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He took a moment to process Hemlocke's words. What he said of the Xenos was true...that they give it to you straight. The Rogues were much the same way. If for no other reasons, Doc respected them both for that.
"Her name is Dr. Christine Holcombe," he answered. "Back then, she was a young, very ambitious and energetic first year resident. She wanted the job at Freeport 2 despite the risks. She is now aboard my new hospital here in Baffin. She is married now and has a young son so she will not be venturing far out for awhile."
Doc snickered a bit at the mention of the Zoners of Galileo. "My apologies but I do have a crew there right now. I see that base more under threat from Liberty or Kusari much for the same reasons the before mentioned Freeport 2 or Freeport 1. Houses will forever claim that we harbor their enemies and start pushing."
While Hemlocke ate, Doc was checking readings on the equipment that was connected to him. For now, all was checking fine. He then got up and retrieved the neural pad that was requested and placed it on the stand next to him. Sitting back down, Doc sipped his water and was going over some info on his pad to give his patient time to eat.
Hemlocke ate silently as he listened to Holiday's words, processing them silently, he was still unbearably weak but he lifted the pad and tapped a few things, before flipped the pad and tilting it so Holiday could read the numbers and letters across the screen. an amount of 13 billion credits had just been wired to Holiday's transport remotely, the one Hemlocke had flown alongside in Baffin ages ago, somehow he still remembered it's Transponder ID, Hemlocke then placed the pad on the side table silently and turned his gaze back to Holiday. "Well you gave me closure for what happened to that woman, Zoners saved my ass again and i'm still the same colossal prick I was when I went under. If you're concerned that's money I stole, don't. It was the money the state decided rightfully belonged to me despite the fact I killed my father and was sentenced to death. I had a mole on the inside that made sure it got to me, but when it did. I didn't want a single credit. So it's been sitting in my account for the longest damn time collecting dust. Only makes sense if you operate entirely off donations that someone who deserves to die donate some for the strange courtesy." Hemlocke turned his attention back to the food and began eating again silently. leaving Holiday with plenty of questions.
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Doc was silent as he looked at the number. 13 billion credits was more than he would make trading in many years. He could mothball his ship if he wanted to. For the moment, words eluded him. Donations of a million credits here or a million credits there were not uncommon but this...from a lawless Rogue? It was weird but most appreciated.
"With this I can fund operations for the next many years to come," Doc answered, still stunned.
He cracked a light smile. "You know, if I had not have destroyed Tombstone, Bretonia may have found my old underground bunker where I did a lot of research. I have no doubt that I would have been treated like doctors of old times, doctors who hid in lost cabins in the middle of the woods where they could work, doctors who had human organs in jars to study effects of certain things on those organs and finding cures. People who found them considered them monsters." He snorted, "I too would have been labeled."
He then looked over to Hemlocke. "For different reasons, both of us have a guilty conscience."
He put down the pad. "Thank you is not near enough for this."
"They should fear the monster they cannot see, rather than those who waste away serving those who do not deserve who appear to be such. Or fear those like me who will tear them apart simply for breathing in the wrong direction." He pondered what Holiday had said before turning his head to look at him again, he had finished eating by this point and sat silently in bed, arms folded and hands held neatly in his lap. "I figured corporate funding would be better used in the hands of someone who wasn't our for greed. Or for himself, and that's not me. So now it's yours. Besides you already saved my life without any talk of payment so it's the least I could do." Hemlocke stared up at Holiday silently, not sure how to feel, he was almost devastated that Holiday's promise of change had not come to fruition, he was still a heartless monster, incapable of being something else that he desired so badly to be. "I feel as though you were always a good man at heart, you were just too caught up in all the violence and blood shed to realize it, your near death experience only showed you the reality you had been missing, as for me, I feel no different than I did when I collapsed outside your cabin."
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"That reality did not come easy nor did it come quickly," replied Doc. "Anyone can take a life but not everyone can save one."
He sat, his hands atop each other as he leaned on Hemlocke's bed. "Trust me, giving of myself has cost me dearly. I have worried more about the lives of people to the point where I played diplomat in an effort to save them by the millions. In doing so, I lost my wife."
He paused a moment, hanging his head in shame before looking back up with damp eyes. "I let a good woman go in my efforts to find peace between the Corsairs and their adversaries. And my eldest daughter?"
He sighed again before finishing, "She uses what I taught her to kill, not help. She does the things I did when I was young. Tobacco, heavy drinking and a sexual night life. She will die young if she continues. I guess.....I lost her too."
He had just spilled his guts to a heartless rogue. It had been months now since he had heard from Alessa. His shame turned to moderate anger as he stood up, a gentle slamming of his fist on the nearby table as he turned away to look out the window.
"Just because I'm heartless doesn't mean I am entirely incapable of putting myself in someone else's boots. I have not felt personal loss to such a degree, as I never had anything to lose but my pride. Though my pride has been stripped from me countless times as I was bedded against my will and layed low by those more powerful than myself. I fear being unable to control what happens next, and as such I lash out violently at anything threatening the ground I'm rooted upon. A man who tells you he fears nothing is no man at all, but a sniveling coward running from reality. In your change you've been met with the fear of other's demise. Meeting it head on as you lost your wife for an entire nation's peace, despite the fact they'd much rather have your head on a pike at any given moment, and your daughter. Lost to the life of crime I've been trapped in my entire life. I can understand how you feel, although at the same time I can't. I can simply imagine." He flexed his hand a bit, disgusted by how weak he was. "When can I finally get out of this bed and work on regaining my muscle, this is a rather pitiful existence that I seek to circumvent as soon as possible." He didn't take his eye off the back of Holiday's head.
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Doc sighed. Casually, he turned back around and addressed his patient.
"It will be awhile before I feel safe enough to release you," he answered professionally yet kindly. "Whatever path you take, I will not release you without the strength to at least fight back I guess."
He then gave a light smile and a chuckle. "You are right about one thing about Corsairs. I would not doubt it, at least, some of them, would rather see my head on a pike."
Hemlocke stared at Holiday silently as he listened to his words, not looking all that happy with the response, but knowing full well that he was entirely incapable of fighting back in his current state. The years of fighting in a cancer ridden body had taken their toll. He would be greatly weakened for quite some time, he was at the mercy of a man who cared about people far too much for his own good. He lay his body back against the bed and closed his eye. Pondering his past and every decision leading up to this moment. "I used to be a Hessian, i'm no stranger to Corsairs wanting my head on a pike. The one thing Corsairs despise more than anything is their pride being stomped on, and someone else attempting to fight their battles for them is probably the biggest kick to the ribs their pride could receive."
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