After the Accident

Qar woke up with a jolt and the strong feeling that something was wrong. She sat up on the bed in the staff room and listened for a moment, but no alarm could be heard outside, or any other unusual noises, just the faint backdrop of the nurses talking in the corridor, trolleys being pushed around and the faint hum of machinery.
The clock on the wall told her that she had slept ten hours straight, which was no surprise as she had had hardly any sleep for the last three days. She had been at the end of her twelve hour shift when the fateful call arrived and she had rushed to the ambulance to attend to residents of the flat that may have been injured when a c-wing crashed into their apartment block. They had not expected the pilot of the c-wing to have survived. Nor had they any idea that he might be an important person.
Ten hours?
Qar, pulled her crumpled coat over her equally crumpled clothes and rushed out into the corridor.
Damnation, they had promised to call her if anything happened! She could not believe that her patient had been stable and resting in his coma for such a long period of time. She had been adjusting his medication and life-support again and again for more than thirty hours to keep him alive.
Yes, it had been almost five hours without any changes occurring when she finally bowed to her colleagues demands to get some sleep.
The door to the emergency room was wide open – and the bed empty.
Skidding to a halt in the door, Qar stared at the empty bed for a moment without comprehension. She hadn’t been dreaming, had she?
No.
It was possible that Anakin had died, however little she wanted to contemplate this possibility.
Qar turned around, staring along the corridor. Somebody here had to tell her what had happened!
He had been hanging onto life by a thread as thin as a silky moth’s snare. She could imagine Dr Dryden saying in that wheezy tone he adopted when talking to relatives of deceased, ‘it was to be expected…’
“Nurse Robbins,” Qar shouted as one of the nurses stepped out of their office.
The look on Robbins’ face showed clearly that she really, really did not want to be the person to break the bad news to this scary doctor.
“What happened?” Qar asked, pointing into the empty room. “Why did nobody wake me?”
Robbins sighed and, without taking a step closer to her, said, “Dr Hadasht. Dr Dryden, Dr Barrett and Dr Tokokagi have decided to overrule your objections: the patient is being transferred to Alma Serena.”
“What?” Qar could not believe she was hearing correctly.
Robbins shrugged. “The patient was in a stable condition. On Alma Serena he can receive adequate care.”
The nurse lifted her hand in a gesture of helplessness and walked off, no doubt relieved to return to her duties.
Qar closed her eyes, trying to stay calm. That was Dr Dryden’s handiwork supported as always by the faithful Dr Barrett. Barrett who would never say anything against her great idol even when it was blatantly obvious that Dryden had not kept up with medical advances for the last decade at least.
Stable? Qar turned on her heels and walked towards the cafeteria. Well, perhaps ‘the patient was stable’ – didn’t he have a name? Qar wondered irritatedly. He was a person, an individual and had been one of the greatest heroes of the recent war, he was not just ‘a patient’. – This stable condition that Barrett and Dryden had diagnosed – and that had been approved by Tokokagi, Qar had surely thought he would have had the guts to speak his mind – this stable condition was so close to death that it would be enough for somebody to cough at him might kill him.
How did they expect him to survive the eleven hours in hyperspace to Alma Serena?
There they were. All three of them, sitting around a table in the cafeteria, sipping their coffee with sweetener and skimmed milk. Apart from the three doctors the cafeteria was empty – it was still an hour before the morning shift officially ended.
Qar stopped at the door, and forced herself to breathe very slowly.
Calm, she told herself, you have to be cool and calm and objective. If you burst in onto their coffee break with wild accusations you wont get anywhere.
“Ah, Dr Hadasht!” Dr Dryden called out. “Finally woken up, I see.”
Qar suppressed the urge to shout at him that he was a stupid bastard, endangering her patient’s life. Instead she forced her features into a smile and walked down to their table.
“Come, join us,” Dr Dryden said. He looked bleached out as usual, grey hair, sallow skin, grey eyes.
Dr Barrett looked all the more colourful with her jet black hair and layers of makeup. Dr Tokokagi had at least the decency to look embarrassed.
“You have found out about Skywalker being transferred to Alma Serena?” Dryden asked.
Qar bit her lips and nodded.
“I hope you did not think he died?” Dryden asked. “We would have woken you if there had been any deterioration in his condition.”
So they would have woken her up if he had died, but not when they decided to act against her explicit wishes and …
“When did you …,” she started, her voice sounding harsh even in her own ears. Calm down, she told herself.
“About two hours ago,” Barrett answered. “He had been stable for more than twelve hours. We could be reasonably sure that being put in stasis would not cause a crisis.”
“You put him in stasis?” Qar asked, stopping next to the table. “Are you insane?”
A stunned silence followed her outburst.
“Dr Hadasht I must ask you to remain objective, not let your personal concern for the patient cloud your judgement.” Dryden stated jovially.
Qar took a deep breath and forced herself to nod. At least he seemed to have survived being put in stasis.
“We all admire what you have achieved with the patient, Qar,” Dryden continued, “this was excellent work. I think the efforts and dedication you showed in this case should certainly bring your promotion to the senior staff much closer.”
Was that promotion dangled in front of her to keep her quiet? Not log her complaint about a patient in critical condition being transferred against her, the consulting physician’s, explicit advice?
“They can look much better after him at Alma Serena,” Dryden stated.
“Imagine the media uproar if he died and they found out we had refused to transfer him there,” Barrett added.
So that was it! They were afraid the media might ask uncomfortable questions if somebody with such a high profile, a Field Marshall and Commander of the New Forces no less, died in their care.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Qar asked.
“We didn’t want to disturb you,” Dryden told her. “You deserved a good rest after all the efforts you made.
“I also deserved to be consulted about the treatment of my patient,” Qar replied.
“We had already noted your objections,” Barrett stated dryly.
“The patient had been stable for more than twelve hours,” Dryden repeated stupidly. “We determined it was safe to transfer him.”
“He did survive the inducement of stasis,” Tokokagi said, entering the conversation for the first time.
“You all know that it’s the release from stasis that is the critical procedure and extremely dangerous if the patient is in a coma!” Qar exclaimed. Did she really have to lecture them on text book medical procedures?
“He was in a critical condition and needs serious reconstructive surgery, we cannot provide that here,” Barrett replied. “We had to take a decision and we took it.”
“He was my patient, and it should have been my decision!”
“Since when was he ‘your’ patient?” Barrett asked. “He was a patient of this ward, not yours personally.”
“He was my patient from the moment I got him alive out of his c-wing!” Qar exploded. “He was my patient because I was for twelve-hours in emergency to stop him from dying! I kept him alive until you incompetent bastards decided to transfer him because you were too scared to shoulder the responsibility!”
“ Dr Hadasht,” Dryden interrupted her. “That is enough! – We know you are under a lot of stress and have worked long hours, but this behaviour is unacceptable.”
“Good!” Qar stared at the senior doctor. “If what you are doing is acceptable, moving patients that should not be moved, if you treat them like some sort of embarrassment that has to be left to somebody else’s responsibility as quickly as possible, I am happy to behave in an unacceptable manner.”
“Qar,” Tokokagi said, sounding very tired. “It is too late to change anything. The ship to Alma Serena left over an hour ago.” He looked at her intently, pleading, “Don’t ruin your career for a lost cause. You did so well with this case. Prof. Dereaux has even said you should definitely be put down for the special merit award.”
Prof. Dereaux, why hadn’t she thought of it herself? She had to talk to him at once. If he had spoken so positively about her work, he must understand why she refused to have the patient transferred. Why she had to make a complaint.
Without saying another word to her three colleagues she ran out of the cafeteria.
“Qar!” Tokokagi shouted after her.
She just hoped the head of the accident and emergency ward was in his office. Dereaux would see why she had to go to Alma Serena, too. She ran all the way to Dereaux’s office, passing staff and patients who looked startled at her passing.
When she reached Prof. Dereaux’s office, she knocked sharply and walked in before she had heard any reply.
The seven heads of wards all turned around and looked at her standing in the door. They were sitting around a large oval table in Dereaux’s office and seemed not pleased at her interruption.
For a moment nobody spoke, then most of the assembled heads turned back to the large display projected in the middle of the table. They obviously expected that Qar, noticing that she had disturbed a board meeting, would withdraw.
“Prof Dereaux,” Qar stated, looking at the distinguished elderly physician, with his curly white hair and amazingly blue eyes.
“Dr Hadasht,” Prof. Dereaux said, sounding not pleased at all.
“I need to speak to you for a moment. It is urgent.”
Dereaux looked at her, and finally turned to his colleagues, “Will you excuse me for a minute.” He got to his feet and followed Qar into the hallway. “Now, Dr Hadasht, I don’t know what you think you’re doing…”
“They transferred Field Marshall Skywalker to Alma Serena,” Qar interrupted him.
“I know,” Dereaux said.
“He’s in no condition to be transferred there.”
“I have seen your objection, but I agree with Dr Dryden and Dr Barrett that the transfer was necessary…”
“Releasing him from the stasis is going to kill him!”
Dereaux sighed, “Dr Hadasht, you don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of transfer. I think you should bow to the experience of the senior surgeons.”
“If I had done that during surgery, Skywalker would be dead now!” Qar hissed.
Dereaux looked at her silently for a moment. “Nobody is trying to take your credit for getting the patient this far.”
“Then why did nobody consult me?” Qar couldn’t help it but her voice became louder and louder. “He was my patient, my responsibility and they just ignored my advice. I have to go to Alma Serena, too.”
“Dr Hadasht,” Dereaux had started, then he exclaimed, “What? Alma Serena?”
Qar nodded. “I have to …”
“Look, Dr Hadasht,” Dereaux took her arm and started walking her towards the stairs. “I know you are tired and exhausted, that this patient meant a lot to you, but you cannot let this become a personal crusade to you. He’s now the responsibility to the team at Alma Serena, experts who know how to deal with massive injuries like that.”
Qar let herself be guided towards the stairs, feeling irritated about his attempts to brush her complaint off as petulance.
“As I said before, nobody is going to dispute your part in the care of the patient. You will receive the awards you deserve.”
“I don’t care about being credited with anything,” Qar exclaimed, twisting her arm out of Dereaux’s grip. “The only thing I care about is Skywalker’s life and I seem to be the only one in this hospital who does. I am the person who attended to him from the start. I know more about his physical condition than anybody knows or any computer can find out. I have to be on Alma Serena …”
“Dr Hadasht,” Dereaux interrupted her. “The patient is no longer in your care. You better accept that. As for your behaviour I will excuse it as the result of your long hours and lack of sleep. – Go home, take a few days off, and put all of this behind you.”
Qar looked at Dereaux for a long moment. He just did not understand, neither did he care about Anakin’s life.
“I see,” she said finally. She slowly unhooked her name tag from her coat and handed it to Dereaux.
Dereaux started at the red tag with her name on it. “Dr Hadasht, you can’t…”
“No, I can’t work in a hospital where the lives of the patients are not important or where my professional opinion is worth shit.”
“But…,” Dereaux started.
Qar ignored him and walked down the stairs. That was it. She was through with this hospital, and she was relieved that she had taken the final step. All she had to do now was collect her personal things and leave this place for good. If they thought she was about to give up on Anakin they were very wrong indeed.

It took Qar almost an hour and all the money in her account to organise transportation to Alma Serena. She had not even known until then that there were only two flights to the military hospital a day. With all the military personnel on Chardri there should be more connections to Alma Serena. Qar had missed the second flight by two hours, which meant that this was probably the ship transporting Anakin Skywalker to the great military hospital.
She could not possibly wait for the next schedule flight the following day. It had taken her some persuasion and a not to insignificant bribe to arrange for the pilot of a small cargo vessel to make a detour to Nagamasa where she could catch a regular flight to Alma Serena. She would arrive there three hours after the ship from Chardri. Now she had only half an hour to get her things before Captain Ilard departed – with or without Qar as she had insisted.
Opening the door to the apartment, Qar remained in the door for a moment, listening. But the flat was empty, her husband was at work.
Qar entered with a relieved sigh. She really had no time to discuss her decision with Pol now. It was just that sort of thing that made him all of a sudden behave all husband-like again. They hardly exchanged a word under normal circumstances – but they were still arguing, at great length.
Dragging her biggest suitcase out of the closet, Qar started to pack her things. Fortunately she did not need to take that much, her hospital clothes, underclothes, and a few clothes for circumstances in which she might not be able to wear her doctor’s uniform.
She plucked her portable computer into the main information line and called up the hospital files. As she expected they had not yet blocked her from accessing the patients’ files. They probably did not believe she was really leaving. They would probably only notice in a week or so that she really had no intention to come back. Or when Pol called and asked whether she had completely moved in at the hospital.
Come to think of it, Qar thought as she down-loaded Anakin Skywalker’s complete medical files, she had no idea where Pol was. For all she knew he might be lying dead in a ditch for a couple of days by now.
But there was no time now to worry about her possible responsibilities for her husband. She had to leave within the next five minutes. She got a sturdy bag and put all her anatomy and surgery books into it along with her disks and the portable computer. Having a last look through her wardrobe she grabbed her black evening dress and put it into her suitcase. It was unlikely that she would needed it but it was the one piece of folly she allowed herself to take.
She bagged her stuff from the bathroom and squeezed it into the suitcase.
Time to go.
Qar slung the bag around her shoulders and dragging the suitcase behind her she made for the space port.

It was only when the little ship, the Wanderer, pulled out of Chardri’s gravity that Qar realised just what she was doing.
She had left her job, her flat, her husband and spent all her money to follow one patient who had been transferred to another hospital. There was no guarantee, it was actually unlikely that the staff at Alma Serena would employ her. She knew that most people who looked at these facts would think she had lost it completely.
But she knew it was the right decision. Mad as it may seem to other people, she was sure that this was the course for her to take.
Qar looked around the small cabin, the Captain’s cabin, Ilard had relinquished to her. She did not feel mad at all, she felt liberated and on the right way.
Anakin Skywalker was her responsiblitiy, whatever her idiotic colleagues said.
It was – somehow – odd that she felt such a strong responsibility for this Field Marshall Skywalker. It was not as if he was the first patient she had brought back from the brink of death, or the first time she had spend hours and hours sitting at a patient’s bedside making sure nothing went wrong. None of them had ever made her feel so personally involved.
Was it that somehow he was more to her than just an assortment of bones, muscles, nerves and organs, a problem to be solved? He was a person. He had touched her mind and his uncontrolled emotions had exploded in her head.
Perhaps he had done something to her mind when he touched it, made her feel responsible for him, planted the suggestion that she had to keep him alive no matter the cost.
But even as she thought of this she knew it could not possibly true. At the time, Anakin had been in no condition to plant such a specific suggestion in her mind. He had been unable to control his abilities, the emotions and thoughts that poured into her had escaped him without him being able to control them.
Additionally, he had not seemed to be intend on surviving, quite the contrary, he had wanted to die.
The brief moments when his mind had touched hers had certainly formed a link between them. It had turned him from a interesting patient into a person. She also admitted that she was fascinated.
Qar opened her bag and pulled her computer out.
The emotions she had felt had been so intense. Of course generally it is impossible to feel other people’s feelings. Still…
She could analyse her motivations for the rest of her journey, she would probably not find the one thing that made her so certain that she had taken the right decision. It was time to prepare for her arrival in Alma Serena.
Opening her computer, she called up Field Marshall Skywalker’s medical files and got to work.

The Great Military Hospital on Alma Serena was even bigger than Qar had imagined. The complex of chunky grey buildings seemed to go on for miles. They were connected by covered walkways on several floors, between the buildings gardens were kept for the less seriously injured patients to stroll around in or just sit in the sun. Further on the gardens turned into a large park that stretched all the way to the space port.
Qar looked out of the window of the shuttle bus taking her to the hospital. The road seemed to lead in a straight line from space port to hospital, the monotony only broken by a few soft hills. Qar had never wondered what the planet Alma Serena would be like. If the weather was anything to go by, it seemed it had been selected as the site of the Republic’s largest hospital for it’s pleasant climate – at least here near the equator.
The shuttle was filled with people, some of them in uniform, most of them visitors, but also some patients. Qar spotted them easily, not only those with bandages around various parts of their anatomy, but also the other long-term patients who just had this hospitalized look about them.
As far as she could tell there was no other personnel on the shuttle bus. Did they travel to the hospital with a different service, she wondered. Would it make her attempt more difficult or would nobody notice?
She had arrived on Alma Serena three hours after the ship that had brought Anakin Skywalker in. Having used the time she had on the way here to study his medical files, she was even more worried than ever about the problem of releasing him from the stasis. Not to mention that the previous complications resulting from earlier and – as far as she could judge – sloppy surgery would make any reconstructive efforts very problematical. But before they could tackle such problems of how to replace his lost hand or lost eye and other such niceties they had to get his vital organs to work again. That was the major problem they were facing now.
The shuttle came to a halt in front of one of the buildings. ‘Radiation Poisoning Ward’ a mechanical voice announced inside the bus.
Several off the passengers and two of the patients disembarked and the shuttle travelled on.
Qar hoped she would be able to find the recognise which of the many entrances she had to get off at.
‘Main Entrance and Information’ the voice announced at the next stop. Qar grabbed her bag and followed the other passengers off the shuttle. She had left her suitcase at the space port, thinking that she might make a more authentic impression if she did not arrive weighed down with luggage.
The Main Entrance like the rest of the hospital was big. It was also obviously not made for the use of sick patients. Several steps led up to two pairs of double doors. Between the doors and reaching up to the fourth floor a relief of the Republic’s coat-of arms was decorating the front of the hospital.
Qar hesitated for a moment, letting the other people get ahead of her. The Entrance Hall was equally impressive, the floor paved with gleaming white marble, the walls panelled in precious woods. Opposite the doors was a large, oval desk staffed by at least twelve smiling, extremely young people.
That, Qar assumed, must be the information.
Taking a deep breath she walked up to the desk. Boldly does it, she reminded herself.
“Good evening,” she said to one of the cheerful receptionists, “I am the consultant surgeon for Anakin Skywalker, could you please tell me where I can find the senior physician dealing with the case?”
The young man continued to smile at her, though he managed to look somewhat startled at the same time. “Ah…,” he made. This was obviously a situation he was not prepared for.
“The additional files took longer to assemble than we expected,” Qar added with what she hoped was a long-suffering smile, the ‘you know how things never go as you expect’ look.
“Prof. Cagliari and his team are in a meeting about this case at the moment,” the receptionist answered when he had consulted his computer for a moment.
“Am I that late?” Qar exclaimed. “They need the data I have here.”
Don’t over-do it! Qar reminded herself. If the young man thought she was acting a bit too enthusiastic he might check whether they expected somebody.
But her fears seemed to be unfounded, the receptionist smiled, and said, “Meeting Room C2 on the fourth floor.”
“Thank you.” Qar turned and was on her way.
First obstacle passed – and with surprising ease. Stepping into the lift, Qar thought that the fact that this Professor Cagliari was in a meeting about the case meant that they had at least not yet done anything rash and Anakin Skywalker was hopefully still safely in stasis.
If only she could persuade him that she was here as official representative from Chardri hospital. Qar took a deep breath and told herself that she just had to pretend she had all the right in the world to be here and who would question it? After all, she had all the right to be here, she had saved Anakin’s life and she would do everything in her power to ensure he would stay alive.
The lift came to a stop and she stepped outside. A nurse, sitting behind another reception desk, looked at her, but before she could challenge her right to be on this floor, Qar had stepped up to the desk and asked briskly: “Meeting Room C2?”
“Third door on your left,” the nurse replied automatically, “but…”
“Thank you,” Qar smiled graciously and ignoring the repeated “but?” from the nurse walked to the meeting room, shoulders squared, her bag with her computer in her hand.
She did not even bother to knock and just entered the room.
There was no need to ask whether she had come to the right place. The room was darkened and a holo-projection of a deformed-looking body hovered above the table in the centre of the room. Around it four people in white coats sat, all turning around when she stepped in.
“I’m sorry, I’m late,” Qar said and without any further explanation sat down on one of the empty chairs.
There were two humans, both men, a blue-skinned Witorian, also male and a grey skinned female of a species Qar was not familiar with. For a moment they all stared at her, then they exchanged looks and turned their attention back to the holo projection.
Qar turned her attention to the three-dimensional image of Anakin Skywalker’s mutilated body as well. She could admire the excellent projection, this unit was obviously of higher quality than any they had on Chardri, but what exactly this display was for was something she could not guess.
“The question of reconstructive surgery has to wait until we have stabilised his general physical condition,” the Witorian stated.
“We can’t do anything without taking him out of stasis,” the grey-skinned woman said. From the tone of her voice it sounded as if they had been discussing the problem for a while.
“Of course not,” the Witorian replied. He looked at Qar and blinked rapidly.
“The question is whether he’s going to survive the release,” one of the humans said.
“What are you suggesting, that we leave him in stasis?” the other one replied.
For a while nobody said anything.
Qar studied the rows of numbers displayed on the top of the holo-plate. They changed on occasion, so they were probably on a direct feed with the actual stasis unit Anakin had travelled in. She unpacked her computer and opened it. Calling up her own analytical display she compared the figures with the last readings taken on Chardri.
Just as she feared. Anakin was almost clinically dead by now. Without the live-support machines to keep his body working, the only reason he was not really dead was that he was in suspended animation. His heart was still beating that was a positive sign, but judging from the lack of any movement from his lungs she doubted they would do anything but gently fold in on themselves as soon as the stasis field was turned off. The oxygen content in his blood was already well below optimum.
She suddenly became aware that the other doctors were staring at her. “I think we’ll have to take the risk and pull him out of stasis,” she stated. “If we have the necessary equipment prepared we should be able to get him on life-support quickly enough.”
“But the shock…,” the woman doctor interjected.
“I know,” Qar cut her short. “But we have to probably inflate his lungs and then get him on an iron lung at once.” She looked around, at each of the physicians in turn, all of them stared at her with the same surprised expression on their faces. “This man is not going to breathe on his own.” Standing up, she pointed to the third vertebra of the hologram’s neck. “The fracture was not particularly serious in itself but in combination with the severe trauma caused by the fracture of his skull here,” she pointed again, “not to mention the extensive damage to the lungs themselves…”
“Professor Cagliari said something similar,” the woman said.
Qar looked around again, so the Professor was not here? What could that possibly mean?
“If we get his breathing sorted out within a very short period, I am quite certain we can get him through.” Qar continued. “As long as we have everything prepared and set up…”
“Who are you?” one of the human physician asked.
“I’m sorry,” Qar replied, “I’m Dr Hadasht.”
“You treated him on Chardri, didn’t you?” the woman asked, surprised. “Why did you put him stasis in the first place?”
“She didn’t,” somebody behind her said.
Qar turned around and found herself facing another doctor, older than the others.
“Professor Cagliari.” Qar tried to judge from the serious expression on the older man’s face what he thought about her presence here. How did he know she did not put Anakin in stasis? Was that in the medical files that had arrived with the patient?
“Dr Hadasht, pleased to meet you.” A thin smile appeared on Cagliari’s face. This had to be a positive sign. “I have just spend the last half hour trying to get hold of you on Chardri, I did not know you were on your way here.” He shook her hand, and before she could try to explain her presence here, he continued, “I have to say I did not expect your colleagues on Chardri to have the curtesy to send you here.” Her discomfort must have been plainly visible on her face, as Cagliari raised his eyebrows. “They didn’t then?” he asked.
“No, I decided to come,” Qar replied.
Cagliari smiled and patted her on the shoulder. He sat down at the table. “Now that’s what I call dedication. – But let me introduce our team here. As you may have guessed, Dr Chowkelti is the anaesthetist,” he pointed to the grey-skinned woman, “Dr Roberts is the internist,” one of the men nodded, “Dr Berberov is our specialist in spinal injuries,” the other man smiled briefly at Qar, “and last but not least, Dr Serentil, restorative surgery.” The Witorian man nodded curtly at her. “I am in overall charge,” Cagliari concluded.
For a moment nobody spoke. Prof. Cagliari contemplated the holographic version of their patient, all the other doctors looked from Cagliari to Qar.
“So,” Qar said, as nobody else seemed to dare to open his or her mouth, “I think we should get Skywalker out of stasis as soon as possible.”
Cagliari looked at her and nodded.
“Dr Chowkelti, would you assist Dr Hadasht with the preparations,” he announced. “As Dr Hadasht has treated the patient so far, I think she should continue – with our support, of course. But before we can think of anything else, we have to get Field Marshall Skywalker out of stasis without killing him.”
There was a strange feeling overcoming Qar, she was put in charge of Anakin, her patient. That was much better than she had expected or dared to hoped for. But there was also a feeling of inadequacy rising in her, fear that she might screw things up. Something might go wrong and it had not even necessarily be her fault even and Anakin might die. She could not bear to think of that possibility. She had managed so far, but how much of that had been luck, and how much skill?
Trying not to show the trepidation she felt, she smiled at Dr Chowkelti and said, “Let’s get going!”

The story continues

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