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guards. The centurons retreated.
    I deliberately gave the terrified nurse’s narrow shoulder a shove toward the panel. “Thanks, Zel. You’ve done enough here.”
    In a blink, Zella had dodged around TssVar and darted out into Medical. I returned TssVar’s suspicious gaze with my best virtuous expression.
    The OverLord paced a circle around me. “SsurreVa, you lie.”
    “About what?” This innocent, who me? act had better work. “You mean this?” I patted my arm. “Why lie about someone trying to hurt me?”
    He regarded me with those observant, viewport-size, yellow eyes. “This will not change their hatred of you, SsurreVa.”
    Too
damn observant. “So it’s my problem.”
    “Until it becomes mine.” The OverLord’s huge head swiveled toward the Colonel. “This one will survive?”
    “He needs more surgery to repair his ribs and treatment for the preexisting problems with his heart, but with luck, yes. He’ll live.”
    “He owes his life to you.” TssVar surveyed the surgical equipment impassively. “And this is what you had chosen to devote your time and energy?”
    Past tense.
Had.
Another reminder of my current predicament.
    “This is it.” I got busy cleaning up the last of the contaminated instruments. “Everybody needs regular medical treatment, OverLord. It’s steady work.”
    “I am putting you in charge of this vessel’s Medical Section,” the Hsktskt said.
    About time. “That will make Dr. Malgat and the crew happy.” No, it wouldn’t.
    “Should the soft-skulled one object, advise me.” TssVar’s tongue lashed out in what I was starting to recognize as a Hsktskt expression of anticipation, then he stalked back out.
    I sat down next to Shropana and watched his monitor. In one day, I thought, I’d gone from a detainee in solitary confinement to acting Primary Medical Officer.
    Wonder what would happen tomorrow?
    I spent the next eighteen hours in Medical, keeping close monitor on Colonel Shropana. Six more units of synplasma were required to compensate for the blood loss. Hourly doses of pentazalcine kept him quiet and as comfortable as possible. The League Commander remained in critical condition, but he made it through the night.
    My vigil also provided a chance to further observe the medical staff in action. They were a busy bunch.
    The night-shift nurses coming on immediately gravitated toward one end of the ward. The end with the food unit. They kept it busy preparing cups of hot beverages, snacks, and other tidbits. Three patients were forced to signal more than once before they were attended. I handled two of them personally.
    Difficult to stuff your face and assist patients at the same time.
    The interns worked a little harder at their jobs, but some of them scared me more than the nurses did. I watched unqualified students make rounds, treating and prescribing for patients without orders or supervision. Not good. I silently followed up on every chart. No one seemed brave enough to try to stop me when I modified the med schedules.
    While fixing their disasters, I learned that the senior staffer on shift was a fourth-year intern, and he had yet to master the intricacies of galactic pharmacology.
    Eventually I covered all of the inpatients and then appropriated a portable medical terminal and went through the personnel records. Well, I had to do something while I was sitting there, listening to Shropana’s berth console bleep and the nurses chew.
    One intrepid soul finally approached me at mid-shift. Basically humanoid, with one pair of arms and legs. Innumerable protuberant hemangiomas covered his body, doubtless due to the unusual distribution of blood vessels in his species’ skin. He wore intern insignia on his tunic. Whether he deserved to was yet to be seen.
    “I’m flavored,” Strawberry the intern said, and held out a hand with three protracted digits.
    I blinked. “I’ll take your word for it.”
    “You misunderstand me, Doctor. My
name
is
flavored
.” At my