The Theron Residency (Brides of Theron Book 4)

by Anthony Lorino, Rebecca

  “Father, I’m safe at location 3.”

  “That is good news! Your mother and I were worried after your last message.” Anton said with an air of relief. The screen in the center of the monitors offered Carel, an alternating clear and fuzzy image of his father. His voice sounded a bit gravelly and not in sync with the movement of his lips. He looked over to Rog and sent him an unspoken plea to try to fix it for him. In response, Rog went straight to his computer keyboard to see what he could do. A couple of seconds later the transmission was still weak but now at least the video matched the audio and was continuing to improve.

  “Frankly, I was worried too. Any news from Theron?” Rog looked at Carel when the transmission was coming in clear and pointed over to the door. Carel nodded in thanks and watched him leave the room.

  “There is a lot of news coming from Theron, Pernmock, virtually all of their allies have committed to participate in some way. There is a council meeting that is scheduled for a few hours from now. It is being broadcasted to every leader of every planet associated with the intergalactic council. The support is there, they are just trying to figure out the battle plan. We should know soon.”

  “That’s good news then.” He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He was spent after the events of the last few days and worrying about Jenaya.

  “You look tired son. Go get some rest and I will call you when the meeting starts.”

  “Alright, Dad.” He watched as his father reached over to touch the screen to disconnect. “Oh, I just wanted to say thanks. Tell mom that I love her and I will see her soon.”

  “I sure will. Stay safe son. I will be glad when this is all over.” Anton said as he disconnected.

  “So will I.” He laid his head on his overlapped arms on the counter before him. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

  Chapter 14

  Rog found Araime in her office speaking to a man dressed in stylish clothing. He was a tall man with angular features and a broad chest. He had shock white hair that touched his wide shoulders. Araime noticed him in the door and motioned him to join them. “Doctor Langston, this is my husband, Rog.”

  Dr. Langston turned and faced him with curious eyes. Rog noticed that one of his eyes looked mechanical as if there was a camera lens focusing in on him. It was designed to look similar to his other eye and shared the same brown coloring. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Rog. Your wife has been telling me all about what is going on here.”

  “It’s nice to have you here, sir. What brings you to us today?”

  “I came here yesterday actually. Your wife was asking me about a medicine that she needed. I may be able to get it for her, but it will be difficult. You see, I am in a bit of trouble with the Loyalist Forces. That is why I sought refuge here. In return for your sanctuary, I have offered my services to treat the sick and injured. It is the least I could do after your rebels stepped in and saved my life.” He placed his hand on his chest and bowed his head in respect.

  “Then, we are blessed to have you. Lately, there is never a shortage of injured soldiers especially with the night raids conducted by Gatton’s armies. Tell me more about what got you in trouble with the Loyalists.” Rog said as he sat in one of the chairs in front of Araime’s desk. He motioned for the doctor to join him in the other empty seat. The doctor sat down and one of the women came to check if they needed anything. Araime ordered a pot of hot tea for three as they talked.

  “My son Garrett joined your cause several months ago against my wishes. I preferred him not to be involved in the politics of Gatton’s rule or even against it. I was mad that he left school and came here, putting his life on the line. Yesterday, as you know, a riot broke out on Dalaia Street not more than 10 feet from my office. The injured were being brought in, some were rebels and some were Gatton’s so-called peacekeepers. I treated the ones that I could. The dead were put in the alley behind my office. My nurse triaged them at the door and they were brought in one by one. Every one of them had a story. I found that they were all the same tale spun many different ways. It wasn’t until a young injured mother was seen. She was hurt pretty badly with a twisted ankle and a cut along her chin where her face hit the concrete.”

  “That wasn’t the worst of it though,” the doctor continued. “She had a baby in her arms, and the baby was still and quiet. As much noise and chaos that was going on outside the doors, it was unusual for a child to remain so silent. After assuring her that I would not harm her child, I explained that I only wanted to look and make sure that her baby was alright. She slowly released the baby into my arms and fell to her knees and wailed. It was a cry that tore at my heart. I laid the baby down on the table and began my assessment.”

  “The baby was 10 months old. She had her light blue hair up in ponytails, each tail a perfect ringlet. Her lips were blue and she had no pulse. I begged the mother to come to her senses. I yelled for my nurse and she came. I did what I could, but the baby was dead for too long. The nurse had given the mother something to calm her and prepared her to be brought to the hospital.” He averted his eyes and bowed over in the chair trying to hold back the tears. “That baby was my granddaughter. I tried everything I could and I couldn’t save her.”

  “What was her name?” Araime walked around the desk and kneeled before the man placing her hand sympathetically over his.

  “Angeline.” He answered and the room was quiet for a moment. Each person in the room dedicating a moment of silence for the poor child who lost her life. Araime seemed to be taking the news pretty hard. “Her mother was bringing her to see me when the fighting started. She was trying to plead with me to join the rebellion and join my son. She was coming to tell me that they were going to move here in the warehouse so that Angeline would be safe from the war. She knew that I would do anything for my granddaughter. Now, I will never get a chance to see her grow up.”

  “Garrett is a lieutenant here. I know his wife Ava and have seen the baby you speak of. I am so sorry for your loss. If it is not too much to ask, how did she die?” Rog asked softly placing his hand on the large man’s forearm.

  “Ava was coming down the street when the riot started. She ran down an alley, not paying attention to who was there because she was looking over her shoulder. Gatton’s forces had chased down a rebel and had cornered him at the dead end of the alley that she happened to find herself in. Somehow the rebel recognized Ava and Angeline and stepped in front of them. The soldiers shot him and he fell back hard. They must have had their pulsar guns set to maximum. Ava was thrown backward and this caused her to twist her ankle and when her face hit the concrete, she was cut. I suspect that the concussion of the blast was enough to damage the baby’s fragile brain. You see, there were no open wounds on Angeline’s body.” Rog and Araime gave Dr. Langston some time to compose himself. Araime had now had her arms around him and comforted him like a mother would a child, gently patting his back crying along with him now.

  When the doctor seemed to regain his composure, Rog asked, “What can we do to help you get this medicine?”

  “I know where they store it. I may not be associated with the rebels as of yet so I may be able to order it from the hospital pharmacy without attracting too much attention. But, I will only do this on one condition.”

  “What is the condition?” Rog asked hoping he could deliver what was required. Carel mentioned he really needed this medicine.

  “Ava is being held in a ward at the hospital. They won’t let me in to see her because of my son’s involvement with you guys. They are demanding that he turn himself in, and in exchange they will release Ava. He will no doubt receive a death sentence for his association with your rebel forces. He is a known rebel leader. I refuse to lose my son as I have already lost my Angeline. If you help her escape, I will get your medicine.”

  Rog looked over to Araime with concern. He was already calculating all that would be necessary. Someone would have to dress like an employee at the hospital. To not arouse any suspic
ion it would have to be someone with some authority acting on a doctor’s behalf. He would need orders for a test of some kind that would have to be done outside the guarded room where Ava was being held. So, he would need to hack into the hospital computer and add an employee, get an identification badge for entry into hallways, that person will need a disguise. Startled out of his planning, he heard the soft voice of his wife and looked up at her.

  “It will have to be me Rog. I’ll have to do it. Ava knows me and I have watched Angeline while she tended to the kitchen. It’s going to have to be me,” she said softly.

  “Let’s not be hasty,” Rog said still formulating a plan in his head. He turned to the doctor and said, “I need to know every detail required to move a patient. I need to know what documents will be necessary and details up to and including the color of her uniform.”

  If looks could kill, Araime was shooting daggers in his direction. “I am going to do this Rog.”

  Rog looked away and went to get a tablet so that he could pull up the hospital floor plans. “Araime, we will figure this all out in due time and if you are the best candidate to go, I will send you.” He knew the look his wife made when she was mad and he was starting to recognize the signs. She shook her head, picked up the tea tray and left the men to plan.

  

  Rog and Dr. Langston started to plan. They moved into Rog’s office. It was small and at the moment not as tidy as Araime’s cozy room was. He swept up the varying piles of paper and design sketches, tapped them on the desk to straighten them, and put them to the side. He was always at work designing and inventing things. Always planning and envisioning things that would make weapons work better, as well as things that would improve personal body armor. His latest invention was a metal mesh that would deflect a pulsar blast, efficiently spreading brunt of its power outward around the body. Sure, you would be knocked down when shot hit, but the blast would not penetrate through to the body and do the damage to the internal organs that would generally cause death. It was a cheap and easy thing to make using recycled goods from the boxes of unused products being stored in this facility. He had some of the former factory workers living in the compound working on manufacturing it around the clock.

  He would make sure that Araime wore one when she went to get Ava. As much as he didn’t like the idea, she was right. She would have to be the one to go. Araime didn’t back down when she was determined like she was right now. She was also well trained in hand to hand combat and weapons. Araime attended combat classes religiously to keep the female population actively involved. Everyone was going to have to fight and to win they would all have to be well trained.

  “Dr. Langston, where is Garrett?” Rog asked. He knew that if it were Araime being kept prisoner to get him to come forward, he would not be able to stand by idly.

  “It has been a rough couple of hours. Understandably, he has been overcome with emotion. I’ve had a difficult time keeping him from surrendering himself to Gatton’s peacekeepers to free Ava. This morning he was about to turn himself in, so I slipped him something to help him relax. He is resting in his quarters. He will be out for the remainder of the night. I figured it would be easier to plan without him given the circumstances.”

  Rog chuckled at the doctor’s response. Garrett was one of his best lieutenants and one of his most animated. He believed in the cause with such conviction that he could motivate an entire troop to join with him in some of the riskiest plans. His fault was that he tended to think that he was invincible. One day that ideal might get him hurt or worse. It might get him killed.

  “Araime will need a disguise. A wig and some contacts maybe,” Rog started a list of what would be required. He turned his attention to the doctor busily writing down the sequence of steps that would take Araime to his son’s wife. “Doctor, I want you to know that Araime means everything to me. I need you to make sure that you include every minuscule detail that she will need to know in order to complete this mission successfully. I want her to come back to me.”

  “I will, Rog. I promise,” he said and returned to his list.

  

  Araime walked down the halls to her office and called the rebel watching a nearby door. “Get someone to wait by Garrett’s side. Let him sleep, but when he wakes up, he needs to be brought to Rog immediately.”

  “Yes, mam,” He said.

  It broke her heart to hear about baby Angeline. She and Rog had tried unsuccessfully to conceive a child of their own during their seven years of marriage. She tended to treat everyone in their forces like her own children. She celebrated their triumphs when they returned from a successful mission just as often as she mourned their loss when they did not. As the numbers of their forces grew, so did the number of people she held in heart and thoughts. Each member of the rebellion was carving their own place in her life. She knew that they all loved her and respected her. They came to her with requests for needed items, concerns and arguments as living arrangements became more cramped or to just find out where they could help out. As the fighting in Haierti became more intense, more and more families were going underground. Now, the place was full of children, the elderly, and many able-bodied male and female soldiers. The women were initially not expected to fight, but the cause became so dear to their hearts that they felt compelled to go out and fight alongside the men for a chance to live in a better Drylon.

  She entered one of the many storerooms and scanned the shelves looking for a disguise. They had many assorted items accumulated over the last few months. Some of the rebels were becoming more recognizable and could not leave without something to hide their faces. Hats, wigs, facial prosthesis, contacts, clothes, and many other items were stacked with like items in a series of several shelves. She pulled a blood red wig of shoulder length curly hair off the rack and a set of dark contacts to cover her golden eyes and golden hair. She surveyed the collected uniforms on the racks for one that could be usable. She would have to check with Dr. Langston first to find out what color she would have to wear.

  She knew that this mission could be very dangerous. Ava was being held as bait for Gatton to get to Garrett. If they captured him, they would torture him until he either died or gave them the location of the rebel base. She had faith that even in the harshest torture conditions Garrett would likely never give away any information that would lead Gatton’s forces to the Rebel Base. He believed in the cause with so much fervor that he would die in order to have it succeed. Those who served with him would talk about how he would walk out on the battlefield and point out obstacles and barking out orders so fearlessly. It was like he knew he wouldn’t die that day. Those that served with him would say he was protected by some higher force because nothing seemed to touch him. Would she be as strong as he was if she were captured?

  As she walked back to Rog’s office, she wondered how Garrett was dealing with the loss of his daughter. She started to feel a wave of emotion crash over her. An image of Angeline popped up into her head. The child was sitting on the floor laughing while her mother was making bread in the kitchen. Her tiny fingers were wrapped around a toy that she was actively exploring with her mouth. Her face was shiny with drool. How many more children would lose their lives before Gatton was removed from his throne? How many more would be orphaned? Obviously, war was never an easy venture. There are always more losses than victories even when you are winning because every campaign has a cost. Good people die every day to give their lives in order to attain a better life for those who remain. She and Rog knew the name of every fallen soldier. When this war was finished, they would see to it that they would all be remembered as heroes.

  Araime walked back to her office, when she didn’t find either of the men she was looking for. They were probably in Rog’s office she thought. She walked to Rog’s office finger combing the wig she held in her hand. As she walked through the door, she noticed that Dr. Langston was now standing behind Rog’s desk with one hand on the edge of the desk and one
on the back of Rog’s chair. They were both looking at the glass surface with interest. Rog looked up at her and dragged his finger along the desktop bringing up the building plans of the hospital across its surface “I hacked the hospital computers. The doctor is going to show you where you need to go and what you need to do.”

  “Rog, let me see a close up of the fourth floor,” said Dr. Langston. He pointed out the elevators, hallways, and the nurse’s stations that flanked the patient rooms. She began to get her bearings. Each floor had a similar layout. The fourth floor was the most secure, he explained, because it housed the patients that had psychological issues. There was a key card scanner to access the door to the ward that Ava’s room was located. Rog assured them that he could manufacture the ID and key card required for admittance and have them ready in just a couple of hours. When a plan of strategy was discussed for pulling Ava out of the room by doctor’s orders, they moved on to the information that would have to be put in the system to make it believable.

  Rog accessed Ava’s chart and the doctor gleaned the information there to make a plausible reason for her to be removed from the ward for further testing. “Rog, may I?” Rog stood up and out of the way as they both started to listen to what he had to say. “Due to the swelling and notes made by the nurses that Ava was complaining of severe pain, we might be able to request a scan for clots in the arteries of the leg that she’s injured. This type of scan would have to be done with specialized equipment that’s located on the first floor.” Dr. Langston sat in Rog’s chair to write the orders for the scan. He put them through under the authorization of the doctor that was responsible for her care.

  “The pharmacy is on the second floor. You will go up to the fourth and scan your card at the doors to the entrance of the ward.” He pointed to the plans laid out on the desktop. At his touch, the doors in question lit up with a green glow. “When I went to check on her yesterday, they had two guards posted at her door. I doubt that they will let you take her unescorted. You will need to convince the guards that the patient will be just fine without an escort. If you can’t do that, then emphasize that there is room for only one of them to accompany her into the testing room. You must take the guard out at the first opportunity that you find yourself alone. This would probably be easiest in the elevator.”