Descending Road - THE STARS ONLY KNOW by Dana W. Paxson

THE STARS ONLY KNOW

1563 4D

The next time he woke up, sunlight shone down from the window onto the blanket over his feet. In dark coveralls, a man stood over him, metal glinting in his hand. A knife? Andrew tried to leap up, but agony lanced his legs and he could only thrash back and forth.

“Easy, easy,” the man said, bending, putting a large hand on Andrew‘s chest, steadying him. “I’m a doctor. Did the corpos do this to you? Let me look at you now.” Very slowly Andrew relaxed again. He nodded. The doctor cut and unwrapped and picked apart the bandages, mottled now with dried brown blood. Andrew could barely sense the touch of his fingers.

“My good sweet holy heaven,” the doctor said as he inspected the wounds: long deliberate gashes that transected the tendons of Andrew‘s arms and legs, and shorter ripped cuts that sectioned his skin into a maplike puzzle of scars.

In response to the cuttings and burning salves of his tormentors, Andrew‘s body had built long fleshy ridges everywhere, piebald and pulsating against the darker and still-undisturbed patches of his natural skin.

Shaking his head, the doctor very slowly turned Andrew over. The muscles of the doctor’s jaw rippled again and again, and his throat tightened as he swallowed and said, “Marra, come in. We have work to do.” Turning back to Andrew, he said, “I’m infusing polymorphic growth factors. I can start the tendons regenerating, and they’ll be basically usable in about six weeks. You’re about forty, right? The scars will need special work later, in—“

“Where am I?” Andrew panted with the exertion of speech.

“You’re safe, for now. The stars only know why you’re not dead already, after all this.” A cool sensation penetrated Andrew‘s arm, and then nothing.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	THE STARS ONLY KNOW 1563 4D The next time he woke up, sunlight shone down from the window onto the blanket over his feet. In dark coveralls, a man stood over him, metal glinting in his hand. A knife? Andrew tried to leap up, but agony lanced his legs and he could only thrash back and forth. “Easy, easy,” the man said, bending, putting a large hand on Andrew‘s chest, steadying him. “I’m a doctor. Did the corpos do this to you? Let me look at you now.” Very slowly Andrew relaxed again. He nodded. The doctor cut and unwrapped and picked apart the bandages, mottled now with dried brown blood. Andrew could barely sense the touch of his fingers. “My good sweet holy heaven,” the doctor said as he inspected the wounds: long deliberate gashes that transected the tendons of Andrew‘s arms and legs, and shorter ripped cuts that sectioned his skin into a maplike puzzle of scars. In response to the cuttings and burning salves of his tormentors, Andrew‘s body had built long fleshy ridges everywhere, piebald and pulsating against the darker and still-undisturbed patches of his natural skin. Shaking his head, the doctor very slowly turned Andrew over. The muscles of the doctor’s jaw rippled again and again, and his throat tightened as he swallowed and said, “Marra, come in. We have work to do.” Turning back to Andrew, he said, “I’m infusing polymorphic growth factors. I can start the tendons regenerating, and they’ll be basically usable in about six weeks. You’re about forty, right? The scars will need special work later, in—“ “Where am I?” Andrew panted with the exertion of speech. “You’re safe, for now. The stars only know why you’re not dead already, after all this.” A cool sensation penetrated Andrew‘s arm, and then nothing.