The strength drained from Duggan’s limbs and it became a struggle to remain standing. He didn’t want the others to see his weakness and he took a deep, shuddering breath. It wasn’t enough and he put out a hand to steady himself.
“Is there anything you can do?” he asked. He waved a hand towards the cylindrical medical robot. “Will this fix her?”
“I’ve had a look at it,” said Weiss. “It works in a completely different way to anything I’m used to. I can likely get it to activate. As far as the treatment goes, you’d be taking a real gamble.”
“Is there anything I can do to help? Perhaps one of the Ghasts will know how it functions. They are related to the Dreamers after all.”
“I’ve already asked,” she replied. “They know the basics of field medicine and nothing more.”
“How long?” he asked, having put off the question for as long as possible.
“Twenty-four hours. Tops.”
Duggan worked through the possibilities without having sufficient information to come up with the answer. Can we reach a medical facility within twenty-four hours? He’d lost track of how far they were from the Helius Blackstar, but it was definitely many more than twenty-four hours. If they reached the wormhole in time, they’d need to make a cautious approach to try and evade the enemy warships which they were certain to find in the area.
If they somehow managed to make it through to Confederation Space, the MHL Gargantua would have the facilities to cure almost anything. Unfortunately, he had no idea if the heavy lifter was going to be where they left it. In addition, the crew on the Gargantua weren’t going to happily wait for a Dreamer warship to close in on them, so there’d be a time overhead involved with smoothing everything out. If the heavy lifter was gone, Atlantis was several days distant.
No matter how he tried to manipulate the numbers, the answer always came out wrong.
“If we do nothing, she’ll die,” he said, finally.
“Are you ordering me to try and work the enemy’s medical robot?” asked Weiss. There was fear in her blue eyes, as though it was something she had no hope of figuring out.
He nodded slowly. “I need Commander McGlashan alive. We won’t get through the wormhole without her.”
“Very well,” Weiss replied. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“What about Lieutenant Ortiz?”
“I can keep her stable.”
“Don’t try anything on her until we return to a Space Corps facility.” He attempted a smile. “Unless you figure this robot out well enough that you can act with the utmost confidence.”
Her shoulders sagged with the weight of the upcoming task. “I won’t push it.”
Duggan tried to summon up some humour. “When can I expect these other two layabouts to return to work?”
“Oi!” said Chainer. “I am recovering from near-fatal injuries!”
Breeze was unable to resist. “And caffeine withdrawal.”
“As you can see, their physical injuries are merely superficial,” said Weiss.
“It didn’t feel superficial when they were knocking my teeth out,” said Breeze mildly.
“How long?” repeated Duggan.
“I’d prefer they had at least three days to rest,” said Weiss. “Since we’re effectively on a battlefield, I can begin preparations to discharge both of them in less than twelve hours.”
“Bill, Frank, I need you,” said Duggan. “Every step has been uphill since we got here. We’re almost at the summit – I can feel it. I can’t get us over the top without help.”
Chainer coughed, as if to test how much he hurt. “I’ll be ready, sir - as soon as Corporal Weiss tells me I can go. I could probably walk unaided by now. I feel stronger after just this single hour we’ve been here.”
Weiss didn’t pull punches. “It’s an illusion, Lieutenant. You’ll feel like total crap once the drugs wear off.”
“You’ll have to keep me topped up.”
“Lieutenant Breeze?” asked Duggan.
“I’m keen to see what the Valpian can do, sir. I’ll be there as soon as I’m able.”
“Good.”
Weiss turned her attention to Duggan’s injuries. “Do you want me to take a look at your hand and your forearm?”
“No. Thank you. Save your efforts for my crew.”
“Very well.” Weiss stooped and pulled a tiny box from her medical pack. The box was red and about five centimetres square. A pale blue light flashed intermittently on top. “If the pain returns, press this to your bare flesh and it’ll inject you with a few boosters.”
Duggan looked at the box suspiciously. He reached out and took it, before he spun around to leave. His eyes caught sight of McGlashan as he did so and he had to walk quickly away to stop anyone seeing his face.
Outside the medical bay, he paused briefly. The clear air of the corridors was a welcome relief from the cold smell of decay. He closed his eyes and locked away all of the distractions that would slow him down. He had a duty to get everyone home and he couldn’t fail them because his mind was elsewhere.
Red-Gulos and McLeod were at their seats on the bridge. McLeod was teaching the Ghast how to lie and the two of them seemed at ease. The people who were prone to excess stress generally didn’t last too long in the Space Corps.
Duggan took his seat. “We’re changing course. I’m entering the coordinates that will lead us to the Helius Blackstar.”
“We’re definitely going home?”
“As definitely as I can make it.”
“Does that mean more fighting? I don’t think I’m ready for a full-on engagement with an enemy warship,” said McLeod.
“No offense, but I hope to send you back to quarters soon.”
McLeod attempted to look hurt and failed miserably. “This seat has only just got warm, sir. I swear these Dreamers have discovered a way to ensure metal retains the cold. And now you want someone else to sit in it?”
“Your work in keeping the seat warm hasn’t gone unnoticed,” said Duggan. “I’ll see you get recognition for it when we reach base.”
“Are the rest of the crew going to be okay? And Lieutenant Ortiz?”
“I’m getting Lieutenants Breeze and Chainer back soon. That’s enough to relieve you two of your duties. We’ll need to wait and see what happens to Commander McGlashan and Lieutenant Ortiz.”
“I wish them luck,” said Red-Gulos.
“Me too,” said Duggan. He updated the navigation console with details of their new destination. One of the Valpian’s AIs spent a few moments calculating the travel time. “Seventy-five hours.”
He sat and waited. After a few hours, the pain returned to his hand and he was reluctantly forced to use the box Weiss had given him. He felt a sudden, sharp jab and the pain in his damaged flesh faded. His stomach informed him of hunger, so he attempted to get the alien replicators to produce something appetising. He failed and though he craved food, he couldn’t bring himself to consume more than a bite or two of the grey paste.
A remote part of his brain wanted sleep, but he knew that if he lay down he would have no chance of drifting off. So, he sat and he waited some more. After eight interminable hours, he contacted the medical bay to see how Weiss was getting on. Her answer regarding Commander McGlashan was noncommittal. With regards to the other two members of the crew, she was more forthcoming.
“I discharged them fifteen minutes ago. Aren’t they at the bridge yet?”
“No, not yet.”
Duggan’s first thought was that one or both of them had collapsed on the short journey between the medical bay and the bridge. He chastised himself for the negative thoughts. More likely they’ve got lost or can’t walk very fast. Nevertheless, he stood, meaning to go looking for them. The sound of familiar voices stopped him in his tracks and Chainer stepped onto the bridge, closely followed by Breeze. They looked a mess, but they exchanged jokes as if nothing was amiss.
Both men were dressed in spacesuits and carried trays in o
ne hand and their suit helmets in the other. Chainer’s tray was piled high with burgers and perfectly-formed slices of pizza. Clear grease pooled on the surface of the cheese and Duggan’s mouth fell open at the sight. Next to the food were two oversized metal cups, with round handles. A black liquid sloshed within. Lieutenant Breeze carried his own tray, similarly burdened with upliftingly calorific products. The smell of coffee and junk food filled the bridge.
“Hello, sir,” said Chainer. “Nice looking bridge.”
Red-Gulos stood without a word and let Chainer take his place.
“Engines, shields and various other facilities over there,” said Duggan, pointing to the far-left pair of seats.
“Wow, look at the power we’re outputting!” said Breeze through a mouthful of steak.
Duggan clapped Red-Gulos on the back. It was like hitting a huge side of frozen beef. “Your assistance has been very much appreciated, Sergeant. I’ll make sure it gets mentioned in my report. I don’t think I’ll need you here anymore. There’s no chance we’ll be able to fool them again by pretending to be something we are not.”
“No, sir. They won’t fall for our lies next time.”
McLeod was already sidling towards the door, evidently eager to get away from these imposed duties.
“Good work, soldier,” said Duggan.
“No worries, sir.”
Red-Gulos and McLeod left. Breeze and Chainer took their places. For the first time since they’d crashed on Nistrun, Duggan felt they were in with a real shot at escape. There was only one piece missing from the jigsaw and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing regularly at the empty seat in front of the main weapons console.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THERE WERE any number of important things to discuss, yet Duggan was unable to prevent himself pursuing what was arguably the least important of all.
“How on earth did you get the replicators to produce steak, burgers and pizza?” he asked. “We’ve been unable to get anything better than paste.”
“It’s in the wrist, sir,” said Chainer, taking a bite from his second slice of pizza. “We learned one or two things whilst in captivity.”
“Show me how,” said Duggan.
“We couldn’t possibly do that, sir,” said Breeze. “We’re invalids. Corporal Weiss told us to move as little as possible for the next few days.”
“I notice it didn’t stop you diverting to the replicator on the way here.”
“It was a very short diversion, sir.”
“Show me what I need to do. I’ll go to the machine and test it out.”
“It’s not as easy as that. There’s a strange swipe-and-press action. I don’t really know how to describe it any better.”
Duggan gave up. He could tell they were playing games with him and he was tempted to wring their necks, except that he needed them alive.
“Very well,” he said ominously. “You can’t keep your secrets forever.”
“Secrets?” asked Chainer innocently. “I have no time for secrets, sir. There’s too much to learn about this new tech here for me to waste time with secrets.”
“I’ve had a go at figuring it out,” said Duggan. “It’s not much more advanced than the Space Corps’ latest gear. I can use most it, just a lot slower than I’d like.”
“It’s not bad stuff. Their comms transmissions travel faster than ours. Their sensors can’t absorb data as quickly as ours, but they can interpret it more easily with this processing power at the backend.”
“You’re only seeing one of the Valpian’s cores,” said Duggan. “There are three if you need them.”
“Three?” asked Chainer. “We’re fast enough already. It’s no wonder the enemy keep getting the jump on us if they equip their warships with three cores like this first one. It explains how some of their vessels can pick up the anomalies of the stealth modules.”
“The Valpian is special,” said Duggan. “I’m convinced of it. The enemy have gone out of their way to recover it rather than simply blowing us out of the sky. Some of our capabilities are locked down, so I’m not quite sure what else we have installed.”
“We’ve got three days to find out?” asked Breeze. The damage to his face looked particularly bad in the cool light on the bridge.
“Just short of three days, and I’m not convinced we’ll be able to access everything without taking the entire ship to a Space Corps lab. If we can get through the wormhole, that’ll be enough.”
“Not quite enough,” said Breeze quietly.
“No. Not quite enough.” Duggan sighed. “What happened to you? We got Frank’s message which didn’t answer every question.”
“I tried to keep it succinct, sir. I knew you’d be in a hurry.”
Duggan bit his tongue. “Tell me what happened.”
Chainer opened his mouth, with an expression to indicate he intended to leave out no detail, however small. Breeze got in first.
“About fifty hours after you left for the base on Nistrun I managed to get a small amount of power running into the Crimson’s engines. Not enough for lift off, just sufficient to load up a few minor systems. Anyway, this big bastard of a battleship appeared, followed by this even bigger bastard of what we later found out was a Class 1 Neutraliser. We figured they wanted to destroy us so we got a couple of nukes off and Commander McGlashan tried to blow up the Crimson to stop them taking the stealth modules. The nukes didn’t slow them much and the Neutraliser shut us down.”
“We assume it picked us off the surface, sir,” continued Chainer. “Next thing we knew, a small army of miserable-faced Dreamers cut their way through the forward hatch and detained us. We were eventually taken off the Crimson, but not before I’d overheard a few of their plans and made the recording which I’m glad to see you found.”
Breeze took up the tale. “Then they carried us on a smaller warship to that base on Invarol. It was probably one of those vessels you destroyed when you rescued us.”
Chainer touched his face gingerly. “We thought we were going on holiday when we first saw Invarol. Instead, there were fists and boots. They weren’t very subtle and it was a bit hard to talk to them since our language modules didn’t exactly do a good job.”
“Did you tell them anything?” asked Duggan carefully. “Admiral Teron will need to know if the enemy has learned something which will affect how we act in the future. I will make it clear you had no choice other than to divulge the information.”
“No secrets,” said Breeze firmly.
“I told them a pack of lies,” said Chainer, smiling at the memory. “They believed me for a while. Otherwise I think they might have killed me before you arrived.”
“What about you, sir?” asked Breeze.
Duggan told them what had happened since Nistrun. As he spoke, he asked questions of his own to find out his crew’s situation at various points over the last few days. There was little he hadn’t already guessed.
“I feel we have accomplished much,” said Duggan. “I am only sorry we had to destroy the Crimson and with it the data we took from their hub world.”
“We’ve gained so much more,” said Breeze. “I’m not just saying that to be optimistic. The Valpian is a wonder – I can see as much in the few minutes I’ve been able to check through these status screens. I don’t even need to put on my suit helmet to interpret. Most of this is second nature.”
“Gentlemen, we’ve been doing this for too long,” said Duggan.
“I used to dream about comms consoles,” said Chainer. “I probably still would if I ever got the chance to sleep.”
Breeze laughed, not unkindly. “You need to get out more.”
The three of them got to work. With the two experienced men alongside him, Duggan was able to unearth more of the Valpian’s intricacies. Red-Gulos and McLeod had naturally required a lot of hand-holding, which prevented Duggan from properly familiarising himself with the Dreamer systems.
They spent eight hours at it and by the end of the t
ime, they were acting smoothly and in unison.
“I feel much more confident now,” said Duggan. “I’m certain we’ll need to fight our way through the wormhole and I need an experienced crew to manage it.”
“When will you hear about Commander McGlashan?” asked Chainer. He was worried and not trying to hide it.
“I don’t know,” said Duggan. He stood. “I’m going to find out.”
A few minutes later, he was in the medical room once more. There was only one significant change since his previous visit – the enormous medical robot had moved slightly towards McGlashan’s bed. It hummed slightly and floated a few centimetres above the surface. Three of its thin, metal arms were extended, in order to push thick needles deep into McGlashan’s chest. Several of the robot’s displays listed information pertaining to the patient, though Duggan couldn’t make sense of them.
Corporal Weiss was absent, so Duggan crouched next to McGlashan. Her cheeks were paler than he remembered and her eyes were just as grey. He placed the palm of his hand against her forehead. She felt as cold as the room itself.
“Lucy?” he whispered. “Don’t die on me.”
She didn’t respond and he remained there for minutes or hours, until time itself lost meaning. He couldn’t think what to do for the best. This was the one thing he couldn’t plan his way out of. There was no illuminating spark of an idea waiting in the wings to make her live. The only thing he could do was sit and watch, hating every second of it. He felt utterly miserable.
Corporal Weiss arrived. She didn’t offer a greeting and busied herself checking the medical robot. With a pensive look, she poked one of the screens.
“How is she doing?” asked Duggan.
Weiss didn’t answer immediately and she studied several of the readouts. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I’ve got this robot working, but I can’t be certain what it’s up to. I’ve used the translation modules in my suit helmet.” She shrugged. “The enemy names for compounds are entirely different to ours. It means I’m left guessing most of the time.”
Guns of the Valpian (Survival Wars Book 6) Page 20