The BLTS Archive - No Turning Back
#2: The Heart Of The Healer
by Kalita Kasar (kalitafic@hotmail.com)

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It is time that I came to write this history of the humans who have
come to our world. I know not how much longer they will stay; since
Tucker has regained his sight, and better use of his crippled limb,
his every waking thought is consumed with returning to his own people.
It is as it should be and yet, there is a part of this old healer's
heart that wishes it were not so.

In recalling his history on this world, the first thing that impresses
itself upon me is the strength with which he made his presence felt in
my mind. I do not think I will ever forget it however many spans are
left to me before I go to the great ones.

His pain hit me like a solid wall...his soul screamed to me when the
rescue party were still a long distance off. I am an old healer I am
not as strong as I once was, nor as agile, but when that rending cry
reached my mind I ran to him. I knew nothing of this stranger but I
knew I must go or he would not come to us alive.

He feared us...he was in terror for his life...he feared the good
souls who sought only to bring him to safety, and that fear threatened
to stop his heart. He had lost much blood, and the eye was...beyond my
help. But there was something in him that clung to life even through
his fear. I broke the taboos and touched him...I laid a hand on his
golden hair and spoke to him through his mind. I had to soothe his
fear, I had to calm his mind...it was that, or lose him.

His agony was like a physical, bleeding wound; as I touched his mind
even I was forced to raise shields against the whelming ocean of pain
I encountered. There were physical hurts as I have enumerated, but
there was a deeper cry a darker pain within him that did not show on
the surface. A pain he fought to suppress even as I touched it. He was
torn in his soul in a way I have never encountered before. Mortally
torn.

Had it not been for the fact that I have learned over time not to
allow these mental hurts to manifest in my own physical being I would
have fallen; I would have cried out...I had to fight to suppress the
cry that bubbled to my throat... 'Malcolm...MALCOLM!'

In my mind, I saw him, the one this stranger cried out for...dark and
slender, powerfully formed, obviously beautiful for its species; more
finely built than the one who sagged in the supporting arms of the
rescuers. Smaller, and yet, I could sense through the mind of the
injured one that this creature he so longed for was superior in all
ways to any other of its species. I nodded, soothing his mind with my
own, and broke the contact.

I looked at those who brought him..."Where is the other?"

They told me he fled and they had brought this one because of his
injuries. I am a healer, in my work, I attempt to heal the whole of
the being. I knew this one would never completely heal while his
companion was not here. "Go!" I told them. "Search...by all the great
ones...do not cease until you bring the other here."

When they left, I turned my energies to keeping the injured creature
alive; it was not an easy task; his injuries were great; perhaps a
Zilanthi could sustain such hurts and not come to such a state as this
one was in, but this species is different, more susceptible to other
challenges.

Fever set in quickly and he hovered many days in a dark mist that I
could not dispel. I helped the bones in his arm to knit, though the
hand never looked quite like the other one once the healing was
complete. I stemmed the bleeding from the eye and repaired the injured
skin, but he remained gravely ill and there was little I could do,
apart from augmenting his flagging spirit with the gentle touch of my
mind.

Even that, I had to temper for his mind is delicate in comparison to
those of other species I have healed.

And all the while he called and called for his "Malcolm."

The heart of the healer is to *heal* to apply the needed remedy and to
see this take effect and repair what is not right. I failed him in
this...two ways. I did not know enough to repair his hand; I could not
bring him his Malcolm. The dark creature was not to be found on our
world.

So I brought him through the physical hurt, and I hoped, and implored
the great ones that the hurt in his soul would mend with time. There
was no more I could do. I stayed with him all through those dark days
when his grief would threaten to overtake him; I stayed there and I
watched as slowly, tortuously slowly, he found strength within himself
to go on.

This species, which I now know is called 'human' is remarkably
resilient. The creature adapted to his disabilities. Day by day he
grew stronger in his body and in his resolve. He began to attempt to
use the crippled limb. In this I pride myself...as one well used to
employing only three fingers I tutored him on how to manage the tools
and implements of life. Soon Tucker could feed himself, dress and even
tidy his appearance with little assistance.

He is highly intelligent. Having thought myself in the presence of a
lesser creature, to my shame, I had spoken to him only in very simple
sibilants. When he began to reply to me in my own tongue I was at
first astounded and then, curious. I began to form more complex
phrases and before long Tucker was not only mimicking them but
attempting to form thoughts of his *own.* I found that his ability to
grasp our language mirrored the sharpness of mind which until then, I
had thought was only a sympathetic response to my mental touch on his
mind.

To an extent, I think it is a response to the bond we have
formed...Tucker himself seemed surprised that he 'picked up' our
tongue so readily. To my amusement though, his inflection has never
been perfected.

Our people have taken a surprising liking to this human creature.
Tucker seems to exude an aura of gregarious good humour and our people
have always warmed to such things.

He displays also a great curiosity for things around him and where
other off-worlders would not have noticed or commented, Tucker noted
the differences between Common Zilanthi and healers. He approached me
one morning in my clinic and asked about it.

"You're differ'n't to the others, kinda...smoother." I have long come
to admire his way of expression, if he were a male of my own species,
he may have made a good mate. But I digress.

"I am a healer, Tucker," I told him.

"Yeah..." He will not say 'yes,' no matter how often I have corrected
his pronunciation. "But...healers of my species don't look differ'n't,
they just...learn differ'n't."

"Ah, but on Zilanth, healers are born, they are not...tutored as your
doctors are."

He seemed satisfied with that, but I often noticed from that time
forward, how he would seem to draw comparisons between even the common
Zilanthi and note differences of appearance. This must be a human
trait, as it is not present in any other species I have studied.

Tucker progressed well enough under my care and of course the day came
when it was not necessary for my presence with him at all times. He
began to speak of work, and in this he is the same as our own males
who crave something to do in order to occupy their time. I asked him
what he does, and he again surprised me in the technical description
he was able to give of his role where he came from.

This is certainly no lesser species than my own. I was mistaken in
him. He is one most prized amongst out people. One who has skill with
mechanics.

In this sector there is work for such a one as this...work enough to
keep a man occupied for many spans. The Zilanthi do not venture into
space, but we do indeed trade with those who do. He was given work to
do and amazed us with the ease with which he learned to use our tools,
and with the ideas he would formulate to solve the problems presented
to him.

If this is one human, and his dark Malcolm is superior...I could only
conjecture at what that one was capable of. How I wished we could find
him!

And then, our relays alerted us to the presence of strangers on our
world once more.

So many months had passed since the arrival of Tucker; in all that
time, no one had sought him. It was puzzling to us, since a man of his
skills is so greatly prized amongst us, how could he be merely
forgotten by his people and left here?

The strangers who came sought him.

I was reluctant at first, to let these men see or speak to Tucker.
They were humans, of that there was no doubt from the descriptions
given, and yet something in me was unsure of their motives. Until
Shallarha told me one of them spoke of Tucker as a 'lost companion,'
could it be possible...was one of the men the one that Tucker's soul
still cried for?

Of course he could not be! I argued with Shallarha fiercely if he were
the one Tucker grieved over I would have known! *I* would have sensed
the presence of so great a mind on my world. I am no novice after all!

Shallarha was insistent that these men meant Tucker no harm, and
eventually I allowed myself to be persuaded. However, I would not
allow any of them near Tucker until I had seen this one who sought his
lost companion for myself.

I decided I would not speak to him, it would be better only to observe
and so, I went to see for myself, this stranger who came in search of
Tucker.

None of the three humans I saw that day, bore any resemblance to the
dark, and powerful creature I had seen through Tucker's mind. I was
about to dismiss them and tell Shallarha they were impostors when one
of them spoke to the smallest one.

"It's obvious t'me this man yer lookin' for is not here." He spoke
with Tucker's voice. Although at that time, I did not understand his
words, I *knew* his voice. My eyes fell upon the small, dark one to
whom he spoke and I was hard pressed not to hiss my surprise and
shock!

There was resemblance in him to the one Tucker held in his
mind...slight resemblance to be sure, but it was there. The same,
singular silver eyes, the same, dark hair...but none of the physical
superiority I had expected. None of the mental presence I had felt
sure this creature would possess. I turned away, it was obvious this
dark one had suffered much, it was evident in his very posture; what
kind of torment though could he have faced to reduce him to...to this
shadow of the glory Tucker recalled?

Very much against every instinct I have, I permitted the humans to
have an audience with Tucker. I made it clear that whilst they could
see him alone, they were to be well guarded and I myself would remain
within swift access should I be required, and I would know if I were
required.

I was surprised when only the little dark one went to speak with
Tucker, under those circumstances it was decided the guards ought to
remain near the other two, whilst Shallarha would escort this "Reed"
to Tucker and I would remain unobserved by any of them.

I expected Tucker to be shocked at the appearance of his 'Malcolm' I
expected him to be grieved by the changes in him. What I did not
expect was that Tucker would react with abject terror!

I was on the point of calling for assistance when my mind was able to
make sense of the jumble of thoughts emotions and the rapid-fire and
heavily accented *words* that burst from him upon siting Reed...Tucker
thought that he saw a shade!

In hindsight, perhaps letting this shadow of his past burst in upon
Tucker unawares was not a wise thing to do. However at the time it
seemed acceptable. It was better to get Tucker's reaction to the man
without him knowing that Reed was coming, a more genuine response. I
find myself grateful to the great ones that his recovery by that time
was far enough progressed that he withstood the shock with only
minimal intervention from myself. I soothed his fear and told him that
this man was real, though sorely different to his memories of him.

Once his fears were relieved and Tucker spoke with Reed, there could
be no doubt in my mind that this stranger was indeed, the one Tucker
had called for; he was the man whom Tucker loves with all his being.
His very soul *sang* to me with the joy of their reunion.

This was his 'Malcolm' but how could he be? One so very different to
that which I had expected. One completely closed to my mind.

Reed concerns me, there is a darkness in him, a wound and a hurt that
I cannot touch.

He has proven his love and concern for Tucker time and again, and yet,
there is almost what amounts to a flatness in him. Something
impenetrable incurable. It pains me that there is so little I can do
for him beyond caring for his physical health.

And yet, I think perhaps there *is* a way that I can reach him...if
Tucker will help.

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The End