He looks at me again, eyes wide. “Someone else wants you to be walking by the weekend.”
Brigadier Lee?
He puts the box on the desk and opens the lid. A grin creeps over his face. “I don’t think you’re going to need the physiotherapist.”
The nurse stands up. “Is that what I think it is?”
Webb sounds excited. “I think so!”
I’m tired, my leg is hurting, and I want to get back to walking. “What are you talking about? What is it?”
Stop messing with me. I have work to do.
He touches the plastic-wrapped items in the box reverently, one by one.
“This is battlefield tech. This is top of the line.” His eyes widen again. “This is expensive.”
I reach out and rest my hand on the desk.
Enough already.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
He snaps the box shut. “Better than that. I can show you.”
*****
I’m sitting up in bed, dressed in a T-shirt and a blanket. Doctor Webb carefully peels back my bandage while I grit my teeth and clench my fists. The release of pressure makes my leg pulse with pain. The stitches burn as the bandage pulls away, and the patchwork scar feels like a red-hot bar against my skin.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” He says, glancing at me. “Sorry about that. But you’ll thank me.”
He reaches for the box, and pulls out a plastic package. “This? This will seem like magic. I promise.”
He opens the package, and pulls out a white gel pack, a little thicker and longer than a sheet of paper. He gently lifts my leg, and wraps the gel around my knee, as if he’s applying a new bandage. The wound is covered completely, and the gel sticks to itself. After a few seconds, the join is invisible. He smooths the edges of the gel onto my skin, making sure that all the damage is covered. The wrapping feels cool against the scar, but the pain is still there.
He reaches back into the box and brings out a tube of stretchy black fabric. He tears open a Velcro-style fastening, and wraps it around my leg, on top of the gel. He adjusts it until it sits tightly above and below the knee, and snugly around the wound. It hides the gel completely.
He pulls a third package from the box – a small black box with a short cable running from it. He holds it up, grins at me, and slips it into a clip on the outside of the fabric tube. He leans over, picks up the cable, and plugs it into a port just below the clip. He watches my face as he locates the power switch, and turns it on.
The gel turns instantly cold, and stiffens slightly. I’m watching the bandage, and I can feel the cold spreading through my knee. It’s fast, and it’s pushing deep into the joint. It feels strange – almost ticklish – and before long everything under the bandage, through to the bone, is cold.
And the pain is gone.
He grins at me, and I can’t help grinning back.
The pain is gone.
*****
Commander Bracken rushes out to meet us as Doctor Webb and I walk across the field towards his office. Webb is at my elbow, carrying my crutch, but he hasn’t had to steady me at all. I’m walking on my own.
The gel is washing the pain away, and the fabric support is keeping my knee steady. It’s awkward. I’m limping, and I’m moving slowly, but I’m walking without a crutch.
“Ketty! What …?”
Bracken waves his hands at me, at my knee, hidden under my trousers. Doctor Webb is grinning again. I stop in front of Bracken and stand at ease, my weight slightly shifted to my left side.
“Someone at HQ likes your Lead Recruit, Commander. She’s the proud new owner of a PowerGel Battlefield Recovery System.”
Bracken’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. It’s all I can do to keep a straight face.
“HQ sent you a PowerGel?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s … that’s amazing.”
“I need some more practice, Sir, but I’d like to request again that you take me with you when you go after the terrorists.”
Bracken nods. “Get practising, then! If you’re ready, you’re coming. HQ wants you there. I want you there. Go on! What are you waiting for?”
*****
I’m walking up and down the corridor again, and this time Webb is encouraging me.
“Try to walk naturally. The gel will support you. I know it takes some getting used to, but don’t be afraid to put more weight on your leg.”
I walk again, and again, front door to back door and back. And every time, it gets easier. I’m still limping, but I’m slowly getting better at balancing my steps.
I’ve been walking for a while, and I’m half way along the corridor, when the woman from the kitchen arrives with a tray of food. Webb checks his watch. “Dinner, Lead Recruit?”
My steps are more confident now. The PowerGel is hidden under my clothes. I don’t need to eat on my own in the medical centre – I need to show my face in the Senior Dorm. Let Miller and the others see that I’m fit for duty. That my job’s not up for discussion.
I walk to the door, thank the woman, and take the tray. She turns to go, and I catch the closing door with my elbow and follow her out, moving slowly down the steps. Webb runs to the door behind me.
“Lead Recruit! Where are you going?”
I start walking across the field, concentrating on keeping my balance and carrying the tray. Making it look easy.
“I’m going to eat in the Senior Dorm.” I carry on walking.
Webb gives a grunt of frustration. I hear the door close, and his footsteps on the grass as he jogs to catch up with me.
“You need much more practice before you go swanning off across uneven ground without help. At least let me carry your tray.”
“No need. I’ve got this.” I keep walking. Miller and the others need to see this.
Webb laughs, and shakes his head, walking next to me. “So much for taking it slowly. Any idea who your friend at HQ might be?”
I shrug, carefully, as I walk.
No one you need to worry about.
We reach the Senior Dorm. Webb insists on helping me up the steps and opening the door for me, and leaves me to walk in and stand opposite Miller. I place my tray carefully on the table, and look around, meeting the eyes of everyone in the room.
They’re all watching me. All the Senior Recruits, staring as I sit down and pick up my knife and fork as if nothing has happened. I look up at Miller, and smile.
His face is grey. The colour is draining from his cheeks. From the expression on everyone else’s faces, I’m guessing he’s been bragging about his chances of being promoted to Lead Recruit.
Good luck with that, techie guy.
I start eating. I’m amazed at how comfortable my knee feels, even when I’m sitting down and bending it. The gel seems to flow around the joint to where it’s needed, and the cold sensation never fades away. I’m also amazed at how hungry I am, now that I’m not forcing myself to ignore the pain.
“So, Ketty. You’re walking.” Miller tries to sound friendly, but he can’t keep the chill from his voice.
“Looks that way,” I say, around a mouthful of potato.
“Does it hurt?”
I pretend to consider his question. “Not really.”
“Commander Bracken said you had some sort of battlefield medical tech.”
I nod, still chewing. “Something like that.”
He shakes his head, and lets out an unkind laugh. “How did you get that? How does a glorified babysitter get her hands on battle-grade kit?”
Babysitter? Really?
I take my time. I finish my meal, take a drink of water, and lean my elbows on the table. I fix him with a cold stare. He watches every move I make. Everyone in the room is watching, and no one makes a sound.
“I guess HQ thinks I’m worth it, Miller.”
I grin. He stares back at me, his cheeks burning.
I pick up the chocolate bar and the bottle of water from my tray, an
d look around the room again. I stand up, carefully, the gel tingling on my skin as it flows around my knee.
“Well, it’s been fun. Good to see you all. I’d stick around, but I have a job to do.”
I put the chocolate and the water into my pockets, and walk out, leaving a silent room behind me.
And as I walk back across the field, I’m laughing.
*****
I have to take the gel off to sleep. The doctor needs to clean the wound, and I only have a limited number of gel packs. Battery power is limited, too. This isn’t a miracle, but it will get me where I need to be.
And there’s a price.
Webb switches off the battery pack and starts to remove the fabric from my knee. The gel softens, and the cold feeling begins to fade. As he releases the pressure, the gel peels away, and I can’t help crying out as the pain slams back.
It’s like being shot all over again.
“Sorry, Ketty. I know. This part’s rough.”
My knee looks white and puffy, and the stitches dig in like staples, pulling tight against my skin. Everything hurts. The muscles are on fire. The pain stabs into me, and it’s a moment before I can speak.
“Can I get you some painkillers?” Webb looks concerned.
“Yes. Painkillers would be great.” My voice comes out as a whisper.
He fetches two tablets and a cup of water, and I swallow them as fast as I can.
I nearly scream again when he straightens my leg, cleans the wound, and wraps my knee in a bandage.
“This feels worse, now. Why does it feel worse?”
“You’ve been pushing yourself, Ketty. You need to practice, but you’re running before you can walk. Marching across the grass? Using the steps without a crutch? You’re not ready for that yet. Concentrate on walking – on getting up and down the corridor. You can move onto uneven ground when you’re ready. You could do permanent damage if you push too hard. Just give it time.”
I shake my head.
I don’t have time. I have a few days, and this is not going to stop me. Just keep the painkillers coming.
Planning
Webb hands me my crutch as I leave the medical centre after breakfast. I use it to walk down the steps, then carefully lean it against the outside wall and walk away across the field. He shouts after me, but I keep walking. I’m not meeting Bracken looking like an invalid. He needs to know I’m ready to confront the terrorists. He needs to see me, not my crutches.
When I reach the commander’s office, the door is closed. Woods sends me in, and I’m surprised to find Brigadier Lee sitting in one of the guest chairs. Both men stand, and I carefully bring myself to attention, and salute.
“At ease, Lead Recruit. Take a seat.” Bracken waves at the other chair, and I sit down as smoothly as I can, paying attention to the gel around my knee.
“Good to see you, Lead Recruit,” says Lee, settling into his chair, no hint of threat in his voice. “How’s the PowerGel working for you? The Commander tells me you’ve been training hard.”
“I’m getting used to it, thank you, Sir.”
“I thought it would put you back in the game. Give you the chance to help us out with the terrorist problem.”
So it was you.
“Thank you, Sir. I appreciate that.”
“It’s not perfect. You need to get used to it, and I know that taking it off at the end of the day can be a shock, but I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle.” He smiles, and it’s not entirely friendly.
So you know what you’re asking me to live with. I’ll keep that in mind.
“No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
Bracken clears his throat. “Brigadier Lee is here to run through the current intelligence on the terrorist base. I wanted you to hear it first-hand.”
I nod. Lee sits back in his chair.
“We’ve traced the armour trackers to Makepeace Farm in mid-Wales. We haven’t been able to get close – they’ve got tight security in place – but we’ve used historical records and photos to piece together what we’re expecting to find.
“The place was an arable farm until the 1970s, when the current owner bought it, and planted it up for forestry. Sitka Spruce, mostly, right up to the back door of the house. From what we can see, the trees are pretty dense, and it’s hard to get a clear view of anything on the ground.
“There’s a farmhouse, a yard with a barn and some outbuildings, and lots of woodland. Because of the trees, the only way in with vehicles is along the main driveway, and that’s under constant surveillance – we assume from inside the house.
“The owner is a William Richards. Stereotypical grumpy farmer, according to the neighbours. Keeps himself to himself, and waves a shotgun at you if he finds you on his land. We don’t know whether he’s involved with the terrorist activities, but he lives on site, so it’s a reasonable assumption.
“As for numbers – we’re not sure. We’ve only seen a few people coming and going, but I have a hunch that we’re dealing with a sizable group. They’ve got plenty of space to be hiding in, and as they bothered to steal fifty sets of armour, I think we can assume that they intend to use them.
“So. More than we knew three days ago, but less than we’d like to know. We’ll be going in partially blind, and we’ll need to think and act on our feet.”
“Has HQ approved the plan?” Bracken sounds anxious.
Lee nods. “With a few alterations. We’ll hit them at night. We’ll take down the power, and we’ll raid the house. See what we find. Beyond that, we’re in the dark. We’ve got acres of woodland to search, and we want prisoners if we can find them and disarm them.
“They want you to go in first with a couple of troop carriers. Raid the house, search the outbuildings, see what’s there. Round up the terrorists, hopefully get your recruits back, and secure the site.
“I’ll be off site with the backup team. If the terrorists are armed, or we encounter anything unexpected, I’ll have a range of options to send your way. Nerve gas, flamethrowers, squads of soldiers on foot. We’ll be ready for whatever they’ve got waiting for us.”
Lee leans forward and gestures at Bracken.
“You’re up, Commander! HQ wants you front and centre on this one. You helped us with the armour, and it’s your recruits who got us into this, so they want you there to tie everything up. You, Ketty, whoever else you need.
“Congratulations. Your plan is going to catch us our terrorists.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Bracken is smiling. He thinks this is his chance. He thinks he’s going to get back into HQ’s good books by walking in blind and leading the cannon fodder on this mission. “Ketty. What do you think? Are you ready to take a command role in this operation?”
“Absolutely, Sir.”
Couldn’t turn you down if I wanted to, Sir.
I keep my eyes on Bracken, but I can feel Lee’s gaze on me, challenging me to stick to the script. His threat of a one-way ticket home hangs over me like a shadow. He can take away the PowerGel, and he can take away my career. I don’t have a choice.
“Can you be fit to leave at short notice?”
“Yes, Sir. When are we planning to make our move?”
Lee answers me. “We’re waiting for confirmation, but the plan is to raid the farm on Saturday night, and be done bar the sweeping up by Sunday morning. Think you can manage that?”
Two days. Two days to be ready.
“Yes, Sir.”
I don’t have a choice, do I?
*****
Brigadier Lee pays me a visit in the medical centre before he leaves. He checks the corridor and closes the door as he comes into my room. I’m sitting up in bed, still dressed in my uniform. He walks in and takes a seat facing me. I swing my legs over the side and stand up, but he waves me back to bed, so I sit on the edge, facing the chair.
“So this is it. You’re going to be ready?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And you haven’t changed your mind?”
“No, Sir.”
I have no sudden desire to move back to my childhood home, if that’s what you mean.
He hands me a small package.
“Take this with you. Wear it when you suit up, and keep it on you during the raid.”
I look at the plastic-wrapped piece of tech in my hand. It’s black, small enough to fit into my closed fist. I flip it over. It’s an earpiece.
“It’s a private radio. You can trigger it with your glove – I’ll give you the channel setting on the night. Use it to keep in touch with me. I’ll use it to give you orders. Remember – my orders trump Bracken’s. He can’t know what you’re doing for me. I’ll try to arrange it so that he won’t miss you and your team.
“I’m going to give you five soldiers. You’ll be expected to pass on my orders to them, preferably by voice, not over the radio. Five plus yourself should be sufficient for what we need to achieve. Steadman’s my tech guy – he’ll be with you. If I need him, I’ll let you know where to go. The others are reliable people. They know to do as you say.
“While you’re following my orders, you’re going to need to keep Bracken happy, too. I’ll try to keep him off your back, but if you need to bluff it, can you do that?”
“I think so, Sir.”
He looks back at the door, and drops his voice.
“Here’s what Bracken doesn’t know.”
I sit forward on the bed.
“We know more about the farm – and the owner – than we’ve put in the briefings, and we have reason to believe that there’s a cold-war era nuclear bunker at Makepeace Farm. Private, not military. We have reason to believe that it’s the bunker, not the farmhouse, that’s the terrorist base.
“Bracken’s plan is a raid on the farmhouse. What I need you to do is run the raid on the bunker.”
So nothing that Bracken will blame me for, then?
“We think there’s a gatehouse, somewhere in the trees at the back of the house. That’s the primary target. Secondary target is the ventilation system, but we haven’t located that yet. You’ll have Steadman for the ventilation – he knows what to do. But you’ll have the first chance at the bunker.
The Battle Ground Series: Books 1-3 Page 37