Second Wave by Anne McCaffrey

Author:Anne McCaffrey [McCaffrey, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9781439559765
Publisher: Paw Prints
Published: 2008-10-07T17:00:00+00:00

Khorii and Mikaaye were each given a seat at a folding table at opposite ends of the rickety meeting hall, which was basically one long, empty room.

The people who came to the Linyaari for healing had mostly minor wounds and illnesses to cure. While Khorii and Mikaaye put their horns and powers to good use, Captain Bates, Hap, and Jaya searched the Mana’s cargo reserves for supplies the settlers needed, and specifically raided Khorii’s ’ponics garden for healing and useful herbs and plants, the Rushiman counterparts of which had been blighted in the wake of the plague. Sesseli assisted them as best a small girl could. The child’s telekinetic gift was difficult for her to use unless she was experiencing some profound emotion connected with the object to be moved.

A small seventy-year-old woman, her hair still black as a crow’s wing, limped to Khorii with the aid of a cane. “My sciatica,” she explained, gasping a little as she lowered herself onto the bench facing Khorii. “I haven’t been able to think, much less run the mill, for nigh unto a week.”

Khorii smiled, touched the sore place the woman indicated, and bent her head as if to examine it more closely. The Linyaari had hidden the power of their horns since her mother first made contact with them and discovered that some humans might seek to kill or enslave Linyaari for the benefit of the horns; but since the plague had killed and sickened so many and speed was of the essence, just now Khorii’s people practiced only token discretion at the most.

Elder Plimsoll tried to be discreet about his digestive problems, which he called “sour stomach” but which Khorii felt originated in the organ known among humans as a gallbladder. He looked much friendlier and more relaxed once she had healed the inflamed organ and unblocked the duct, dissolving a large and painful stone.

Two boys, one almost her age, the other perhaps six years old, supported and corrected the course of a confused-looking woman whose face looked lopsided and whose left arm hung limply while she dragged her left leg. “Miz Alison said Gran had a stroke. Can you fix her up, miss?”

She did and cleared the cloud that whitened one iris and pupil of a cataract while she was at it.

As her sight cleared, her face straightened, and strength and sensation returned to the paralyzed side of her body, the woman looked as if she would faint with relief. “Young lady, you are an angel. All your people are angels from above,” she said gratefully squeezing Khorii’s hands between her own, which were quite strong now. Khorii had learned long ago from Elviiz’s lectures in human folklore and theology what angels were and she knew she was not one; but it was true that, from the woman’s perspective, she did come from above.

“Mind you, it’s not that I’m opposed to meeting my maker when my time comes,” the woman continued, “but I wasn’t ready to go yet. Doctor

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