In this, the opening story in Rescued Lives, we're introduced to a Dera, har in need of rescue. Dera not only gets rescue, he gets a whole new start on life, and gives a whole new life as well.

Characters
All original characters (main characters Dera, Fafa, Arafa), with concepts, vocabulary, etc., borrowed from Storm Constantine.

Spoilers
No spoilers for any specific book in the Wraeththu trilogy, but it is imagined that this entire storyline takes place after the Ascension. There are still original incepted hara, but Wraeththu civilization has stablized.

Chapter 1

Water.

A hand upon my sweat-drenched forehead, fingers brushing through my tangled hair, rousing me into consciousness, and it was the first thought on my mind.

Water.

I must have murmured the word aloud. My throat and lips were so dry it was a wonder anyone understood me, but someone must have, because a moment later I felt the cold of glass pressed against my mouth.

"How long do you think he's been out here?" I heard someone ask. The voice was far away. My eyes were closed. I could not see the speaker.

I felt the water trickle over my tongue and I wanted it so desperately. Yet when I tried to swallow I nearly choked. It had been days since anything liquid or solid had passed down my throat.

"Careful!" a voice exhorted. It could have been the same voice or before or it could have been a different one.

"Here, this is a better way!" I heard, and then a long tube was gently pushed back until the water flowed directly down and all I could do was swallow.

I had never nursed from a human mother. I had never been a human. I was a pure-born har. Still, I think I knew then what it must be like for human infants, sucking at sustenance as if their lives depend on it. At that moment, water meant life.

Water.

I swallowed down as much as they gave me.

Meanwhile I felt hands touching me, my faraway body, examining me. There were murmured comments, indistinct as the sound of swallowing filled my ears.

By the time the water stopped flowing, the tube removed, I was able to understand the voice more clearly.

"Look at his face, the way it's burned," one said. "He must have been out here in the sun for days."

"The salt on his cheek," another said, running a finger under my eye. "He must have been crying."

"Yes, yes," the first voice returned. "Of course he was crying. Wouldn't you have cried?"

I suddenly felt it. Time to face up. I opened my eyes.

Slowly the world came into focus. The hideously blue sky of midday, the scorched red earth. And two hara, crouched down and staring at me worriedly.

"You're awake!" the light-haired one exclaimed.

I was too weak to answer. I barely managed a nod.

"How do you feel?" asked the other. He had black hair and green eyes. From the way his hand now rested on my neck, I knew he was the one who had touched my tears.

This time I decided to struggle with words. I had to force sounds out of my throat. I pushed the air upwards, towards my lips. "Alive," I managed, my voice sounding like a cough.

My rescuers smiled. "Yes, you are alive," the second one responded. He then glanced down at my body. "But this..." he began, looking troubled, "what about this blood?"

I turned my eyes to where he was looking. They had propped me up so I could drink and now I could see the blood oozing through my shirt.

"I wanted to ask you while you were awake," he explained. "We wanted to know if we were hurting you by moving you." He began to unfasten my buttons. "Now I'm going to take away your shirt so I can have a look and see what's the matter."

The other har came up behind me, the perfect nurse, and worked the shirt off my shoulders, pulling my arms out of the sleeves.

"By Aghama," muttered the one examining me in front. I saw the slash in my body, about half way down my torso, just at the bottom of my rib cage. It was knife wound, I knew. I knew it was bad. The wound had festered. Little squirming things had attached themselves to my rotting flesh.

When at last I thought about it, connected my body and mind, I realized that it hurt. Really hurt. Hurt as if all the pain in he world had been concentrated into that one spot.

Then there was another thought. a terrifying thought -- worse than the thought of dying of thirst, dying of hunger, or the pain of the knife wound. Much worse.

The pearl.