《Dissonant Constellations》 Chapter 1 Kel
Date Unknown
Time Unknown
Location Unknown
Killing probably should have been harder. Kel thought it would be. When imagining her first battle growing up, she had assumed that, despite all of her training, she would still have some remorse after the act. Some pang of regret over taking her first life. Or even her first dozen. But that was not her experience. Not in the slightest. Granted, the emotional aspect of the slaughter was likely muted by the horrors her captors had put her through. Perhaps, under different circumstances, the corpses left in her wake would have weighed far heavier on her conscience. But, as it stood, she was not feeling charitable enough to leave survivors. Ever-watchful for signs of confrontation, Kel spared a moment to glance out a window that contained the same bleak scene as all the others embedded in the facility¡¯s gray walls. Stars. In an unknown configuration. And tufts of nebulous particulate. If she was not aboard a ship, then it was likely some kind of space station. One that could tell her much about her former tormentors, if she could crack its security systems. Once she knew with certainty that she was alone, she would have to locate the control room. And real weapons. Perhaps her own, confiscated equipment and armor, if she were fortunate. And, if she were truly blessed, she might find her missing companions somewhere in this ¡ª Kel stumbled, and her scarlet-coated hand left a sticky smear as it found purchase on the window¡¯s glass. The blood wasn¡¯t hers. Not this time. Though she couldn¡¯t be certain whether any of the wounds barely hidden under her surgical gown had reopened during her little skirmish. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Adrenaline still coursed through her system, however the drugs that had weakened her for so many days were potent. She couldn¡¯t yet trust herself to rest, no matter how her head swam. Perhaps hunger also played a role in her current state. She could not remember the last time she had been given anything to eat. They must have given her some nutrients, intravenously if nothing else, or she could not possibly have survived their tortures for this long. But it had done nothing for the ache in her stomach. No matter the cause, she could not linger in one place for long. She was not going back on that operating table. The soldier gritted her teeth, and kept moving. The drugs would wear off. Eventually. Sooner rather than later, most likely. Her body was built to resist such impairments, after all. Just keep searching. Snuff out any remaining resistance. Quickly. If her memory was accurate, that task might already be complete. She had only ever counted around a dozen normal Humans, at most, as they wheeled her, strapped to a gurney, between room after nightmarish room. And approximately that number had been in the operating room with her when she finally overcame the sedatives, broke her restraints, and slashed a scalpel deep and wide across the careless ¡°doctor¡¯s¡± throat. She didn¡¯t see him fall, but what little she knew about normal Human anatomy told her he wouldn¡¯t survive the injury. Even a Phoenix would have struggled to recover in time. He¡¯d deserved it. They all had. Every last one of them. She just hoped none had slipped away in the fray. The foes she faced were far less adept at combat than those for which she had been trained. Very few weapons, even fewer that were actually designed to be used as such. She¡¯d outmatched them, even as they rushed to pin her back down, after her first, lethal strike. They simply weren¡¯t strong enough. Not even close. Had they even thought it possible, or were their efforts a sacrifice to allow others to flee? Kel doubted any of them had ever had a thought that altruistic. Those¡­people¡­who had tormented and degraded her might, in fact, have truly been the doctors, nurses and researchers their attire purported them to be. But that had not supplied them with mercy. Or kindness. Or the wisdom to push back against whatever orders had spurred them to their disgusting tasks. They did not deserve pity. Or remorse. They barely even deserved the swiftness of the deaths Kel granted them. Their leaders, wherever they hid, would not be anywhere near as fortunate. And once Kel reunited with her people, the Embers of Prometheus would undoubtedly recognize this assault as the sign they had been waiting for. The Coalition would not get away with this travesty. No matter how large their armada. No matter how wide their influence. No matter what alien entities made up their disgusting ranks. Kel just had to get back home. Then the Embers would burn the Coalition to the ground. Chapter 2 Jill
Date July 8, 2116, Earth Standard
Time 16:43, Human Circadian Standard
Location Nondla Asteroid Belt
There were honest mistakes, and then there were fuck-ups. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. Sometimes, a string of poor decisions crossed the web-thin barriers between an oopsie, a foreseeable accident, and an...oh no. Other times, it was as if somebody had decided to do a cartwheel across those lines, through a bed of hot coals, all while somehow managing to chug tequila. Staring out through the dual-layers of her neon-green spacesuit¡¯s helmet, and the front window of her ambu-shuttle, Jill Hodge, Chief Recovery Expert of the First Responders Corps¡¯ Vessel Nightingale, knew exactly how to categorize the wreckage she was slowly approaching. An unambiguous, unadulterated Fuck-Up. Capital F. Capital U. There had to be drugs involved. What else could have possibly made the skipper¡¯s pilot decide to treat a known vessel-wrecking asteroid belt like their personal obstacle course? Had they really thought they could just blast a hole through the center of an asteroid, and glide through without a scratch? Or were they trying to follow the path made by another ship? One with better weaponry and a narrower stern, that had made a hole and slipped through with ease? Either way, the result was the same. From a distance, the wreckage looked a bit crude. A massive, stone fist with a single, metal finger jutting straight out, sheared of everything but the very core of the life-saving passenger capsule. At least, that was the cleanest interpretation of what she saw. ¡°Can you see an airlock?¡± The disembodied voice of her captain, Samantha Healy, asked in Jill¡¯s ear. ¡°Not a useable one,¡± Jill responded. ¡°I¡¯m petty sure the main docking port¡¯s about twenty feet deep in that rock...and it looks like whoever designed this skipper cheaped out, and didn¡¯t add an emergency access to the bow. We¡¯ll have to go through the hull.¡± ¡°Gotcha. I¡¯ll log the breach. Your team¡¯s good to go whenever you¡¯re ready.¡± ¡°Ready now. Heading in.¡± Their mission was simple: breach the hull without depressurizing the damaged ship, extract anyone they found once inside, and bring them back to the Nightingale for treatment and debriefing. But all that relied on Jill¡¯s careful navigation. And for the damn skip to stop moving. For some ungodly reason, it appeared the captain of the rapidly-spinning obscenity in front of her kept trying to rev the engines. As if, at this point, that could had even a remote chance of dislodging the finger from the fist. ¡°Sam, can you tell the captain of this wreck to hold still?¡± ¡°Already have. Hamid¡¯s repeating it on a loop. We¡¯re not sure if they can¡¯t hear us, or if we¡¯re being ignored. Either way, use extreme caution.¡± Jill suppressed a groan. The Coalition needed to up the regulations on private skipper licenses. Every rich jackass in friendly space thought they could fly the things, and very few actually knew what they were doing. Jill hadn¡¯t joined the First Responders Corps to scrape trust funds off viewscreens. But she didn¡¯t get to choose her patients. Or their condition. Finally, after some expert maneuvering that there should¡¯ve been some kind of trophy for, Jill made a solid contact. She then extended the ambu-shuttle¡¯s emergency breach shielding to seal the location she¡¯d chosen for her team¡¯s entry point, and quickly pressurized the area. She hoped the Nightingale got a good shot of the procedure. It was rare for an ambu-shuttle to need to land directly on the passenger capsule; especially one that wouldn¡¯t stop moving. Odds were, it would make for a good training video. Given the shape of the wreck, it would definitely keep any trainee¡¯s attention. Jill glanced back at the other members of her rescue team: Arden, Moe, Tiffany, and Xivis. ¡°You all ready?¡± Nods from Arden, Moe and Tif. An affirmative gesticulation of tentacles from Xivis. She knew they would be. They were a good team. ¡°Alright,¡± Jill nodded as she triple-checked the seal and switched off a safety lock. ¡°Seal confirmed. Pressurizing complete. Breach airlock retracting in three¡­two¡­one¡­¡± She pressed a button, and the wide airlock in the floor near the back of the ship retracted. Tiffany hopped down into the void with a plasma-saw, and quickly went to work cutting through the vessel¡¯s thick inner hull. Out of experience and caution, Jill took a moment to triple-check that her environmental suit¡¯s seals were still intact. Recovery experts were required to put their suits on before boarding the ambu-shuttle, but mistakes happened. Best not to let them become fuck-ups. ¡°We lucked out,¡± There was a little echo as Tiffany¡¯s voice repeated itself a half-second later through the speakers. ¡°Our breach went through a wall. It¡¯ll just be a scuttle to the left before their artificial gravity kicks in, if it¡¯s still working.¡± ¡°Thanks Tiff,¡± Jill smirked. Coming in through the wall or ceiling always reduced the chance of accidentally cutting through a main system in the process. Most ships tried to pack those systems into the floor...as long as they followed regulations. As usual, they left Arden in the shuttle to watch for signs that they were going to disconnect from the hull. It was unlikely, given that the shuttle¡¯s retractable, auto-welding breach clamps¡­but it had happened before. After one last check-in with Sam, Jill and the team carefully slid into the breach. The medic¡¯s boots touched down in a corridor illuminated only by the dim blue light of bioluminescent algae canisters embedded in the walls and ceiling. The medic couldn¡¯t help but be relieved by the faint glow: the modified strain encapsulated in Coalition-designed spacefaring vessels was engineered to fluoresce bright pink in the presence of certain kinds of radiation. Although Jill had confidence in the accuracy of her suit¡¯s geiger counter, the swirling blues were always reassuring. Plus, it was a good supplement to her suit¡¯s built-in lights. The RapidScan in her visor detected two Human-sized signatures down the corridor to their left, which matched up with the location of the bridge on a standard skipper¡¯s passenger capsule. No other signs of life. Jill hoped that wasn¡¯t a tragedy. She led her team down the long corridor, listening carefully for signs that the groans and shudders of the mangled vessel were beginning to morph into something far more dangerous. Fortunately, they made it to the bridge without the ship imploding on them. That was never fun. ¡°Is the video feed still holding up, Sam?¡± ¡°Affirmative. Your headset¡¯s clear as day. I¡¯ll let you know if that changes.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Soon, a bulkhead blocked the medics¡¯ path. With a nod from Jill, Moe stepped forward, and placed a small disk against the metal. A light on it flashed red for a few moments; then flicked to solid green. Atmospheric pressure confirmed, Jill waited for Moe to pry the disk away and step back; then pressed the ¡°open¡± button to the right of the door. It slid smoothly aside, revealing a room enveloped in darkness, moans and cursing. Jill looked around at her team, waited for another nod from each Human, and a tentacle-shudder from Xivis, before heading inside. To her immediate relief, there weren¡¯t any people-smears. Given the exterior of the ship, that had been a real possibility. Stolen novel; please report. There were, however, two people inside, just as the RapidScan had promised: one strapped firmly into a passenger seat; another seated in the pilot¡¯s seat; swearing at the main control console. The passenger looked up as they entered, and a pained, but relieved grin spread across their face. The pilot didn¡¯t seem to notice. But they were still pushing buttons. Jill signaled Xivis to head towards the person in the chair, and for Tiffany to find an open terminal. They needed to access the passenger logs before they disengaged. She had no intention of leaving anyone in this wreck while they towed it to the nearest space station. Too big a risk. She and Moe headed for the pilot; stopped well out arm¡¯s reach, just in case they tried to throw a punch. The figure didn¡¯t look armed, which was far from a small blessing. First Responder¡¯s environmental suits had a decent layer of body armor built in, but there was never a guarantee that it would be enough against some of the weirder weapons people liked to pack. Better when they could avoid tempting fate. ¡°Hello,¡± Jill called out. The figure jolted, and spun around in the chair as if they¡¯d just realized there were other people on the ship. Pretty rich, given that Jill could see the ¡°HULL BREACH¡± alert their entry had caused flashing in bright red letters on one of the screens to the person¡¯s right. But Jill only had a moment to register all of that, before she recognized the man at the controls. Given the disembodied curse that popped into her ear, Jill was fairly certain her captain did as well. There hadn¡¯t been any visible identifying markers on the outside, and the automated distress signal hadn¡¯t given out a callsign. Now Jill knew why. ¡°Senator Plyler,¡± Jill said loudly and clearly. ¡°Are you alright?¡± ¡°Took you long enough!¡± The man had a cut on his forehead; when he turned back to the controls, Jill noticed that his right leg dragged limply along. ¡°Save me the lecture about running off without my security team: a man¡¯s got the right to some privacy. Now help me get this ship out of of this damn rock.¡± ...Did the man not really not recognize the large, bright-red rod and serpent emblazoned across the chest of her neon-green environmental suit? The Responders made it conspicuous for a reason. ¡°We¡¯re not your private security, sir,¡± she kept her voice as respectful as she could. ¡°We¡¯re from the First Responders¡¯ Corps. My name¡¯s Jill. Were there only two people aboard¨C¨C¡± ¡°How did you beat my security team here?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± though Jill had a feeling a lot of people were going to end up getting fired after this. Sucked to be them. ¡°But I need you to power down the engines.¡± The senator grunted a negative; turned back to the controls. ¡°I can wiggle her out.¡± ...Seriously? ¡°Your ship¡¯s totaled, sir,¡± Jill watched him sway. ¡°And you¡¯re not looking much better. Please step away from the controls, and let us help you.¡± ¡°¡¯M fine,¡± he slurred, and swiveled his chair around again. ¡°This isn¡¯t my first crash, you know.¡± Oh sure. Just keep digging. ¡°Okay,¡± Jill nodded. ¡°But I still need you to come with me. Your ship¡¯s environmental controls are failing, and¨C¨C¡± ¡°They¡¯re fine too. I just rerouted the power to the engines.¡± The medic stared. ¡°That¡¯s not going to help. Your engines are¨C¨C¡± ¡°Don¡¯t tell me how to run my ship!¡± The man spun to face her; rose; took a few stumbling steps in her direction as he spoke. ¡°I just finished a month-long refresher course on proper flight operations, so I know what I¡¯m...¡± His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. Jill rushed over to catch him, but the man wasn¡¯t exactly light. She managed to guide his fall enough to keep his head from smacking anything, which was far better than nothing. ¡°Welp,¡± Jill shrugged. ¡°Can I get a hand, Moe?¡± The man pulled a collapsable stretcher out from his suit¡¯s back compartment, and helped Jill maneuver their patient into place. Once they had the stretcher¡¯s anti-grav activated and lifted to waist-height, she and Moe divvied up their triage scans. ¡°Definitely a concussion,¡± Moe told her as his scanner hovered over the senator¡¯s head. ¡°But it¡¯s a mild one. Also an astonishing amount of alcohol. And something the scanner doesn¡¯t recognize. New stuff. Fun. From the extent of the concussion, I think the loss of consciousness is down to the drugs.¡± ¡°That, and blinding pain,¡± Jill noted as she read from her own scanner. ¡°I¡¯m seeing fractures in his right tibia and fibula, and his right radius and ulna are completely shattered. Also a good handful of ribs. I don¡¯t care how high he is, there was no chance he was walking out of here.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t feel comfortable giving him pain meds,¡± Moe noted. Jill nodded in agreement. ¡°That¡¯ll have to wait until he¡¯s up on the ship. Let the infirmary do bloodwork to make sure whatever drug he took won¡¯t interact...For now, splint him up, strap him in. Don¡¯t give him any wiggle room.¡± As Moe got to work making sure the senator wouldn¡¯t be able to hurt himself even more on the way back to the Nightingale, Jill turned to check in with Xivis on their other patient. The Noviiiaun medic had already gotten his patient laid out on another stretcher. ¡°How are they?¡± Jill asked. As she approached and got a better look at the patient¡¯s face, a flash of a news conference flicked through the medic¡¯s mind; the name of an activist Plyler had been working with on loosening terraforming regulations clicked into place. The woman on the stretcher had pain lines etched into her face, but thankfully, she was conscious, and seemed to be aware of her surroundings. ¡°Broken collar bone,¡± the bubbles and clicks of Xivis¡¯ language were translated by Jill¡¯s earpiece. ¡°And a couple ribs too, one displaced. But she¡¯s stable. Looks like the dampening seatbelt did its job.¡± Which all but confirmed Jill¡¯s suspicion that the senator had not been wearing his. ¡°Good,¡± Jill nodded. ¡°Anything in her system?¡± ¡°Just what I gave her for the pain. There wasn¡¯t anything before that.¡± And if that didn¡¯t paint a bigger picture. ¡°Good,¡± Jill repeated; then focused on the patient. ¡°Ms. Hill, we¡¯re going to get you out of here. But first we need to know: are there any other passengers?¡± ¡°It was just me and Ron,¡± she said stiffly. ¡°He wanted to test drive his new toy, before showing off to his friends. He invited me along. I...I didn¡¯t know he was going to...¡± Jill edited out her first reaction. ¡°Thank you, Ms. Hill. Xivis is going to bring you to our shuttle. From there, we¡¯ll have you up to the Nightingale in just a few minutes. Please don¡¯t try to get off the stretcher.¡± That got her a fraction of a nod, so Jill made one more trip across the room; over to Tiffany. ¡°Tiff, can you power down the engines? Leave life-support on, and nothing else.¡± ¡°Already on it,¡± Tiffany crossed to the main control panel, and within moments, Jill heard and felt the groaning vessel begin to settle. ¡°I¡¯ve downloaded a copy of the ship¡¯s blackbox, and triple-checked the last boarding scans. There were only two people aboard when the crash happened.¡± A little tension drained out of Jill¡¯s shoulders at that final confirmation. ¡°Alright, then let¡¯s get out of here.¡± The trip back through the sleeping ship was blessedly event-free. Senator Plyler¡¯s eyes fluttered a few times, but he didn¡¯t come to. It wasn¡¯t exactly a good thing, but his pulse was steady and his airway was clear, so they¡¯d deal with the rest back on the Nightingale. Once everyone was back in the ambu-shuttle, Tiffany collected a heavy, clinking bag from the shuttle¡¯s mesh-lined storage shelves, and hopped down in the hole. ¡°Heading your way in five minutes, Sam.¡± Jill said into her mic as she heard sparks from Tiffany¡¯s welding torch. ¡°Finishing the uncoupling procedures now.¡± ¡°Thanks, Jill. Doctors Vond and Tehs are making final preparations as we speak. Based on the readings transmitted from your scanners, Vond will take point on the Senator.¡± Jill smirked. ¡°Sounds like a good plan.¡± It was hard to remember the time when Jill didn¡¯t trust Doctor Vond. A captain pulling an old college friend onto her ship¡¯s crew was the kind of nepotistic tossup that usually landed on the ¡®fuck up¡¯ side of the coin. And rumors always flew when somebody with a history like Vond¡¯s hopped back into spacefaring missions like nothing had ever happened. But after seeing the guy in action for over three years, the medic had found the trauma surgeon to be kind, adaptable, and with an eye for detail that routinely saved patient¡¯s lives. She¡¯d even put in a glowing note for him when he went for his promotion. Given whatever weird junk was flowing through the Senator¡¯s veins, Vond would¡¯ve been Jill¡¯s first pick too. ¡°Why aren¡¯t we moving?¡± Ms. Hill asked quietly. Her voice was a bit stronger; Jill guessed the pain meds were helping with that. ¡°We need to re-seal the hull first,¡± Jill explained with a patient smile. ¡°If we undock without sealing up the hole we made, the depressurization of your ship will send us careening through space like a popped wine cork. And resealing also makes it safer to tow.¡± ¡°Just leave it here,¡± the senator¡¯s slurred voice startled the medic. When the hell did he wake up? ¡°It¡¯s a useless bucket of bolts. Why did I waste my money on something that can¡¯t even do a proper barrel roll?¡± Jill heard Sam snort in her earpiece. ¡°Sir, we can¡¯t leave it.¡± Jill told him. ¡°This area¡¯s known for scavengers, and the Coalition Guard¡¯s transit investigating division will want the ship intact for their investigation¨C¨C¡± ¡°INVESTIGATION?!?¡± Senator Plyler jerked against his restraints, still seemingly not feeling the deep pain he should¡¯ve been in. ¡°Don¡¯t you know who I am?¡± Okay, he was going there. Time for the ¡®fuck-you¡¯ smile. ¡°Yes, Senator, I do.¡± ¡°Then you know there can¡¯t be an investigation. Don¡¯t you know what that will do to me? To my movement?¡± ¡°Not my problem, sir.¡± Now that sent the senator ranting, but Jill was able to tune him out. Not her first antagonistic patient, and it wouldn¡¯t be her last. At least they¡¯d managed to strap this one down before he could hurt anybody else. She focused instead on making sure Tiffany got back inside the ship safely, and then navigating them away from Plyler¡¯s obscene monument to his own ego, and back to the Nightingale. As long as his vitals remained steady for the trip, the senator could complain till he was blue in the face for all Jill cared. Docking on the Nightingale was a cakewalk, and it was only a quick glide through the quarantine and decontamination room, then down the main corridor from the docking bay to the main infirmary. As one would expect for a ships whose whole purpose was to act as a floating, portable hospital, the Nightingale had an infirmary larger than their docking bay. It was not, however, the one they used on a day-to-day basis. Patients, strangely enough, didn¡¯t like feeling like a tiny dot in a massive field hospital, so the Nightingale¡¯s main infirmary for any emergency with only a handful of patients was a cozy clinic with three ORs, five patient rooms, a clinical lab, and a sizable med room stocked with enough medications and equipment to treat a small city. All opening out into a combo triage/waiting room with sections that could be coordinated off on an as-needed basis. Even that was way, way more than they needed most days. But it definitely made the patients feel more comfortable. Plyler stopped ranting before they reached their destination. Whether it was because he¡¯d tired himself out, or he was hitting another wave of whatever drug was in his system, or if the pain from his broken bones was finally starting to register, Jill wasn¡¯t sure. Her scans could only tell her so much. When they reached the main infirmary, Tiffany split off to go deliver the data she¡¯d copied to the Captain; Xivis rushed Ms. Hill to the examination room to the far left, and Jill and Moe guided the senator over to the open door of OR-3, where an already masked, gloved, and ready to go Doctor Lukas Vond, stood waiting. The man couldn¡¯t keep an emotion to himself to save his life. Only a few inches of a pale, sun-deprived face were visible under his bright green surgical mask, but Jill could still make out the nervous concern in the corners of his perpetually-tired-looking brown eyes. He¡¯d do fantastic once the surgery started, but he wasn¡¯t exactly the best in liminal spaces. Probably a good idea to lighten the mood. Jill smirked at him; trailed behind as Moe guided their pouting patient forward, and once she was sure she was out of the senator¡¯s eyeline, signed to Lukas: ¡°He¡¯s your problem now.¡± The corners of Lukas¡¯ eyes creased in awkward, slightly-amused acknowledgement; then focused on his patient as Moe brought him over. ¡°Senator Plyler, it¡¯s nice to meet you. I¡¯m Doctor Vond. How are you feeling?¡± Jill gave the trauma surgeon an apologetic shrug, and left to go fill out paperwork as the senator started ranting again. Was there anything worse than an ungrateful, entitled patient? Chapter 3 Kel
Date July 9, 2116
Time 4:54 p.m.
Location Merili Nebula
Airlocks were a blessing. Piling the corpses of her captors into one of those air-tight rooms spared Kel a perpetual assault to her sense of smell as she investigated her former prison. The stale scent of blood still lingered, but it was better than the horrors or bloat and rot. She did not eject them. Not yet. The bodies might create a good distraction, should she need it. Though she preferred to finish her work, and leave, long before that became necessary. Which, thanks to some laughable negligence on her dead captors¡¯ part, she could do with ease. Kel looked down at her freshly-donned armor, discovered in a storage room a few doors down from the operating theater where she had spent so much time. The familiar symbols etched into the red and yellow exterior plate armor comforted her, slightly. A beautiful phoenix on the right shoulder guard. A collar of carved flame, where the retractable helmet could deploy at the push of a hidden button. She had lived in this armor. Trained in it. ¡­Been captured in it as well. She only wished she remembered how. If she did, perhaps it would relieve some of the gnawing tension in her gut. The thought that, at any moment, she might wake once more on that operating table. Would she ever truly feel secure again? Or had these monsters robbed her of that as well? To her ire, she could only find a handful of her weapons. Anything she had built herself was simply gone. Likely being studied in another location, or sent somewhere to be mass produced. The thought of her enemies being able to turn her work against her people made Kel shudder, but at the moment, she had no way to prevent it. However, she was able to salvage all of her knives, and one of her older, standard-issue guns. The device was intended more for shock-value, given its projectile nature. It would be untraceable, unlike any weapons she might have liberated from the former occupants of the facility. And who was to say Kel wouldn¡¯t need a bit of shock and awe during her mission? Best of all, her abductors had apparently missed the emergency personal skipper hidden in a compartment in the left shoulder of her armor. Armed with that untraceable method of transport, she would be able to reach her safe house without issue. At this point, it was the only place she could be absolutely certain remained uncompromised. Back in the control room of her former prison, Kel retrieved a ration bar from a box she had found in one of the vessel¡¯s storerooms. She didn¡¯t have time to stop for a real meal, but the rations at least ebbed the ache in her stomach, and forced back the last vestiges of dizziness. As she ate, Kel crossed back to the control room¡¯s main counsel, and returned to her work. Hacking the ship¡¯s systems had taken some time, although not nearly as much as she had anticipated. The basics of the facility¡¯s computing system ran on software very similar to that which Kel had been trained to infiltrate years prior. She could not access everything, and most of what she could access seemed to be isolated from any external servers, but it did not take long to find a backdoor into their communication and navigation systems. Nothing about her in the main computer. Or her team. Kel suspected that research was stored in the small trove of data chips and tablets she had discovered in various rooms of the ship. Her former captors likely manually delivered that data to their leaders, or used some hidden receiver Kel had not yet discovered to send the information, to keep it off the far-more public Coalition beacon system. A smart move. If frustrating for her efforts. Hopefully she could take all that data with her when she left. Hopefully she would not be discovered before she had a chance. The Dolos, as the mid-sized horror chamber was supposedly named, was registered in the computer as a private ¡°cargo transport.¡± It listed a crew complement of eight, mostly technicians for a fleet of ¡°cargo bots,¡± of which Kel had seen none in her excursions, as well as a pilot and single security officer. Given that the final corpse count in that airlock clocked in at fifteen, most of them in medical garb¡­it seemed a fair assumption that the only ¡°cargo¡± the Dolos ever carried was Human. Its navigation system contained, seemingly, far more accurate information. Information vital to properly calibrating her personal skip. Especially if she needed to take supplies with her. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it She would do a trial run, before attempting anything grandiose. Her personal skip was programmed to return her to the last departure point, unless she entered new coordinates in the interim. She could easily use it to scout her safe house, retrieve the scouting skipper vessel kept there, then skip back and forth from that ship to her former prison, to strip it of anything valuable before making her final escape. If, of course, time was on her side. She was the last living occupant of the Dolos, but that would not remain true forever. Though she was fairly certain she did not need to rush. Seclusion kept secrets, and what they were doing to her was most definitely a secret. Even if she had set off a silent alarm with her hacking, or a straggler had managed to send out a warning before she descended upon them, the probability of a warship being less than three day¡¯s skip from her position was unlikely. Ships of that size needed far larger, more stable wormholes to dive through than a single-person device or scouting skip, and larger wormholes typically took far longer routes through subspace. And if they did come, she doubted the Coalition would send a vessel on anything resembling a direct route. After all, the Coalition was a society which, on its surface, claimed to be above subjugating any intelligent species, let alone one of their own. If the general population discovered what had been done to her, and potentially the rest of the Embers, there would be an uproar. At least, she could only hope. The average, baseline Human, Kel¡¯s studies had taught her, often disappointed when it came to following through on their outrage. It was part of the reason they needed more decisive leaders. Ones that would not let such travesties go unpunished. Ones that understood true justice. She prayed those leaders amongst her people were still free. Given her own capture, and the lack of memories surrounding that event, there was a horrifying chance that the entirety of the Embers of Prometheus¡¯ colony and government had already been overwhelmed and subjugated. Were that to prove true, she might be the only Phoenix left to rescue them. A tall order, in a hostile universe. Even with her abilities. But one only death could stop Kel from achieving. She tossed the empty ration wrapper on the floor, and went to collect another, before resuming her survey of the Dolos¡¯ communications records. Incomplete or not, there was enough of a chance to glean useful information from them to be worth the time. If she found nothing useful soon, she would download the files onto a commandeered data chip, and simply take it with her, along with the other, much-needed supplies left for the taking on the dead vessel. Food. Technology. Weapons. And of course, she could not forget medicines. Even if she did not have any use for most of them, they would likely make for great currency, should she be unable to settle this matter quickly. Gather supplies. Establish a secure base of operations. Gather allies, to augment any skills she might be lacking. There were very few of those. She was, after all, a Phoenix. She was strong, and intelligent, and healed quickly, and¡­ She paused. ¡­But she didn¡¯t heal instantaneously, did she? The aches across her tortured body were testament to that. A new tenseness formed in her stomach. One that had nothing to do with hunger or physical pain. Overconfidence would lead to ruin, and a return to that operating room. Kel had spent her whole life studying tactics. Soldiers, no matter how powerful, were in many ways only as strong as their support team, and the war which she was about to wage was full of dangers. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a high probability that she would receive an injury impossible to treat on her own. Which meant, at the very least, she would need to enlist a medic to the cause. Someone with a great deal of skill, capable of treating practically any injury single-handedly if needed. Without someone like that, one misstep¨C¨Cone stray bullet, or lucky blade¨C¨Ceven if not immediately fatal, could easily bring her campaign to an abrupt end. That could not happen. Her people needed her. She could not fail them. But she also could not conjure a medic out of thin air. What was she supposed to do, put out an advertisement for a surgeon willing to become a fugitive to save people they had never met? Her connections were gone. Her resources scattered. If the fallback colony was not yet compromised, there was no telling how long it would remain that way. She could not risk going there for aide. And she did not have any funds to hire someone, or even bribe someone to keep quiet about a one-time operation. She did not even know where to begin to look for such services in this hostile space. Kel glanced around the control room, her eyes landing on the sticky pool of blood belonging to a person she had assumed was once the pilot. She closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth. Why had she killed them all? Why had she not had the forethought to keep at least one of the doctors who experimented on her alive? Information-gathering aside, at such a critical juncture, a captive medic would have been better than no medic at all. Perhaps even preferable. They could not compromise her operations if they couldn¡¯t leave their workspace. She could always lure one of the Coalition¡¯s First Responders vessels to her location, couldn¡¯t she? Those soft hearts reportedly answered any siren¡¯s song sent their way. She could modify her personal shield to encompass another person, skip aboard the answering vessel, grab the first medic she saw, and¡­ Kel¡¯s eyes shot open, and she furrowed her brow. Was she truly willing to do that to someone? Did she have a choice? Truly, she would not have even questioned it if one of her recent ¡°doctors¡± was still breathing. They had demonstrated no qualms about treating her as an object. One of them meeting a similar fate would only have been justice. But taking an innocent person would not be justice, not matter how desperately she needed assistance. ...So. That left her with one final option. One which, after a moment¡¯s thought, actually sat quite well with the soldier. These researchers were not working in isolation. There had to be others. Once the supplies were transferred and she was back at her safe haven, she could scour their logs for hidden files; review every scrap of data she could find for mentions of their accomplices. They had to have slipped up at least once. Kel would exploit her enemies¡¯ mistakes. She would capture one of her enemies, and turn them into an asset for her cause. ...Perhaps, if the person had any kind of conscience¨C¨Ca good person, simply caught up in the propaganda of their society¨C¨Cshe could even make them realize the truth about their leaders, and slowly turn them into a willing ally. Not a likely outcome. Yet one which Kel¡¯s idealistic side refused to discount. It was the most viable option. She just needed a name. Chapter 4 Lukas
Date July 12, 2116, Earth Standard
Time 10:55, Human Circadian Standard
Location Skipspace
Doctor Lukas Vond had a lot of talents. Gift-wrapping wasn¡¯t one of them. The doctor glared at the folded up piece of tape stuck to his finger. A seven-hour surgery to repair the damage from a spacesurfing accident? No biggie! He could do it in his sleep! Not screwing up the wrapping paper for his daughter¡¯s birthday present? A logistical nightmare. The try three tries ago would¡¯ve been fine. It wasn¡¯t like the paper would even be on the present long enough for Ruth to notice the torn corner, but he couldn¡¯t leave well enough alone, could he? Then again, it was the first gift he was going to be able to hand to his daughter, in person, in almost two years. She deserved a present that didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d slapped something together last-minute. Overthinking wasn¡¯t his friend. He knew this. His therapist reminded him. Constantly. But this was for his daughter. He was allowed to overthink a bit for her. Maybe he could just use a gift bag...but then Ruth wouldn¡¯t get to rip anything apart. And at ten, that was half the fun of presents, wasn¡¯t it? Plus, he¡¯d need to track down a gift bag, and Spacedock 59 was already three hours behind them in Skipspace. He wasn¡¯t about to ask Sam to turn the ship around¨C¨C A sudden, familiar tune from under the mangled paper scraps on his desk. The doctor froze. Then grinned. It was already eleven, wasn¡¯t it? Quickly, Lukas fished the chiming personal tablet out from under the debris of his failure, moved to answer¡­then stopped, and gave his face a quick pat down. There was a piece of tape clinging to his chin. Good call. The tape pulled on the ghosts of stubble that were just starting to poke back through his pale skin as he tugged it off, but it was worth it to look presentable. He smoothed his hair down a bit, then took a deep breath, and answered the call. The love of his life popped onto the small screen. Neons were such beautiful colors on her. The bright greens and blues of her Responders¡¯ medical uniform contrasted beautifully with her brown skin, and really made her golden eyes pop. He smiled. ¡°Hey McKenzie. It¡¯s good to see you.¡± ¡°You too, Lukas.¡± Her radiant smile made the corners of her eyes crinkle cutely. ¡°How¡¯s your week been?¡± ¡°Going alright,¡± Lukas shrugged. ¡°A few surgeries, a handful of stalled skipper fixes. Nothing too shock-and-awe. How¡¯s yours?¡± She shrugged back. ¡°Best as it can be, under the circumstances. We¡¯re making progress. The vaccination effort¡¯s one of the fastest we¡¯ve ever seen. We reached forty percent of Rulian¡¯s planetside population a couple days ago, and we¡¯re up to sixty percent on their moon. If we can keep up the pace, the system should safely reach herd immunity in about two months. Then we can start inoculating major trade hubs, and expand out from there.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fantastic,¡± Lukas meant it. ¡°I¡¯m sure The Rulians will be happy to get out of quarantine.¡± ¡°Happy¡¯s a mild word for it,¡± McKenzie snorted. ¡°Half their senate¡¯s been screaming to lift the quarantine early for the sake of their economy, but thankfully the Coalition¡¯s been pretty firm about the requirements for authorizing travel out of the solar system. I can¡¯t imagine how bad this could¡¯ve gotten if they hadn¡¯t caught it early.¡± ¡°Bad¡± was an extreme understatement, and they both knew it. An intergalactic plague caused by a virus as dangerous as the one McKenzie and her team were attempting to fend off would have been a horror on a scale that made part of Lukas¡¯ brain freeze up. Mars was a huge trading hub. One that normally had a lot of contact with Rulia. His brother¡¯s home was located in one of the most populous Martian colonies. Lukas¡¯ daughter was staying with him and his brother-in-law while he and McKenzie were on assignment. One wrong contact from a quarantine breach, and so many people he loved could¨C¨C ¡°Where¡¯s your head going?¡± His wife¡¯s voice snapped him back into the room; he smiled shyly. ¡°Nowhere good. Thanks.¡± ¡°Any time,¡± she nodded. ¡°How about you? Any word from Corey?¡± Not exactly the most comforting conversation changer, unfortunately. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Nothing yet,¡± Lukas hedged. ¡°He¡¯s busy, I¡¯m sure. Plus my side of the thought-experiment game was pretty weak this time. He¡¯s probably getting a little bored.¡± ¡°Lukas, don¡¯t do that, your friend of decades is not going to stop talking to you over one weak move in your thought-experiment game,¡± McKenzie countered. ¡°Maybe the emulator he¡¯s testing¡¯s not working as well as he¡¯d hoped? He tends to get embarrassed when his projects don¡¯t pan out.¡± ¡°Yeah, but he seemed really confident about this one,¡± Lukas sighed. ¡°The thought experiment bounced off one of the things he was testing with the emulator. I hope I didn¡¯t send him something that screwed it up.¡± ¡°I doubt that,¡± McKenzie shook her head. ¡°You know how Corey is: a flurry of messages, then nothing for months. He¡¯s probably just buried in work. That, or he¡¯s on shore leave.¡± Lukas rolled his eyes. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯d be like him. Remember that time he went radio silent for a month, and came back with blue eyebrows and a bottle of Xelan whiskey the size of his leg?¡± ¡°How could I forget?¡± McKenzie winked. ¡°I¡¯m the one who helped him finish the bottle.¡± ¡°That was a fun weekend,¡± Lukas smiled at the memory, then glanced down at the half-wrapped gift on the table. ¡°Oh, I found something great for Ruth¡¯s birthday. Had to stop by Spacedock 59 after a call. They¡¯ve really expanded their market deck.¡± She quirked her head. ¡°Spacedock 59? I¡¯m guessing you had a big tow?¡± ¡°You could say that,¡± he huffed. ¡°We had to hand a reckless jackass¡¯ skipper over to Coalition Transit Investigators. Along with the asteroid it was stuck in. He didn¡¯t get anyone killed, so he¡¯s got that going for him, but I doubt they¡¯ll ever let the guy behind the controls again.¡± And it might even be the end of the wonderful senator¡¯s career as well. Not a good look for the face of a drug abolitionist movement to get caught blatantly ignoring his own talking points in such a catastrophic way. Especially when he got someone hurt in the process. It was plain luck nobody¡¯d died. But that would have to come out from the investigation. He wasn¡¯t about to give up personal patient info, even to his wife. ¡°Sounds like good riddance to me,¡± she snorted. ¡°Now, what was it you picked up for Ruth¡¯s birthday? Odds aren¡¯t high we got her the same thing, but better safe than¨C¨C¡± A familiar beep echoed through from McKenzie¡¯s side of the screen. She gave him an apologetic look, held up a finger, and checked the message. ¡°Ack,¡± McKenzie cringed. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m gonna have to cut this short. Vaccine shipment¡¯s coming in early, and they need me moonside.¡± ¡°Oh, I completely understand,¡± Lukas did his best to hide his disappointment, and felt bad about being selfish. ¡°Are we still on for Doctor Valez Tuesday?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± McKenzie agreed; cringed. ¡°But I might not be able to talk again before that. It¡¯s pretty hectic here.¡± Lukas¡¯ heart sank, but he tried not to show it. Instead, he made himself shrug, and gave her a small smile. ¡°Not a problem, I know how busy you are.¡± Though he desperately wished he could sit there and talk to her for hours. ¡°Stay safe out there, McKenzie. I love you.¡± That devastating smile again. ¡°You too. Stay safe.¡± The screen blipped off. Lukas drew a deep breath, and tried to will away the stinging warmth in his eyes. Would it ever get easier? While he was working, he could forget that the woman he¡¯d fallen in love with back in undergrad had decided she was happier living without him. But every time they spoke, it became more and more clear to him that taking on a role that would keep them apart for the foreseeable future had made McKenzie happier than she¡¯d been in years. Even if it put her in the public spotlight¡­and not always in a comfortable way. Maybe he was just reading into things. After what had happened on his last assignment, that did tend to be a pattern. She¡¯d stayed with him through so much. She deserved better. Or that was just his head spiraling again. The doctor drew another deep breath, held it, and let it out. No reason to give up hope. Not yet. If she said she loved him, and wanted to work on things, then he had to take that at face value. He owed her that. Besides, their tours weren¡¯t supposed to end for another seven months. And that was barring any extensions McKenzie might need to make, given her status as coordinator of the Rulian vaccination efforts¡­which, frankly, were likely. There were plenty of therapy sessions ahead of them until then. They had time. They¡¯d work this out. But if not...well...at least it¡¯d end on good terms. They¡¯d promised each other that. And their daughter needed them to keep that promise, so they would, when it came to¡­ Lukas stopped himself. He was doing it again. If. Not when. Defeatism wasn¡¯t helping anything. Doctor Valez had made that clear. He had to try to keep hope. Try to look for the bright side, even when a loud chunk of his brain wouldn¡¯t shut up about how pointless it was¨C¨C ¡°Hey Lukas, are you free?¡± The disembodied voice of Samantha, his friend and captain, startled the doctor out of his spiral. He gratefully answered on the intercom. ¡°Yep, I¡¯m free. What¡¯s up, Sam?¡± ¡°We just picked up an emergency signal,¡± she told him. ¡°Some kind of accident on a transport out in the Merili Nebula. We¡¯ll be there in about four hours.¡± Lukas frowned. ¡°That¡¯s a little close to Isolationist space, isn¡¯t it? Are we calling in a security escort?¡± ¡°Nearest one¡¯s too far away,¡± she sounded frustrated. ¡°The nebula scattered the message a bit, but the ship¡¯s captain made it clear that their power¡¯s failing. That¡¯s all we know.¡± Ah. No time to lose then. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll tell my team to prep for triage. Whatever we¡¯re flying into, we¡¯ll be ready.¡± ¡°Thanks. Once everybody¡¯s briefed, come down to the mess and get something to eat. Ren¡¯s making tacos.¡± Ooh. Yep. That sounded delicious. ...And definitely something he¡¯d want to eat before surgery, rather than after. ¡°Sounds good. I¡¯ll see you soon.¡± ¡°See you there.¡± The intercom cut out. The doctor started to rise, but paused with a glance at his daughter¡¯s half-wrapped present. He¡¯d really wanted to get that squared away so he couldn¡¯t forget, but now it¡¯d have to wait until they finished cleaning up whatever they were skipping towards...And then, probably another day or so as he recovered from doing a nightmarish number of surgeries...and then he might forget it was on the table, and end up rushing the wrapping job right before he had to leave for Ruth¡¯s party, and she¡¯d be embarrassed by his crappy wrapping, and... He stopped himself again; drew yet another deep breath, and headed for the door. No defeatism. He¡¯d help whoever they were going to help, then he¡¯d finish wrapping. He could do this. It¡¯d all work out fine. Chapter 5 Sam
Date July 12, 2116
Time 15:22 Human Circadian Standard
Location Merili Nebula
Search. Rescue. Repair. Like all First Responders Corps vessels, the circular corridor wrapping around the FRS Nightingale¡¯s bridge was decorated with the organization¡¯s creed. Those words were laser-etched into every inch of those matte-blue walls; scrawled out in every modern written language of every culture known to travel in Coalition space. Spiraling Zelanian. Northern Continental Oxionzan cursive. Xednandais. Arabic. English. Japanese. Xhosa. And so many, many more. Of course, the inclusion of every language meant that none of the text was more than a centimeter high. Even so, it served its purpose. Every member of the crew, regardless of origins, could take a stroll around that ornate corridor, and find a reminder of their duty to turn the unfathomably immense Empty of space into something survivable. As Captain Samantha Healy returned to the bridge, her stomach pleasantly full of tacos, she ran a few dark-brown fingers over the phrase, written in braille, just above the keycard sensor. A nice reminder of home. But home was far, far away, and at that moment, she didn¡¯t have time to savor the memories. Sam smoothed down the sides of her neon green-and-blue uniform, rested her palm against the sensor, and stepped inside as the door hissed open. Out of practicality, the bridge itself had none of the ornateness of the corridor. The walls were a simple, non-reflective gray, light enough to prevent its edges from blurring in with the corners of the main viewscreen when it was active, but dark enough to not cause an afterimage if they shifted focus. Which of course, they could at any time. The viewscreen itself was simply a projection of a collection of cameras and data from sensors affixed to the outside of the hull. Technically, they could retract the bit of hull directly behind the viewscreen to turn it into an actual window, but Sam had never felt a desire to do so for any reason other than making sure the mechanisms still worked. Whatever transparent alloy they made the viewscreen out of was supposed to be as strong as the outer hull itself...but the captain had seen enough wrecks to know exactly how comforting that boast truly was. People could roll back the hullshutters in the privacy of their self-contained quarters and stargaze all they wanted...but it was best not to chance it on the bridge unless they had a very, very good reason. Compared to a luxury vessel, the Nightingale¡¯s controls had an almost-retro vibe: chunky keys, switches, and knobs controlled most of their displays. Parts easily repaired or replaced¡­and without the risk that Basil¡¯s hand would slip on a touchscreen in the middle of a rescue mission, and send them skipping into the next galaxy over. A safety feature especially important for time-sensitive missions like the one her crew currently faced. Sam made a beeline across the domed room to the primary communications station, where her outreach officer, Hamid, sat wearing large headphones that flattened sections of his short black hair. He stared at a screen covered in window after window of waveforms and text boxes. ¡°Any new messages?¡± Sam asked him. Sometimes dropping out of a skip nearly overloaded their coms with localized frequencies that were incompatible with quantum transmission, but she doubted that was the case this time. Even under optimum conditions, that usually only happened over colonies, and the Miril Nebula was too far from any Coalition colony. The Isolationists were pretty close by¡­but as the name suggested, they mostly kept to themselves. ¡°More of the same,¡± the man popped a headphone off one ear, but didn¡¯t take his eye off the screen. ¡°Just a decent analogue loop of the original distress call. The radio signal¡¯s getting stronger on our current trajectory.¡± So they were still headed in the right direction. ¡°Any new information?¡± Hamid squinted at the screen. ¡°The callsign matches a Coalition cargo ship called the Dolos. Registered as a mid-sized transport with a skeleton crew. Compliment of eight, and...ah. Systems overload, with failed redundancies. Minor injuries. Their skipper¡¯s shot, and life support will only last another couple more hours, based on the time stamp encoded into the message. That seems to be it.¡± Oh. Well, that could¡¯ve been a lot worse. Thank goodness they were close enough to help, while there was still someone left. ¡°Give Spacedock 59 a heads up,¡± Sam ordered. ¡°It will take a while for Imani¡¯s team to replace that skipper, and we won''t be able to leave until we''re certain the life support is completely back in working order.¡± Hopefully no other major calls would come in. The Responders¡¯ presence this close to the Isolationists was¡­well¡­embarrassingly weak. ¡°Yes, Captain.¡± Sam crossed to her own station, sat in her comfy swivel chair, and scanned the readouts funneling through from all over the bridge. No signs of approaching vessels. No signs the Isolationists were going to pop up in their typical trigger-happy manner, and ruin the rescue. Hopefully it stayed that way. Reaching the distressed ship didn¡¯t take long. They¡¯d plotted their skipper¡¯s course to drop them a safe distance from the coordinates given out in the original message, in case of debris, but close enough to easily pick up the short-range analogue transmissions used to pinpoint vessels within a system. Like a bat listening for pings in a foggy forest, the Nightingale honed in on the source through the nebulous debris. It led them, alarmingly, to a ship-shaped black void. Sam frowned. Painting a ship black was against Coalition law. At least, for civilian ships. Military vessels had their own set of regulations, but everything else, from a First Responder¡¯s floating hospital to a senator¡¯s yacht to a standard cargo carrier, should have been painted either bright white or a fluorescent hue. Intentionally visible. Intentionally easy to track down for rescue or recovery by sight alone if necessary, even if all power was completely gone, and both the emergency lights and distress signals could not be used. It also helped to avoid crashes while attempting to dock at a space station. No sentient species with vision could miss the Nightingale¡¯s eggshell-white hull, or the stylized Rod of Asclepius painted in startling scarlet red on its bow, stern, aft, port and all of its wings. First Responders vessels very rarely crashed. This¡­thing¡­in front of them, however, was an accident waiting to happen, if it ever went near a port. Even more concerning, Sam didn¡¯t see symbols of any kind painted in contrast on ship¡¯s matte-black hull. Not so much as a smudge to indicate where it might have been scraped off by space debris, or a wavering pattern in the paint that would make her believe the ship¡¯s hull had simply been scorched in some way. Even military vessels had to have a bright insignia somewhere on them, unless they were in an active combat situation...which hadn¡¯t happened in Coalition space for decades. Sam tried to tamp down the anxiety gnawing at the back of her brain. Maybe it was an Isolationist ship? It would explain the blatant disregard for safety regs. But Isolationist ships didn¡¯t call for Responders. They either had their own rescue fleet, or maybe just relied on luck to avoid disasters¡­but in either case, their distress signals never made it to Responders¡¯ hubs. And the callsign embedded in the distress signal belonged to an active Coalition-registered cargo transport. Concerning, in its own right, under the circumstances. Pirates were the next possibility that flashed through Sam¡¯s mind. Unfortunately, the medical black market was a well-known vice across many corners of Coalition space. Even though the Responders gave out medications and treatment freely to whoever might need them, the dubious cocktails mixed up and sold using stolen supplies fed the recreational drug habits of many souls unlucky enough to have gone down that path. But pirates tended to get their stolen medical supplies by smuggling them out of a colony¡¯s stockpile. Or pilfering from a disabled cargo ship, like the one the Nightengale was supposedly being asked to aide. They weren¡¯t typically brazen enough to lure a Responders ship in to a trap. Mainly because they knew that not only were Responders vessels fully armed in case of such an attempt, but an attack was one of the fastest ways to set the Coalition Guard on any pirate¡¯s heels. Even if the Guard wasn¡¯t already tagging along with the Responders as backup. So even with the odd hull, the chances of it being a pirate attack were very, very low. ¡­Still, best to be cautious. ¡°Mary?¡± Sam called over to her defense officer at a station to her left. ¡°Are you seeing any charged weapons on the scanner?¡± ¡°Not right now, no,¡± the woman¡¯s long brown ponytail shook in counterpoint to the rest of her head. ¡°But there¡¯s a lot of distortion from the Nebula, so I can¡¯t be completely sure. I don¡¯t like the looks of this, Captain.¡± ¡°It¡¯s definitely suspicious,¡± Sam sighed.¡°But if their life support really is failing, then we might not have time to wait for backup. Keep the shields up for now. We¡¯ll try to make contact before risking a rescue.¡± ¡°Aye Captain.¡±This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The captain set her monitor¡¯s intercom to her lead Chief Recovery Expert¡¯s frequency; pressed the button. ¡°Jill, are you looking at our visual on the Dolos?¡± ¡°If you can call it that,¡± Jill responded, clearly annoyed. ¡°Permission to have Tiffany and Xivix pack a stun-gun apiece?¡± ¡°Granted,¡± Sam suppressed a wince. ¡°Just keep them holstered unless absolutely necessary. We don¡¯t want any misunderstandings. Hold in the docking bay for the time being. I¡¯ll let you know as soon as I can if the mission is still on.¡± ¡°Sounds good, talk soon.¡± Sam swiveled to look at the communication¡¯s hub. ¡°Hamid, please update Spacedock 59 again, and include a photo of the Dolos.¡± ¡°Drafted, and prepped to send. Do you want me to include a request for an escort?¡± Sam nodded. ¡°Their answer likely won¡¯t have changed, but maybe we¡¯ll get lucky.¡± ¡°Message sent. Would you like me to¡ªAh.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°The Dolos beat me to it,¡± Hamid pointed to a new waveforem on the screen. ¡°We¡¯re being hailed.¡± The captain felt the knot in her stomach ease a little. Pirates weren¡¯t known for talking before an attack. Still nowhere near a guarantee, but they would take precautions. They had time, after all. It wasn¡¯t like the ship was venting atmosphere. ¡°Thank you, Hamid. One moment...¡± Sam looked down the bridge, to their pilot. ¡°Basil, are you ready for some defensive flying?¡± ¡°My favorite kind,¡± the bluish-green-skinned Xelanian flicked out his long, blue forked tongue with a cocky flourish. ¡°Can I do a barrel roll?¡± She let herself smirk. ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± He clicked his beak happily. Sam rolled her dark brown eyes. Pilots. Adrenaline junkies the lot. As a former pilot herself, Sam felt justified in saying that. Next, the captain swiveled to another chair off to the right, to a Human with short, purple hair, who had been taking notes on the conversation. ¡°Sidney?¡± ¡°Yes, Captain?¡± The ship¡¯s clerk looked up from their log. ¡°Send messages to Imani and Lukas. Let them know the details of the distress signal, and the state of the ship. Best case scenario, the infirmary¡¯s going to have eight low-risk patients to look over in about half an hour. Worst case...Make sure Imani has the skipper prepped for an emergency exit.¡± ¡°Yes, Captain.¡± They pulled a pocket-com from their bright-green trousers; turned away; began to speak into the device in a quiet voice. Sam took a deep breath; nodded. ¡°Patch them through, Hamid.¡± The viewscreen flicked to life, and Sam found herself looking at what seemed to be a pale Human with messily-cropped blond hair that curled up around the ears. The person¡¯s face was only semi-visible through the dim light reflected back from the monitor they were staring into. The video itself was so distorted, Sam couldn¡¯t tell if the red outfit the figure wore was a Coalition Guard uniform, or something else altogether. ¡°Hello? Can you hear me?¡± The voice, at least, was clear as the bell it resembled. And sounded as worried and relieved as the captain knew to expect from someone stranded in space. ¡°We can,¡± Sam gave a warm smile. ¡°I¡¯m Captain Samantha Healy, of the FRS Nightingale. Are you on the Dolos?¡± A grin flashed in the glitching screen. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m Captain Tilly Crier. Thank you for answering our call. We¡¯ve had a major systems malfunction. Our skipper¡¯s completely offline, and we continue to have major systems malfunctions that put the entire crew in danger. We¡¯re dead in the ether.¡± ¡°So your message said,¡± Sam nodded. ¡°We can help you with that. But first, I think you know I need to ask about the paint?¡± She was pretty sure she saw the figure tilt their head. ¡°The paint?¡± Sam¡¯s smile wavered. ¡­Alright. Not the response Sam had been hoping for. Especially from the supposed captain of the Dolos. ¡°Your ship is painted black?¡± Sam coaxed. ¡°Oh, right, that,¡± the figure sighed. ¡°Apologies. Long day. I can¡¯t go into detail, but I can say we¡¯re under military contract. Our paint is perfectly legal.¡± Sam raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°Is there anyone we can contact to verify that?¡± ¡°There¡¯s no time for that,¡± Tilly said. ¡°Our systems are too unstable. We need immediate evacuation¡± ¡°Do you have a shuttle?¡± Sam suggested. ¡°If you can gather your crew, and wait in a shuttle until we receive verification, then that should give us plenty of time to¨C¨C¡± ¡°Some of my crew doesn¡¯t have that long,¡± Tilly snapped. ¡°There was another malfunction about an hour ago. It evacuated the atmosphere in a main corridor, effectively cutting us off from the docking bay. We have multiple people trapped in their quarters. We need your shuttle to pull them out. Quickly.¡± ¡­Alright. There were the alarm bells again. She had to keep calm. If it was the truth¡­well, that did up their timetable a bit, but it was still definitely do-able. Jill and her team were fast. They could evacuate a crew of eight in under an hour, even if they had to go room by room to do it. And if it was a lie, they were still safe with their shields up. There was time for a few more questions. Just to be safe. ¡°Your distress signal says the injuries were minor,¡± Sam reminded the Dolos¡¯ captain. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you update the message?¡± An annoyed laugh. ¡°And risk another system blowing out? Are you seeing the quality of this signal?¡± Yes. She was. ¡°I¡¯m seeing a distorted, garbled image, and hearing crystal-clear audio. Can you tell me why that is?¡± There was a pause this time. ¡°Do you always waste this much time in an emergency, Captain?¡± Sam set her jaw. ¡°I put the safety of my crew first. We can¡¯t save anyone if we¡¯re in a trillion pieces. Now, do you have any idea what is causing the malfunctions? My team needs to know what to expect--¡± ¡°You¡¯re wasting time,¡± Tilly claimed. ¡°Do I have to keep repeating that we¡¯re under a military contract? I can¡¯t tell you exactly what¡¯s happening, I just need you to send over a ship before half my crew-- ¡± An alarm sounded through the screen. ¡°No no no!¡± The Dolos¡¯ captain rushed out of view. ¡°Captain!¡± Mary called out. ¡°It looks like an airlock just opened up on the Dolos¡¯ starboard side. I¡¯m counting at least four humanoids in the void. No signs of suits.¡± Sam¡¯s mouth went dry. ¡­Oh. ¡°Does that look fake to you!?!¡± Tilly came back into the range of the flickering screen. ¡°Help us! Please! Help!¡± Oh god. Part of Sam still screamed that the situation was far too suspicious. That there wasn¡¯t a captain in the universe that would forget the color of their ship. That the timing of the ejection seemed far too coincidental, given how long the Dolos had gone without incident prior to the Nightingale¡¯s arrival. But four people had just been ejected into space. If there was even a sliver of a chance of saving them, Sam had to act. ¡°Mary, drop shields,¡± the captain ordered, then turned to her intercom. ¡°Jill, we¡¯ve got four void exposures. You¡¯re cleared to launch immediately. Top speed.¡± ¡°You got it, Captain,¡± Jill acknowledged. ¡°We¡¯re about forty five seconds out.¡± More than enough time, if they were extremely lucky. Extremely. Sam turned back to the viewscreen. ¡°Captain Crier, we¡¯re sending a shuttle now. They¡¯re heading straight for the exposures--¡± ¡°Oh, there¡¯s no need for that, Captain.¡± Sam blinked. ¡°Excuse me?¡± The pixelated figure on the screen seemed to freeze in place. In a new, light tone, Tilly chuckled from an unmoving mouth. ¡°You people truly are gullible, aren¡¯t you? I heard the First Responders Corps was full of bleeding hearts, but for a moment I thought you, Captain Healy, might actually have enough spine to be a problem. But, here we are. I suppose I don¡¯t need to hold any refuse in reserve, do I?¡± What in the everloving hell was that supposed to mean? What was going-- ¡°Captain!¡± Mary¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°More bodies, from the aft airlock. At least seven or eight this time. I¡­from what I¡¯m seeing, I think they¡¯re already dead. There¡¯s¡­there¡¯s so much blood.¡± Sam felt bile creep into her throat. She forced it down, and tried to stay calm as her mind quickly recalculated their situation. Definitely dealing with pirates. Pirates who had definitely killed the actual crew of the Dolos. And who suddenly seemed eerily too open with their malice. Sam jammed at the button to contact the extraction team. ¡°Jill, turn around now! Abort mission, they¡¯re pirates! They¡¯re--¡± ¡°I¡¯m jamming their communications, captain,¡± the figure said with an unmoving mouth. ¡°Not that it would truly matter if they doubled back at this stage anyway. My virus finished uploading halfway through our little debate. It just needed its final trigger, which you supplied a moment ago, when you lowered your shields. Amazing how distracting a little bit of theatrics can be, isn¡¯t it?¡± Sam stared in shock; her stomach clenched. Had...had she just said¡­ No. No, the Nightingale¡¯s systems were completely secure. Dozens of firewalls, There was absolutely no way to get through their digital security without a manual interface¨C¨C ¡°Captain!¡± She turned to Hamid just in time to see his pixelating screen cut to darkness. ¡°Long-range communications down,¡± Hamid pushed his chair back, and began to quickly unscrew the front panel of the terminal. Sam knew what he was scrambling for, and grimly hoped he was fast enough to disconnect it; to prevent whatever virus the hacker had uploaded through the channel from spreading¨C¨C ¡°Navigation¡¯s not responding,¡± Basil¡¯s skin began to take on a pink hue in his frustration. ¡°We can¡¯t move.¡± No. No, this was not going to happen. Absolutely not. ¡°Keep trying.¡± Sam turned back to the screen, to the figure that seemed impossibly still. ¡°This is a bad idea, Captain Tilly. The Coalition Guard has dispatched a ship to rendezvous with us. They should be here any minute. Your best chance to avoid getting blown to pieces is to undo whatever you¡¯ve done to my ship, and--¡± ¡°This won¡¯t take that long, Captain.¡± There was a shuffling from beyond the frozen screen. ¡°Do not resist, and I will be in and out of your hair astonishingly quickly.¡± No. ¡°Do not attempt to board us,¡± Sam commanded. ¡°We will defend ourselves. Whatever you¡¯re after, it¡¯s not worth--¡± ¡°It truly is, actually.¡± Another chuckle from the frozen face. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, captain. I mean no harm to your kindhearted crew. As a matter of fact, I believe, in time, you will look back at this moment and understand how removing this little infection from your midsts helped not only my aims, but your ability to live the virtuous little life you claim to crave.¡± What kind of bullshit riddle was that supposed to be? ¡°What do you want?¡± Sam demanded. This wasn¡¯t the time for games. Not when who knew what was heading for her and the people she cared about. The figure stayed frozen. ¡°Just a monster. Nothing more. One you¡¯re better off without. Stay out of my way, and that is all I will take.¡± The viewscreen went dark. ¡°There goes shortrange,¡± Hamid said with a frustrated groan. ¡°Optics are gone,¡± Mary turned to her. ¡°Captain, permission to pass out the emergency weaponry--¡± ¡°Granted.¡± No time to waste. Not when they had no idea what was coming. Secure the ship. Contact the department leads. Seal soft targets, like the infirmary-- ¡°And there goes the intercom!¡± Hamid took one of the small stun pistols Mary held out to him. ¡°We¡¯re down to personal coms.¡± Which meant one contact at a time. Shit. Prioritize. Engine room first. Then the infirmary. Then everywhere else. Hopefully she had enough time. Sam fished her personal com from her neon green coat¡¯s left pocket, flipped it open, and called Imani, their lead engineer. ¡°This is Captain Healy. A virus has been introduced to the ship¡¯s systems. Seal the engine room and disconnect the skip¨C¨C¡± Her pocket com¡¯s screen glitched out. The bridge went dark. Chapter 6 Lukas
Date July 12, 2116
Time 15:53 Human Circadian Standard
Location Merili Nebula
Backup power was bullshit. Yeah yeah, Lukas got it: the brighter the lights, the more energy it took to light them, and the less time their life support systems could last. And bioluminescent algal colonies embedded in the ceiling that didn¡¯t need external power sources were a simple way to assure the ship had at least a hint of a ghost light even in a full outage, which was definitely better than nothing...but not by much. And wouldn¡¯t it make sense to at least shove a couple real emergency lights in the infirmary? So the medical staff could actually see well enough to treat the people who¡¯d inevitably crack their heads open tripping over their own feet in the dark? No? Well, maybe that was just him. ¡°Is everybody okay?¡± Lukas called out to his staff as his eyes adjusted to the dim blue light eeking across the room. ¡°Anybody hurt?¡± A chorus of comforting responses from the darkness eased some of the doctor¡¯s tension. Lukas fished the little screen out of his pocket...and winced when he realized the thing wasn¡¯t going to light up any time soon. ¡°Shit,¡± Lukas muttered; then called out again. ¡°Anybody¡¯s pocket com working?¡± There was a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling fabric, and a flurry of annoyed, concerned negatives. ¡°Must¡¯ve been some kind of electromagnetic pulse,¡± Lukas muttered. At least, that was his best guess. Not exactly his field. He tried to think of it as a good sign. Hopefully it meant they weren¡¯t about to blow up. Barring explosions or decompressions, the Nightingale had a backup power system that could keep the air filtered and circulating for days, and the Corps. Hub at Spacedock 59 knew where they¡¯d gone. If the outage wasn¡¯t something Imani and her team could fix on their own, rescue wouldn¡¯t be long. At least, if their rescue didn¡¯t encounter whatever they¡¯d encountered¡­ Not the time for those thoughts. ¡°Alright, sit tight everyone,¡± the doctor ordered in as calm a voice as he could manage. ¡°I¡¯ll check in.¡± Guided by a series of glow-in-the-dark panels embedded into the infirmary¡¯s floor, Lukas managed to cross to the intercom panel by the door without tripping over anyone or anything; pressed the button for the bridge. ¡°Hey Sam, it¡¯s Lukas. Power¡¯s out in the infirmary. Do you have power up there?¡± ...Nothing. The doctor frowned; pressed the button again. ¡°Sam, what¡¯s happening up there? Did we hit something?¡± ...Not even static. Lukas tried to suppress a pulse of fear. The intercoms were all supposed to be connected to backup power. Even if the bridge¡¯s main power was out, Sam should¡¯ve been able to respond. Was she alright? Was the bridge still pressurized? Was¡­ Two deep breaths. Focus. It was just a glitch. It had to be. He couldn¡¯t panic his team. ¡°Can¡¯t get through,¡± the doctor carefully crossed to a cabinet to the left of the door; hauled out a couple boxes of battery-powered flashlights and floodlights; set them atop the countertop that ran the length of that wall. ¡°Let¡¯s put the floods over the beds first, then go for the supply cabinets, med room, and entryways. Cel and Elishia, you take three apiece and get O.R. 1 lit up. Anything could walk through our doors right now.¡± It took a few minutes, but soon most of the lights were in place, either affixed to the walls via their magnetic backings, or hanging like lanterns from poles that came out of the heads of the infirmary beds closer to the center of the room. It wasn¡¯t ideal, but at least they could still treat whatever might come through the door. ¡°Arbor, I need you to run up to the bridge,¡± Lukas handed her a flashlight, and bent down to grab a heavy box of spare pocket-coms from the storage cabinet. They should¡¯ve all been turned off when the outage happened, so some of them might still work. ¡°We need to know what to expect. Triple-check for pressure before you open any doors¨C¨C¡± ¡°Hey...guys?¡± A familiar, nervous voice from the direction of the infirmary¡¯s outer doors cut Lukas off. It belonged to Jeffrey, a tech who usually worked the night shift. The doctor felt a wave of relief. So the blackout was probably localized to the infirmary, and Sam had sent someone to get them back up and running. Far more reassuring than the nightmare playing out in his head. ¡°Good timing,¡± Lukas didn¡¯t turn to them as he dragged the box up onto the counter. ¡°What¡¯s it look like out there, Jeff? Is anybody hurt?¡± ¡°Um...so far no? But I¡¯d really appreciate it if you turned around...¡± Lukas frowned. ...Why did he sound so scared? The doctor did as Jeff asked, then immediately froze. In the low light, it was hard to tell much about the person standing behind Jeffrey. Assuming the figure was Human¨C¨Cwhich they seemed to be¨C¨Cthey were on the tall side: roughly Lukas¡¯ height, and back home he was used to ducking to get under the beam at the bottom of his Michigan basement¡¯s stairway. Light-colored hair ending unevenly a little above their ears. Bulky clothes, with a glint of what looked to be some sort or armor, or maybe an environmental suit, under their long coat. And a fighter¡¯s posture, if he¡¯d ever seen one. At the very least, they clearly knew how to use that gun pointed at Jeffrey¡¯s head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Jeffrey was close to tears. ¡°She-she popped out of thin air in my room, and¨C¨C¡± ¡°I believe everyone understands what¡¯s happened here,¡± the stranger cut in. Her untranslated English accent seemed to be vaguely American, for all that told him about the situation. ¡°Now, before any of you have foolish ideas...¡± Suddenly the gun wasn¡¯t pointed at Jeffrey, but in Lukas¡¯s general direction. Instinctively, he put up his hands in surrender, and hoped she wouldn¡¯t actually¨C¨C A concussive crack. The center of the emergency light above Lukas imploded in a spray of sparks. Lukas flinched. Instinctively, he patted himself down in reassurance that he hadn¡¯t been hit, then looked in shock at the remnants of the light. Nothing was melted. The light had a splintered, semi-circular hole in its center. ...Shit. That wasn¡¯t a laser gun. That was a full-on bullet-spitter. Who even made those anymore? And who the hell was this person, reckless enough to bring one aboard a spaceship? Had she not heard that spaceships were filled with sensitive equipment¨C¨Cand oh yeah¨C¨Cbullets bounce off metal? What if she¡¯d missed? If it ricocheted? It could¡¯ve hit any one of them! But it hadn¡¯t, thankfully. A quick glance around the room reassured Lukas that his staff was rattled, but unharmed. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s move this along.¡± The intruder twitched her head to her left. ¡°Everyone in that corner. Quickly.¡± Compliance seemed like the best way to not get shot, so Lukas slowly made his way across the room; joined his colleagues in a nervous huddle. Once they were all together, the gunwoman shoved Jeffrey towards the group. The engineer rushed to his friend Doctor Tehs, who wrapped him protectively in her wings, and scowled at the intruder. Without Jeffrey standing in front of her, Lukas could see a bag of some sort slung across the gunwoman¡¯s left shoulder, and some device he didn¡¯t recognize next to the holster on her right hip. He was pretty sure he didn¡¯t want to find out what that did. ¡°Now then,¡± the stranger kept her weapon leveled in their general direction as she spoke. ¡°Which one of you is in charge of the infirmary?¡± Shit shit shit shit shit. Welp, he¡¯d always had a feeling his promotion was going to bite him in the ass sooner or later...he¡¯d just hoped it would be later. A lot later. ¡°That would be me,¡± Lukas slowly raised his hand; tried to smile. ¡°I¡¯m Doctor Lukas Vond: Head Surgeon, and Medical Director. Anything I can help you with?¡± She smirked. A small one, but it was there. Good.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. That was good. Just keep her happy; keep her distracted. Hopefully there was a security team on the way. Someone had to come check on them, right? ¡°A number of things actually,¡± the intruder sounded way too pleased with herself. ¡°Comply, and this interaction can remain...pleasant.¡± ¡°Sounds like a plan to me.¡± His eyes flicked to the small dot in the back corner of the infirmary ceiling. The security system was hooked up to emergency power. Hopefully it wasn¡¯t affected. Hopefully it wouldn¡¯t take much longer for them to¨C¨C ¡°It¡¯s jammed,¡± she smirked. ¡°All the cameras are.¡± ...Shit. Tech-savvy. Made sense. How else would she¡¯ve gotten this far? Lukas sighed. ¡°So where do we start?¡± A twitch of the gun. ¡°Come forward.¡± Heart beating fast, he complied. Every step felt like he was jogging towards a hungry wolf, but he complied. ¡°Stop.¡± He stopped, just out of arm¡¯s reach. ¡°Remove your coat, and place it on the ground.¡± she ordered. Lukas blinked. ¡°Why?¡± She leveled the gun at his chest. He slipped his coat to the floor. ¡°Now turn out your pockets. Slowly.¡± Oh. Now it made sense. ¡°I¡¯m unarmed,¡± Lukas told her as he dumped the keycard, scanner and snack he always kept in his scrub¡¯s pockets onto his discarded coat. ¡°We don¡¯t make a habit of carrying weapons around our patients.¡± Though this incident was making him seriously consider changes to that policy...maybe. The intruder glared. ¡°That had better be true, or you¡¯ll watch me kill your entire staff.¡± He froze. Who the hell made threats like that? ...People who carried projectile-based weapons on spaceships, apparently. ¡°No need to get trigger-happy,¡± Lukas urged. ¡°I¡¯m not looking to be a hero. I swear, I¡¯m unarmed.¡± Another smirk; a small huff of laughter. She closed the distance between them. The doctor didn¡¯t resist as the gunwoman spun him around, and clamped her free hand onto his left shoulder. Her grip was uncomfortably tight. ¡°A smart choice, doctor. Now, take me to your med room.¡± Wait...was this seriously a robbery? ¡°If you need medicine, you could¡¯ve just asked,¡± he told her. ¡°We¡¯re a First Responders¡¯ ship: we don¡¯t charge for treatment. Whoever you¡¯re trying to help, there¡¯s far better ways to go about it than¨C¨C¡± The gun dug painfully into the base of his skull. ¡°Med room,¡± she repeated with a growl. ¡°Don¡¯t make me say it again.¡± ...Not the time to argue. ¡°It¡¯s right this way.¡± He pointed to a hallway at the back of the main infirmary; took the robber¡¯s subsequent shove of his shoulder as an order to start walking. They moved at an awkward angle that continuously kept Lukas between his captor and his staff. The looks on his colleagues¡¯ faces as he passed by ranged from fear to fury, but none of them tried to intervene. A fact which Lukas was grateful for. Modern medicine was great, but even it couldn¡¯t cure a blown-apart brainstem. He suppressed a shudder; tried to focus on walking. They¡¯d had training on what to do in a situation like this. Panic wasn¡¯t going to help anything. Panic never helped. He led her to the med room door; typed his override code into the lock. Thankfully, someone had had enough time to slap up an emergency light in the far back of the infirmary before everything went sideways, so he could at least see what he was typing. He didn¡¯t think the thief would be too patient with him squinting to read the labels. As the door hissed open, he let himself be turned around; pulled backwards into the glorified closet. The pressure of the gun left his neck; he heard the intruder take a step back. He assumed she was checking to make sure nobody was hiding somewhere in the place, ready to spring out at her the moment she lowered her guard¨C¨C ¡°Close the door and lock it.¡± Lukas couldn¡¯t help but flinch. Nope. She was still right behind him. Who knew where that gun was pointed... He needed to keep a brave face. His staff was watching. The doctor gave his colleagues as much of a smile as he could muster. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be okay everyone,¡± Lukas assured them. ¡°See you soon.¡± He typed in his security code again; sealed off the med room to everything except his or the captain¡¯s override. Worried faces were replaced by a slab of metal. With his staff out of immediate danger, Lukas took a deep breath. ¡°So are you looking for anything in particular, or¨C¨C¡± ¡°Hands flat on the door,¡± his captor interrupted. ¡°Feet apart.¡± ...Seriously? They were doing that? He slumped. ¡°Is this really ne¨C¨C¡± A hand grabbed his hair, and shoved him face-first against the door. Missed his nose. Not by much. ¡°Okay okay!¡± Lukas shifted into position. The hand left his hair, then roamed searchingly across nearly every area of his body covered by cloth. He gritted his teeth, but kept still. Apparently his captor had trust issues. And very few boundaries. Fantastic. Behind him, the intruder¡¯s hand finally pulled away; she huffed. ¡°You really are unarmed.¡± ¡°I told you.¡± ¡°Turn around.¡± He did. The bright light at the back of the room haloed his captor, and reflected off the gun pointed in his direction at interesting angles, adding another layer of surrealism to a dangerous situation. She gestured to the rows of shelves stuffed with meds. ¡°You know what all of these do, correct?¡± Lukas nodded. ¡°Yeah, as medical director it¡¯s my job to¨C¨C¡± ¡°Then work quickly,¡± the woman slipped the duffel bag from her shoulder; shoved it into his hands. ¡°Fill this with everything you can, focusing on anything I could need to treat a stab wound, gunshot, broken bone, burn or concussion. Then everything that¡¯s most difficult to reproduce. I don¡¯t care what they¡¯re for. Understood?¡± How could he not? ¡°Alright, what species?¡± His captor blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°What species are your patients?¡± Lukas asked again. ¡°A lot of these meds are poison to anybody but their intended species. So if you¡¯re actually planning to use this stuff on somebody, I need to know what species your patients are.¡± A twitch of the lip. Not quite a sneer. ¡°Human. Only Human.¡± The doctor nodded. ¡°Alright then. We can skip the right side of the room.¡± Lukas turned to a shelf on his left, unzipped one of the mesh liners used to keep objects on the shelves from flying all over the room in an emergency, and searched for pain medications, antibiotics, anesthetics, and pretty much anything else he could think of for Human patients. It would be okay. They had a cabinet in the main infirmary that was well-stocked with essentials. Better to work off that for a week or so if need be than to get shot. He really hoped these were precautionary supplies: if this person knew someone with all those injuries, then they needed a real doctor, not some gunslinger with stolen meds. But given the circumstances, it probably wasn¡¯t a good idea to pry. Lukas paused when he reached their supply of omildirin. The robber had asked for meds that were hard to reproduce, and that was one of the few they couldn¡¯t synthesize in their own labs...but that didn¡¯t mean he could just give it to her. Not all of it, at least. Yes, Imani had a personal supply in her quarters, but she was due to come in for her refill in a few days. It would take longer than that for the Nightingale to reach a supply hub, especially if whatever this person had done to their ship took a long time to fix. And what if they had to get towed... He left a two-month supply of those bottles; moved on to the muscle relaxants. The gun pressed into his back again; he tensed. ¡°Why did you leave those?¡± ...Okay, they were doing this. ¡°Because you don¡¯t need them all.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± A snort. ¡°Tell me, doctor, what exactly is this medicine you think I do not need?¡± Lukas gritted his teeth. ¡°It¡¯s omildirin.¡± ¡°And why exactly do you think I don¡¯t need omildirin?¡± ¡°Do you have a patient with Parkinson¡¯s?¡± the doctor asked. ¡°Because that¡¯s all omildirin is used for. If you want drugs with black market value, there¡¯s plenty of other stuff I¡¯ll grab for you. But somebody on this ship actually needs omildirin to keep her symptoms in check, so do you mind if I leave her enough to get by?¡± There was a pause, and then the gun pulled away. ¡°Leave them.¡± Lukas relaxed a little. So this person could be reasoned with. Good to know. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°Work faster.¡± He was glad she couldn¡¯t see him roll his eyes, but he did what he was told. It felt weird, grabbing fistfuls of meds and dumping them in a duffel bag. He ran an organized infirmary: every vial, pill, bandage and infuser pen had its place, and he and his staff worked hard to make sure everything ended up where it belonged. This was definitely going to put a speed bump on things for awhile, but he couldn¡¯t help restock if he was dead, so into an unsorted heap in the duffel everything went. ¡°Alright,¡± Lukas turned around; held the bulging bag out to the robber. ¡°If I put any more in, you won¡¯t be able to close the thing.¡± ¡°Very well,¡± she used her gun to gesture to contents of the duffel. ¡°Which of these are sedatives?¡± He blinked. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± The gun leveled at his head again. Lukas flinched. ¡°There¡¯s a few different types in there. But to start, there¡¯s some eldimerin up near the top. It¡¯s the vials of purple liquid with the textured sides. That¡¯s good for general anesthetic in field-medicine situations, as long as you know how to use it.¡± She raised an eyebrow ¡°And you don¡¯t believe I do?¡± He raised one back. ¡°Do you?¡± Would be far from his first surprise of the day, but based on her questions, he was pretty sure this thief didn¡¯t know a tissue scanner from an organic suture. If she planned to use any of this stuff, he really hoped she had someone with some actual expertise on standby. The intruder glared...then her posture slumped slightly; she rolled her eyes. ¡°Show me.¡± Teaching practicals at gunpoint. That¡¯s what his day had devolved into. ¡°They pop into the infuser pens,¡± he slowly set the duffel on the ground, took out a vial of eldimerin and an infuser pen, and demonstrated. ¡°You¡¯ll have to recalibrate if your patient¡¯s not Human, but the standard dose for a Human around our height is two cc¡¯s. That¡¯s two of the little lines on the side. Once your dose is set, aim in the general vicinity of a surface vein or artery, press down lightly, and press the button on the back end until you feel a click. That means the set dose has been disbursed. Each dose lasts about an hour. For safety, don¡¯t give it to them again more than ten minutes early, unless they¡¯re waking up.¡± ¡°I see,¡± the intruder gestured for him to hand her the device. ¡°And how quickly does it take effect?¡± Lukas forked it over. ¡°Almost instantaneous. You¡¯ll want them lying down when it¡¯s administered, or they might fall and hurt themselves.¡± The woman studied the pen; an odd smirk flashed across her face. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want that, would we doctor?¡± Before he could respond, there was a quiet knock on the door. Lukas tensed. ¡°This is Captain Samantha Healy,¡± Sam¡¯s voice was muffled, but clear enough to understand. ¡°Is everyone alright in there?¡± Someone must¡¯ve hoofed it for the bridge after they went into the med room. There was probably a whole security team out there. As good as it was to hear Sam¡¯s voice, this really didn¡¯t seem like the best move. Now the thief was probably going to panic, and¨C¨C ¡°I was wondering how long that would take,¡± the intruder muttered; gestured towards the door. ¡°You may answer.¡± ...Or not? Lukas slowly turned towards the door. ¡°I¡¯m alright Sam. Just donating some supplies to the nice woman with a gun.¡± The thief snorted. ...She really didn¡¯t seem upset at this development. What exactly was she planning? There was only one door out of the med room, so unless the thief thought she could squeeze through an air vent¨C¨C ¡°That¡¯s good to hear,¡± Sam didn¡¯t sound nearly as worried as Lukas knew she had to be. ¡°Is there anything we can do?¡± ¡°There is not, Captain,¡± the intruder sounded almost mocking. ¡°I have everything I need. Do not attempt to force the door, and you will not be harmed.¡± ¡°Nobody here wants anyone to get hurt,¡± Sam assured. ¡°You can have the supplies. Just let Lukas go, and we¡¯ll give you a clear path to the docking bay.¡± The thief chuckled. ¡°Thank you for the offer, Captain, but I did not come from the docking bay. And as I said, I have everything I need.¡± Lukas heard movement behind him; tensed in anticipation of the gun barrel. It was nice of Sam to try, but there was no way this woman was giving up her hostage that easily. It was going to be a tense¨C¨C Something pinched the side of his neck. He heard a click. Startled, Lukas turned towards his captor, and his vision swam. He stumbled forward; began to fall; was caught under the shoulders by the blurry figure in front of him. He was suddenly too tired to be confused; too tired to be scared. Too tired to... ¡°That¡¯s it, doctor,¡± she murmured. ¡°Don¡¯t fight it. Just...¡± The world went blank. Chapter 7 Kel
Date July 12, 2116
Time 7:28 p.m.
Location Skipspace
Child¡¯s play. In and out in minutes. Not a single fatality. Rarely would there be a mission in which minimizing casualties worked in her favor, however in this instance, it had seemed vital. After all, her new companion seemed to care for the people on the Nightingale. That bit of leverage could only be effective if she could prove they were still alive, and able to be threatened. And if that silver band on Vond¡¯s left ring finger was any indication, there were even more opportunities for leverage than she had initially known. Better not to kill anyone aboard his ship, without knowing if his spouse was among the compliment. She would have to ask him, once he woke up. Which he likely would, fairly soon. It had about an hour since the last dose, after all. Knocking the so-called doctor out had simplified his extraction from that med room closet. No panicked struggling as she holstered her gun, sealed her armor, slung the doctor over her shoulder at an angle which kept him well within the protective range of her personal shield, picked up the stolen supplies, and the activated her personal skipper. No oxygen-wasting screams as they plunged through the connective tissue of the universe. Just silence. And a little weight, that vanished into less than nothing for their short skip. For longer trips, the shield would have not contained anywhere near enough oxygen to keep the doctor alive sans suit. Let alone any of the other necessary protections from the void. Fortunately, Kel had planned appropriately. By the time they reached her standard shuttle-sized skipper, which would provide safety and maneuverability through the larger wormholes needed to reach their destination, her captive hadn¡¯t even received so much as a radiation burn. Though that wouldn¡¯t have been the worst thing in the universe. Not after what he¡¯d done. A groan to her right, followed quickly by a sharp intake of breath, and the sound of useless struggling, pulled Kel from her thoughts. She smirked. The man¡¯s estimates had been quite accurate. Kel double-checked that their flight trajectory through the wormhole was clear, then turned to study her new captive. As would be expected, Vond was not taking his new circumstances well. Blindfolding him hadn¡¯t been strictly necessary. She could have just as easily prevented him from seeing the viewscreen and navigational controls by turning his chair around. From a practical standpoint, it would have saved her a little time as well. But the blindfold¡¯s psychological effects vastly made up for the delay. The polymer restraints securing her captive¡¯s wrists to the arms of his chair were not designed for comfort; especially when resisted. A fact which did not take long for the man to realize, but the initial efforts left evidence of his panic chafed into his wrists. He tried his feet next, an effort which proved even more futile, and was abandoned with greater haste. Then came a series of truly bizarre rolls of his head, the craning of which Kel could only surmise was an attempt to peak out of the corner of his blindfold. One which she had wrapped carefully, to avoid such an eventuality. Finally the man stopped; drew a few shaky breaths. ¡°Shit.¡± Just a whisper. ¡°Shit shit shitshitshitshit¨C¨C¡± Vond thrashed again; hissed as he managed to break the skin on the top of his right wrist. The doctor slammed his head back against the headrest, and groaned in frustration. Kel felt a small twinge of sympathy, but quickly quashed it. Yes, she knew exactly how it felt to awaken in an unfamiliar place without memory of the events which brought her there, however she also knew that behind her captive¡¯s sympathetic camouflage was the mind of a monster.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. This man deserved discomfort. Far more than he was currently experiencing. She waited a few moments for the doctor to settle, then quietly reached over, and lightly ran the back of her hand against his arm. The gasp he emitted was quite amusing. ¡°W-Who¡¯s there?¡± A voice failing to sound unafraid called out. She didn¡¯t respond with words: just a tap of a finger against the tip of his nose. Vond recoiled. But he couldn¡¯t go far. ¡°Stop,¡± the doctor gritted out. ¡°D-don¡¯t touch me. I don¡¯t¨C¨C¡± She clenched her fist in his hair. He sucked in a breath, and went silent. His hair was quite soft. A little longer than she was accustomed to seeing on men, but then again Kel had spent most of her life around soldiers, not civilians¡­if Vond could truly be called such. After a moment¡¯s pause to ensure he understood her message, Kel relaxed her grip, and gave his cheek a little pat before turning to verify their progress. They were rapidly approaching their destination, and according to the ship¡¯s sensors, they were still truly alone. ¡°A-are you the one who robbed my infirmary?¡± Did he have so many enemies that there would be other options? She didn¡¯t bother to answer. If he couldn¡¯t figure that out himself, he was too stupid for conversation. How should she make her final approach? Should she risk flying to her landing point directly, or make a few more superfluous skips first to throw off any potential pursuers? Without those, her enemies might be able to track her vessel¡¯s particle trail...although that would only be possible if they first tracked her personal skipper, which was hardly likely, given¨C¨C ¡°¡¯Cause if you¡¯re not her, then I...well, I really don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on.¡± Vond let out a humorless laugh. ¡°But assuming that was you, then I''m guessing something went wrong with your getaway plan? But it¡¯s not too late. Whatever you¡¯ve done, you really need to think twice about kidnapping¨C¨C¡± She chuckled. She¡¯d been trained to spot the cowardice in her enemies. It was astonishing to see their ploys in practice. Her captive tensed at the sound. ¡°Did I say something funny?¡± She would take the direct route. This far along, subterfuge would accomplish very little. ¡°A number of things,¡± Kel confirmed. ¡°But your insinuation that I should fear some sort of punishment for taking you was too ridiculous for me to hold back any longer.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not ridiculous,¡± Vond foolishly argued. ¡°It truly is,¡± Kel rolled her eyes, not that the man could appreciate the gesture. ¡°In the eyes of your laws, I¡¯ve already committed far worse crimes, and the people who care have all they need to seal my fate. Taking you does not change the outcome of my hypothetical capture.¡± Nothing would. She would never set foot inside a courtroom. A perpetual lab rat, or a bullet to the head. Those were her options, were she to fail. She knew which she preferred. ¡°...Okay,¡± Vond did not appear to appreciate that explanation, but clearly decided it was unwise to press the issue. ¡°Is my crew alright?¡± Finally, a respectable question. ¡°Your crew is fine,¡± Kel said. ¡°The route we took to escape avoided collateral damage.¡± Instantly, some of the tension left Vond¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Good. That¡¯s¡­How long have I been out?¡± She snorted. ¡°Long enough.¡± ¡°For what?¡± ¡°Multiple skips.¡± ¡°...Multiple?¡± ¡°Multiple,¡± Kel repeated. ¡°This will go easier if you let go of any hope of rescue. We are far away from your vessel, and there are no signs of pursuit. They''re never going to find you.¡± And if they did, they still wouldn¡¯t get him back in one piece. His already substantial frown deepened. ¡°And how long are you planning on holding me?¡± ¡°As long as I like.¡± ¡°But¨C¨C¡± ¡°This is not a debate.¡± She reached over again, and rested a hand on the side of his neck. ¡°Be grateful that you woke up at all, and stop asking stupid questions. Understood?¡± Vond¡¯s pulse sped under her palm; he nodded. ¡°If I¡¯m going to be your...guest...for awhile, then can I at least get your name? Or a name I can call you?¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°We are alone, doctor. You can drop the facade.¡± His head twitched. ¡°I genuinely have no idea what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Kel glared. How stupid did this man believe her to be? ...Then again, perhaps they had never shown him her face. In that case, this would be a moment to savor. She grinned; studied what was visible of his face. ¡°My name is Kel.¡± ¡°Just Kel?¡± She blinked. ...There was no recognition in his voice. At least, none she could detect. And his mouth hadn¡¯t so much as twitched with shock, or fear, or...anything she had expected. Even stranger, his pulse slowed to a slightly less frantic pace. Definitely not the reaction of a man being driven even deeper into panic. A trickle of doubt seeped into her mind. This¡­this couldn¡¯t be the wrong doctor, could it? Perhaps this poor man just shared the name and field of her true enemy? ...No. No, she had scoured the records. This was the only Lukas E. Vond, MD, in the First Responders Corps. The communiques she¡¯d uncovered had gone through the Responders¡¯ communications beacons, directly to his monster¡¯s personal correspondences on the Nightingale. It had to be him. The pulse trick was an exceptionally good diversion, but a diversion nonetheless. He was toying with her; trying to see exactly what she knew. Well, two could play that tedious game. ¡°Just Kel.¡± ¡°Well then Kel,¡± Vond huffed nervously. ¡°I-I¡¯d say it¡¯s nice to meet you, but I¡¯m not sure you¡¯d believe me.¡± The soldier rolled her eyes again. Turning on the charm. Of course. Kel had been trained in espionage. She had enough respect for their mutual craft to acknowledge her opponent¡¯s skill. However, Vond¡¯s false affability was a feeble veneer. Eventually, it would crack. Kel just had to find the right pressure points. Chapter 8 Lukas
Date July 12, 2116?
Time Unknown
Location Unknown
Welp. This sucked. Lukas squirmed in his seat, trying in vain to get even a little more comfortable. He wasn¡¯t sure how long he¡¯d been awake, but he desperately wished Kel would at least untie his legs. A blood clot could kill him just as easily as a bullet, and his feet were strapped down at a perfect angle to create one. But nope. She wouldn¡¯t even untie him for a bathroom break...which at this point, he could only hope meant their trip wouldn¡¯t take much longer. The doctor assumed that the blindfold was meant to keep him from seeing their flight path, so his captor was either taking him somewhere specific, or they had a route he might recognize. Given how unfathomably huge space was, Lukas was pretty sure it was the former, not the later...But he still wasn¡¯t sure if the blindfold was a good or bad sign. His rational mind tried to vote ¡°good.¡± The alternative was panic. And panic wouldn¡¯t help. He was sure of that. Just stay calm. Stay compliant. Stay alive. And hopefully, eventually, she¡¯d let him go. He let out a quiet sigh. Eventually had better come before August. The thought of missing his daughter¡¯s birthday again made his heart ache. He¡¯d give anything to be¨C¨C The ship shook. ¡°What was that?¡± Lukas blurted. Even if the blindfold was a good sign, it made him feel immensely vulnerable. He hated that he couldn¡¯t tell if there was something wrong. Well, more so. ¡°It was nothing, doctor,¡± his captor sounded annoyed. ¡°We¡¯ve simply docked.¡± Docked. Not landed. So that was a clue. Probably. Or not. Maybe¨C¨C Fingers brushed the back of Lukas¡¯ neck. He jolted; then forced himself to still. The hand dragged across his jaw; lifted his chin. ¡°Do I have your attention?¡± What the hell else did he have to pay attention to? Lukas bit back that response; kept it simple and safe instead. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°I am going to cut your restraints,¡± his captor said. ¡°If you lash out, I will stab you. Understood?¡± Wasn¡¯t like it was a subtle threat. Just keep her happy. Just make it home. ¡°Got it.¡± A smaller huff. ¡°Hold still.¡± Lukas did his best to comply as the hand left his chin, and something cold and flat wedged itself between his wrist and the restraint. There was a snapping sound, and whatever she¡¯d fastened so uncomfortably tight around his right wrist fell away. Kel made short work of the other restraints, but even after he was free, Lukas stayed still. She hadn¡¯t taken the blindfold off. Was she expecting him to do it? Or was it supposed to stay on awhile longer? How much was he allowed to move before stabbing was back on the table¨C¨C A hand gripped the back of his blindfold, and tugged at the knot. Oh. Good. Guesswork gone. The blindfold dropped away, but to Lukas¡¯ nervous surprise, the world stayed dark.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Well, relatively. There was a ghost light on, yes, but besides that the skipper they occupied appeared to be completely powered down. No displays. No indicator lights. Nothing. Even the viewscreen was pitch black. Wherever they were, his captor clearly planned to stay there awhile. Or was trying to make it harder for him to steal the skipper and escape. Not that he could. First Responders Corps trauma surgeons weren¡¯t exactly known for their piloting skills. Honestly, the best Lukas could hope for would be to lock himself in long enough to send out a distress signal, and wait for someone to find him. And that was only if he could stop Kel from overriding the lock...and if there was actually a communications beacon within range to pick up the signal...and if whoever heard it would care enough to come...which were all big ifs. Not worth the risks. ¡°Up.¡± His captor ordered. Stiffly, the doctor complied. His legs protested their prolonged stasis, and his wrists ached where the restraints had dug in, but still, standing was definitely an improvement¨C¨C ¡°Here,¡± Kel shoved the duffel full of stolen meds into his arms; then rested a hand on her holstered gun. ¡°Attempt to open it, and I will shoot you. Understood?¡± Of course he understood. Why was she acting like he wasn¡¯t taking this seriously? ¡°I won¡¯t try anything,¡± he assured her. ¡°I¡¯d like to go home someday. Preferably bullet-wound free.¡± She snorted, but didn¡¯t reply. ...Not exactly comforting. Kel grabbed his left arm, and led Lukas through the small skipper; out an open door at the back, and into a mid-sized docking bay illuminated only by dim glowing red bulbs embedded in the walls. ¡°Couldn¡¯t afford more lights?¡± The doctor muttered. Kel jolted them to a halt. He felt her glare more than he saw it. Lukas gulped. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Didn¡¯t mean to say that out loud. It¡¯s just¨C¨C¡± ¡°This vessel is still under construction,¡± his captor cut him off. ¡°Only a few vital areas even have life support. Be grateful you can breathe, and keep your opinions to yourself.¡± He wasn¡¯t about to argue with the woman with the gun, so he just nodded. Seemingly satisfied, Kel led Lukas out of the docking bay, and into a similarly-crappily-lit maze of corridors. As they walked, the doctor tried his best to keep track of their route, and silently went over the information he¡¯d gathered. They were on a ship. A really big one, if that docking bay and the halls were anything to go by. That took a lot of resources to pull together. But he didn¡¯t see any insignia on the walls or doors, so it was probably some ultra-rich person¡¯s yacht. Or it would be, once it was finished. Were they in the back corner of a space dock? Was Kel bribing some people to let her store smuggled goods in a finished section of the ship as part of whatever kind of crime ring she was involved in? If he could just get to an airlock and into the main space dock, could he get help? ...Then again, that¡¯d only work if it was an oxygenated space dock. And if there was anybody around that Kel hadn¡¯t bribed. And if she didn¡¯t catch up, and shoot whoever he was talking to. Or him. For the moment, an escape attempt was a bad idea. He needed to bide his time, and¨C¨C Kel pulled him to a stop again; this time in front of a wide, sliding metal door that looked so much like some of the other wide, sliding metal doors they¡¯d passed that Lukas had to wonder if she¡¯d taken him in circles. She released his arm; pressed a button on a panel to the door¡¯s left. It opened with a hiss. Kel shoved him inside. ¡°Hey!¡± Lukas stumbled over his own feet; barely stayed upright. ¡°Would you stop¨C¨C¡± Sudden, painfully bright lights made the doctor wince; he kept his eyes shut for a moment to help them adjust. When he opened them again, he immediately wished he hadn¡¯t. Any other situation, and his new surroundings would have felt mundanely familiar. Almost comforting. But in context, every flick of Lukas¡¯ widening eyes shoved him deeper into dread. Empty shelves along the left wall, the front of each compartment covered in protective zippered mesh. Haphazardly stacked containers of clearly-marked Coalition medical supplies off to his right. Looked like enough to supply three Responders¡¯ ships for a year. Probably had been supposed to, once. Two scrub stations: one to his right, and one to the left of an open door at the back of the room. He could see a toilet peeking out from the edge of the doorframe, and what looked like a shower against the bathroom¡¯s rear wall. Then there were the operating tables. Seven of them, spread out in a staggered pattern throughout the room. On their own, the tables might have been an unusual choice for an infirmary, but what made Lukas¡¯ heart pound in his ears were the metallic rings positioned where a Human patient¡¯s wrists and ankles would typically rest. Just about as much guesswork needed as to why those were there as there was for the toilet. And worst of all: a long, sturdy-looking chain piled on the floor by the center operating table. One end of it seemed to be secured by a metal clamp to the table¡¯s pedestal base...and at the other end, sitting prominently at the top of the heap, was another clamp. Open. ...Oh god. His breath came out in shallow pants. That was a shackle. That was a goddamn shackle! Ohgodohgodohgod. Nononononononono¡­ He turned back to his kidnapper; took in her quirked brow; the smirk playing at the corner of her lips. She seemed to like his horror. And that made it even worse. ¡°This isn¡¯t a robbery gone wrong, is it?¡± Why was he asking that? He could see the answer. He could see¨C¨C ¡°No, doctor,¡± Kel¡¯s voice dripped with condescension. ¡°It is not. Now be smart. I have work to do.¡± She brushed past him, towards the center bed, clearly expecting him to follow. He didn¡¯t budge. This couldn¡¯t be happening. This was happening. This couldn¡¯t be... His fingers dug into the sides of the duffel bag; he forced himself to shudder in a deep breath. Just¨Cjust keep calm. Think clearly. He needed to think clearly. Nothing...nothing¡¯d changed. Not really. She still had that gun, and his best chance of not getting shot, and surviving whatever his kidnapper had planned long enough to make it home again, was still to keep his head about him, and play along with¨C¨C Kel reached for the shackle. Nope. Fuck that. Lukas dropped the bag, and ran. Chapter 9 Kel
Date July 13, 2116
Time 12:18 a.m.
Location The Coeus
She understood the instinct. Truly. But it would only delay the inevitable. Far down the corridor, Vond stumbled around a corner. She could have put at least six bullets in his back before he reached it, but then she would need to locate another appropriate doctor, and repeat her extraction efforts. A waste of time. And impractically dangerous. Her enemies would undoubtedly be on high alert after the capture of one of their own. Best to keep the one she already had alive and useful, if she could. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like he had anywhere to go. Kel counted to thirty¨C¨Cjust to humor him¨C¨Cthen began her pursuit. Vond was fast, for a normal Human. But not nearly fast enough. And the furthest thing from stealthy a person could be. Kel could have tracked his thundering footfalls from a mile away. He did have a decent memory though. She spotted him five turns back along the path to the docking bay, moving at a pace which he likely considered a sprint. He looked back over his shoulder, wide eyes growing ever wider, then turned forward again and picked up a miniscule amount of speed. Kel smirked, and paced herself to avoid overtaking him. There was something oddly thrilling about the pursuit. Something primal. Indulgent as it was, she found she was not quite ready to stop. Unfortunately, Vond quickly made that decision for her. One wrong turn led the doctor to a hallway ending in a closed door. Vond ran straight at it, clearly believing it was motion-activated. It was not. At least the man had had the forethought to put his hands out in front of him. That likely saved him a few bruises. For the moment. With her captive cornered, Kel slowed to a halt a few meters away; watched as her enemy shifted his attention to the small control panel beside the door, and repeatedly and futilely pressed the ¡°open¡± button. The soldier rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s sealed, you imbecile.¡± And for good reason. That part of the ship did not yet have life support. Vond spun to face her, chest heaving from the exertion of their chase. She could smell the desperate sweat coming off him. Understandable, if pitiful. But eventually, she would need him to calm down, and cooperate. There was work to be done. ¡°Do not make this worse, doctor,¡± Kel decided to try kindness. ¡°Come back to the infirmary quietly, and we can forget this hap...¡± The man put up his fists in a comically bad imitation of a fighting stance. Did they not require combat training in the First Responders¡¯ Corps? Was the man truly this ill prepared to defend himself? Although, even if he had been trained, there was no chance Vond actually believed he could win. He knew far too much about her abilities for that. Once again, this was just bravado. Which, in this case, was an ailment with a simple cure. Kel shrugged. Kindness was a weakness, anyway. The soldier closed the distance between them. Vond¡¯s right fist flew towards her head. She blocked it with ease, and threw a punch of her own. A light one. At least, she didn¡¯t feel anything crunch when her fist connected with the left side of his face, so it probably wasn¡¯t fatal. Regardless, the man crumpled.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. In seconds, Kel forced the dazed doctor onto his back, swung a leg over his chest in order to prevent him from rising, wrapped a hand around his throat, and squeezed. Once again, with restraint: his carotid arteries were completely unblocked, and she was careful to avoid actually crushing his windpipe. But not enough to prevent him from believing that was her goal. And if his reaction was anything to go by, believe he did. Vond¡¯s hands scrambled to his throat; he used what was pathetically likely all of his strength in an attempt to pry her fingers away. When that failed, which of course it did, the man finally threw a punch that landed. Kel hadn¡¯t felt a blow that feeble since she was ten. Yet given the contortion of Vond¡¯s face, he had likely fractured at least one knuckle in the attempt. The hand dropped to the floor, twitching. Too stubborn for his own good, Vond pushed weakly at her shoulder with his left hand; then the fool finally remembered the gun on her hip. She caught his wrist as he reached for the holster, but resisted the urge to crush bone. Best to keep one hand in good working order. He¡¯d need it to fix the other. She pinned the appendage to Vond¡¯s chest instead. Quickly running out of options, the doctor¡¯s legs flailed behind her, but Vond clearly did not have the flexibility necessary to make contact. At this point, he likely knew that it wouldn¡¯t matter anyway. Terror filled the man¡¯s brown eyes. The terror of a mouse who suddenly found itself as the next meal for a boa constrictor. No way out. No way to fight. Nothing but a slow, steady squeeze. He mouthed the word ¡°please¡± many times. She did not relent. She refused. In this moment, let him marinate in helplessness. Let his arrogance dissolve with every desperate breath. Let him learn to truly fear her. It would save them both time. Tears trickled down the sides of Vond¡¯s face; a few moments more, and his struggles grew even weaker. When his eyes began to flutter, Kel eased her grip. Just enough to let him gasp for air. Not enough to do it comfortably. Kel wasn¡¯t certain how long she held him there, but when at last she deemed her point made, Vond¡¯s entire body trembled beneath her. Finally, she slipped her hand from his throat; up to his cheek. He winced as her fingers pressed the swelling bruise from her first blow, but the man was smart enough to suppress any more foolish reactions. ¡°You will not try that again.¡± A fact, not a question. Vond shook his head in confirmation. Kel smirked. ¡°A quick learner. Good.¡± She tousled his hair, then hooked a hand under his left armpit, and dragged him to his feet. The man staggered, but didn¡¯t fight her. For all that mattered. Shortly, they arrived back at the infirmary. This time, she did not release his arm at the door, but instead led him directly to the center bed, and forced him to sit. Vond cradled his injured right hand in his left, and kept his head bowed. Deciding her captive did not appear ready to bolt again, Kel released him; took a step back. ¡°Feet up on the bed. Take off your shoes.¡± Vond complied. It was clearly a struggle to adjust his position and undo the laces with one unbroken hand, but his shoes thudded to the floor quickly enough to make a rebuke unnecessary. His socks bore a pattern of strange blue creatures Kel had never seen before. It would have been endearing, on anyone other than him. Satisfied, Kel collected the open shackle from the floor. Technically, it was a redundant safety restraint, meant to wrap around vessels like her skipper to prevent them from sliding across the docking bay in the event that a docking field failed during turbulence. However, its size and shape were perfect for this task, and as the Coeus could not yet fly, this seemed like a far better use of the equipment. Necessity bred innovation. An old story. ¡°Pick an ankle,¡± Kel ordered. Vond didn¡¯t comply; his scared eyes flicked back towards the exit. She glared. ¡°Be smart, doctor.¡± The man gulped; winced. ¡°You don¡¯t have to use that. Please, just lock me in.¡± ¡°So you can stand by the door and attempt to knock me out with an infuser pen the next time I come here?¡± ¡°No,¡± Vond said a little too quickly for Kel¡¯s liking. ¡°I just¨C¨C¡± ¡°I know exactly what¡¯s going through your mind.¡± And she was not stupid enough to fall victim to pity. ¡°So let me be clear: force my hand again, and next time I won¡¯t pull the punch.¡± Vond¡¯s good eye went wide at the implication. He took a deep breath, and inched his left ankle forward. Kel smirked. He truly did learn quickly. And had at least some sense of self-preservation. Useful traits, for someone in his position. Vond did nothing to fight her as she clamped the shackle into place. She retrieved a small tablet from her pocket, and typed in a code. The seams of the restraint melded into a smooth ring of metal. Attached to the pedestal base of the center operating table, the chain was long enough to allow her captive to reach any point in the infirmary, as well as about twenty feet into the hallway, and the entirety of the room embedded in the rear wall. This dealt with some practical concerns which Kel found distasteful, yet necessary to address. ¡°The bathroom is fully operational,¡± she tilted her head towards the rear door. ¡°And the water is pure. There are two clean cups, and basic toiletries, in the box next to the sink. Do not neglect your hygiene. You won¡¯t like my reaction.¡± Vond stiffly nodded. His eyes roamed from the chain around his ankle to the swelling hand cradled against his chest; to the shelves of equipment enveloped in protective mesh. Kel understood the question he was clearly afraid to ask. ¡°Yes, you may use whatever supplies you need. I want that hand operational as soon as possible.¡± A flicker of relief; another nod. Kel frowned. ¡°You might want to show some gratitude. I could change my mind.¡± A clenched jaw; a long sigh. ¡°Thank you.¡± ...Better. She rested a hand on his shoulder, and felt a small flare of satisfaction as he flinched. ¡°Settle in, doctor. We have much to do.¡± Chapter 10
Date July 13, 2116
Time 3:28 Human Circadian Standard
Location FRS Nightingale, Miril Nebula
Time, Sam knew, wasn¡¯t on their side. But there wasn¡¯t anything she could do about it. Even after hours of repairs, the Nightingale was dead in the ether. They had life support, emergency lighting, and the ability to open and close interior doors, but that was about it. Imani¡¯s initial report indicated that the pirate¡¯s virus had melted key components in their skip drive, quantum communicator, internal and short-range com systems, main light controls, and airlocks. Sam wanted to meet the genius that had designed a ship with those systems interconnected. She had a few, descriptive, words for them. They couldn¡¯t even collect the bodies of those poor souls the pirate had ejected from the Dolos, without risking the airlock being unable to re-close. At least Sam was certain help would come. The First Responders Corps knew their last location, before their quantum beacon cut out. The loss of that signal alone would send one of their sister ships scrambling. To a new dispatcher, a ship having an unexplained half hour break in its quantum communications¡¯ signal might not look like a big deal, but every person who had ever actually responded to a call knew how little time a crew had on a dying ship. The Nightingale had been out of commission far longer than that. In the meantime, she could trust her highly-skilled crew to repair the bits and pieces of the Nightingale they had the stored parts to repair, and wait for a tow back to Sapcedock 59 so they could have their docking bay doors pried open without the risk of venting atmosphere.. While Sam worked on the most miserable report she¡¯d ever had to write in her life. She wanted it ready to hand in, the moment help arrived. Lukas¡¯ best chance of survival depended on the pirate¡¯s quick apprehension. The more information she could compile, the better. The captain sat on the darkened bridge, and skimmed what little she¡¯d already been able to put down. A single intruder, in and out in minutes. The apparent massacre of the entire crew of the Dolos. The kidnapping of one of her oldest friends. How had she let this happen? How¡­ No. Not the time for guilt. Guilt wouldn¡¯t help get him back. She took a deep breath, and focused on the facts. Her crew, minus Lukas, was safe. Stranded, but safe. All she could do was wait, write, and pray that whatever cobbled together nightmare of a personal skipper their intruder used to get out of that med room left a clear trail in its wake. Sam grimaced. That...thing...was another worry altogether. The existence of technology that let ship-less individuals dive through the fabric of spacetime was technically not something Sam was supposed to know about, but it wasn¡¯t exactly a large leap from what was already on the open market. From the rumors she¡¯d heard, the captain suspected the Coalition Guard had had the tech for at least a decade, and almost religiously scoured the black market for parts that could be used to make them. Probably to stop crap like this. Probably She doubted there were many people¡ªcriminal or upstanding¡ªwith the resources and technical acumen to make one from scratch, but in this case, it was the only possibility that made sense. There was no other way out of that room. No second door, or ceiling panel, or even a vent big enough for a toddler to crawl through, let alone two full grown adult Humans. Still, Sam and the rest of the Nightingale crew had spent hours searching the ship, just in case. Every room. Every cabinet. Under every bed. They¡¯d even pulled the med room shelves away from the walls, just to be sure there wasn¡¯t some loose panel hiding a trap door no one knew about. But there was nothing. With only two physically possible explanations left, Sam had used one of their few working scanners to check for organic residue in the med room, on the horrifying chance that the intruder had inexplicably decided to vaporize them both instead of letting herself be captured. Thankfully, there wasn¡¯t a trace of that. So, it had to be a skipper. Which left the captain with loads of other questions, but if it meant there was a chance her friend was still alive, she was going to cling to that hypothesis with everything she had. Lukas couldn¡¯t be dead. It wasn¡¯t fair. ...Neither was the universe, but that was beside the point. The Nightingale was supposed to be a place Lukas could heal after...well, after everything. And he¡¯d been doing so, so well too. As far as Sam knew, he hadn¡¯t had a panic attack in months, and she¡¯d even seen him cautiously glancing out the mess¡¯ portholes a few times when they ate together. He was finally feeling safe in space again. And then...this. How was she supposed to tell McKenzie? The captain forced the thought to a back-burner in her brain. She had to, or she was going to start crying on the bridge. Besides, there were more immediate worries. ¡°I think I¡¯ve got it,¡± Hamid crawled out from underneath the communications panel with a half-satisfied, half-exhausted look on his face. He kicked a pile of discarded, half-melted wires as he rose. ¡°The quantum beacon¡¯s still fried. We¡¯ll need to risk a spacewalk if we want to fix that before reaching a spacedock. But we should at least have internal and short-range communications back. I¡¯m going to boot those systems up now, if that¡¯s okay?¡± Well, Sam would say the timing was perfect, but she¡¯d been running through those logistics in her head for hours. Really wore down the coincidence. Still, the captain sighed in relief. ¡°Yeah, go ahead. Thank you.¡± He nodded, then pressed the button on the comm panel to connect to the engine room. The smell of burnt wires drifted up from the comm, panel, but the screen and controls responded to Hamid¡¯s hands. ¡°Imani, this is Hamid, can you hear me?¡± After s pause, Imani¡¯s voice came out clearly over the intercom. ¡°Here, Hamid. Sounds like you¡¯re having some luck?¡± ¡°Some, yes,¡± Hamid confirmed. ¡°I¡¯m going to check in with Jill via her spacesuit¡¯s com next. If she can hear us, then we can make contact with other ships as they get close.¡± ¡°Beautiful,¡± the relief was clear in Imani¡¯s voice. ¡°Nice work on that.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Hamid smiled tiredly. ¡°Hope I never have to do it again, but it¡¯s good to know I remember how to rewire this thing.¡± ¡°Do you remember how to rewire anything else? We could use another set of hands down here.¡± ¡°He needs to rest first,¡± Sam interjected. ¡°He¡¯s been under that panel for hours.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Imani sounded disappointed, but also resigned. ¡°I¡¯m starting rotating shifts down here as well, if that¡¯s okay? It will slow down repairs, but we have enough problems without somebody falling asleep mid-weld.¡± ¡°Permission granted,¡± Sam agreed. ¡°Thank you. Talk to you soon.¡± She gave Hamid a nod; he disconnected the channel. ¡°Jill next?¡± The captain hesitated. ¡°There¡¯s no risk of the virus transferring to her suit through our coms, is there?¡± Hamid shook his head. ¡°From what I can tell, the virus is gone. Looks it was designed to erase itself completely after one use. Probably to mess with investigations into its source.¡± Good. Then they wouldn¡¯t be a risk to their rescue party. Sam nodded. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s check in with Jill then.¡± ¡°One sec,¡± he pressed a few buttons; twisted a knob on the control panel; then nodded to the captain. ¡°Try now.¡± Sam pressed the corresponding button on her chair. ¡°Jill? Can you hear me?¡± ...No answer. Hamid gave Sam a worried glance; tried again. ¡°Jill, if you can hear this, please respond.¡± Another pause, then to Sam¡¯s relief, the head medic¡¯s voice came through. ¡°Sorry, I was elbow-deep in the main airlock. You¡¯re clear as a bell.¡± Ah, good. The captain crossed to the com station. ¡°Any sign of a virus in the ambu-shuttles?¡± ¡°Not a trace,¡± Jill said. ¡°We can still load everybody inside those if we start losing life support, but with the docking bay doors shorted out, they won¡¯t do more than buy us time.¡± ¡°It shouldn¡¯t come to that,¡± the captain grimaced. ¡°Please keep working. The more we can repair before our rescue arrives, the less time we¡¯ll have to spend at Spacedock 59.¡± ¡°Say no more. I hate standing still.¡± Sam gave a dry laugh. ¡°That makes two of us. Thank you.¡± ¡°Any time.¡± She nodded, and Hamid ended the transmission. ¡°I¡¯d like to run a couple more checks before I rest,¡± Hamid offered. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t take long.¡± Sam raised an eyebrow. ¡°How long is long? You only stopped working for prayers. I know you need to get some food.¡± ¡°Thirty seconds,¡± the officer promised as he turned back to the controls. ¡°Now that we know the external com is working, I want to see if that distress signal is still repeating.¡± Oh. Yeah, there were a few reasons that could be important. ¡°Is it?¡± ¡°...Yep, it¡¯s still playing,¡± Hamid¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°I was hoping it might¡¯ve changed. That, maybe, she hadn¡¯t actually killed them all, and they could¡¯ve been trying to contact us once she left. But, um, there¡¯s no sign of that.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Sam sighed. It was a good thought. But it wasn¡¯t a day where luck was with them. The captain gave him a grim smile. ¡°I think they were all dead far before we got here, Hamid. There was never anything we could do for them.¡± That was a better thought than that they might¡¯ve been alive when those airlocks opened. She was clinging to that thought. ¡°I know,¡± Hamid nodded. ¡°I was just hoping. Are you okay on your own in here?¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Sam nodded back. ¡°I may not be able to rebuild the comm system from scratch, but I know the basics. Basil will be back in half an hour, and thanks to you, I can call for extra hands and have them here in under thirty seconds if needed.¡± Or, call for an evacuation, if it came to that. With one last nod, her com officer headed out the door; towards the direction of the mess hall. Sam looked around the now-empty bridge. It seemed so...dead...when she was alone. Mary was out on a patrol with the other security team members, scouring the ship top to bottom for signs that the pirate had left them any nasty surprises in her trek through their corridors. So far, they¡¯d found nothing, but it was far better to be safe than blown up. And she¡¯d sent Basil to bed two hours before. His species slept in bursts, and he needed shorter shift rotations to accommodate that physiology. Still, she suspected he would have tried to go down to the engine room to help, if she hadn¡¯t specifically ordered him to rest. So much of the crew was going to be worn ragged by the repairs. Even Sidney was still running back and forth through the ship, ferrying messages for whoever needed them. ...Which wasn¡¯t really necessary anymore, was it? She sent out a quick ship-wide message that the internal comms were working again, and after a round of updates from Sidney, had them headed off to get some food as well. Sam felt a bit guilty for not helping with the repairs, but she reminded herself that although she could pilot nearly any ship she got her hands on...she hadn¡¯t exactly aced the mechanical side of her training. Her efforts were much better spent compiling a thorough report, and keeping watch over the functioning portions of the bridge, until help arrived. Besides, they needed at least a skeleton crew of semi-rested people ready to jump into action if their situation suddenly grew worse. Especially pilots. If they had to evacuate on the ambu-shuttle fleet, they¡¯d need every pilot possible to guide them to a safe distance. But they hadn¡¯t reached that point, and Sam was still hopeful they never¨C¨C The half-working sensor panel across the room beeped. Sam quickly crossed; scanned the readout screen eagerly. Relief rolled over her in a wave. Distortion or not, that was definitely a Coalition Guardship. And a big one at that. The kind that looked more like a swarming hornet¡¯s next when fully activated, given the fleet of smaller vessels which would swarm out of it in the presence of any significant danger. The kind that existed exclusively to combat pirate armadas. Made sense that they¡¯d be the closest help. Pirates tended to operate in the outskirts of Coalition space, and they liked to skirt the edges of Isolaitionist territory, knowing that the Guard couldn¡¯t follow them there without inciting an incident. The fact that there hadn¡¯t been a Guardship within range to assist them during the initial onslaught had been a fluke. Still, it was a bit startling to see. The Nightingale normally dealt with the Guard¡¯s accident-investigative branch, which scooted around the galaxy in tiny vessels the size of the Nightingale''s ambu-shuttles. It was disconcerting to watch what basically amounted to a brightly-colored warship crawling ever closer to her comparatively tiny vessel. But she wasn¡¯t going to be picky about their help. Sam saw the other vessel¡¯s hail pop up on the com panel; she crossed the room, and answered it. Her smile faded as a man wearing an eye-stabbingly red uniform blinked into the center of their viewscreen. His hair was short-cropped and bright blond. His eyes were a startling cobalt blue Sam knew many people would swoon over. She wasn¡¯t among them, but it was true in theory. ¡°Hi there,¡± the man¡¯s bleached-white teeth flashed in a smile that didn¡¯t reach his cobalt eyes. ¡°I¡¯m Captain Daniel Card, of the C.S. Fenrir. And who might you be?¡± ...Of all the freaking captains in the freaking Guard... Sam tried not to let her disgust show. She knew that name. Everybody knew that name. She recognized the Daniel Card from decades of photos and videos taken by the media. Mostly as a child-sized prop in the background of Henry Card¡¯s campaign rallies, but also from a smattering of stories about the man as he grew up in the headlines from an adrenaline junkie teen with a penchant for bar fights, to an influential captain in the Coalition Guard. Rumor was his antics hadn¡¯t exactly ended when he took up the job...but no credible witnesses ever came forward. At least this Card didn¡¯t go on talkshows once a week, spouting xenophobic drek like his siblings, but Sam had no doubt how the man¡¯s politics leaned. One glance at his bridge crew was all she needed to understand that. All Human. All male. All white. That didn¡¯t happen by accident. Not in 2116. Especially not in an organization like the Guard. But the Nightingale wasn¡¯t exactly in a position to refuse help. And Lukas needed the Guard¡¯s search dogs set on his trail as fast as possible. Sam put on her best diplomatic smile, and kept to protocol. ¡°Captain Samantha Healy, FRS Nightingale. Thank you for coming. Our life support is fully functional, but we¡¯re going to need a tow back to Spacedock 59. Our skipper needs to be completely replaced, and we can¡¯t¨C¨C¡± ¡°Mind telling me what happened?¡± Card said it like a demand, his smile still on his face, but looking more fake by the second. She¡¯d been getting to that. But she she bit her tongue. The faster they got through this part, the faster that giant Guardship with top-of-the-line tracking equipment could start scanning for traces of their attacker¡¯s skips. So, Sam relayed everything she knew. The distress call. The ship that their half-functioning sensors claimed was still adrift near their own. The distortion that kept them from sorting out much more than that, before everything went to hell. Card cut in mid-sentence when Sam got to the transmission from the Dolos¡¯ ¡°captain.¡± ¡°What did this person look like?¡± Rude. But frankly, kind of expected. ¡°As I said, the image was extremely distorted, but according to reports from witnesses in the infirmary, she appeared to be Human,¡± Sam replied. ¡°She was white, with short-cropped blonde hair. She spoke in English, in an accent vaguely American, but difficult to discern beyond that. Could have been from a colony instead. She claimed there were other crew members who needed help, but given what happened, I believe that was just part of the ruse to get us to drop shields.¡± ¡°Have you sent anyone aboard?¡± There was a slight tinge of panic to Card¡¯s eyes that Sam didn¡¯t like. Sam shook her head. ¡°We never got the chance. The pirate managed to slip a virus past our firewalls. We¡¯ve been doing damage control ever since. To be clear: it appears the virus is completely gone. We¡¯re not a threat to your ship, but we can¡¯t leave ours without either having someone force the doors open from the outside, or cutting a hole through the hull.¡± ¡°Ah, okay,¡± the man let out a deep breath; his shoulders drooped with perplexing, but obvious, relief. ¡°Sit tight. There¡¯s a Responders vessel en route. We¡¯ll keep watch over you until they can tow you back to Spacedock 59.¡± ...Wait. Sam¡¯s brows arched in surprise. ¡°You aren¡¯t going to tow us yourself?¡± Card grimaced. ¡°Normally we would, but we¡¯re already on a time-sensitive assignment. A really important one. This detour is going to put us behind as it is. We¡¯ll secure the Dolos, and protect you from any pirates that might try to take advantage of a stranded Responders¡¯ ship...but as long as your life support is operational, then we can¡¯t spare any extra time or resources to tow you ourselves. Sorry.¡± ...What the fuck? ¡°I...¡± Stay diplomatic. ¡°Do you have any auxiliary vessels that could¨C¨C¡± ¡°No, they¡¯re all tied up in our main assignment,¡± the man was clearly trying to sound apologetic. ¡°We...well, we really weren¡¯t expecting to have to do this today.¡± ¡°Mind if I ask what you were expecting?¡± Sam asked. ¡°I do mind, actually,¡± The remnants of the man¡¯s fake smile dropped. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest: we¡¯re not officially here. Once you skip out of this nebula, I¡¯ll deny our paths ever crossed. Got it?¡± Dread crept up the back of Sam¡¯s neck. What the hell had they stumbled into? Was the Coalition Guard conducting a sting? Against who? ¡°But what about the investigation¨C¨C¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯ll still happen,¡± Card assured her. ¡°My ship and my name won¡¯t be attached to the reports, but I promise the investigation with be thorough. Easily the most thorough we¡¯ve ever conducted. Just wait for it.¡± Sam¡¯s nose could¡¯ve been filled with wax, and she still could have sniffed that one out. ...From Card¡¯s tone, it was pretty clear to Sam that ¡®not officially here¡¯ could easily turn into ¡®literally not here¡¯ if that asshole got offended. How sure was she that her crew was out of danger? It didn¡¯t matter who led the investigation, just as long as it happened, and was a priority. She¡¯d still file a full report back at Spacedock 59. Card could throw a fit about including his name if he wanted to, but Sam was not letting her friend¡¯s case get sidelined so that golden boy could avoid a little tarnish. Lukas needed help as fast as possible. ¡°Alright,¡± Sam kept her plans to herself. ¡°Then I suggest you start your investigation by retrieving the bodies of the Dolos¡¯ crew. The pirate ejected them from an airlock. And check the surrounding space for skip specks. Starting with ones in and around my vessel. One of my crew was abducted by the person who knocked us out of commission. Took him right out of the infirmary. From a locked room, with no other exit. If there¡¯s any hope of finding out where they went¨C¨C¡± ¡°We¡¯ll look,¡± the man cut her off again. ¡°But I can¡¯t make any promises. Someone who can do that is probably pretty good at covering her tracks. And your crewmate...well...do they have any skills she might find valuable?¡± Sam nodded, knowing exactly what the man meant. ¡°She abducted Doctor Lukas Vond. He¡¯s my medical director, and head trauma surgeon.¡± And a man whose wife and daughter deserved to have him back. And a good friend. But she got the distinct impression this guy wouldn¡¯t give a damn about any of that. The man made an almost approving nod. ¡°Ah. Well, that makes sense then.¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°How does that make sense?¡± ¡°Did he have any trackers on him?¡± He blatantly sidestepped her question. ¡°Or in him?¡± ¡°No,¡± Sam answered. ¡°She left his badge behind, which was where Lu...where Doctor Vond kept his emergency tracker. Subdermal trackers are optional in the First Responders, and he¡¯s never opted in.¡± ¡°A shame,¡± Card sighed. ¡°Well, the good news is that he is likely still alive. With a skillset like that, your doctor is a valuable commodity. Whatever Kel¡¯s endgame is, she will probably only kill him if he causes trouble.¡± Sam blinked. ¡°Kel? Who¡¯s Kel?¡± Instant regret. That¡¯s what plastered across Card¡¯s face. ¡°You already know who did this?¡± The infuriating answer was already clear. ¡°I...have my suspicions,¡± Card hedged. ¡°Look, the specifics are above your clearance. All you need to know is that if the person who attacked your ship and took your crewmate is who I believe, then she¡¯s...confused.¡± Sam¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°She was coherent enough to kill a ship full of people, set up an ambush, and kidnap a man without leaving a trail.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say she was delirious,¡± the man hedged. ¡°You work in medicine; I think you understand why I can¡¯t say more. She isn¡¯t well. And she needs help, just as much as she needs to be stopped. That¡¯s all I can say.¡± That wasn¡¯t nearly enough. Was Card saying this was some Guard member in the middle of a breakdown? Was that why he was being so sketchy? Was he seriously just trying to avoid embarrassment when there were lives on the line? Sam wanted more information. She needed more. ...But whatever this nightmare really was, it was clear she wasn¡¯t going to get any more intel from him. Not on a recorded channel, at least. And the more time they spent arguing, the farther away Lukas would get. ¡°If there¡¯s anything you need from us to help find this...Kel...please let me know,¡± Sam said instead. ¡°Doctor Vond...Lukas is a friend. A good friend. Anything I can do to help bring him home, I¡¯ll do it.¡± When that fake smile creeped back onto Card¡¯s face, Sam knew exactly how likely he was to keep her in the loop. ¡°Of course,¡± Card lied. ¡°You¡¯ll be the first to know.¡± After a few more polite unpleasantries, Sam ended the transmission, took a deep, furious breath, and picked up her tablet. She had some new additions to make to her report. Including a copy of the automatically-recorded conversation she had just had with that shady asshole. Chapter 11 Rebecca
Date July 13, 2116
Time 11:32 p.m.
Location The Dolos, Miril Nebula
Doctor Rebecca Roets really regretted resurrecting her boss. Well, technically reviving, but given the extent of his injury, and the amount of time he¡¯d had without a pulse, the distinction was a bit blurry. As a process, it had been easier than she¡¯d expected. They were lucky to have made it to Doctor Hammond¡¯s office: the hidden space behind the rear wall was basically a second med room, as well as a place to store their classified medical records, samples, experiments, and specimens in stasis. It was cluttered, but well-stocked with medical supplies. Mundane, and...experimental. Rebecca used to think Hammond was paranoid. But six days after their subject¡¯s rebellion, Rebecca sat in her corner of their cramped hideout, glanced down at the dried brown blood spattered across her white coat, and glared across the room as the man hungrily bit into one of their dwindling ration packs. He was caked in even more blood than she was: it streaked and spattered the front and back of his white coat and dress shirt; matted the back of his blond hair into a reddish brown mess. The first day, he¡¯d cleaned his face and throat with some of their drinking water, and she¡¯d scrubbed the scarlet from her hands...but for obvious reasons, they didn¡¯t waste any more water on the rest. It was ridiculous. How could someone be so cautious about guarding the passcodes to a secret room in a secret base, but be so utterly unprepared for a real worst-case scenario? At least they had a portable sterilizer...they didn¡¯t need to add disease to the list of their problems. But how had he not bothered to pack a change of clothes or two in this place? How could he only include a single crate of emergency rations? Rations that would only last a month for one person under normal conditions, let alone...this? She let out a small huff of bitter laughter; pushed a stray lock of red hair back into her bun; rearranged some of the bright red shock blankets that comprised her makeshift...well, nest was the best term for it...against the rear wall of the panic room. They didn¡¯t add much cushion, but they were better than nothing. Unfortunately, nothing was what Hammond had done about planning for a bathroom¡ªor even a freaking waste collector¡ªin a sealed space meant to potentially safeguard living, breathing, eating, pooping Humans for days at a time. Thank god their rations didn¡¯t actually need to be stored in a crate. And thank god the repurposed crate was resealable. The panic room¡¯s isolated environmental filters could only do so much. Rebecca grimaced at the thought of the foul smells they¡¯d have to endure the next time one of them needed to reopen that crate. She couldn¡¯t do this much longer. She needed out. But she wasn¡¯t the one with the code to the door. ¡°If we don¡¯t try to leave today, then we¡¯ll need to switch to half rations from hereon out,¡± Rebecca said quietly out of habit, but still loud enough for the asshole to hear. ¡°That will give us another week at most, and then you have to¨C¨C¡± He rolled his eyes; gave a silent groan. Rebecca ignored it; pushed on as respectfully as she could still muster. ¡°Doctor, we¡¯re out of options. If help hasn¡¯t come by now, what are the odds it will? I know it¡¯s a risk, but you have to open the door. Please.¡± Hammond simply touched his throat; winced; shook his head. She¡¯d expected that response, but still, Rebecca leaned forward. ¡°It¡¯s been six days. Why would she still be out there?¡± Another shake of his head. Rebecca slumped; rubbed eyes that were strained from the bright panic room lights she had no ability to turn off. ¡°Look, you and I have both read her file. The subject is a technical specialist. She can fly almost any type of ship imaginable, and knows how to make a personal skipper from scrap. If she knew about this room, she would have forced her way in by now. And if she doesn¡¯t know about it, then why would she possibly still be around?¡± He glared at her again, but she could see the fear rounding the edges of his green eyes. She understood why he was so scared. Who wouldn¡¯t be, after having their throat sliced open by someone who was supposed to be sedated and secured? And she wasn¡¯t exactly looking forward to seeing the horrors in Hammond¡¯s office again. But fear and shame didn¡¯t change the facts. ¡°Either we leave soon, or we will die in here.¡± At least, one of them would. There was one empty stasis pod in the left wall of their hideout, and there was nothing in the universe that would compel Rebecca to empty any of the other three so she and Hammond could both seek that particular refuge for a last ditch effort at survival. Phoenixes were too precious to sacrifice. Even for her own life. ...She prayed that devotion would hold out far longer than the rations. But it didn¡¯t have to come to that. She was sure of it. ¡°You can just open it long enough for me to slip out, and lock it again behind me,¡± Rebecca bargained. ¡°I¡¯ll take all the risk. I¡¯ll search the whole ship, and send out a distress signal. I can let you know if it¡¯s safe to¨C¨C¡± He threw the ration wrapper at her. It dropped in the middle of the storeroom floor, too light to actually make it to its target, but close enough to piss Rebecca off. She didn¡¯t remember standing; wasn¡¯t even fully aware she was on her feet and moving forward until she kicked the wrapper back at him. ¡°Just open the fucking door, you ungrateful ass,¡± she seethed. ¡°I¡¯m not starving to death in a reeking hole in the wall because you¡¯re scared of an empty ship.¡± Her boss scowled up at her, then fished around in the pile or ration wrappers in his corner of the storeroom; produced a tablet that had initially been meant for inventory. He¡¯d used it a lot the first couple days of their confinement, but then seemed to lose interest in giving Rebecca more than yes or no answers about their situation. She didn¡¯t know why, and she didn¡¯t really care. He¡¯d never been the best company, even when he could talk. But maybe he wouldn¡¯t have sulked so much if talking things through was still an option? Wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d actually had the time to save his vocal cords. But she wasn¡¯t sure he was convinced of that. Regardless, she felt a flicker of hope at the tablet¡¯s reappearance; especially when Hammond actually started typing on it. Was he giving her the code to the door? Or maybe directions to send out a distress signal remotely? Or maybe¨C¨C He flipped the tablet¡¯s screen towards her; her excitement faded as she read. ¡°Tomorrow.¡± That was it. That was all the tablet said. Rebecca heard her heartbeat. ...Nope. Not good enough. ¡°Today,¡± Rebecca demanded, her voice rising louder than she had let it in nearly a week. ¡°Now. Let me out of here, or if our rescue finally shows up, I will tell them all about your pet experiments on the subject. I will tell them everything, including exactly how you had enough of that enzyme on hand to save your life. And how a week ago, you decided to see what would happen if you pumped half of your samples back into the freaking subject all at once? What do you think they¡¯ll do when they hear that?¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. He stared at her, bright blue eyes suddenly seeming not to know whether to show more surprise, confusion, or fear. After a moment, Hammond began typing again; paused; deleted something; took a deep breath; then typed something else, and showed her the screen. ¡°How did you know?¡± Seriously? Rebecca gave him an incredulous look. ¡°I was the one in charge of monitoring the rate her wounds healed. You think I didn¡¯t notice how dodgy you got when I asked about the changes? And after what I¡¯ve seen that enzyme do to you, there¡¯s no doubt in my mind what happened. You know there won¡¯t be any doubt in theirs either. Not when I give a full, thorough statement about what led to her escaping containment. So just open. The god. Damn. Door.¡± His eyes narrowed; his pale face flushed red. Hammond rose slowly, and Rebecca slipped her hand into her lab coat¡¯s front pocket; gripped the handle of the small knife hidden inside. If he attacked, she could fight back. She hadn¡¯t spent six days in hell to die covering for that man¡¯s incompetence. Of course, she couldn¡¯t kill him if she wanted out, but he didn¡¯t need to walk, or even use more than one hand¨C¨C The man began typing on his tablet again. Sharp, pointed jabs at the touchscreen. When he shoved the new message in her face, Rebecca froze. ¡°Will that include what you did to Rick?¡± ...Well, fuck. She hadn¡¯t thought he remembered that. Maybe it was just a guess? Maybe he didn¡¯t actually know what¡­what she¡¯d done. After all, Hammond had been nearly unconscious by the time she and Rick had half-carried, half-dragged him to the office. It had taken him three tries to open the door to the hidden room...and they almost slipped in his blood on their rush to get inside, and settle their dying boss into a position where they could hopefully perform emergency surgery. ...And that was when she and Rick seemed to notice the same nightmarish thing, at the exact same time. Hammond had left a bright red trail of blood behind them, all the way from the laboratory...and straight to the panic room. The subject was highly intelligent. That was a fact. But it would not have taken a genius to follow that. And what would the subject have done if there wasn¡¯t a body to explain the blood? She hadn¡¯t had a choice. Hammond, the paranoid asshole, was the only one of them with the code to open the door. And although any of them could technically temporarily slide it shut, he was the only one who could actually lock it from the inside. And the only one who could activate the sensor-masking, life-saving lockdown system...and the only one who could deactivate it to let them out without a rescue party...or an assailant...cutting it open. Abandoning him wasn¡¯t an option. The subject would easily access their sensors, and search for survivors. They¡¯d needed a locked, sealed, masked door between them and her, or they¡¯d all have been slaughtered. But there had to be a reason for the blood trail. One the subject would accept. They needed a body. She hadn¡¯t had a choice. Besides, Rick had been about to do the same to her. He was the one who dove for the knife under Doctor Hammond¡¯s desk...he just wasn¡¯t expecting her to knee him in the groin as he brought it out. Really slowed the man down. As did the desk lamp to the top of his head. It went quickly after that. One shaky slash, and suddenly there was an explanation for the blood that she¡¯d prayed a Phoenix with limited education in Human anatomy would accept. And, given that it had been days since the disaster...the subject clearly had accepted it. Rebecca was going to live through this. She¡¯d seen to it herself. And she wasn¡¯t about to let her coward of a boss change that. ¡°I saved your life,¡± Rebecca sidestepped the Rick subject completely. ¡°Don¡¯t waste it by forcing us to starve to death.¡± An eye roll. The jackass actually rolled his eyes at her. Rebecca pondered the brown-crusted knife in her coat. Did they have enough of the enzyme left for her to make a point? ...No. She couldn¡¯t risk it. It barely worked the first time. After closing the door between her and the dying Rick, Rebecca had turned all of her efforts to saving the one person who could actually stop a pissed off Phoenix from ripping the doctors apart with her bare hands. Her boss had slipped into unconsciousness by the time Rebecca had come back, and she¡¯d barely been able to find a pulse. Fortunately for him, she was a very good trauma surgeon. And in this trove of top-secret experimental research, they had access to a trauma surgeon¡¯s Holy Grail. So Rebecca had quickly collected the vial containing their cumulative remaining samples of the enzyme they had isolated from their subject, and injected some of that into Hammond¡¯s throat, as close to the open wound as possible. A lot of it probably flowed out with his blood, but even so, it seemed to speed things along. She¡¯d managed to use a tissue stitcher to seal the deep slash in his throat in a matter of minutes. Hammond¡¯s heart only stopped for three. Then, she¡¯d stabbed an IV of plasma from the panic room¡¯s emergency supply into his left arm, injected him with a second dose of the enzyme that wasn¡¯t going to leak out of anywhere, and used chest compressions to force the enzyme to actually flow to the places he needed it to go most. Another few minutes, and a few cracked ribs later, and her boss had come to, gasping, panicking, and in pain. But, mercifully, unable to scream. From the approaching sounds of butchery that had resonated even through the closed, but unsealed door at that point in their nightmare...The panic room definitely wasn¡¯t soundproof. And she had no doubt that a crusading Phoenix would have found a way to force the door if she¡¯d realized where they were hiding. Rebecca was certain that if she¡¯d taken the time to reattach Hammond¡¯s vocal cords before sealing up the gaping, life-stealing wounds in his throat, they¡¯d both be dead. Rick, on the other hand, would¡¯ve tried to save Hammond¡¯s voice. He was too finicky about his work; didn¡¯t like leaving anything for later. Rebecca was willing to leave that delicate surgery up to an actual otolaryngologist, and just focus on making sure Hammond was simply Not Dead...But Rick? No, he took pride in taking risks, and thought he always knew exactly the right way to fix everything. He also had the foresight of a gnat. Yep, Rick would have patched up Hammond¡¯s vocal cords, good as new, and when Hammond¡¯s scream gave away their then-still-unlocked hiding place, he would have gotten both himself and Hammond killed by a rampaging Phoenix. Absolutely, he would have. Not a trace of doubt in Rebecca¡¯s mind. She...she¡¯d made the right move. One dead, verses three. Basic math. She didn¡¯t have to be proud of it to accept it as true. And here they were again. ...If she could just scare him enough¡ªnot even actually hurt him, unless he was really stubborn¡ªbut just scare him enough to make him more afraid of staying trapped in this room with her than he was of a hypothetical enemy outside their hideaway... One terrified or wounded, verses two dead of starvation. Basic math. Rebecca pulled out the knife. Hammond¡¯s reaction was visibly visceral. He pressed back into his corner of the room, eyes wide; held the tablet in front of him like a shield. From the looks of it, he hadn¡¯t realized she still had the knife. She fought back a wave of shame. She didn¡¯t have to be proud of this. She just needed to live. ¡°Open the door,¡± she said it slowly; deliberately; making every syllable a threat. ¡°I won¡¯t ask again¡ª¡± Someone knocked. Chapter 12 Lukas
Date July 13, 2116?
Time Unknown, but late?
Location Not a clue
He needed a pillow. Lukas shifted into yet another position on his sad excuse for a ¡°bed.¡± Whatever the cuffed surgical tables in this hellhole were meant to be for, drugless sleep was definitively not one of them. He just wanted to find a position that was even a little more comfortable, while still keeping pressure off his healing hand. He opened his eyes...well, mostly just his right eye. His left was nearly swollen shut. Kel had said he could treat himself, but there wasn¡¯t any ice in the room, and topical creams and a bag filled with cold water could only do so much after a punch like that. A punch far, far more effective than his had been. It felt like getting hit with a hammer. He was lucky she hadn¡¯t shattered his orbital bone. Or worse. With his good eye, the doctor examined the thick, glove-like device encasing his right hand from about halfway up his fingers, down past the wrist. The pulsing purple glow it emitted was almost hypnotic enough to lull him to sleep. Almost. Fusion casts were glorious inventions, especially when paired with some powerful pain killers...but using that hand as a pillow was definitely not an option. And sleeping on the left side of his face would be a very painful plan. But he couldn¡¯t just lie flat either. He¡¯d tried that at first, but he¡­he just couldn¡¯t. Even thinking of lying on his back triggered memories that nearly sent him hyperventilating. Kel on top of him. Pinning him down. Choking him over and over and¡­ He¡¯d been so certain he was going to die. That there was an airlock with his name on it, the second the last oxygen burned itself out in his brain. He...he still wasn¡¯t sure why she stopped. Or why she¡¯d started in the first place. Or when she might try again. Lukas grimaced, and sat up. His good eye scanned the still brightly-lit infirmary for signs of danger as he he fought to regain control of his suddenly shuddering breath and sprinting heart. He was alone. He was saf...well, he wasn¡¯t safe, but it wasn¡¯t still happening. Not the time to think about it. Sleep. He needed sleep. Not living nightmares. So why wouldn¡¯t his mind stop racing? Lukas shuddered in a deep breath, let it out, and closed his useful eye again. She wasn¡¯t even in the room. She couldn¡¯t hurt him if she¡­ How the hell had she even done that? Lukas wasn¡¯t a small man. Sure, he wasn¡¯t a bodybuilder, but he¡¯d been on the swim team all through undergrad, and even a decade later, he did laps every night in the Nightingale¡¯s pool. Easily the most relaxing part of his day, and his most healthy habit. To be blunt, he was in damn good shape. But when Kel¡¯d climbed on top of him, he couldn¡¯t even pry a finger from his throat. Not with two hands. Lukas wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. Maybe that fist to the face had dazed him more than he thought. Or maybe she¡¯d given him a muscle relaxant before he woke up from the sedative, but he¡¯d carried the duffel just fine, and she didn¡¯t seem to have much medical knowledge, so that probably wasn¡¯t what¡¯d happened¡­ So maybe she really was just that strong. Given that Lukas hadn¡¯t taken the time to gauge her muscle mass while struggling for air, it was a possibility¡­but that still left him with questions. Ones he didn¡¯t feel safe testing. He gulped, tried to ignore the tender twinges the motion left behind, and focused in on the feel of warm-ish metal against his ankle instead. Now that she had him chained to a bed, the details of how she¡¯d done it didn¡¯t really matter, did they? It was just his wounded pride, making him overthink the situation. And he really needed to stop. His brain, and his poor hand, needed rest. Lukas didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been there. A day? Maybe less? Enough time to have a good cry once Kel left him alone, chained by the ankle to his new workspace. Enough time to stop crying long enough to set and splint his broken hand. Enough time to pass out from exhaustion while crying again, wake up in fear and confusion over where the hell he was, remember, then spend at least a few hours alternating between panic, dread, and the practical necessities of learning what all he had available to him in terms of medical supplies. Plenty, as it turned out. The crates he¡¯d seen were full. There were already some supplies in the mesh shelving, that he quickly filled the rest of the way to comply with the orders he¡¯d been left with before Kel left. No tablets, or other devices he could use to communicate. Nothing to cut or break the shackle on his leg. But at least he wasn¡¯t going to run out of painkillers any time soon. Not without a true horror show, at least. In all that time, his captor hadn¡¯t come back. Part of him was relieved. The rest of him was terrified about who or what would walk through the door with her when she did. All that worry was exhausting. But he still didn¡¯t have a freaking pillow. The doctor shifted back down onto his left side, and carefully positioned his uninjured arm under his head while avoiding the metal cuffs on the sides of the bed. Kel hadn¡¯t given him a blanket, and the restraints were as cold as they were unnerving. The less contact he had with them, the better. At least Kel had left the mattress on. Lukas cringed at the thought of sleeping straight on the metal bit. His captor¡¯s ship couldn¡¯t¡¯ve used actual hospital beds¨C¨Cor even maybe just a normal bed¨C¨Ccould it? No. Of course, Kel¡¯s ship had to have the most terrifying operating tables Lukas had ever seen. He really hoped the arm and leg restraints were just for intimidation. The shackle digging into his left ankle whenever he moved wrong was already bad enough. But what if they weren¡¯t? What if this was some kind of organ harvesting operation? He knew that stuff happened: even with universalized health care and an entire fleet devoted to nothing but providing medical assistance free of charge to anyone who asked...there were still people whose ¡°work¡± made asking result in questions they didn¡¯t want to answer. And of course, there were always people who thought the First Responders¡¯ Corps was a Coalition ploy to implant tracking devices in them during surgery, or some other garbage like that. And they believed it so deeply, they¡¯d rather risk dealing with kidnappers and butchers pretending to be surgeons than to come to the Corps for help. It was disgusting. It was heartbreaking. It...was. No matter how many times the Coalition tried to root out those responsible, it still happened. And now Lukas found himself trapped in a mockery of an infirmary, waiting to learn if Kel¡¯s plans for him included clamping some poor person down to an operating table, and handing him a knife, and... The doctor felt bile creep up his throat; he forced himself to deepen the quick, shallow breaths he didn¡¯t know when he¡¯d started making; slowed them down until his heart stopped pounding in his ears. If that¡¯s what this was, he wouldn¡¯t help her. He¡¯d die first. He was probably going to die anyway. Might as well keep his soul. Even if it meant he¡¯d probably end up strapped to the table, alongside whatever other poor people she planned to¨C¨C The door hissed. Lukas tensed. ¡°Doctor.¡± ¡­Crap. She sounded upset. He didn¡¯t know why, but he had a feeling it was about to be his problem. ¡°All the supplies are put away,¡± Lukas said as he carefully sat up. ¡°I can take you on a tour, if you¡¯d...¡± The doctor trailed off as he caught sight of her. No more coat; no armor either. And removing it in favor of a black t-shirt had clearly been a bad choice, given the red-stained cloth his captor held firmly against her large left deltoid. Protruding from its center was what looked a lot like¡­ Yep. That was definitely the handle of a knife. ¡°Shit,¡± Lukas was already on his feet and moving towards her before he realized how dangerous a move that was. Fortunately, her expression stopped him in his tracks, well out of arms¡¯ reach. Up close, for what he realized was the first time in practical lighting where his adrenaline was under control, the doctor couldn¡¯t help but notice the startling contrast of his captor¡¯s eyes. The right seemed to be a mossy green, while the left was an almost unearthly sky blue. A pretty rare bit of genetics there. Or an accident. Or a bold use of cosmetic surgery. Definitely would do jack all to hide her identity, if that was what she was going for. Not the time to stare though. Refocusing, he gestured to the wound. ¡°How do you want me to do this?¡± With a glare, Kel crossed to the operating table closest to the supply shelves, and sat on its edge. ¡°Quickly.¡± After a pit stop at the sterile sink at the back of the room, Lukas retrieved a triage scanner from the shelves, and hurried over to his patient. It was hard to ignore the skittering of metal links behind him with every other step, but he managed not to trip over the chain as he worked. Hopefully, it was something he wouldn¡¯t have to get used to. Hopefully somebody¡¯d find him long before that. ¡°Can you move your hand away a sec?¡± Lukas asked politely. ¡°It¡¯ll confuse the instrument. Promise, I¡¯ll be quick.¡± She glared, but complied. Exposed, it became clear that the blade was some kind of pocket knife: thin and short, with about a centimeter of the blade sticking out. A simple puncture. Seemed to have gone straight in, and deep, and not moved a millimeter since. With the pressure from Kel¡¯s hand gone, the wound seeped, but only a trickle. Good sign. And thankfully, the triage scanner confirmed what Lukas desperately hoped would be the case. ¡°As puncture wounds go, you¡¯re lucky,¡± the doctor gestured for her to reapply pressure. ¡°Not a lot of major vessels in the deltoid. And the cut¡¯s clean, in both senses. I should be able to mend it in one go¨C¨C¡± ¡°Then do it.¡± ¡°Getting there,¡± Lukas confirmed. ¡°Real quick: do you have any allergies?¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Why do you want to know?¡± Why did she think? ¡°I need to make sure I don¡¯t send you into anaphylaxis,¡± Lukas explained. ¡°Are you allergic to any pain killers? Antibiotics? Antivirals¨C¨C¡± ¡°No,¡± Kel growled. ¡°Don¡¯t use any of that. Just fix it.¡± Lukas stared. ¡°I¡­I can¡¯t just¡­Could you please reconsider? Without numbing, rapid soft tissue mending feels like¨C¨C¡± ¡°Come near me with any drug¡ªor even something you claim is water-and I will break the hand holding it.¡± ¡­Well then. He winced. ¡°Fine. Keep the pressure on. I¡¯ll be right back.¡± The doctor glanced at the pre-stocked trauma kit he¡¯d set up for potential future first aid for himself...and made for the shelf-stocked supplies instead. That kit had everything he needed ready to go, but he¡¯d also packed it with antibiotics and painkillers. He wasn¡¯t about to take the whole thing apart just to avoid testing Kel¡¯s threat. A ridiculous threat. To go along with an asinine request. But hey? Patient consent. More than she¡¯d given him thus far, but she wasn¡¯t a doctor. He had standards. And it wasn¡¯t like he¡¯d never worked without painkillers before. After all, one of the Oxoinzan sects¡­ ¡­Well, that might be better than nothing. Deliberately, Lukas unzipped the mesh encasing the shelves containing foldable surgical tray tables, unfolded one, then went to work collecting the instruments he needed. A tissue stitcher would at least sterilize the wound, so they had that going for them. The doctor hated relying solely on radiation for the job, especially on a penetrative wound, but breaking more bones seemed like it would put him on a path out an airlock. ¡­If she died from an infection, was anybody going to come looking for her? Would anyone find him before he starved to death, or would he be trapped, alone and¡­ Lukas suppressed a shudder. Not the time for those thoughts. Just patch her up, and hope. Along with the tissue stitcher, the doctor collected some swabs, bandages, forceps, a mask, gloves, and a stout, rubber-encased metal pipe. He set them all on the wheeled tray, making sure Kel could see every item as he went. Clearly, his patient had trust issues, and this wasn¡¯t the time to ruffle them. Lukas wrapped the mask around his face; looped the ties behind his ears; then made a quick detour to run everything he¡¯d collected under the sterilizing sink at the back of the room. No infections. Not if he could help it. As he headed back to his patient, Kel eyed the tray suspiciously. ¡°What¡¯s the pipe for?¡± ¡°It¡¯s an Oxionzan strength tester,¡± He sighed. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d be willing to hold it while I work.¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°A distraction,¡± Lukas explained. ¡°A lot of Oxionzans from the Northern continent refuse pain meds for pretty much anything. Instead, they squeeze this thing, and try to leave a mark in it to prove their willpower and continued...well...strength. If you won¡¯t let me numb you up, this will at least give you something to focus on besides the pain¨C¨C¡°This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. ¡°Fine. Just get on with it.¡± He nodded, set the strength tester next to her, and tried to finish his prep. The gloves took awhile. He¡¯d had to go a few sizes large on his right hand to fit over his splint, and the hand was really stiff, which made wrestling the glove onto his left hand take longer than he¡¯d like. ¡°Faster.¡± Definitely more of a threat to the order than was necessary. ¡°Sorry,¡± he muttered. ¡°I¡¯m trying. My hand¡¯s just a bit clumsy with the fusion splint.¡± ¡°Then take it off.¡± Lukas wanted to laugh, but wasn¡¯t confident enough that she was joking to risk it. Instead, he shrugged. ¡°Can¡¯t. It¡¯s holding my bones in place.¡± Kel glared. ¡°I thought I told you to fix that.¡± The doctor¡¯s eyebrow shot up. Okay. Not joking. In that case, this seemed like a talk they should have sooner rather than later. ¡°Yeah, you did,¡± Lukas agreed. ¡°And that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m doing. Medicine isn¡¯t magic. I broke two knuckles and sprained my wrist. That doesn¡¯t disappear overnight. Under natural conditions, it could be at least six weeks before the bones are healed enough to take a cast off. Fusion splints whittle that down to two or three. And that only works if it stays put.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Weeks?¡± ¡°Weeks,¡± he repeated firmly. ¡°And that¡¯s just stabilizing the bones enough to use pain-free. Complete remodeling can take years. In the short term, with the splint on and some nice painkillers, I can use my hand. Just not well.¡± The look Kel gave him was somewhere between disbelief, surprise, and disgust. After a moment she huffed, and shook her head. ¡°I knew you were frail, but I suppose I never realized the true extent.¡± Lukas blinked. ¡°It¡¯s not about being frail, it¡¯s just science¨C¨C¡± ¡°Are you truly arguing with your patient?¡± The doctor winced; took a breath. ¡°Right. Sorry. Let¡¯s just¡­¡± Gloved, and as sterile as he could manage in a one-man operation, Lukas asked for his patient to drop the cloth again. She did, then wrapped her now-free hand around the strength tester with an odd huff of amusement. The doctor gingerly wrapped his left hand around the hilt of the blade, half-expecting a threat about what would happen if he tried to use it on her. But she just gripped the strength tester tighter, and glared. ¡­Actually, that was probably threat enough. ¡°This is going to hurt,¡± Lukas warned her again. ¡°Without antibiotics, the tissue stitcher has to do an extra sterilization cycle before I even start any actual mending¨C¨C¡± ¡°I am aware,¡± his patient snapped. ¡°Stop stalling, and pull out the knife. Now.¡± The doctor gritted his teeth, and did what he was told. Kel sucked in a breath as Lukas yanked the blade from her body. In his peripheral vision, the doctor saw the hand wrapped around the strength tester clench. Ignoring that as best he could, Lukas swapped the knife for some fresh gauze, and rapidly wiped up as much stray blood as he could before he picked up the stitcher, and pressed it against the open wound. A hundred years before, a human witnessing the use of tissue stitcher would¡¯ve joked that it was something out of scifi. But it was just science. Highly-specialized, rapid-data-analytics-enhanced science. Kel grunted as Lukas switched the device on, and the doctor couldn¡¯t blame her. Feeling astonishingly tiny tools enter a wound, coordinated by a scanner capable of identifying the severed ends of musculature, and tying those ends back together along layer after layer of tissue, wasn¡¯t exactly a pleasant experience. ¡°Please breathe,¡± Lukas reminded his patient without looking up from the monitor. He got a growl in reply. Also the distinct but perplexing sound of grinding metal. The doctor kept quiet after that. Lukas knew the stitcher only took a few minutes to seal up a puncture wound like Kel¡¯s, but the knowledge that his patient could feel every twitch of the instrument inside her injury made the process feel like it took hours. Finally, the stitcher reached the epidermis, and the doctor set the tool aside; wiped up some more excess blood; then padded and wrapped the wound site in gauze and a bandage. ¡°Alright,¡± Lukas stepped back with a nod. ¡°You¡¯re all patched up, but the tissue¡¯s still fragile. Please don¡¯t try to lift your arm above your shoulder for about a week, and don¡¯t try to exercise it for three. That includes stretching. Or lifting anything heavier than a tea ket...¡± He caught sight of the strength-tester. Or, what was left of it. Kel¡¯s fingers curled perfectly around an enormous dent in the center of the pipe. If the doctor didn¡¯t know better, he would have thought somebody had tried to use the thing as a doorjamb for an airlock. Hairs prickled at the back of Lukas¡¯ neck. ¡­So. One question answered. A dozen more raised. When he¡¯d been pinned to the floor, she could¡¯ve killed him without even trying. She could¡¯ve crushed his throat with a twitch. And this was her way of making sure he knew that, wasn¡¯t it? ¡°Something wrong, doctor?¡± Crap, he¡¯d been staring. ¡°No i¡¯m just¡­¡± Please don¡¯t be a touchy subject¡­ ¡°Those strength-testers¡­they¡¯re not supposed to be single-use.¡± Kel snorted. ¡°Then the Oxoinzans are not nearly as strong as they believe, are they?¡± He tried to laugh. ¡°I guess not.¡± His captor ran a hand across the bandage. ¡°Tell me, doctor: do you always rely on technology to do your work for you?¡± What kind of rude¡­ Keep it safe. Don¡¯t be the pipe. ¡°I use the instruments I have to do what¡¯s best for my patients,¡± Lukas explained. ¡°And this was the best instrument for my injury?¡± She gestured to the stitcher. ¡°Better than Human eyes and hands on a Human issue?¡± ¡°Well¡­yeah?¡± What was she driving at? ¡°The stitcher can scan and treat tissue on a far more refined scale than I could ever hope to without¨C¨C¡± ¡°But if you did not have access to your technology, would you be able treat the injury by hand?¡± ¡°Of course I could,¡± Lukas said. ¡°But it would take way longer to heal, the risk of infection would skyrocket, and you¡¯d probably end up with a scar. And we only have a handful of suture kits in stock. This was the best use of our supplies.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Kel nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Then I believe we¡¯re finished with our practicals for today.¡± He blinked. ¡°Practicals?¡± ¡°Reports can only give one so much insight,¡± she shrugged; winced. ¡°And I also wished to assess your willingness to cooperate.¡± At that, Lukas froze. ¡°Wait, so you...you did this to yourself?¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Did you think I was going to wait until I had two gunshot wounds and a missing appendage before testing your compliance?¡± ...Oh. Well, that made a twisted kind of sense. So maybe this was all she wanted him for? A personal medic, to patch her up whenever her illegal garbage went sideways? It was a weird thing to hope, but compared to some of the more horrific alternatives, he thought he could bear that¡­at least for a little while. At least until somebody found him and brought him home. But even with that puzzle piece clicking into place, one thing Kel said still didn¡¯t make sense. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you meant about reports,¡± Lukas circled back. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve read any research papers on Humans with strength like yours, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re talking about. Are they in a peer-reviewed pub¨C¨C¡± She grabbed him by the throat. Lukas recoiled as images of her last attack careened across his brain, but her grip was too strong to let him pull away. Not again, please, not again... ¡°You play the fool quite well, doctor.¡± Her grip twitched. ¡°But you cannot keep up this charade forever.¡± Now what the hell was that supposed to mean? His captor just stared at him, clearly amused at the fear he knew was written across his face, but there was an edge to her multicolored eyes that Lukas didn¡¯t understand. It wasn¡¯t the first time she¡¯d said something like that, was it? Back on the skipper, she¡¯d said¡­ Wait. Did...did she think he knew her? Was this whole goddamn nightmare seriously some mistaken identity bullshit? ¡°I genuinely don¡¯t know what reports you¡¯re talking about,¡± Lukas insisted. ¡°I really, really think you have the wrong person. I swear, I don¡¯t¨C¨C¡± Another threatening flex of her fingers; Lukas went quiet. ¡°We will be repeating this exercise,¡± Kel told him. ¡°You won¡¯t know when, but I expect you to be prepared. Take what you have learned today, and provide better care next time. Understood?¡± ...The doctor in him wanted to have a long talk with his patient about her instinct to resort to self-harm instead of telling him her medical history...but he wasn¡¯t sure how long he¡¯d be able to breathe if he tried. ¡°Got it.¡± She smirked, and the hand slipped up the side of his face; tousled his hair. ¡°Good boy.¡± Lukas gritted his teeth, but kept still. A moment of humiliation was better than having his ass handed to him again. He could live with this, if it kept him alive long enough to go home. Kel withdrew her hand with a chuckle. ¡°Onto logistics: do you have any allergies?¡± He blinked. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I need my doctor in good working order,¡± she said it like he was a piece of equipment. ¡°And as your little inquiry reminded me, there¡¯s a chance I could poison you without intending to. I¡¯d like to avoid that outcome. Are there any foods that most Humans can eat, but you cannot?¡± Did this mean she was finally gonna give him some food? Thank god. He hadn¡¯t eaten since those tacos the day Kel abducted him. Without windows or clocks or the ability to turn off the infirmary lights to help him sleep, Lukas had already begun to lose his sense of time. All he knew with certainty was that his stubble itched, and he was so, so hungry. ...Though he couldn¡¯t help but be concerned by the ¡°without intending to¡± part. But he didn¡¯t have the luxury of keeping things to himself, did he? And honestly, she had so many other ways to kill him, one more wouldn¡¯t make a difference. ¡°Pineapple,¡± Lukas told her. ¡°That¡¯s it, as far as I know.¡± ¡°Can you treat the allergy with what you have on hand?¡± The doctor chose his words carefully. ¡°I¡¯m gonna beg you not to test me on this, but yes. If I had to.¡± He¡¯d grabbed some yendarninil from the med room during his kidnapping. That would be more than enough to counteract the reaction if she fed him pineapple on purpose...Maybe he could keep an infusion pen full of it hidden by his bed, just to be safe. ¡°Good,¡± she smirked. ¡°Now then, I need your help with an...experiment.¡± ...Nope. Not what Lukas wanted to hear. He nervously shifted his weight away from her, but didn¡¯t risk actually stepping back. ¡°Just because I can counteract an allergen doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s safe to¨C¨C¡± ¡°No, no, we¡¯ve moved on from that,¡± Kel rolled her eyes. ¡°Hold out your arm. The one with the cast.¡± Lukas hesitated. ¡°Why?¡± She just raised an eyebrow, and waited. No winning this one, was there? ¡°Please don¡¯t try to take the cast off,¡± the doctor removed his bloody gloves, set them on the tray, and held out his right hand. ¡°I¡¯m not kidding about the healing time, and if you have any more...tests...planned any time soon, then I need¨C¨C¡± ¡°Rest assured my experiments do not involve intentionally mangling your assets.¡± Her hands were careful as one wrapped around his forearm; the other prodded at the pulsing cast. ¡°You are certain it would be six weeks without this?¡± This seemed like a bad line of questioning. ¡°Yeah.¡± ¡°Is that estimate just for bone? What about skin?¡± Lukas¡¯ heart started racing. ¡°Skin¡¯s...um...well, that really depends on the kind of injury we¡¯re talking¨C¨C¡± She moved so fast, his brain didn¡¯t have time to really register the fact that she¡¯d grabbed the knife from the tray until it sliced a diagonal line across his outer forearm. Lukas screamed. More out of surprise and fear than pain, but after a moment¡¯s shock, there was plenty of that too. He tried to pull away; to retreat across the room far away from his patient and captor, but her grip on his arm was bruisingly tight. Fighting back wasn¡¯t an option either: that knife was still in play, and Lukas didn¡¯t dare try to wrestle it away single-handed. So instead, he clamped his free hand over the wound, and stood there, shaking. Waiting for Kel¡¯s next move. ¡°Oh, calm down,¡± his captor¡¯s voice was mocking. ¡°You would think I cut it off.¡± ¡°Why did you do that?¡± He honestly didn¡¯t know what else to say. Her mouth quirked. ¡°I need to test your claims.¡± ¡°My claims?!?¡± Lukas gaped. ¡°Suture the wound,¡± Kel ordered. ¡°Hand-sewn sutures only. Do not artificially accelerate its healing beyond that. I want to see how long the process actually takes.¡± Was she serious?!? ¡°If you want to know how fast cuts heal, then pick up a goddamn anatomy textbook!¡± Not the smartest thing to blurt, but he couldn¡¯t stop himself. She smirked. ¡°I prefer hands-on learning.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Lukas¡¯ voice cracked. ¡°I¡¯m not your lab rat!¡± Kel¡¯s smile vanished. Her head tilted; her eyes narrowed. She set the knife back on the tray, and rose. Lukas gulped. Even as the logical part of his brain told him they were about the same height, under that glare, the doctor suddenly felt very small. He shouldn¡¯t¡¯ve yelled at her. What did he think that was going to accomplish, with her hand still clamped like a vice around his arm? If she could mangle a metal pipe with just her grip, what could she do to bone? ¡°I...um...¡± Lukas lowered his eyes, suddenly desperate to shift things back onto safer ground. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I yelled. It was¨C¨C¡± Kel punched him in the stomach. In the wheezing blur that followed, Lukas found himself bent over backwards, smack dab across the middle of the operating table. He fought against the vice-like pressure of a palm in the middle of his chest; strained to drag air back into lungs that had been evacuated by the assault; finally stilled as he felt fingers wrap around his throat. Not again. Please, not again... Once more, he squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for the nightmarish squeeze that was clearly coming. ¡°Look at me.¡± He flinched at the sound of her voice; flinched harder when those fingers flexed. ¡°I said, look at me.¡± Lukas complied. Multicolored eyes glowered down at him; though he had no idea why, the rage the doctor saw in them felt exponentially deeper than anything he could have anticipated to have stemmed from his protest. ¡°Deny the truth all you want,¡± Kel¡¯s voice was unsettlingly level. ¡°But dare to hurl that term against me again, and I will kill someone you love. Understood?¡± Confused as all hell, but not about to test that threat, Lukas nodded. At that response, his captor grinned again; leaned down to whisper in his ear. ¡°And make no mistake, doctor: while you are here, you are whatever I want you to be.¡± Chapter 13 Rebecca
Date July 14, 2116
Time 1:28 a.m.
Location Coalition Guardship Fenrir, Miril Nebula
Rebecca had often imagined what it would be like to meet Daniel Card. To have her lifetime of dedication to their cause be honored by an audience with such a great man. To have his brilliant smile sparkle for her, as he praised her work as instrumental to achieving their Humanity-saving goals. To know, once and for all, that everything she had sacrificed, all those she had cared for and still harmed for the continuation of the Embers¡¯ mission, had been worth it. That his ship would be the one to rescue her from that hellhole...that the man himself was going to conduct her debrief...it was the stuff of daydreams and romance novels. But it was real. She was in the room with him. She sat in a comfortable chair in a huge office on Card¡¯s glorious Coalition Guardship, in front of an impressive wooden desk, and Daniel Card sat opposite her. His Phoenix guards stood diligently to either side of his chair, vigilant against any possible dangers. He was as handsome as she¡¯d seen in every recording. It would have been perfect...if they¡¯d let her shower first. She couldn¡¯t smell anything, but as a kid she had spent enough time around an aunt who smoked to know that didn¡¯t mean she didn¡¯t reek. No one who spent days trapped in a room without a functioning toilet or shower was going to smell good afterwards. Now she was feet away from her hero. Reeking. ¡°Are you comfortable?¡± Daniel Card gave her a warm smile. ¡°Need anything before we begin? I can send Aiden out for some drinks? Maybe a mint?¡± Oh dear god, how bad was her breath? Rebecca lowered her head in embarrassment. Maybe if she didn¡¯t point her mouth at him, it wouldn¡¯t reach him as strongly¨C¨C ¡°Oh, no need for the sour look.¡± The captain let out a short laugh; sat back in his luxuriously plush chair. ¡°Aiden? Could you go get those mints? And how about some tea? Would you like some tea, Doctor?¡± She felt her face flush as she nodded. Why hadn¡¯t they let her shower first? This should have been one of the greatest moments of her life. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the smell,¡± Rebecca said quietly as the Phoenix guard passed her. She knew how sensitive their sense of smell was, and even if she somehow didn¡¯t smell too bad to Card, she had to reek to Aiden. ¡°No need to apologize,¡± Card gave her a dismissive hand wave. ¡°I¡¯m the one who didn¡¯t want to wait for a report. So, let¡¯s get started.¡± She hesitated. ¡°Will Doctor Hammond be joining us?¡± ¡°Corey is headed to a specialist back in the colonies to have his vocal cords tended to,¡± Card said with a shrug. ¡°He¡¯ll be writing out his version while he travels, and don¡¯t feel like waiting that long. So, congratulations. You get to walk me through it. Now, what the hell happened down there?¡± That was...not a question Rebecca had expected to answer on her own, but she was suddenly very glad to be the one giving the report. Given the chance, she was certain Doctor Hammond would have tried to put all the blame on her. She was so, so tempted to act in kind. He hadn¡¯t opened the door, after all. Not until their rescue cleared the entire goddamn ship twice over. Paranoid bastard. After that final fucking straw, she didn¡¯t feel like covering for him. Besides, it really was all his fault anyway. But then there was Rick. The source of most of the pooled, sticky blood she¡¯d had to step over as they finally escaped that hellhole. Hammond knew. Just like she knew what he¡¯d done. If one of them told, the other could easily retaliate. Not worth the risk. ¡°The subject...Kel...was in Stage Three when the...incident happened.¡± Best to keep it simple. ¡°We were testing her physical limits, and had yet to find a concrete ceiling. It appears her metabolic and healing abilities are vastly superior to that of any other Phoenix our work has studied. I believe she rapidly gained a heightened tolerance to her sedatives, and managed to break out of her restraints before we could find a viable alternative¨C¨C¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you just put her back on ice?¡± Card cut in. Rebecca winced. ¡°When I say ¡®rapidly gained...¡¯ I mean one day the sedative worked fine, and the next, she was tearing my colleagues to pieces. We had no warning of the change until it was too late.¡± At least, most of them hadn¡¯t. Hammond could have warned them. Short-sighted asshole. ¡°Did she make contact with any of the others?¡± Card¡¯s voice held a nervous edge. Rebecca shook her head. ¡°The three other subjects were all in stasis, in the hidden room Doctor Hammond and I secured. Kel was supposed to be the first through Stage Three. She never saw them. They are ready to transport to a non-compromised location whenever you wish to move them.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Card muttered. ¡°Kel¡¯s going to be enough trouble. Don¡¯t need any other uninitiateds running around out there. Speaking of: did you put a tracker in her?¡± ¡°We did, but I doubt it¡¯s still working,¡± Rebecca said. ¡°She¡¯s exceptionally intelligent, even for one of our subjects. She would have thought to scan herself, and...well, her pain tolerance is quite high as well. I¡¯m betting she cut it out before she left. Or at least found a way to deactivate it.¡± ¡°But you can¡¯t be sure?¡±You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Rebecca shook her head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, sir. The storeroom jammed all sensor readings going in and out. It kept us alive, and kept the other three subjects concealed, but¨C¨C¡± ¡°But you couldn¡¯t check to see if Kel was still out there, let alone if her tracker worked,¡± Card let out an annoyed sigh. ¡°And of course, Kel didn¡¯t exactly let anybody send out a real distress signal when she routed you all. Then we couldn¡¯t even start searching the Dolos until that Responders ship was towed away. This is going to be a tough one to track down...¡± Rebecca frowned. ¡°A Responders ship?¡± ¡°Yeah, apparently Kel sent out a distress beacon of her own,¡± Card shrugged. ¡°Abducted a trauma surgeon from the first Responders ship that came to help. Not hard to guess why. The rest of their crew is fine, but she left their engines dead in the ether before she left.¡± Rebecca blinked. ¡°You let them leave?¡± Card shrugged again. ¡°Well, yeah. They¡¯d sent out their position for all the Coalition to see. And I don¡¯t exactly have non-Coalition Guard energy weapons hooked up to this ship. I have to keep this thing inspection-ready. It was either let them go, or have to explain why I blew them up to the next Responders ship that came to check in on them. Get it?¡± Okay¡­it checked out, but it still worried her. That ship sounded like a huge loose end. But this was Daniel Card. He had to have more of a plan than he would ever reveal to someone like her. ¡°Of course sir,¡± Rebecca nodded. ¡°It would have raised far too many questions.¡± ¡°But the captain of that Responders ship still had plenty,¡± Card shook his head. ¡°Which could be a problem for us, if we can¡¯t find Kel before she does something rash, or if that Responders captain manages to piece something together. Which is actually the second reason I wanted to meet with you today.¡± Rebecca blinked. ¡°I...I¡¯m not sure I follow?¡± ¡°I¡¯d give the job to Corey if I could,¡± Card said. ¡°His history would make him a better fit. But he seems to have come out of his ordeal...well, something¡¯s off with him. Beyond just his voice. We can¡¯t reassign him until we¡¯re sure what.¡± Rebecca¡¯s heart started pounding in her ears. They¡¯d find the heightened metabolism. They¡¯d know what she¡¯d done to save him. And then they¡¯d start asking questions. Questions that would force her to choose between blatantly lying to her people, or protecting herself. Any minute now, they¡¯d ask if¨C¨C ¡°But, we still need a doctor to infiltrate and observe that Responders ship,¡± Card continued. ¡°One that has already been briefed in this mission, and knows who and what we¡¯re looking for. Are you up for it?¡± Rebecca blinked. A...a field assignment? She¡¯d never done anything like that before. She was a researcher. She¡¯d never even been anywhere that wasn¡¯t either part of an Embers colony, or an Embers-controlled vessel. ¡°Are...are you sure you want me?¡± Rebecca cringed even as she spoke. Who was she to question him? Then again, he didn¡¯t know what she¡¯d done. He wasn¡¯t working with all the facts. ¡°Not really a better choice,¡± Card shrugged. ¡°Like I said, we¡¯re not looking to brief anybody new on this mission. Best to keep this quiet, got it? So will you do us a favor and just accept already?¡± A heartbreaking, selfish thought flashed through her mind. She wasn¡¯t a traitor, but she was sure Hammond could make her seem that way if he needed to save his own skin. And if Hammond turned on her, and opened his smarmy mouth about what she¡¯d done to Rick... Well, she knew what happened to traitors. She wasn¡¯t one. She wasn¡¯t. Still, this might be her only chance. She¡¯d never been taught what it took to survive without the benevolence of the Cards. If she could provide useful information to her leaders, while learning what she¡¯d need to start over, hidden somewhere deep in Coalition space, in case Hammond decided to ruin her...that was definitely something she was interested in. ¡°Of course, sir.¡± Rebecca smiled. ¡°It would be an honor.¡± ¡°Wonderful,¡± Card grinned, then looked to the Phoenix guard at his left. ¡°Can you take it from here, Fletcher?¡± The Phoenix guard gave a short nod. ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Good man,¡± Card nodded approvingly back, then gave Rebecca a wink. ¡°The Embers are depending on you, doctor. Have fun.¡± In a moment that made Rebecca question if she was just hallucinating this whole interaction back in that horrid room on the Dolos, Daniel Card suddenly seemed to...glitch. Then vanished altogether. ¡°Cameograms have come a long way, haven¡¯t they?¡± The Phoenix¨C¨CFletcher, Card had said his name was¡ªsaid. There was a quirk to his left eyebrow the doctor took to be amusement. Oh. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one so realistic,¡± Rebecca admitted. ¡°But I thought this was the Fenrir? Isn¡¯t Captain Card¨C¨C¡± ¡°Captain Card is a very busy man,¡± Fletcher sat in Card¡¯s chair. ¡°He had appointments elsewhere that could not be delayed, even for a mission as vital as this. You understand.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± She wanted to be disappointed that she hadn¡¯t actually been in the same room as Captain Daniel Card, but all she could feel was relief that she hadn¡¯t actually filled his nostrils with B.O.... Wait, then what was that mint comment¨C¨C ¡°Aiden should be back with those drinks any minute,¡± Fletcher said. ¡°Along with the necessary documents we will need to modify your background into one suitable for this mission. We¡¯ll need to begin backdating those files as soon as possible. The more time they spend in the First Responder¡¯s systems before your...transfer, the less likely they are to be questioned. And of course, we will need to rehearse your answers to questions you will undoubtedly be asked while undercover. Professional and personal. The next few weeks are going to be long, doctor. And you likely will not be able to return home for months, if not years, once you infiltrate this vessel. Are you certain you are prepared for this?¡± Absolutely not. But she was not dying in prison. Or worse. ...Likely worse. ¡°It¡¯s an honor,¡± Rebecca said enthusiastically. Then winced as Fletcher wrinkled his nose. Chapter 14 Kel
Date July 14, 2116
Time 9:30 a.m.
Location The Coeus
Perhaps forbidding Vond from turning off the infirmary lights while he slept was cruel. However, Kel refused to change her mind. Darkness bred corners where the man could set a trap; potentially incapacitate her with some cobbled-together contraption she had not realized him capable of making from his meager supplies. The light was better. The light was...safer. Besides, it would likely throw off Vond¡¯s circadian rhythm, and his confusion as to when ¡°day¡± and ¡°night¡± were in the void of space was something Kel might be able to use to her advantage at a later date. It was a solid tactic. The soldier strode into the infirmary without any preamble. A bag of supplies she predicted they would need dangled loosely from her left hand. After a short scan for traps, she focused her attention on the shackle still solidly secured around her seemingly sleeping captive¡¯s ankle. Still there. Still perfectly sealed. Some of her tension immediately eased. As long as that scrap of metal was in place, Vond was unlikely to try anything too foolish. No matter how much his accommodations scared him. The operating tables had been some of the more difficult elements to transfer from the facility: the solid frames of the Dolos¡¯ few mobile gurneys proved too long to fit in the bubble created by her personal shield, even expanded to its widest and flimsiest protective radius. She only had to dodge one mangled wreck of metal and padding before opting to take a few of the semi-foldable operating tables in the main lab instead. Amazing the difference just a little more flexibility could make. If Vond did not find them comfortable enough for his liking, he could sleep on the floor. Although from the looks of it, that would not be a problem. As Kel drew closer, it became clear that her captive was, in fact, fast asleep. The complete absence of fear or tension in his features; the absolute limpness of his limbs as he lay curled up on his left side, testified to that. His torso swelled and shrank with even breaths, and with the injuries to the left side of his face half-hidden underneath the crook of his good arm, Vond¡¯s visible expression seemed somewhat serene. Were Kel unaware of his atrocities, she supposed she would have even thought he looked...innocent. Fortunately, she knew enough to see through that illusion. Kel grabbed Vond¡¯s right shoulder, and shook hard. Her captive¡¯s eyes flew open. He let out a squeaking gasp, and attempted to scramble away. Kel maintained the firm grip on his shoulder, forced him onto his back, and easily prevented him from falling off of the operating table. He only resisted a moment more, before seeming to come to his senses. A pathetic reaction, but one she had anticipated correctly. Kel gave her captive a mocking smile. ¡°Good morning, doctor.¡± ¡°M-morning.¡± His quiet voice shook, the abrupt awakening hindering any attempt to mask his emotions. The motley bruises and fading swelling on the left side of his face enhanced the terror in his eyes. A decent starting point for their day. She moved her hand from his shoulder, up into his messy hair, and smoothed it back for him. Wisely, he kept still. ¡°Sleep well?¡± A tense nod. Well, that was one of them. ¡°Good, then we will begin after breakfast.¡± Kel drew an assortment of five ration bars from her bag, and set them on the bed beside him. ¡°No pineapple, I promise.¡± Vond looked hungrily at the food, but his bleary gaze quickly shifted back to her. ¡°What are we doing?¡± A billowing cloud of bed breath reached her nostrils; she took a more few steps back; covered her retreat with a waive of a hand at the supply shelves. ¡°Making portable emergency kits. I want three. And explanations on how to use the equipment inside. But eat something first. I don¡¯t want you distracted.¡± The doctor¡¯s shoulders relaxed. He nodded, and unwrapped the first ration pack in the pile. Chocolate-flavored, from the color and smell. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the first bite. Once again, unsurprising. She had not fed him yet. He had ruined that for himself the night prior with his insensitive comment. But she needed his mind focused for the day ahead, so that punishment had to come to an end. As her captive ate, Kel crossed to the operating table closest to the storage shelves, set down her bag; then withdrew a tablet from it, and began a check of their inventory. ¡°Everything had best still be in its place,¡± she turned her head sharply to give him a threatening glance. He flinched; swallowed a mouthful of ration. ¡°You said I could treat my arm. So your count¡¯s going to be short a roll of bandages and a bit of surgical thread, and¨C¨C¡± ¡°Right,¡± she cut him off. She should have performed inventory after allowing him to treat that particular wound, but his attitude had compelled her to allow him to wallow in his pain for a while. ¡°Did you replace the suture kit that you used?¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s sterilized, and back on the shelf,¡± he sighed. ¡°Not like I was going to try to suture you to death...but it¡¯s there.¡± It might have been a fair point, but Kel did not put anything past him. She checked each suture kit in turn; confirmed that every needle, pair of pliers, and set of sharp scissors was in its proper place. Even the smallest needle could do severe damage in the right spot. She was not about to be blinded due to negligence. As she worked, Kel kept her ears tuned for sounds of clinking metal. It would be nearly impossible for Vond to sneak up on her while trailing that chain, but once again, caution was paramount. However, she heard nothing, and finished her checks in short order. The seal on a pill bottle of painkillers was broken. But it had been the day prior as well. Given the injuries to her captive¡¯s throat, face and arm, she had expected that. And if she wanted him to be useful, she needed his mind focused on something other than pain. However, she believed one of the vials containing what Vond had claimed was an antibiotic had a lower level than the day prior. Why, she was uncertain. A simple cut from a blade that had been in her own body before it slashed his was not the kind of thing infections came from. That only happened from truly filthy weaponry. Perhaps it was different for regular Humans? She would question him about that, if he did not supply an answer himself in short order. But everything potentially dangerous to her seemed to be in place, so there was no need for a truly harsh reaction. Kel crossed back to Vond; frowned as she noticed that, in the entire time she had been going through their inventory, he had only eaten one of the five ration bars which she had supplied. He should have had time for far more than that. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to finish breakfast?¡± The doctor gave her an odd look; glanced nervously at the rations. ¡°I...um...one bar¡¯s enough for now. Don¡¯t want to eat too fast. Thank you. I¡¯ll eat the others later.¡± Perhaps he was rationing; not wanting to risk going without again. She did not intend to starve him to death, but after well over a day without food, she supposed he had no way to know that. Regardless, it was his loss. ¡°Very well,¡± Kel shrugged. ¡°Go brush your teeth, and take care of anything else you need to take care of in the bathroom, and then we will begin.¡± More relief crossed the man¡¯s face. The chain attached to Vond¡¯s ankle clinked noisily as he rose, stiffly made his way to the room at the back of the infirmary, and closed the door as much as the chain would allow. Kel grimaced as sounds echoed out of that small, metal room. Perhaps she could take a small slice out of the bottom of the door to allow him to close it fully. She had no interest in hearing his bodily functions, or seeing him in that state should a shift of the chain swing the door open. Then again, this made it far more difficult for him to attempt to barricade himself in there. And a hole at the bottom of the door would do little to solve the sound issue. Something to think on later. Soon, the doctor returned to the main room. He had taken the time to tame his hair into a neat coif. Whether to prolong his time out of Kel¡¯s sight, or out of an innate fastidiousness, the soldier could not yet tell. The effect made the man look far more fitted to his neon green scrubs than the scraggly man who had entered the bathroom.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Still, it was not a perfect effect. The stubble compounded with the bruises on the left side of his face, reshaping it to something which would have appeared deranged or dangerous on someone with a modicum of power. And his uniform was still wrinkled from sleep and the previous day¡¯s excitement. But, she had not allowed him any way to remedy either eyesore, so she could not reasonably rebuke him for those flaws. Perhaps this slight disorder was better. It would be a constant reminder that he was not what he claimed to be. Still, she would need to provide him a change of clothes soon, before the reek of fearful sweat seeped too deeply into his current set to wash out. Kel needed a medic, not a biohazard. ¡°Alright,¡± Vond drew a deep breath in. ¡°So, you said we were working on emergency¨C¨C¡± ¡°We will get to that,¡± Kel cut him off. ¡°First, let me examine your arm.¡± Vond hesitated for a moment, but made the smart choice, and held his injured arm out to her. As it had the day before, his cast pulsed with a violet glow. His fingers looked slightly less stiff, but she did not pay that much attention. Instead, her eyes shifted to the white bandage wrapped around his forearm. She seized his arm by the elbow, a little harder than necessary, and began to unwrap the bandage. ¡°It¡¯s best to keep it covered for at least a day,¡± the doctor¡¯s voice was shaky, but he didn¡¯t try to pull away. ¡°It helps with healing¨C¨C¡± ¡°How can I have an experiment if I cannot gather data?¡± She didn¡¯t stop, and he didn¡¯t do anything foolish. The last few layers of bandage stuck slightly to each other where a red stain permeated the white cloth. Vond sucked in a breath as Kel made short work of peeling away the remaining gauze covering the actual sutures, but the doctor remained compliant. Finally, Kel saw them. A series of small, black loops, neatly connected with a thread of the same material above the skin, forced the edges of an angry red line across the man¡¯s arm to connect. The cut was framed with pink, inflamed skin; crusted over with yellow and red seepage, and in one place it appeared to still be slightly weeping a clear liquid. ...This was how a wound was supposed to look an hour after the injury, not the next morning. At least, for her. ¡°It hasn¡¯t healed,¡± Kel muttered. ¡°Yeah, I did what you said,¡± Vond claimed. ¡°It¡¯s not my best work. Hand-sewn sutures aren¡¯t something I use much, and I¡¯m not left-handed, but it¡¯ll hold.¡± ¡°Will it scar?¡± Kel had heard of those. Her captive sighed. ¡°Unless you let me treat it with more than painkillers and an antiseptic...then yeah. At least for¨C¨C¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say you could use medications.¡± For a foolish, clearly instinctive moment, his arm twitched in her grip, but seemed to quickly realize the futility. ¡°You just said not to accelerate the healing. I couldn¡¯t stitch myself up without numbing it first, and that won¡¯t affect how it heals. And the healing time I gave you was for a sterile wound, not an infected one, so if you really want your...your experiment...to be accurate, antiseptics are part of the process. I thought it was just implied that I could¨C¨C¡± ¡°You inferred wrong.¡± He had answers for everything, didn¡¯t he? Was this how he explained away his actions well enough to sleep so soundly? ¡°When I give you instructions, I expect them to be followed to the letter, understood?¡± The man¡¯s face pinched in confusion. ¡°You said you wanted my hands ¡®operational.¡¯ Letting an infection set in is a surefire way to risk that. Antibiotics help prevent infections, which seems in line with what you said you wanted me to do. So how am I not following¨C¨C¡± She slapped him. Not hard. Just enough to make her point. Still, a new red mark began to spread across the doctor¡¯s stubbled jawline. Annoying tears welled in Vond¡¯s eyes; his lower lip began to quiver like an infant¡¯s. Pathetic. She grabbed his chin; forced his watery gaze to focus on her. ¡°Do not argue with me. Understood?¡± He nodded stiffly in her grip; she released him; gestured towards the discarded bandages. ¡°Wrap it again.¡± He hesitated; looked towards the back of the room; back to her. ¡°C-can I please use the sterile sink first? And fresh gauze and bandages? It¡¯ll help stop infections.¡± Kel thought about it for a moment. In truth, she had no objections to him using fresh supplies, as long as he did not waste them, and he informed her of exactly what he had used, and how much. Mainly, she wanted to avoid the risk of him creating some incapacitative concoction to use on her with misappropriated medicines. But the fear in his voice when he spoke of infections...well, it indicated that such things were in fact far more dangerous to ordinary Humans than she had initially believed. Perhaps she could find a copy of a Human anatomy text, to compare his claims to the known scientific reality...if she could find the time. Regardless, Vond had asked politely. And was obediently waiting for an answer. Best to err on the side of caution. ¡°Tell me exactly what you use,¡± Kel ordered. ¡°I will note it in the inventory. The count had better be correct tomorrow.¡± Vond wiped his eyes on the shoulder of his neon green scrub top, nodded, and clinked off to the back of the room. Even her limited medical knowledge, it quickly became clear that the man was not attempting to trick her. At least, not about the appropriate treatment of his injury. The wound was re-wrapped in short order, and the old gauze discarded in a small biohazard bin affixed to the side of the rear sterile sink. ¡°So, um, what kind of environment are you expecting to be in when you use the emergency kits?¡± He re-approached her cautiously, but without needing coaxing. ¡°There¡¯s only so much room, so it¡¯d help to know if you plan to need them while working on the ship, or if you¡¯re going to a planet or moon where you might need a specific¨C¨C¡± ¡°What makes you believe we are on a ship?¡± She kept her face blank. Predictably, the man winced. ¡°It¡¯s either a ship, space station, or some kind of base. I...well, if the kits are for any of those, then I probably don¡¯t need to know which. They should be about the same.¡± Kel maintained her poker face. ¡°Should be?¡± ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got some hazards here that I don¡¯t know about, then yes,¡± Vond claimed. ¡°Just basic kits for basic accidents in a place without dangerous flora or fauna. Stuff to treat a bump on the head, or a cut, or burns, or...well...laser burns? With your...line of work...I¡¯m guessing laser burns would be more common.¡± Her ¡®line of work...¡¯ Well, this could prove insightful. Kel tilted her head. ¡°And what exactly do you believe my ¡®line of work¡¯ to be?¡± He shifted uncomfortably. ¡°I¡¯d rather not guess.¡± ¡°Oh, so you enjoy being in pain?¡± Another wince. The ring on his left hand glinted as he absently brushed the bruises on his throat. ¡°I...think you¡¯re a pirate. Stealing what you can, where you can...and, sometimes, who you can, to make a fortune off people without your firepower or...or strength. But you¡¯re definitely not with one of the cartel crews. They don¡¯t leave survivors, and you said you didn¡¯t kill anyone on my ship. So maybe you¡¯re pretty new at it, and trying to make a name for yourself by leaving a bunch of witnesses behind, or maybe¨C¨C¡± ¡°And if you are right,¡± Kel allowed herself to smirk at the misdirection, ¡°then what does that make you?¡± A coward. A spineless, weakling tool, too afraid of being injured to refuse her demands. A¨C¨C ¡°Your slave.¡± Kel blinked. ¡°Beg pardon?¡± Vond drew a deep breath; let it out. ¡°That¡¯s what I am, right? I¡¯m ¡®whatever you want me to be,¡¯ like you said yesterday. You don¡¯t need to hurt me anymore. I¡¯ll do what you want. I¡¯ll be your medic, and I won¡¯t try to run. I¡¯ll be¨C¨C¡± ¡°No,¡± Kel glared. ¡°You are not a slave. You are a prisoner.¡± The doctor hesitated; then shook his head; spoke slowly; deliberately. ¡°Forcing a prisoner to work makes them a slave. The definition fits, whether you like it or¨C¨C¡± She raised a fist. He flinched, and stared at the floor. Kel felt a pit in her stomach. ...Oh. Oh no. She lowered her hand. A few of his points...might...have merit. But she was still in the right. After everything he had done, she could be treating him far, far worse, and still be in the right. And that...word...she refused to believe it truly fit his situation. After all, if it did, then what would that make her? ¡°You are a prisoner,¡± Kel said it like an order. ¡°Understood?¡± Vond lowered his arms. He gave her a look that momentarily made Kel believe he was going to continue his foolish argument...but then simply sighed, and nodded. ¡°Understood, Kel. So, emergency kits?¡± Better. ¡°If you would be so kind.¡± Chapter 15 Sam
Date July 18, 2116
Time 12:35 Human Circadian Standard
Location Spacedock 59
Being towed was a frustrating experience for the entire Nightingale crew. Sam knew that. But there wasn¡¯t exactly anything they could do about it. When a ship as large as the Nightingale had to be towed, it was a days-long process. After all, the Apgar was meant to be a small, swift, roving maternity ward, not a disaster-relief carrier like Sam¡¯s pride and joy. The fact that they had the engine power to make the trip at all was a testament to the Responders¡¯ dedication to their mission. But even though they had the engine power, the crew of the Apgar still had to navigate extra-wide wormholes to accommodate both ships without the risk of collision. Such wormholes didn¡¯t exactly take the shortest routes. No matter how much Sam wished otherwise. The trip was made lonelier for Sam, and the other boniest remains of a skeleton-crew that remained aboard the Nightingale for the ride. For their safety, nearly all of the Nightingale¡¯s compliment had to spend the trip back to Spacedock 59 on the Apgar, leaving just enough to monitor the damaged systems, and ensure they didn¡¯t blow up on the way back. It wasn¡¯t exactly a restful ride. Not with the stress of maintaining her ship compounded by a continuing grief over the likely permanent loss of her friend. But they made it. Eventually. And after finally coming out of the skip, Sam watched from the bridge of her half-dead ship as Spacedock 59 emerged from the void. Spacedock 59 was, out of all the hundreds of Responders stations in the void, Sam¡¯s favorite. That is was the Nightingale¡¯s home port was beside the matter. The fact that the thing literally looked like a bioluminescent jellyfish drifting through the void was what clinched the title. Most of the Responders¡¯ stations were heavily nature-inspired, in one way or another. An end result of necessity, in some ways. After all, Sam had to assume that if one were to put together a team of the brightest architectural and engineering minds from across the known galaxy ¡ª at least the ones willing to leave their homes for months or years on end to live on a cramped construction carriers ¡ª tell them to create massive structures that will stand in vivid, highly-visible contrast to the void of deep space, and give them a high budget to build something that will last...well, who wouldn¡¯t be motivated to get creative with the design? No two Spacedock stations looked the same, but most of them resembled some kind of life form. Really helped create that silhouette. Spacedock 59¡¯s jellyfish was truly an engineering marvel. No matter how brutal or tragic the call, returning to that port, watching the billowing outer drapery of brilliant light beckon ships to a pocket of life in the nothingness, an oasis far from any habitable world...it always made Sam think back to the trips to the aquarium her father used to take her to back on Earth. Holding his hand, and squealing with delight as a cluster of glowing jelleyfish, or a shock of electric eels, or even a manatee, passed by inches from her face on the other side of thick glass. Spacedock 59 never failed to make her feel at least a sliver of that wonder. Even in the middle of grief, she loved this place. But she also had a lot of work to do. Even though she had sent her written report ahead the moment she could access the Apgar¡¯s communications system, her Responders Coordinator on Spacedock 59 wanted to recap it all again in person. So, less than an hour after ensuring her crew was settled into yet another temporary set of accommodations in one of the dock¡¯s tentacles, Sam sat in Coordinator Anya Shuttle¡¯s office on Spacedock 59, and walked through the details of the pirate attack. Again. ¡°And she used a personal skipper,¡± Anya Shuttle shook her head. The Coordinator came from a short, but prolific, line of Humans who had chosen to make the void their permanent home. One whose parents thought themselves quite clever...but really just set their daughter up for a lifetime of bad jokes, and an encyclopedic knowledge of spacefaring culture. ¡°Did she have a Skip suit? Was there any sign of one for Doctor Vond?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Sam repeated. ¡°The ship was dark when she boarded, and no one saw how they left. And I¡¯ve...never actually seen a personal skipper in action.¡± ¡°Right, I¡¯m sorry,¡± Shuttle rubbed her face in her hands. ¡°Just being thorough. Twenty years, and our region¡¯s never had an abduction from one of our ships. We¡¯ve put in so many safeguards...but safeguards can¡¯t stop everything.¡± Clearly not. ¡°She had to have had something,¡± Sam concluded. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she would take Lukas with her without a way to keep him alive for the skip.¡± ¡°It would make sense,¡± Shuttle agreed. ¡°Unsettling as it is to think about, doctors, nurses and medics are considered valuable hostages. Pirates know that even if they can¡¯t get a ransom, they can usually still...well...put them to good use. Usually for a very long time. So I think for now it¡¯s safe to assume that wherever he is, Vond is still alive.¡± For now. Sam suppressed a shudder. Alive until he refuses to do some barbaric act his captor demands of him. Alive until he can¡¯t save someone his captor wants him to save. Alive until...well... There were so, so many variables. But Sam had to hold onto hope. ¡°We¡¯ve already passed your report on to the Coalition Guard,¡± Shuttle continued with a frown. ¡°Although Captain Card claims his vessel did not in fact rendezvous with yours...despite the video evidence to the contrary. He¡¯s claiming it must have been a cameogram.¡± ¡°Commander, we logged his ship on our sensors,¡± Sam reminded her. ¡°If that wasn¡¯t Captain Daniel Card¡¯s Guardship, then someone made an exact replica of it for this ruse. Which seems more likely?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not saying I believe him, Sam,¡± Shuttle put up a placating hand. ¡°Just that it¡¯s going to be hard to prove. I¡¯ll be honest, I¡¯m not sure we can expect a lot of help from them on this.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! The captain heard her pulse in her ears. ¡°So you¡¯re saying Card is actively impeding the investigation?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not saying that,¡± Shuttle said swiftly. ¡°But I¡¯m doubting the Guard is going to openly contradict one of their most famous...and politically connected...captains. There¡¯s too much at risk for them.¡± ¡°Risk,¡± Sam couldn¡¯t stop the bitter snort. ¡°You saw the video, Anya. Whatever happened on the Dolos, Card already knows who did it. If he¡¯d just share that information with us, I could at least give Lukas¡¯ family an idea of why he was taken. We might even be able to help them narrow down the leads. But to be honest, deliberately withholding that information makes me think¨C¨C¡± ¡°Please don¡¯t finish that sentence,¡± Shuttle cut her off. ¡°The last thing we need is for the Cards to believe we¡¯re accusing them of something. That¡¯s a surefire way to not only ensure they never open up about the investigation, but also that they try to spin this whole mess as being our fault. People need to trust the Responders, or our entire mission will fall apart. And we can¡¯t have that. Especially not while we¡¯re still fighting back that nightmare plague on Rulia.¡± Sam clenched her jaw. ¡°Doctor McKenzie Alper, Lukas¡¯ wife, is coordinating the vaccination efforts for that plague. How is she supposed to focus on that when her husband is missing?¡± Shuttle grimaced. ¡°I am not trying to cause trouble, Anya,¡± Sam pressed on. ¡°But why would Daniel Card be so cryptic about his mission? And on an almost more-concerning note, why was the son of a war criminal given an assignment close to his father¡¯s separatist community?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure it wasn¡¯t intentional.¡± Shuttle¡¯s tone did not match her words. ¡°Besides, he is a sworn officer of the Coalition Guard. If we can¡¯t trust the people sworn to uphold interstellar law, then who can we trust?¡± Sam took a breath. That was a can of worms she did not want to get into today. But if there was a chance the Cards had anything to do with Lukas¡¯ kidnapping, she could not ignore it. ¡°You and I both know it would not be the first time a Card sibling concealed information to protect their family¡¯s name and fortune. The captain¡¯s sister is on air at least once a week, claiming that the crimes their father clearly committed were fabricated. And his younger brother¨C¨C¡± ¡°Is not Daniel Card,¡± Shuttle cut in. ¡°I know you¡¯re upset, Healy, but please be patient. We¡¯ll get to the bottom of this, but we can¡¯t have our captains running around making unsubstantiated accusations. Especially not about a Card. Besides, we don¡¯t have any idea what investigations the Guard might be conducting. They might be tracking an entire ring of bio-terrorists for all we know. No one is going to trust us if we wind up sabotaging that investigation with politically-charged accusations.¡± Sam bit the inside of her cheek. She understood that Commanders had to deal with the politics that came with running a contingent of Responders ships, but there had to be some middle ground. Sam couldn¡¯t just sit there while one of her oldest friends rotted away in some pirate hellhole. She¡¯d pushed him to go back out into the void. She wouldn¡¯t let it keep him. ¡°So what am I supposed to tell Lukas¡¯ family?¡± Sam pressed. ¡°That the Guard¡¯s taking care of it, but don¡¯t ask them for updates, because we¡¯re worried about bad press?¡± Shuttle grimaced again. ¡°We don¡¯t know anything, Sam. Everything we¡¯ve talked about here is just conjecture. I promise you, we will do our own investigation, but making sense of random acts of cruelty like this takes a lot more time and evidence than we have right now. If you have anything substantial we can follow up on that doesn¡¯t revert to finger-pointing, I¡¯m all ears. Otherwise, I need you to sit tight while your ship is being repaired. Do not talk about your suspicions with anyone. Especially not Doctor Vond¡¯s family.¡± ¡°Why are you assuming it was random?¡± It fell out of Sam¡¯s mouth before she could fully stop it. Shuttle raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re not suggesting this Kel person directly targeted Doctor Vond, are you?¡± ¡°With all due respect, Commander, did you actually read my report?¡± Sam kept her voice calm. ¡°Right before everything shut down, the pirate claimed she wanted our ¡®monster.¡¯ Not a ¡®doctor.¡¯ Not ¡®supplies.¡¯ Our ¡®monster.¡¯ What other inference should I get from that, other than this being a targeted abduction?¡± The Coordinator blinked; looked down at a tablet on the desk between them; flicked through a streak of text on the screen. ¡°You¡¯re right, your report did mention that. In passing. Do you think this could be a plague-denier? Someone who thinks taking Doctor Alper¡¯s husband will force her to say what they want to hear about AX-579?¡± Well, that would explain a lot, but not everything. ¡°That could be it,¡± Sam hesitated. ¡°But why would that make Lukas a ¡®monster?¡¯ A word like that makes it seem much more...personal.¡± Which also didn¡¯t make sense. Lukas was a good man. Sam had known him since elementary school back on Earth, and there wasn¡¯t a single phase of his life where he¡¯d been anything other than dedicated to helping others. Not even at his worst. Not even when¡­ Oh. Oh no. ¡°What if this is about the Cori?¡± Sam said. ¡°What if this Kel isn¡¯t actually a pirate, but someone who blames Lukas for...for what happened?¡± It still wouldn¡¯t explain why Card was being so cryptic, but it still fit. She wished it didn¡¯t, but it did. Shuttle tensed; drew a deep breath; let it out. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, Sam, then I don¡¯t think we¡¯re getting him back.¡± Probably not. Water stung at the corners of her vision. She knew the odds. But she couldn¡¯t give up that easily. She wouldn¡¯t. ¡°I need to call McKen...Doctor Alper after this,¡± Sam cleared her throat. ¡°It¡¯s been put off for too long already. I can ask if she¡¯s been in touch with the other survivor. See if he¡¯d gotten any threats, or knows of anyone holding a grudge¨C¨C¡± ¡°No, Sam,¡± Shuttle cut her off again. ¡°You are a Skipper captain, not a detective. You can tell Doctor Alper that her husband was abducted, if the Coalition Guard hasn¡¯t already been in touch. You can tell her to expect a call from them if they haven¡¯t. You can tell her that we¡¯re sharing everything we know with the Guard¨C¨Cand I will pass along your ideas for a personal motive for the kidnapping¨C¨Cbut we need to leave the investigation up to the people trained to do it. Understood?¡± Absolutely not. There was no way in hell that Captain Daniel Card, son of that swindling, lying, cult-inciting, fugitive Henry Card had a good reason for denying his presence at the Dolos disaster, and there was no way in hell a real investigation was going to come out of the Coalition Guard if he was running the show. Lukas deserved better than to be swept under the rug for some stupid political game. Someone had to actually look into this who gave a damn. But saying that wouldn¡¯t help Lukas make it home. Sam forced a tight smile on her face, and nodded. ¡°I understand completely.¡± Chapter 16 Kel
Date July 19, 2116
Time 4:03 a.m.
Location The Coeus
An alarm. Quiet, but urgent. And more than enough to tear Kel from sleep with an agonizing abruptness. A gun was in the soldier¡¯s hand before she was even fully awake. She reached for the tablet next to her pillow, and silenced the alarm as she kicked her way out from the covers. Cameras. She needed to install cameras. The only cameras she had been able to liberate were imbedded inside tablets. Decent quality footage, but tedious to convert into a practical security network. To avoid constant maintenance, they would need to be wired into the ship¡¯s limited power. Power which she was not certain she could spare at the moment. But walking out blind was also far, far less than ideal. Unwilling to expose her position without as much intelligence as she could gather first, Kel made her way quietly through her dark quarters, and pressed her ear to the door. Something, or more likely someone, was moving outside her room at great speed. The sound ebbed and swelled, accompanied by a metallic rattle which took Kel a moment to place. When she did, she could not decide whether to laugh in relief, or shoot him for the annoyance. Perhaps both would be appropriate. The soldier waited for Vond¡¯s footfalls to approach once more, then opened the door, and pointed her gun straight at the silhouette of a head. The doctor gave a startled scream, dropped to a crouched ball on the floor, and covered his head with his arms. ¡°It¡¯s me!¡± Vond called from his pathetic position. ¡°Just me! I¡¯m sorry, I¨C¨C¡° ¡°It is four in the morning,¡± Kel growled as her eyes adjusted to the bright light coming from the infirmary opposite her quarters. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Vond peeked up at her through his arms. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were...um...I didn¡¯t realize you slept so close¨C¨C¡± ¡°Logic and practicality,¡± she cut him off; lowered the gun. ¡°There is a sensor above the infirmary door. Every time someone crosses that threshold, I receive an alert. Try to escape, and you will be dead before you reach the end of the corridor.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to escape,¡± Vond slowly rose; placatingly kept his hands in front of him. ¡°I¡¯m just having trouble sleeping with the light on. The Human body¡¯s not made to go days without darkness. The corridor¡¯s a bit darker than the infirmary, and I thought that, plus a little exercise, might help.¡± ¡° acquire it inside the infirmary,¡± Kel made her ire clear. ¡°With the door closed. Come into the hallway for anything other than an emergency again, and you won¡¯t walk for a month. Understood?¡± A pained look crossed the doctor¡¯s face. ¡°Can I at least open the door when I want?¡± She furrowed her brow. ¡°What would be the point?¡± The man opened his mouth; paused; lowered his head with a sigh. ¡°No point, really. It¡¯s just...well, like I said, less light. And, um, it¡¯s kinda a change of scenery.¡± ¡°As would be an airlock.¡± Annoyed eyes flicked back up to her own. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to cause problems. I¡¯m just bored. What else am I supposed to do with my time, if you won¡¯t give me so much as a book¨C¨C¡± ¡°It is not your time.¡± She was not awake enough for this. ¡°But if you insist on bemoaning the fact that I leave you in peace most of the day, I could always find you a companion. Would your spouse be good company?¡± Vond froze. ¡°My what?¡± ¡°Did you truly think I failed to notice the ring?¡± She gestured to the simple band around the traditional finger. ¡°Currently, I am limited in my abilities to scour the First Responders Corps¡¯ records for their identity, but if you continue to try my patience, I will put in the extra effort.¡±Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. Vond paled. ¡°Please leave her alone. I-I¡¯ll stop. You don¡¯t have to¨C¨C¡± ¡°Close the door, and go to sleep. Now.¡± Clearly defeated, her captive obeyed. Kel mirrored the motion with her own door. Vond was not wrong, the light emanating from the infirmary was far, far brighter than the emergency light used in the corridor, or even in her own quarters. It took a moment for her eyes to readjust to the faint red light. When Kel last found herself working on the Coeus¡¯ construction, prior to her capture, furnishing true crew quarters had been so far down the list of tasks to complete it had almost seemed laughable. But with the materials liberated from the Coalition facility, Kel had been able to at least construct a simple, comfortable space for herself. There were shelves for finished prototypes, and miscellaneous odds and ends she needed for her work, bolted into the wall to the right of the door; storage containers packed with food lined the other. She had even managed to cobble together a miniature cooking unit, which she placed in the corner to the left of the rations. Kel had almost forgotten what coffee tasted like. Now she had at least eight cups a day. It was wonderful. The right wall held a comfortable, if small, chair, pulled up in front of a large work desk. The rear right of the room held the door to a fully functioning bathroom. Unlike her prisoner¡¯s facilities, she had taken the time to ensure her personal quarters had hot water at her disposal. The rear left corner held her favorite extravagance: a bed comprised of multiple layers of supple foam. She locked the door behind her, and quickly crossed the room again; crawled back under the plush covers. After so long sleeping¨C¨Cif one could call it sleep¨C¨Con operating tables and infirmary beds, taking the time to build a proper frame for the stolen mattress had been well worth the effort. Unfortunately, sleep refused to return. Instead, the soldier¡¯s mind replayed her conversation with her captive. Had it been too early to threaten Vond¡¯s apparent wife? Threats like that only retained their sting if evidence of their efficacy could be provided. Evidence which she, unfortunately, lacked. Only one Lukas Vond in the First Responders Corps¡­but the public records of their employees only included names, positions, awards, and ship assignments. Everything else was buried under so many layers of firewalls and protections Kel dared not attempt to hack her way in. It was not worth jeopardizing her mission simply to track down her prisoner¡¯s wife in more public databases.. But Vond did not know her priorities. And if she could use that uncertainty to trick him into revealing more information, she might be able to safely narrow the search. She had to wonder what kind of woman would marry a monster like Vond. Was she oblivious? Was the man such a master manipulator that his wife truly believed she had found her soulmate in his frail frame? Or did she know what he was? Did she know about his real work? That his respectable position on the Nightingale was simply a veneer for something far more sinister? Was she afraid of him, wherever she might be? Or was she complicit as well? ...No. Likely not. To assume everyone in Vond¡¯s life was as cruel as he would be to veer into blatant conspiracy theories. His wife was most likely innocent, and Kel would not harm her without evidence to the contrary. A fact which, once again, Vond did not need to know. Let the man believe the worst of her. Let her have as much leverage as Humanly possible... A shudder of revulsion passed through the soldier. She truly hoped his wife was Human. Disturbed further by that thought, Kel sat up, and collected her tablet. If she could not sleep, there were far more pressing tasks to contemplate than the proclivities of her captive. Like decrypting more of the trove of data she had collected from the Dolos. Or checking in on the second virus she had hidden deep within the code of the Nightingale¡¯s systems. It would not harm the vessel. It simply allowed her to intercept their communications records, if not the message¡¯s contents. She had, after all, only had a short window to work, and the more complex her virus¡¯ mission, the more likely its detection. Her enemies tracing the virus¡¯ transmission back to her location was a too great a risk, were that to happen. And the Coeus was still far too early in its construction to fight off a true attack. Kel sighed, and rose to make her ninth cup of coffee. So much work to do. So many potential leads to explore. So little time for rest. Chapter 17 Lukas
Date Sometime in July
Time Afternoon?
Location Good question
The shackle hurt. Lukas sat on his ¡°bed,¡± and prodded at the tender, raw and blistered skin peeking out from underneath the metal band. When the thing had first been clamped into place, he¡¯d had a sock between the metal and his skin. But then he¡¯d tried taking up jogging to cure his boredom, and not only had he fallen on his ass a few times when the smooth cloth on his feet didn¡¯t quite find purchase on the infirmary¡¯s metal floors...but the socks had also gotten really sweaty. And it turned out taking them off to rinse in the sink had made it almost impossible to slip one back under the shackle. So, he set the cleaned sock¡ªit had been a gift from his daughter, Ruth, and had cartoon blue glaucuses all over them, and he didn¡¯t want to lose track of it¨C¨Cin a spare storage cubby, and left his left foot bare. The right sock followed shortly after, as he realized how much worse his balance became with each foot gripping the floor differently. It was disgusting. He knew it was disgusting. Who the hell knew what his feet might be coming into contact with on the infirmary floor. Nothing good, that was for sure. But, once again, Kel hadn¡¯t exactly given him a lot of alternatives. Crate after create of supplies, and she hadn¡¯t acquired any PPE other than a few boxes of gloves and masks. No surgical gowns. No hair caps. Not even goggles or a face shield. And definitely no shoe covers. So, barefoot medicine it was. Unless he could manage to work some gloves onto his feet...which...well¡­ No. That would just make his small supply run out faster. Not to mention trip him up again. Lukas grimaced. No good options. And now he had ankle blisters. ...Please, please let this place be relatively sterile. He wasn¡¯t quite sure how Kel expected him to be useful if he got an infection. No more jogging...or pretty much any unnecessary movement around the infirmary. It wasn¡¯t safe until the blisters healed or hardened. Given how aggravated the area was, hardened would probably be the way it went. Was he going to scar from this? Was he going to have to live with a discolored ring on his ankle forever? Would he live long enough for that to even be a concern? Lukas shuddered, and hugged his knees to his chest with his good left hand. The chain clinked at the movement, and a couple cold links brushed against his bare feet. He didn¡¯t bother to readjust. The cold and the twinges coming from his ankle at least jolted his system a little. Gave him some variety. There weren¡¯t enough ceiling panels to bother counting them again. Ten. They were big. A few had cutouts for the lights, but that was the only variety to them. They all looked pretty new. Same number of floor panels too. The bathroom technically made eleven apiece, but he went back and forth on whether or not they counted. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to go over their inventory again. It hadn¡¯t changed in days, minus some pain meds. No point wasting his time, or getting up and hurting himself more. ¡°Just say something,¡± Lukas muttered to himself. ¡°Just try again. Tell her that you need something to do, or you¡¯re gonna lose it...¡± Like Kel would care. Like it wouldn¡¯t put McKenzie at risk. The doctor rubbed his wedding band with his thumb, and grimaced. Kel never should have seen it. He should¡¯ve taken it off before the Nightingale reached the Dolos. He was prepping for possible casualties, that ring should¡¯ve been off his finger and in his storage cubby long before they reached the ship. Why hadn¡¯t he taken it off? Why did he always put that off till the absolute last minute? How could he have been so careless¡­ Stop. Lukas took a deep breath; let it out. Too long. He was spending too long in his own head, and it wasn¡¯t helping. He could almost hear his therapist trying to pull him out of his spiral. Doctor Valez was always great about that¡­ He hoped somebody had told her what¡¯d happened. He didn¡¯t want her to think he¡¯d just...just given up. At least he knew this wasn¡¯t about McKenzie. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to him at first. But then Kel¡¯d threatened to go after his ¡®spouse,¡¯ and the thought that this could actually be some kind of political kidnapping screeched into his brain. But that only made sense if Kel already knew who his wife was...and she¡¯d almost immediately made it clear that wasn¡¯t the case. So, back to square one on that puzzle. But at least he could probably take ¡°interstellar bioterrorism¡± off the list of reasons he¡¯d been kidnapped. Whether that improved or worsened his odds of ever going home, he couldn¡¯t really say¨C¨C The infirmary door hissed open. Lukas tensed. ¡°Good afternoon, doctor.¡± He forced a small smile on his face. After what he was pretty sure was at least five or six days spent with her, he¡¯d started picking up on some patterns. She seemed to like politeness a lot. A bit weird for a pirate, but he¡¯d take any advantage he could get. ¡°Afternoon,¡± he gave her a small nod. ¡°Things going well out there?¡± ¡°Quite,¡± Kel replied. ¡°I have a number of promising leads. If they prove fruitful, this may all be over quickly.¡± Lukas tilted his head. ¡°Leads? So you¡¯re looking for something?¡± She glared. ¡°You already know exactly who I am searching for. Stop pretending otherwise.¡± No pretending about it. But she clearly didn¡¯t believe him, and it wasn¡¯t the time for an argument. He never won those. ¡°If you really think that...¡± Shut up, bad question. Shut up! ¡°Then why haven¡¯t you asked me anything?¡± His captor stared at him. Her expression slowly morphed into a grim smile. Shit. No universe where that was good, was there?¡± ¡° Equipment. Just how many euphemisms was she going to come up with? ...Once again, not the time. Pride had to wait. There were more important things to deal with. ¡°Speaking of...equipment...¡± Lukas stuck his left foot out in front of him on the bed, and pulled up the cuff of his pants to make the shackle and surrounding red skin clearly visible. ¡°I¡¯m having a bit of trouble with this thing. The last couple days, it¡¯s been rubbing a lot, and it¡¯s all blistered now. If I can¡¯t stop the rubbing, it¡¯s going to get hard to walk. Honestly, it already hurts to try. And if it gets infected¨C¨C¡± She crossed over to him, grabbed him by the left calf, and pulled the wound close to her face. He barely avoided falling off the side of the table in the process, but did end up awkwardly splayed out on his back. The blisters on his ankle screamed as his captor shifted the shackle around to get a better look at the wound. Lukas bit his lip, and fought back tears as blood and pain rushed to his head. After a moment, she glared down at him again. ¡°How could you let it get this bad?¡± He hadn¡¯t been concealing it. He just didn¡¯t mention it.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. She probably wouldn¡¯t appreciate the distinction. ¡°I-I was afraid,¡± Lukas answered honestly. ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to think I was complaining about nothing¨C¨C¡± ¡°Never conceal something like this from me again. Understood?¡± He nodded, and she dropped his leg without fanfare. ¡°How do you need to fix this?¡± Lukas sat up again, but hesitated to answer. Only one real way, but she wasn¡¯t going to like it. ¡°Could you...¡± Why was he even asking? She was either going to laugh in his face, or hurt him again¡­ ¡°Could you take the shackle off? Just for a little bit?¡± Reading the expression she gave him was like trying to read a concrete block. He swallowed. ¡°Please, I need to treat the sores before an infection sets in, or the blisters get any worse. And I can¡¯t get to them with the shackle in the way. It won¡¯t take long. I promise, I won¡¯t try any¨C¨C¡± ¡°Show me your arm.¡± Not quite sure where she was going with this, he complied. He hadn¡¯t unwrapped the cut on his right arm for a few days anyway, and although his scans said it was healing just fine, it was time for another visual inspection. As cuts go, the wound looked great. The worst of the redness had faded, and the scabs were hardened, and beginning to be covered over by thin layers of new skin. It wasn¡¯t even seeping anymore. Still made him ill to look at. Still would scar. But it could¡¯ve been much worse. He held it out for his captor to see; she grabbed his elbow¨C¨Cmercifully not the purple fusion splint still covering his right hand and wrist¨C¨Cand pulled the limb closer to her face. ¡° days,¡± Kel muttered. ¡°Six days, and there¡¯s still this much damage. You truly heal slowly, don¡¯t you?¡± Lukas frowned. ¡°It¡¯s actually healing really well. The scar might not even be that visible¨C¨C¡± ¡°But it will scar?¡± Why was she asking? It wasn¡¯t like she actually cared. Answering was still the safest option though. He sighed. ¡°It was a deep cut, and I¡¯m not the best at hand-sewn sutures. Yes, it¡¯s going to scar.¡± She held him there a moment longer before releasing him, and stepping back. ¡°How long would you need the shackle removed?¡± Oh. Okay then. ¡°Ten minutes or so,¡± Lukas hedged on the high end for safety. ¡°Enough time to treat any really raw spots, coat it in a salve, and wrap some bandages around it to stop the rubbing from doing any more damage. I¡¯ll have to change them from time to time too, like with the arm. Infection risk.¡± To his wary surprise, she nodded. ¡°Stand up. Put your hands on the table. Feet apart.¡± Relief fought with annoyance as he complied. He hated these pat-downs, and it bugged him that she thought he was stupid enough to conceal a weapon or infuser pen or something when they both knew what a terrible idea that would be. But he wasn¡¯t about to risk his treatment to complain. After an uncomfortable few moments, she finally stepped back. ¡°What supplies do you need?¡± The doctor hesitated. ¡°Do you want it to heal naturally, or can I speed it up¨C¨C¡± ¡°I need you able to walk, not run,¡± she cut him off. ¡°Do not test the limits of my generosity.¡± Wasn¡¯t exactly hard to do. ¡°Then I need gloves, gauze, a tube of Sporeneon cream to fend off infections, and a clean bandage,¡± he said instead of the thing that¡¯d get him hit. ¡°And a clear path to the sterile sink, or a basin of water from there and some more gauze. Wounds like this should really be rinsed off before¨C¨C¡± ¡°Over there,¡± She grabbed the back of his scrubs, and pushed him towards the forward-center of the room, a space free of any equipment or beds. ¡°Sit.¡± Lukas limped to the space, and did as he was told. He looked up nervously at his captor, and waited. She unholstered her gun. Lukas stopped breathing. Oh god. She was gonna kill him. He¡¯d complained one too many times, and she was sick of him, and she¡¯d just moved him to a patch of floor that would be easier to clean, and¨C¨C ¡°It¡¯s just a precaution, doctor.¡± Her voice barely cut through his panic, but it did. ¡°Do not do anything stupid, and I won¡¯t use it. Understood?¡± ...Oh. He started breathing again, and nodded vigorously. ¡°Good,¡± her lip twitched, and she pulled a tablet from her pocket. ¡°Now when I unlock the shackle, I want you to move it to your right ankle.¡± Lukas drooped. ¡°That will just tear up my right one, it won¡¯t fix¨C¨C¡± ¡°It is a temporary measure,¡± Kel said. ¡°You will move it back to the left once the bandages are in place. I am not leaving you unsecured for ten minutes. Understood?¡± ...Right. It was the best deal he was going to get, and he knew it. Another nod, and Kel tapped something into the tablet. The seam of the shackle glowed blue for a moment, then clicked open. But it didn¡¯t fall off. ...Not exactly a good sign. Feeling his captor¡¯s impatient eyes on him, Lukas gritted his teeth, and peeled the metal off his sticky skin. Some of the blisters tore open in the process. Some others near the center had apparently been torn for awhile. None of them looked, felt...or smelled...particularly good. ¡°Put it on the right, doctor,¡± Kel ordered. ¡°Now.¡± He grimaced. ¡°Can I clean it off first? It¡¯s not exactly sanitary¨C¨C¡± She leveled the gun at his head. He clamped the shackle into place. It felt wet. He fought back a retch. But at least his captor seemed satisfied. She lowered the gun, and holstered it. A few taps of the tablet, and the shackle¡¯s seam sealed again. ¡°Ten minutes,¡± Kel reminded him. ¡°And show me all the steps.¡± Lukas nodded, and stumbled to his feet. Without the pressure of the shackle, the wound throbbed, and he limped his way over to the supplies. ¡°So was there a reason you came to visit when you did?¡± Might as well ask while he worked. If it turned out to be something unpleasant, then at least it would be over faster that way. ¡°Or did you just want some company?¡± A snort. Good sign. She had some sense of humor. Not one he fully understood. But it was definitely there. ¡°I simply needed a change of pace,¡± Kel leaned back against one of the operating tables, and watched him shuffle over to the adjacent table with his tray of supplies. ¡°One can only sift through logs for so long before the words begin to blur together. Is there anything more tedious?¡± The doctor stopped mid-hoist onto his bed, and stared at her. She raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to say it. Not a fight he was gonna win. Not outright, at least. ¡°Well if you want some first-aid tutorials or anything, just let me know,¡± Lukas hedged as he began rinsing his ankle with sterilized water. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can come up with something more interesting than whatever logs you¡¯re looking at.¡± Another snort. ¡°Are you not worried about making yourself obsolete?¡± Yep. Very funny, that woman. He let out a bitter laugh, and dabbed at the broken blisters with clean gauze. ¡°I¡¯m a trauma surgeon, Kel. I¡¯ve been going off the assumption that you knew that. I¡¯ve pieced together shattered rib cages, re-attached an auditorium¡¯s worth of appendages, and repaired more impalements than I can count. If you need a trauma surgeon for...whatever you¡¯re doing out here¡­then showing you how to splint an arm or make a compress won¡¯t make me obsolete. But it might up the odds that you actually make it back to my table. If you¡¯re interested.¡± A long pause. Nothing but the scratchy sound and sticky feel of dry cloth on ruined skin to break up the silence. ¡°And why would I trust anything you would teach me?¡± There was a dangerous edge to her voice. ¡°How could I trust that you would not intentionally make my injuries worse?¡± If she really thought that little of him, then how the hell would she trust him if she actually needed surgery? ...Best not to say that either. ¡°Because I want to go home.¡± Lukas gingerly applied the first coating of Sporeneon. ¡°And I don¡¯t get to do that if you bleed out ten feet from the end of my chain, do I?¡± Another long pause. Then footsteps, circling him; coming up from behind. A hand rested on the top of his head. He fought back a flinch, and waited. ¡°Keep trying to be useful.¡± She tousled his hair. ¡°It suits you.¡±