healer was working on the nerve in his arm — none. The pain was intense.

Jeff sucked in his breath and leaned forward in his seat. Before he could fully focus his thoughts, he received images that he eventually interpreted as: {{{ I cannot fully relieve you of pain and reconnect these nerves at the same time. Also, your body's regenerative powers function to a much higher degree when you are deeply asleep. }}}

Just do what you can, Little One. I must talk with these people. It's also imperative that I somehow keep your existence secret. I don't know how much of this you understand, but I need to be awake for a while, and I need to be able to function. He kept repeating his thoughts, trying desperately to make up mental pictures as he slowly thought the words and concepts.

The pain slackened somewhat, and the live wire effect reduced to just a very irritating tingling. Laura wiped the sheen of sweat off Jeff's face with a tissue and tossed it in the wastecan. "Welcome back. But I take it that you're in a great deal of pain."

"Not as much as I was for a minute," Jeff sighed, realizing that he had been clamping his teeth tight together. "She's working on the big nerve in my arm, and can't completely stop the pain and do whatever she is doing, too. At least not with me awake, I think."

Laura draped a large, thick bath towel over his shoulder and arm. "Diana is stalling Wainwright, but he's insistent upon seeing you. He brought Margaret with him, plus a catered meal. I don't like this Jeff. When he sees you, he going to know you were badly hurt. It doesn't make sense that you didn't go to a hospital. How are we going to keep the healer secret?" she finished, more than a little upset.

Jeff sighed, struggling to get out of the recliner. When he was upright, with her help, "Where are they?"

"In the small dining room next to the kitchen."

As she tried to steer him to the wheelchair, "No. I'll walk. If I go in there in that thing, he'll know the wound is serious and start wondering about the hospital, like you said. Put it in a closet someplace out of sight."

Laura did as he asked, and still caught up with him before he was halfway to the dining room.

The caterers had brought the food into the kitchen, but suddenly found out that they would not be serving. At Diana's direction, they transferred the food that was in nondisposable containers to Diana's dishes. She tipped them, and then sent them on their way before Wainwright realized what had happened.

When Diana and the harem began bringing the food into the dining room where Wainwright and Margaret were, he asked, "Where are the caterers? They're supposed to do the serving. We didn't come here to put the work on you, Mrs. Matthews."

"Number one," Diana said, smiling, but her voice brittle, "I sent them on their way. Number two; I don't allow guests to serve themselves. So sit, and this wonderful food will be ready in just a minute."

Wainwright knew the comment about serving themselves was meant as a dig about him bringing the caterers. He had just opened his mouth to ask where Jeff was, when he received a sharp elbow, masterfully delivered to his short ribs by Margaret, who smiled sweetly at him. "I told you this was a bad idea," she hissed quietly to him while the women were out of the room.

A moment later, Wainwright watched his hosts placing food and drinks on the table, and was impressed with the coordination between the women and girls. The four teenage girls seemed to take as much responsibility as the women. Within minutes everything was ready. He saw a faint smile touch Diana's mouth as she picked up the carafe and filled the cup by the plate at the head of the table. Just as Wainwright was about to ask if Jeff were going to eat with them, the door opened and Jeff walked in flanked (the only word that seemed to fit) by his assistant.

Before Wainwright could speak, Jeff said, "Well, well. Look who the cat's dragged in. It's about time you people paid us a visit."

Wainwright opened his mouth, then closed it. Margaret spoke up, smiling, "Well, well, yourself. I was led to believe you were at death's door. Now here you come strolling in chastising us. Of course," she said, grinning, "Not everyone wears a towel to dinner."

"Oh, you mean this old thing," Jeff kidded. "It's just something I threw on."

Margaret smiled, but Wainwright just looked suspicious, though he did force a chuckle.

As usual with everything he did, Wainwright had gone all out with the dinner. But he noted that Jeff ate sparingly. I've only eaten with him a few times, but he always ate a lot. When we stopped at that hamburger joint, he ate three big burgers. This time, with a table full of food, he has eaten sparingly. Bear attack? The towel is covering his whole left side. If he got mauled, why didn't he go to a hospital? This just doesn't make sense. He started to ask about the towel, but it was obvious that Jeff was using it to cover his wounds. Why cover them? Surely his wounds are bandaged.

When the meal was over, Jeff stood. "Shall we adjourn to the living room? I'm sure you people are tired from the flight and the ride up here."

As everyone got up, the girls surrounded Wainwright and Margaret. Arlene grabbed his arm, "Oh, Mr. Wainwright, my present was super. But you spent way too much money on it. I wore the outfit to dinner a while ago, and I got compliments on it. Thank you." Still holding his arm, she reached up and kissed his cheek, then prattled on about her friends that had come to live with her.

Wainwright finally managed to extract himself from the human traffic jam, then make it to the living room. If he realized that he had been deliberately delayed so he wouldn't see Jeff slowly walk down the hall, he gave no indication of it. When he got to the living room, Jeff was already leaning back in a recliner.

"Come in and have a seat, Frank. Diana will probably bring some coffee over shortly."

Diana didn't bring coffee, but she brought everyone else. She and the girls engaged Margaret in conversation before any of them sat down. Wainwright had been standing to Jeff's left, and he casually walked past the recliner as if going over to look out the glass wall. As he passed Jeff, he reached down and raised the towel up, then froze as he looked at the wound.

"Oh, hell," Wainwright softly said, then louder, "What's that on your shoulder, Jeff?"

Jeff snatched the towel out of Wainwright's hand, and let it fall back in place on his shoulder, glaring at Wainwright. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Frank?"

"Now, I'm beginning to understand..."

Diana shoved Wainwright aside, hard enough that he stumbled. All four girls, plus Doctor Boswell surrounded Jeff. Laura went to the side of the room to stand beside a small table, turned to face them, and put her hand behind a large flower pot on the table.

"Well, are you satisfied now, Frank?" Jeff asked, his voice angry.

Wainwright glanced at the women, all of them radiating aggression, protecting Jeff. When he looked at Laura and realized that her hand was obviously behind the flower pot, his face blanched.

Wainwright put his hands out in front of him, "Easy ladies, I meant no harm. Certainly not to Jeff."

"We have tried to be nice to you, but you have insisted in meddling in something that's not any of your business," Diana snarled, stepping between Wainwright and Jeff.

Wainwright tried to look past her at Jeff. "Look, I know more about you than you think I do..." The glares got worse. "Uh, that didn't come out right. Jeff, we analyzed that thing on your shoulder for a month..."

"Stop" Jeff suddenly said. "Everyone leave Frank and me alone for awhile, please."

"There is no way we're going to leave him in here alone with you Jeff," Laura loudly said.

"Look, Hon. He doesn't mean me any harm..."

"The hell he doesn't," she hissed. "You told us you would be shot if word got out about the healer. I think being shot falls into the category of harm — way into it."

"Come here, Laura," Jeff said, his voice soft and full of emotion.

Laura hesitated a moment, then walked over to Jeff, the Glock down by her side.

Wainwright had a hard time not pissing on himself.

Quietly, Wainright said, "Laura, I have the same clearance that Jeff does — for the same project," he added, looking at Jeff for an instant before returning his eyes back to Laura. "Anything we discuss won't fall into any category that could possibly cause him to get into trouble, let alone be shot. Jeff and I need to talk, and we can't do it in front of anyone here. Please believe me," he said, struggling to keep his eyes from looking down at the pistol.

Laura looked at Diana, who after several seconds, nodded almost imperceptibly.

Laura, defiantly laid the pistol in Jeff's lap, pushed past Wainwright and walked out of the room. When Diana glanced at the other women, they followed. Diana took Wainwright by the upper arm bringing her lips to his cheek, which she lightly kissed, then whispered in his ear. "If you cause our husband to be hurt in any way, there will be seven females that will find you and make you wish you were never born. Then I will personally kill you." She smiled sweetly and strutted out of the room.

"What did she say?" Jeff casually asked when Diana closed the door.

Wainwright's face turned red, "Your..."

"Careful," Jeff interjected as he laid the pistol on the table, almost negligently pushing the gun aside. "They've been stressed since I got hurt. I'm not absolutely certain I can control them if they think I'm in danger, and if I raise my voice, they might just interpret it that way. And, if you say anything bad about Diana, I will get pissed, and I will raise my voice."

Wainwright, initially furious at what Diana had said, thought for a moment, then walked over to the glass wall. Looking out, he watched the rain being blown by the wind, the droplets swirling around the yard lights. Just as he was about to speak, Margaret, who had been escorted out when the women left, walked back in, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Well, Frank, that went well," she sarcastically said. "Care for an encore?"

There was a prolonged silence, before, "Can that woman shoot that damn gun?" Wainwright asked in a calm voice, still looking out at the rain.

Jeff chuckled, "You don't even want to know, Frank."

"Ah, shit!"

After a moment of silence Jeff said, "Margaret, would you pick up the phone, punch intercom, dial one thirty-one, and tell whoever answers the phone to bring some coffee over, please."

Margaret laughed as she did as he asked. "I'll tell them that you asked for the coffee. I don't think they're in the mood to be told anything by us right now."

Almost before she had hung up the phone, Melissa and Jennie came in with a serving cart. Margaret, trying to restore peace, hugged both of them and told them thank you. They touched Jeff, lovingly, glared at Wainwright, and turned to leave.

Wainwright looked at the girls as they walked out the door, a contemplative expression on his face.

"They're my wives, Frank, all of them."

"Wha..."

"You didn't notice, Frank?" Margaret said, fighting a snicker.

"Well, I..." Suddenly he turned back to the glass wall, clasping his hands together behind him. After a moment, he sighed and said, "Margaret, the instrument that we had in the lab for a month, that your crew studied — Jeff has it, or one just like it, on his shoulder." Still looking at the outside, he continued, "Jeff, did you ever wonder who created the portal equipment?"

Jeff looked at him, but said nothing. When the silence dragged on, Jeff said, "You're going to have to do a lot of explaining. You're the one who is going to have to give out the information. So far, all I've heard are a couple of innuendoes."

Still not turning around, Wainwright said, "Doctor Arnold works for our company, as well as two of the techs that were on your mission a couple of years ago. We built most of the hardware — all of the software — for the portal. I didn't realize you were the Major that the General was talking about until I raised that towel and saw that instrument. Then things came crashing together. We never did ascertain what it did. A little over two years ago, we ran every test we could think of, did everything to it but put it in a press and make a pancake out of it. I haven't seen the healing chambers on the ship, but I know about them."

He stood silent for a moment, then continued, "Ah... not only did you bring that ship back, but you were the one who was shot by a sniper and almost killed, weren't you? Yeah, that had to be you. Everything makes sense now." Wainwright turned around. "Can I look at... whatever it is on your shoulder? I assume it's doing something to your wound."

Jeff hesitated a moment, then nodded. As Wainwright walked over, Jeff pulled the towel aside. Margaret hissed an intake of breath and fought not to throw up when she saw the wound, then got up to get a closer look at the healer.

As Wainwright reached out to touch the healer, Jeff interjected, "Don't. She's already pissed. Don't touch her. She's putting the big nerve in my arm back together, and wants me to be asleep. I got her to let me stay awake for awhile since you were here — and she wasn't pleased. I don't know what she will do if you touch her, but I have the impression that she's very capable of defending herself."

"So this is... ?"

"A portable healer. And before you even ask. No, I didn't steal it. It's assigned to me, permanently."

"How in the hell did you get that ship back through the portal? The aperture isn't large enough to get something a hundredth that size through it?"

Jeff managed a grin. "You know something about the healer, the portal, and even the ship, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're cleared to know everything that I do, or that I'm cleared to know everything you do. When the general or the colonel tells me it's okay to talk, then we'll talk. Until then..."

Margaret knelt down beside Jeff as the men were talking, and stared at the healer, then, forcing herself, the wound. "Don't you think you need to have a doctor, at least, check this out?" she asked, her eyes indicating his arm.

"She'll put it back together. If I understand correctly, she synthesized some sort of blood substitute to keep me alive while she did the immediate repairs. Now she is having my body make its own blood at an increased rate, while she is regenerating nerve tissue. She'll get around to the cosmetics when she's done with everything else. My strength should come back as the synthetic is replaced with the real stuff. As to the hospital, I wouldn't be here if Diana hadn't thought to get the healer out. I would never have made it to a hospital. She'll do what the big one on the ship did for me; it will just take longer."

"But how did you get it to work? Admittedly, we never imagined it had anything to do with healing. But how did you realize that it could heal, and what did you do?" she asked, exasperation evident in her voice, her eyes on Jeff, though frequently going back to the healer.

"It was probably more luck than anything else. There was a whole line of them in a room. When I walked by, this one just seemed... to reach out to me. The techs had been trying to determine what they did, without any success, just like you. I just sat with it all afternoon. I could feel it, I guess as it scanned my body. I noticed that a cut on my arm that I had gotten on the mission where we got the healers, or some of them, was completely healed by late afternoon. The cut was a day old with eight stitches that morning. Now it was completely healed. After that, we started experimenting. They work for some people, others they just ignore. Well, more correctly, they ignore most people, and work for a few."