Worst pain of my life until today.
Box jellyfish, just a little one, just a brush when I was 30.
That one put me in hospital for a week.
He lowered his hand.
Bees, wasps, ants, a scorpion once in the outback.
Oh, and a cone shell.
Pretty little thing on the beach.
I picked it up to look at it and it stung me in the palm.
That was a close one.
Sepha realized her mouth was open and closed it.
Mr. Doyle, she said, I have been a physician for 22 years.
I have never met a being who has been envenomated even twice.
Hamish grinned at her, sweat beating on his forehead.
Doc, he said, where I come from, that’s just a good story for the pub.
Somewhere around 4:00 in the morning, his fever broke.
Sepha watched it happen on the readout.
His temperature, which had held at a dangerous peak for hours, began to fall.
His heart rate slowed.
The shivering eased.
The analyzer, which she had left running on a continuous sample of his blood, showed the venom concentration dropping steeply as whatever was fighting it inside him finally gained the upper hand.
Hamish fell asleep mid-sentence in the middle of a story about a crocodile.
Sepha sat beside him and watched his chest rise and fall slowly, steadily, and found that her head fins were trembling.
In the morning, he woke up hungry.
He ate a full breakfast from the station’s commissary and then a second one.
He drank four cups of coffee.
His arm was still swollen and sore, and he moved it carefully, but the angry redness had begun to fade, and the readout showed only a faint trace of venom left in his blood.
Sepha had prescribed a Liran broth rich in minerals and proteins to help his body recover.
He drank it dutifully and made a face.
No offense, doc, he said, but that tastes like a wet sock.
It is very nutritious.
I believe you still tastes like a wet sock.
He set down the empty bowl.
So, about the critter.
Sepha stared at him.
You are still thinking about that.
I’m a trader, doc.
Something that smells like prawns and has never been eaten by anyone.
That’s a market.
He tilted his head.
Seriously, though, is the meat toxic or is it just the venom glands?
Because back home, we’ve got a fish called fugu.
