As the memories of his last few moments of consciousness flooded into his mind he groaned with misery, thinking that he was still bound. But then he saw that, rather than ropes, he was swathed in tight white bandages all along his left side and his left arm was strapped tightly to his chest. His right arm, or what he could see if it atop the crisp white sheets, was covered with ugly wounds that had been carefully taped and, in a few cases, stitched closed. But as he slowly lifted his right hand to his face he found that he could move with no real difficulties other than a slight soreness.

He began to swing his legs to the side of the bed to stand, but at that moment a small, hunched figure in a crisp white nurse's uniform rushed into the room and pressed down on his chest with firm, irresitable fingers.

"Now now, now now," the small form said soothingly, as it forced him gently back into the bed. "You're in no shape to go wandering about the place all by yourself, now, are you? You just lie here and rest, and if you're wanting anything for your comfort, let me know and I'll be getting it for you. All right?" Bright, small, simian eyes peered anxiously into his own, for the small nurse was, in fact, a brown-reddish haired, four foot tall, long-armed female monkey.

From the first day of his arrival on Mechanica, Atwood had heard one horror story after another about the wild monkeys. They were originally of terrestrial origin, with genetically enhanced intelligence and had settled the many barely charted wilderness areas of the planet. They committed outrage after outrage against the Mechanicals, and he had himself just experienced their act of terrorism against the guardhouse where he had been employed. So he found it difficult to view the sudden appearance of one of the little simians with equanimity.

He tried to repress a shudder at the feel of the nurse's hand against his chest and swallowed nervously. He managed not to look away as she waddled down the length of the bed, tucking the sheets in tightly around his sides and feet.

"Now that feels much better, doesn't it?" the little nurse said, showing her sharp, fang-like teeth in what was probably intended to be a reassuring smile. She came back up to his side and rested her hands on her hips which, considering her short body and her over-long arms, caused her elbows to jut far out into the room on either side. "Now how do you feel?" she demanded. "Are you ready for the bedpan? No call to be shy about such things, young man, all you have to do is ask." She tipped her head and looked at him questioningly.

"Ah, no, I'm all right," Atwood said weakly, since it was obvious that the monkey woman wasn't about to leave without an answer. He turned his head and looked at the blank white walls on every side of him. "Where- where am I?" he asked uncertainly.

"And are you telling me you've never seen a hospital before?" the nurse asked teasingly. "You were a bit banged up when they brought you in, you know. The poor doctors had a real job of it, stitching you back together."

Atwood moaned and turned his head away. "Yeah, well, getting blown up tends to do that to a guy," he said. Then he turned back and looked at the nurse through narrowed eyes. "Why did they bring me here at all?" he demanded, but his voice gave out at that point and lapsed into a dry, choking cough.

"Here, take a swallow of this, then" the nurse ordered him, tipping a glass of clear liquid to his lips. Atwood took a cautious sip but it seemed to be nothing but water, and remarkably delicious, tasty water at that. The thought crossed his mind that it might have some dangerous drug hidden away in it, but then common sense asserted itself and he logically put the idea aside. If the monkeys had wanted to drug him they had had plenty of chances to do so while he had been unconscious, and in his present, helpless state, there was nothing he could do to protect himself anyway. If he was going to worry about different aspects of his situation he had plenty of more serious things to fret about than the quality of his drinking water. Besides, he was so thirsty he could hardly think straight, so he drank greedily from the glass as the small nurse held it to his lips, turning aside with satisfaction only when the glass was nearly empty.

"Ah, that's always a good sign," the nurse said with approval. "Anyone who can chug it down like that can't have too much wrong with him." She tipped his head forward with a firm hand and fluffed his pillow before setting his head back down with the professional, no-nonsense skills of an experienced nurse.

"Okay, now tell me, why did they bring me here?" Atwood asked, shifting slightly on the mattress so that he could look at the nurse as she stood as his side. Whether it was because of something in the water, or simply because he was adapting quickly to his new situation, he was finding the small nurse much less threatening than at first.

"And would you rather they'd left you out on the street to bleed to death?" the little monkey woman asked. "Instead of being suspicious, you should be grateful."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't have been bleeding to death if you hadn't blown me up in the first place," Atwood pointed out, a bit rashly considering his helpless situation, but the nurse only laughed with a coarse, simian howl.

"I can see you're the type to see the glass half-empty and not half-full," she remarked. "But if you want to discuss matters of policy you're going to have to take it up with somebody else, not me. Nobody ever tells me anything. I just do what I'm told. And believe me, I've had plenty of experience putting back together the injured after they're getting caught in the middle of the wars, humans and monkeys both." She flashed Atwood one of her terrifying, fanged smiles and then she waddled toward the door, turning at the last moment to look back at him with her sharp little button-eyes.

"Now just you remember, let me know if you're needing anything," she said. She started to turn away but Atwood held out his good arm with a pleading gesture.

"Wait!" he exclaimed. She paused and looked back at him questioningly.

"When am I . . . I mean, what am I supposed to do, just lie here and wait?" he asked. "Isn't anybody in charge of this place going to come and talk with me?"

The nurse tucked in what little chin she had and looked at him for a moment. "Oh, I suppose somebody'll be along sooner or later," she said. "Truth to be telling, I don't think they expected you to be waking up quite so soon, so they were caught unawares, I'd guess. If you want, I'll pass on the word that you're ready to talk."

Atwood found the nurse's choice of phrases a bit unsettling and he said nothing in reply. After a pause the little monkey woman nodded to him politely and passed through the doorway, pulling it closed as she left.

The young man stared up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. He didn't have any idea what was going on, and when it came right down to it he didn't really think he wanted to find out. One monkey nurse here and there might have a good enough heart, but he had heard so many horror stories of the ruthlessness of the little simians that he didn't believe for a moment that they had brought him there and had tended to his wounds purely from the goodness of their collective hearts. And when it came to that, how on earth had they managed to spirit him away like that, right in the broad daylight, surrounded by humans and Mechanicals alike?

Well, that particular problem could wait for some other time. Right then he had more important things to worry about. Injured or not, the young man wasn't about to lie there helplessly and wait for the monkeys to come and do their will on him. He was determined to escape, or at least to try.

If the little nurse had spoken the truth, and if she would inform those in authority that he had awakened, that meant that he had no time to waste. If he wanted to catch the monkeys napping he had to strike out immediately, while they still believed him to be unconscious or too injured to make trouble.

Flush with this sudden resolve, the young man threw back the covers and sat up on the side of the bed, pausing for just a moment as his head swam warningly. He found that he was dressed in a simple hospital gown -- long on the front and sides and open on the back -- that had been traditional in human hospitals for centuries now. He hesitated for a moment, looking around the room for his clothes or, at least, for a closet in which they might be hanging. But aside from the bed itself and a few small, modest plugs in the walls here and there, the room was perfectly bare.

Atwood had never suffered from an excess of modesty, and after a moment's reflection he realized that any human running about in whatever monkey colony he was being held in would look conspicuous no matter what it might be wearing, so aside from the matter of footwear it probably didn't matter that much whether he was dressed in a flimsy hospital gown as he attempted to make his escape.

He did pause long enough to carefully tie up the straps behind his back hoping to protect his rear from unnecessary exposure, then he padded on bare feet to the door through which the small nurse had disappeared and opened it carefully, peering cautiously outside.

Read the next exciting chapter of Mechanica.

Psychoship    Price $9.95  
        by Gary Raab

Freshmen in Space: Price $9.95  
        by Gary Raab