Information
Maxwell Thomas has a minion!
Malie the Druskar
Malie the Druskar
Maxwell Thomas
Legacy Name: Maxwell Thomas
The
Angelic DemiOwner:
shylarahAge: 8 years, 2 months, 3 weeks
Born: January 31st, 2016
Adopted: 8 years, 2 months, 3 weeks ago
Adopted: January 31st, 2016
This pet has been nominated for the Pet Spotlight!
Statistics
- Level: 2
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
minion
I, Maxwell Thomas, hereby make these vows as the newest brother of the Holy Order of Astra’s Hospitallers: That I will at all times maintain the health and well-being of my patients as my first priority, and never abandon my duty to my patients until such time as they no longer require it;
That I will perform my duty as a medical professional with honor, conscience, and dignity;
That I will commit no harm against life, but seek only to preserve it in all its forms, and to refrain from material support to the commission of harm against any life;
That I will perform my duty as a medical professional neutrally and without discrimination in regard to my patient’s race, ethnicity, gender, national origin, religion, beliefs, or social standing, and I will not allow any other mortal factor to interfere with my duty to my patient;
That I will always seek to preserve the health and comfort of all people as I am able to do so;
That my practice of healing and medicine shall be given with no ulterior motive or dishonest purpose, nor withheld from those in need;
That I will use the blessings Lady Astra has granted me solely to carry out Her ideals and never to hurt and destroy others;
That I will never use my knowledge of medicine to bring harm, or in the service of dark magics, nor shall I use my knowledge of medicine to further my own interests at the expense of my patients, nor shall I use my knowledge of medicine in the violation of the rights of man, not even at my own peril;
That I will refrain from the practice of necromancy or resurrection, and will not be willing party to the possession of the living by the souls of the dead;
That I will share my medical knowledge and any discovery that advances the medical sciences with the medical profession, and that I will not seek excessive or unusual compensation for doing so;
That I will maintain the privacy and dignity of my patients, and will not reveal those secrets which are confessed to me in the course of medical treatment;
That I shall accept all Hospitallers as my brothers and sisters without reservation, and see all medical professionals as my kin;
That I shall not worship Mür, God of Plague and Disease, nor Vengeance, God of War and Violence, as these faiths are detestable to Lady Astra’s ideals and contrary to the purposes of medicine;
That I will maintain the sanctity and dignity of the Holy Order of Astra’s Hospitallers and the noble traditions of medicine;
I hereby vow before Lady Astra, the Goddess of Medicine and of Health, and before my goddess Lady Amaia, the Goddess of Ice and of Winter, that I will faithfully execute my vows as a member of the Holy Order of Astra’s Hospitallers to the best of my ability. I hereby confirm that these vows are taken freely by my own will, and may my mortal soul be judged in accordance with my adherence to my vows.
Signed,
Maxwell Thomas
That I will perform my duty as a medical professional with honor, conscience, and dignity;
That I will commit no harm against life, but seek only to preserve it in all its forms, and to refrain from material support to the commission of harm against any life;
That I will perform my duty as a medical professional neutrally and without discrimination in regard to my patient’s race, ethnicity, gender, national origin, religion, beliefs, or social standing, and I will not allow any other mortal factor to interfere with my duty to my patient;
That I will always seek to preserve the health and comfort of all people as I am able to do so;
That my practice of healing and medicine shall be given with no ulterior motive or dishonest purpose, nor withheld from those in need;
That I will use the blessings Lady Astra has granted me solely to carry out Her ideals and never to hurt and destroy others;
That I will never use my knowledge of medicine to bring harm, or in the service of dark magics, nor shall I use my knowledge of medicine to further my own interests at the expense of my patients, nor shall I use my knowledge of medicine in the violation of the rights of man, not even at my own peril;
That I will refrain from the practice of necromancy or resurrection, and will not be willing party to the possession of the living by the souls of the dead;
That I will share my medical knowledge and any discovery that advances the medical sciences with the medical profession, and that I will not seek excessive or unusual compensation for doing so;
That I will maintain the privacy and dignity of my patients, and will not reveal those secrets which are confessed to me in the course of medical treatment;
That I shall accept all Hospitallers as my brothers and sisters without reservation, and see all medical professionals as my kin;
That I shall not worship Mür, God of Plague and Disease, nor Vengeance, God of War and Violence, as these faiths are detestable to Lady Astra’s ideals and contrary to the purposes of medicine;
That I will maintain the sanctity and dignity of the Holy Order of Astra’s Hospitallers and the noble traditions of medicine;
I hereby vow before Lady Astra, the Goddess of Medicine and of Health, and before my goddess Lady Amaia, the Goddess of Ice and of Winter, that I will faithfully execute my vows as a member of the Holy Order of Astra’s Hospitallers to the best of my ability. I hereby confirm that these vows are taken freely by my own will, and may my mortal soul be judged in accordance with my adherence to my vows.
Signed,
Maxwell Thomas
Maxwell is just shy of six foot, with the muscles of a runner. He's limber but not particularly strong, and his primary exercise back in the mortal realm was jogging. He has a fairly average build, not thin but not stout either. His brown hair is brushed up and back from his face in a tousled style that is more often mussed than not, especially as he has a habit of running his hand through it. He dresses well enough but he hates suits, preferring more casual attire. He always stands a little straighter, though, when he wears his lab coat. His face is more cute than handsome, with the start of laugh lines at the corners of his lively brown eyes. Now that he's not been in med school for a while, the persistent bags under them have vanished.
Maxwell has never been one for fighting. Even as a child, he tried to be the peacemaker. When teased he tried to talk it out or just ignore it, when hit he would defend himself but not hit back. Though more openly sensitive than most boys, he learned quickly not to let mocking bother him too much. An only child for many years and born in a gap between two clumps of cousins, he looked up to the elder ones and tended to look after the younger ones when at family gatherings. He's a soft touch and a pushover, often easy to take advantage of. He genuinely cares about people in general, and does his best to lend a helping hand or give a shoulder to cry on wherever it's needed. Those traits made him a number of friends, and while he was never one of the popular ones in school it was known that if you needed someone to talk to, Maxwell would listen. That's not to say he's good at giving advice. He will make suggestions if asked, but he's really better at letting a person just get things off their chest.
Romantically, he has faced a few difficulties. Firstly, a number of people assume he's gay but in the closet. He doesn't tend to be immediately interested in an attractive women, finding a sharp mind far more appealing than a pretty face or other physical assets. Secondly, what makes for a good friend can also land you permanently in the friendzone, which has happened to him more than once. And lastly, when a woman does find his open face and trusting, gentle nature appealing, if he isn't interested in her, he has trouble handling it. His usual approach is avoidance. This, of course, feeds back into issue number one. He's had a couple girlfriends, but when he left college to join the Kestrel's crew he was not in a relationship, instead focusing on his studies.
Even as an adult, Maxwell is still very idealistic and naive. He believes that people are good at the core. He tries to avoid judging people because of things they have no control over, though it's not possible to avoid completely, and he thinks the world would be a better place if everyone would just try to get along. He dislikes violence and unthinking hatred. If he sees a chance to help someone, he tries to take it, even at cost to himself. He might be accused of being a goody two-shoes, but it's better than being a jaded cynic.
Maxwell is descended from a long line of doctors and physicians, though not an unbroken one. His father is a respected doctor, and his grandfather was a pharmacist. His family was well off, and as a child he wanted for little. When he was seven his parents divorced, following several years of increasingly intense disagreements, despite their efforts to stay together for his sake. His father eventually remarried and had two children with his second wife. Maxwell adored his younger cousins, and then his baby siblings, and he was always patching up skinned knees and hurt feelings. He decided in late middle school that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up, and has relentlessly pursued that dream since.
Maxwell has never been one for fighting. Even as a child, he tried to be the peacemaker. When teased he tried to talk it out or just ignore it, when hit he would defend himself but not hit back. Though more openly sensitive than most boys, he learned quickly not to let mocking bother him too much. An only child for many years and born in a gap between two clumps of cousins, he looked up to the elder ones and tended to look after the younger ones when at family gatherings. He's a soft touch and a pushover, often easy to take advantage of. He genuinely cares about people in general, and does his best to lend a helping hand or give a shoulder to cry on wherever it's needed. Those traits made him a number of friends, and while he was never one of the popular ones in school it was known that if you needed someone to talk to, Maxwell would listen. That's not to say he's good at giving advice. He will make suggestions if asked, but he's really better at letting a person just get things off their chest.
Romantically, he has faced a few difficulties. Firstly, a number of people assume he's gay but in the closet. He doesn't tend to be immediately interested in an attractive women, finding a sharp mind far more appealing than a pretty face or other physical assets. Secondly, what makes for a good friend can also land you permanently in the friendzone, which has happened to him more than once. And lastly, when a woman does find his open face and trusting, gentle nature appealing, if he isn't interested in her, he has trouble handling it. His usual approach is avoidance. This, of course, feeds back into issue number one. He's had a couple girlfriends, but when he left college to join the Kestrel's crew he was not in a relationship, instead focusing on his studies.
Even as an adult, Maxwell is still very idealistic and naive. He believes that people are good at the core. He tries to avoid judging people because of things they have no control over, though it's not possible to avoid completely, and he thinks the world would be a better place if everyone would just try to get along. He dislikes violence and unthinking hatred. If he sees a chance to help someone, he tries to take it, even at cost to himself. He might be accused of being a goody two-shoes, but it's better than being a jaded cynic.
Maxwell is descended from a long line of doctors and physicians, though not an unbroken one. His father is a respected doctor, and his grandfather was a pharmacist. His family was well off, and as a child he wanted for little. When he was seven his parents divorced, following several years of increasingly intense disagreements, despite their efforts to stay together for his sake. His father eventually remarried and had two children with his second wife. Maxwell adored his younger cousins, and then his baby siblings, and he was always patching up skinned knees and hurt feelings. He decided in late middle school that he wanted to be a doctor when he grew up, and has relentlessly pursued that dream since.
Day 78
Soup Kitchen, Kasaiyama, Cithal
“I’m just saying, our patients don’t get mahi mahi flown in for a special treat.” Max punctuated his point by biting into a slice of the fish. He’d been subsisting on prepackaged field-stable food, no different from what they fed their refugees, for two weeks. It was a welcome treat.
“Yes, well,” Dr. Kayle said, “I’m guessing it’s a bribe. You want a raise, right?” He smiled, and everyone at the table laughed politely.
Sona shook her head. “Just something some associates needed to get rid of. Would you believe it was seized in Todokatsu by the thieves’ guild…who thought it was narcotics?”
One of the other Hospitallers spoke up from the other end of the table. “Tastiest narcotics ever. And I’d know, I’m a doctor.”
Hugo laughed and sat up. “Really? Narcotics?”
Sona nodded, sitting upright to tell the story. “I keep in touch with them and I heard about this heist of theirs. I can only imagine they went through a crazy amount of trouble infiltrating the harbor, bribing security guards, stealing trailer trucks and worker’s uniforms, finding the right shipping container, slipping out with it with nobody the wiser, only to bring it to one of their safehouses and force the thing open and instead of drugs, it’s this morning’s catch.” She laughed, and sipped at a glass of wine. She stopped for a moment to take a breath and added, “Don’t worry, though, these weren’t stolen from anyone honest. Lots of high-level drug distributors have more-or-less legitimate import/export businesses to give them an excuse to own so many shipping assets.”
One of the Hospitallers gestured with his own glass of wine. “Do you say that from experience, Sona?” A lot of them were surprisingly curious about her work, Max had discovered. And about him, too, once word had spread amongst the doctors about who he was. He could lie to the refugees, but his temporary co-workers could only have gone so long before someone recognized him, and he had ultimately decided that quietly admitting it would allow him to tackle the rumor mill more than denial.
Sona grinned and shook her head. “Somewhat. A woman in my profession doesn’t always work with you nice-guy doctor types. Narcotics were never my business, not because I disapprove of them but because they’re a messy industry with too much law enforcement attention and genuinely bad people involved. It’s unsafe.” She paused to take another drink. “You know, unlike working in a battlefield.”
Sona had always come off to him as cold. She wasn’t harsh, but she was serious, much like Sini or Susan. She took her job seriously, she took conflict seriously. She had argued with him on a few occasions about the importance of intervention, even violent intervention. Even if she had given him a sincere and thoughtful argument, it was still a fundamentally different philosophy to him at the time.
And yet, she sat this evening with all of the Hospitallers who could spare the time. On her typical weekly arrival with fresh supplies, she had brought crates of fish and a box of wine bottles. She had brought plenty of food for the refugees, but she suggested the Hospitallers have a nice dinner to themselves tonight. She joined them for dinner, chatting amicably and making herself a charming dinner guest.
Most of them, himself included, suggested the refugees needed it more, but they had all been living on field packs that their kitchen only barely made edible and their objections were ultimately rather muted. Nobody at the table seemed to be in a particular hurry to give their plate away. And besides, there was a lot of fish, and they didn’t have the facilities to store all of it for more than a day or two.
The others politely laughed at the joke. “I mean, I’m not a saint, but I do try to do work Carmel would approve of. I don’t mind running guns if it means that people in countries like Cithal can defend themselves against a tyrant. I certainly don’t mind running medicines for those same people, either. Some people accuse us of fueling a conflict just to profit from our services in it, but…” She shook her head, as if dismissing the notion. “That might be true for some opportunists, but not for me. I know you doctors have to deal with the worst parts of it, but I prefer to think what will emerge is a better place for these people. But I do have to work with my peers, who are not always savory types. That’s why I like the Thieves’ Guild, in fact – we share our faith in Sly, and it gives them a certain…” She glanced at the window, looking thoughtful. “A certain honor, I suppose, that your typical drug kingpins and human traffickers don’t have. They’re professionals who live by a code, and I appreciate that.”
A surprising number of the Hospitallers found her narrative intriguing, judging by their focused, interested looks. It was new to you at first too, Max told himself. They spend their time working with medical professionals, not terrorists. Besides, they had given him similar treatment, much like Hugo did when they first met.
“Well,” Sona finished, setting her fork and knife down. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to borrow a bed in one of the tents outside for a few hours. I’d like to get some sleep in and leave tonight while it’s dark. It’s safer to travel that way.”
“No need,” Dr. Kayle replied. “Why don’t you sleep aboard the Astra’s Mercy? There’s plenty of room. You went out of your way to give us a treat, the least we can do is give you a quiet place to sleep.”
Sona smiled at him. “Thank you, Kayle. Maxwell, why don’t you show me aboard?”
“Sure, Sona,” Max said, blinking at her suddenly asking him. She was an older woman, but she didn’t exactly need help boarding a ship. He ate the last piece of his grilled fish, mopping up the fruity, tropical sauce with the coconut rice and cleaning off as much of the plate as he could. He’d never had Kitsuni cuisine before, but damn did it beat the bland food he’d been living off of. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to the rest of the table, mostly to be polite.
Hugo and Kayle both nodded in acknowledgment, and everyone else seemed absorbed in their own conversations. Max finished his glass of wine and hastened after Sona, who was already walking outside. Next to him, Sini rushed past him, seeming more alert than usual. Maybe she thought Sona asking for his escort was strange, too? Sure enough, she spoke up once they were outside. “Is everything alright, Sona?”
“Everything’s fine,” she replied. But there was something about her tone… Max glanced at Sini. The spirit was definitely tense, now.
Sini stayed between Max and Sona as they headed across the street and to the Astra’s Mercy. The aircraft’s seats were comfortable enough to be folded out into beds, and Max had used a bedsheet to wall off a single row for himself – as had many of the others. It afforded a small modicum of privacy after a long day of meeting strangers in a crowded clinic. He instinctively headed there.
“The reason I asked you to come with me,” Sona started without preamble, “is that I want a private checkup.”Max blinked. “And you had to leave the room full of doctors to ask for a checkup? Well, here, push this white sheet aside and sit.”
Max sat across from her. Sini seemed a little cheered by the explanation, but she still stuck by him closely. “Is something the matter, Sona?”
“I’ve been short of breath,” she replied. “I’m sure you noticed I kept pausing when I was talking in there.”Max only belatedly noticed she was breathing out of her mouth, even though they had barely walked a hundred yards. “Well,” he said, “You’ve been on the road all day dodging the army. It’s natural to be a little tired.”“Don’t patronize me,” she said crossly. “I know how tired I usually feel, and the past few weeks have been worse. I’ve started to develop other symptoms – muscle weakness, poor appetite, chest pain.”
“Well,” Max replied, “you’re a friend. I’d be happy to examine you.” She looked a little relieved, and leaned back. “I’m going to use a spell to help diagnose you, okay? But hold on, there’s probably a medical scanner around here somewhere.” He got up, and started to look around. “Can I ask why me? Like I said, you were just having dinner with almost every doctor here.”
“I trust you,” Sona said simply. “And not that I distrust the others, but I know you more.”
Max shrugged, finding a spare device discarded in one of the rows. The battery was still good, so he followed back over. “Well, if that’s what you want. Could you hold this sensor, please?” He turned on the holographic display – the devices still used old-fashioned flat-panel displays, so as to not broadcast potentially sensitive medical information where any bystander could see it. But they were alone in the ship. She took the sensor in hand, and he cast Diagnosis, closing his eyes. Elevated heart rate, respiration problems…masses. In the lungs. His eyes shot open, a cold chill running through him. Lung cancer. And if it was that obvious at a glance, it was advanced lung cancer.
His surprise must have been visible. Sona raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem, Maxwell?”
He drew his hand back, running it through his hair. “Um,” he stammered. “I’ll rule out pneumonia or bronchitis first, okay?” He had never actually seen a case of lung cancer before, he reasoned. Hugo had that book of Diagnosis spells, but he had only studied the section on lungs once. That book was still aboard the ship, right…? He stood, walking towards the back to go look for it.
“…I hope you’re more composed with your regular patients,” Sona said. She seemed calm, perhaps even resigned. “It’s obvious from your face you’re worried about something serious.”
Well, no point in lying. “I do think it could be serious, Sona, but I need to rule out more mundane explanations first. You’ve been traveling a lot, meeting a lot of people – um, it could just as easily be a respiratory infection, nothing more.” His tone was uneven, which surprised him. He may not be the most stoic person around, but he wasn’t the type to fall apart at a shock. But just five minutes ago, he was laughing and having a good time with her and the Hospitallers over dinner…
There. Max seized the book, flipping through its magic-imbued pages to the section on lungs. He cast Diagnosis again, studying each page, hoping he just mistook some fluids or swelling.
No luck. It was clear as day. Small-cell lung carcinoma. If there were this many masses, this obvious to a glance, it was likely an advanced stage… He ran a hand through his hair again. But what did he know? He was still new to this. He thought to call Hugo, or maybe ask if there was an oncologist here… He hurried back over, casting Diagnosis on her again. “Um,” he stuttered again, “Yeah, it could be serious, but I want to ask another Hospitaller for a second opinion, okay?”
Sona frowned. “You clearly suspect something serious. Say it, Maxwell.”
He shook away the spell and stared downwards at the floor. “Look, you really should get the opinion of a specialist, okay? But…” He looked up, trying to meet her eyes. She didn’t look harsh, or judgmental, or even scared. She seemed calm, perhaps even curious. “This book, it has magical presentations of various diseases? You look a lot like, well…” He took a breath, and spat it out. “Lung cancer.”
Sona nodded. “As I suspected.”
Max blinked. As she suspected? “What?”
“I’ve spent much of my life smuggling through the Irradiated Plains, Maxwell. I’ve always taken precautions, but one can only spend so much time in the Plains without breathing in radioactive dust. If not lung cancer, it would be another form of cancer. I’d be foolish not to research warning signs. I’d gamble that I know more about lung cancer than you do.”
“I’d agree with you there,” Max said, still thrown by surprise. It wasn’t just the diagnosis, but it was how… obvious it was! He was almost amazed that she looked totally healthy. “Look, you really need to speak to an oncologist.”
Sona went quiet for a moment. “Judging from your freaked-out expression, it was not caught early. My odds of survival at my age will be quite low.” She sounded cool, detached. She sounded, he mused, much like he was taught to sound when breaking bad news to a patient. She was a professional, a rock of stability. And she was the sick one! “Maxwell, it’s quite alright. I knew that the Plains would one day take my life.”
He took a breath to steady himself. “I’m sorry, Sona. Listen, I can help you – the Hospitallers have world-class oncologists, okay? I may be a newbie, but if a Hospitaller requests someone get the best treatment available, she’ll get the best treatment-”
Sona cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m a poor candidate for a lung transplant due to age and chronic radiation exposure. Even a cybernetic lung is iffy at best if it’s advanced far enough. If you are correct, my odds are not good, and I should be realistic about that.”
“You’re going back to Minato, right?” Max frowned. “Look, why don’t you get a plane from there to South Albia? I’ll refer you to an oncologist in our campus in New Iella. Look, it’s still possible I’m wrong, okay? I’ve never used Diagnosis on anything but minor injuries and illnesses. The worst thing I’ve ever diagnosed is cholera.” Even as he said it, he knew he wasn’t wrong.
Sona smiled and offered her hand. Max took it. “It’s not that I have a wish to die, Maxwell, merely a recognition of reality. Your mission won’t die out if I take a weekend trip south. I’ll do that. Okay?”
Max nodded, trying to compose himself. “I’ve never been to that campus. I’ll ask Hugo who to refer you to, okay?” He shook his head. “Even if it’s bad, you shouldn’t give up. They have really amazing treatments these days. Some cancers can be cured with outpatient procedures.”
Sona smiled, but she wasn’t buying that. “This isn’t one of those cancers, Maxwell. And I promise I’ll get a diagnosis from your order’s oncologists. I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I didn’t want to voice my concern before you got a good look. People tend to see what they expect to find, even doctors.”
Max nodded, going quiet. She had lung cancer, and she was sorry for making him see it?! “Go and ask your friend Hugo about a referral,” she finished. “I’ll be here.”
Max stood. “Okay, Sona,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “And, um, good luck.” With that, he hurried towards the ship’s exit. Hopefully Hugo knew a good oncologist…Full story here.
Soup Kitchen, Kasaiyama, Cithal
“I’m just saying, our patients don’t get mahi mahi flown in for a special treat.” Max punctuated his point by biting into a slice of the fish. He’d been subsisting on prepackaged field-stable food, no different from what they fed their refugees, for two weeks. It was a welcome treat.
“Yes, well,” Dr. Kayle said, “I’m guessing it’s a bribe. You want a raise, right?” He smiled, and everyone at the table laughed politely.
Sona shook her head. “Just something some associates needed to get rid of. Would you believe it was seized in Todokatsu by the thieves’ guild…who thought it was narcotics?”
One of the other Hospitallers spoke up from the other end of the table. “Tastiest narcotics ever. And I’d know, I’m a doctor.”
Hugo laughed and sat up. “Really? Narcotics?”
Sona nodded, sitting upright to tell the story. “I keep in touch with them and I heard about this heist of theirs. I can only imagine they went through a crazy amount of trouble infiltrating the harbor, bribing security guards, stealing trailer trucks and worker’s uniforms, finding the right shipping container, slipping out with it with nobody the wiser, only to bring it to one of their safehouses and force the thing open and instead of drugs, it’s this morning’s catch.” She laughed, and sipped at a glass of wine. She stopped for a moment to take a breath and added, “Don’t worry, though, these weren’t stolen from anyone honest. Lots of high-level drug distributors have more-or-less legitimate import/export businesses to give them an excuse to own so many shipping assets.”
One of the Hospitallers gestured with his own glass of wine. “Do you say that from experience, Sona?” A lot of them were surprisingly curious about her work, Max had discovered. And about him, too, once word had spread amongst the doctors about who he was. He could lie to the refugees, but his temporary co-workers could only have gone so long before someone recognized him, and he had ultimately decided that quietly admitting it would allow him to tackle the rumor mill more than denial.
Sona grinned and shook her head. “Somewhat. A woman in my profession doesn’t always work with you nice-guy doctor types. Narcotics were never my business, not because I disapprove of them but because they’re a messy industry with too much law enforcement attention and genuinely bad people involved. It’s unsafe.” She paused to take another drink. “You know, unlike working in a battlefield.”
Sona had always come off to him as cold. She wasn’t harsh, but she was serious, much like Sini or Susan. She took her job seriously, she took conflict seriously. She had argued with him on a few occasions about the importance of intervention, even violent intervention. Even if she had given him a sincere and thoughtful argument, it was still a fundamentally different philosophy to him at the time.
And yet, she sat this evening with all of the Hospitallers who could spare the time. On her typical weekly arrival with fresh supplies, she had brought crates of fish and a box of wine bottles. She had brought plenty of food for the refugees, but she suggested the Hospitallers have a nice dinner to themselves tonight. She joined them for dinner, chatting amicably and making herself a charming dinner guest.
Most of them, himself included, suggested the refugees needed it more, but they had all been living on field packs that their kitchen only barely made edible and their objections were ultimately rather muted. Nobody at the table seemed to be in a particular hurry to give their plate away. And besides, there was a lot of fish, and they didn’t have the facilities to store all of it for more than a day or two.
The others politely laughed at the joke. “I mean, I’m not a saint, but I do try to do work Carmel would approve of. I don’t mind running guns if it means that people in countries like Cithal can defend themselves against a tyrant. I certainly don’t mind running medicines for those same people, either. Some people accuse us of fueling a conflict just to profit from our services in it, but…” She shook her head, as if dismissing the notion. “That might be true for some opportunists, but not for me. I know you doctors have to deal with the worst parts of it, but I prefer to think what will emerge is a better place for these people. But I do have to work with my peers, who are not always savory types. That’s why I like the Thieves’ Guild, in fact – we share our faith in Sly, and it gives them a certain…” She glanced at the window, looking thoughtful. “A certain honor, I suppose, that your typical drug kingpins and human traffickers don’t have. They’re professionals who live by a code, and I appreciate that.”
A surprising number of the Hospitallers found her narrative intriguing, judging by their focused, interested looks. It was new to you at first too, Max told himself. They spend their time working with medical professionals, not terrorists. Besides, they had given him similar treatment, much like Hugo did when they first met.
“Well,” Sona finished, setting her fork and knife down. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to borrow a bed in one of the tents outside for a few hours. I’d like to get some sleep in and leave tonight while it’s dark. It’s safer to travel that way.”
“No need,” Dr. Kayle replied. “Why don’t you sleep aboard the Astra’s Mercy? There’s plenty of room. You went out of your way to give us a treat, the least we can do is give you a quiet place to sleep.”
Sona smiled at him. “Thank you, Kayle. Maxwell, why don’t you show me aboard?”
“Sure, Sona,” Max said, blinking at her suddenly asking him. She was an older woman, but she didn’t exactly need help boarding a ship. He ate the last piece of his grilled fish, mopping up the fruity, tropical sauce with the coconut rice and cleaning off as much of the plate as he could. He’d never had Kitsuni cuisine before, but damn did it beat the bland food he’d been living off of. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said to the rest of the table, mostly to be polite.
Hugo and Kayle both nodded in acknowledgment, and everyone else seemed absorbed in their own conversations. Max finished his glass of wine and hastened after Sona, who was already walking outside. Next to him, Sini rushed past him, seeming more alert than usual. Maybe she thought Sona asking for his escort was strange, too? Sure enough, she spoke up once they were outside. “Is everything alright, Sona?”
“Everything’s fine,” she replied. But there was something about her tone… Max glanced at Sini. The spirit was definitely tense, now.
Sini stayed between Max and Sona as they headed across the street and to the Astra’s Mercy. The aircraft’s seats were comfortable enough to be folded out into beds, and Max had used a bedsheet to wall off a single row for himself – as had many of the others. It afforded a small modicum of privacy after a long day of meeting strangers in a crowded clinic. He instinctively headed there.
“The reason I asked you to come with me,” Sona started without preamble, “is that I want a private checkup.”Max blinked. “And you had to leave the room full of doctors to ask for a checkup? Well, here, push this white sheet aside and sit.”
Max sat across from her. Sini seemed a little cheered by the explanation, but she still stuck by him closely. “Is something the matter, Sona?”
“I’ve been short of breath,” she replied. “I’m sure you noticed I kept pausing when I was talking in there.”Max only belatedly noticed she was breathing out of her mouth, even though they had barely walked a hundred yards. “Well,” he said, “You’ve been on the road all day dodging the army. It’s natural to be a little tired.”“Don’t patronize me,” she said crossly. “I know how tired I usually feel, and the past few weeks have been worse. I’ve started to develop other symptoms – muscle weakness, poor appetite, chest pain.”
“Well,” Max replied, “you’re a friend. I’d be happy to examine you.” She looked a little relieved, and leaned back. “I’m going to use a spell to help diagnose you, okay? But hold on, there’s probably a medical scanner around here somewhere.” He got up, and started to look around. “Can I ask why me? Like I said, you were just having dinner with almost every doctor here.”
“I trust you,” Sona said simply. “And not that I distrust the others, but I know you more.”
Max shrugged, finding a spare device discarded in one of the rows. The battery was still good, so he followed back over. “Well, if that’s what you want. Could you hold this sensor, please?” He turned on the holographic display – the devices still used old-fashioned flat-panel displays, so as to not broadcast potentially sensitive medical information where any bystander could see it. But they were alone in the ship. She took the sensor in hand, and he cast Diagnosis, closing his eyes. Elevated heart rate, respiration problems…masses. In the lungs. His eyes shot open, a cold chill running through him. Lung cancer. And if it was that obvious at a glance, it was advanced lung cancer.
His surprise must have been visible. Sona raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem, Maxwell?”
He drew his hand back, running it through his hair. “Um,” he stammered. “I’ll rule out pneumonia or bronchitis first, okay?” He had never actually seen a case of lung cancer before, he reasoned. Hugo had that book of Diagnosis spells, but he had only studied the section on lungs once. That book was still aboard the ship, right…? He stood, walking towards the back to go look for it.
“…I hope you’re more composed with your regular patients,” Sona said. She seemed calm, perhaps even resigned. “It’s obvious from your face you’re worried about something serious.”
Well, no point in lying. “I do think it could be serious, Sona, but I need to rule out more mundane explanations first. You’ve been traveling a lot, meeting a lot of people – um, it could just as easily be a respiratory infection, nothing more.” His tone was uneven, which surprised him. He may not be the most stoic person around, but he wasn’t the type to fall apart at a shock. But just five minutes ago, he was laughing and having a good time with her and the Hospitallers over dinner…
There. Max seized the book, flipping through its magic-imbued pages to the section on lungs. He cast Diagnosis again, studying each page, hoping he just mistook some fluids or swelling.
No luck. It was clear as day. Small-cell lung carcinoma. If there were this many masses, this obvious to a glance, it was likely an advanced stage… He ran a hand through his hair again. But what did he know? He was still new to this. He thought to call Hugo, or maybe ask if there was an oncologist here… He hurried back over, casting Diagnosis on her again. “Um,” he stuttered again, “Yeah, it could be serious, but I want to ask another Hospitaller for a second opinion, okay?”
Sona frowned. “You clearly suspect something serious. Say it, Maxwell.”
He shook away the spell and stared downwards at the floor. “Look, you really should get the opinion of a specialist, okay? But…” He looked up, trying to meet her eyes. She didn’t look harsh, or judgmental, or even scared. She seemed calm, perhaps even curious. “This book, it has magical presentations of various diseases? You look a lot like, well…” He took a breath, and spat it out. “Lung cancer.”
Sona nodded. “As I suspected.”
Max blinked. As she suspected? “What?”
“I’ve spent much of my life smuggling through the Irradiated Plains, Maxwell. I’ve always taken precautions, but one can only spend so much time in the Plains without breathing in radioactive dust. If not lung cancer, it would be another form of cancer. I’d be foolish not to research warning signs. I’d gamble that I know more about lung cancer than you do.”
“I’d agree with you there,” Max said, still thrown by surprise. It wasn’t just the diagnosis, but it was how… obvious it was! He was almost amazed that she looked totally healthy. “Look, you really need to speak to an oncologist.”
Sona went quiet for a moment. “Judging from your freaked-out expression, it was not caught early. My odds of survival at my age will be quite low.” She sounded cool, detached. She sounded, he mused, much like he was taught to sound when breaking bad news to a patient. She was a professional, a rock of stability. And she was the sick one! “Maxwell, it’s quite alright. I knew that the Plains would one day take my life.”
He took a breath to steady himself. “I’m sorry, Sona. Listen, I can help you – the Hospitallers have world-class oncologists, okay? I may be a newbie, but if a Hospitaller requests someone get the best treatment available, she’ll get the best treatment-”
Sona cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m a poor candidate for a lung transplant due to age and chronic radiation exposure. Even a cybernetic lung is iffy at best if it’s advanced far enough. If you are correct, my odds are not good, and I should be realistic about that.”
“You’re going back to Minato, right?” Max frowned. “Look, why don’t you get a plane from there to South Albia? I’ll refer you to an oncologist in our campus in New Iella. Look, it’s still possible I’m wrong, okay? I’ve never used Diagnosis on anything but minor injuries and illnesses. The worst thing I’ve ever diagnosed is cholera.” Even as he said it, he knew he wasn’t wrong.
Sona smiled and offered her hand. Max took it. “It’s not that I have a wish to die, Maxwell, merely a recognition of reality. Your mission won’t die out if I take a weekend trip south. I’ll do that. Okay?”
Max nodded, trying to compose himself. “I’ve never been to that campus. I’ll ask Hugo who to refer you to, okay?” He shook his head. “Even if it’s bad, you shouldn’t give up. They have really amazing treatments these days. Some cancers can be cured with outpatient procedures.”
Sona smiled, but she wasn’t buying that. “This isn’t one of those cancers, Maxwell. And I promise I’ll get a diagnosis from your order’s oncologists. I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I didn’t want to voice my concern before you got a good look. People tend to see what they expect to find, even doctors.”
Max nodded, going quiet. She had lung cancer, and she was sorry for making him see it?! “Go and ask your friend Hugo about a referral,” she finished. “I’ll be here.”
Max stood. “Okay, Sona,” he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “And, um, good luck.” With that, he hurried towards the ship’s exit. Hopefully Hugo knew a good oncologist…Full story here.
Maxwell by 
Cheshire
Pet Treasure
Black Stethoscope
Large First Aid Kit
First Aid Kit
Surgically Clean Bandage
Bandages
Sticky Bandage
Sougara Wasteland Cowboy Dirty Bandage Tin
Makeshift Bandage
Digital Thermometer
Tongue Depressor
Antibiotic Ointment
Hydrocortisone Cream
Acetaminophen Travel Pack
Ibuprofen Travel Pack
Pink Bismuth Travel Pack
Aller-Away Double Pack
Extra Strength Pain Pills
Ice Bag
Tan Arm Cast
Stained Green Nitrile Gloves
Grape Shot Shot
Danger Rave Shot
Orange Liquid Filled Giant Syringe
Suture Kit
Wheelchair with Hospital Blanket
Hospital Bed
Bag of Blood
Bag of Plasma
Cracked White Holo-Phone
Coffee Run
Classic Coffee
Buzzed Coffee Protein Energy Drink
Pet Friends
Wyatt of the Zone
Rhiannon Teiph