Today, as a secret patient, Liandry’s care fell to a simple laborer from the lower industrial tiers—an alien miner whose ribcage had been crushed just an hour ago by a cargo container that had come loose. Not even a single unit of the cheapest painkiller injection could be found for the unfortunate man. But Liandry couldn’t allow him to die on a cold concrete floor.
She gently took on his tearing, throbbing pain herself. Smooth pearlescent skin glowed with soft light, and long hair shimmered with a warm green iridescence—the hue of calm and healing. Almost inaudibly, she spoke tender words in her native language, feeling how the miner’s heartbeat, thrown off its rhythm, slowly returned to normal and the primitive terror retreated from his mind. Liandry sincerely smiled: one more life had been saved.