prisoners; standard smugglers-suspected-of-Rebel-sympathies scenario.
Gowan and Enkhet are storm-trooper guards, I'm the officer in charge.
Aurin--" he turned to me, "you'll have to be another prisoner. You're
taking passage with Melenna and Liak to Sestooine, you've been picked
up by mistake, and you don't know anything about anything. Just keep
your mouth shut and you'll do fine. How much equipment will you need
to bring?"
Luckily I'd had the foresight to think this out ahead of time. "I can
manage with one medpac," I replied a little shortly. "I'll need to
pack it with extra Clondex and some special equipment."
"Good. We'll get to the prison sector, find out where he is, then get
rid of the guards and break into his cell.
Once we get in, your job is to get him alert and moving quickly if at
all possible. If you can't, we'll have to . . .
break out without him." The others nodded casually; I had the feeling
his hesitation was entirely for my benefit.
"Once he's up, we get back to the shuttle. For this part, we'll take
the repair access tunnels." He touched a button on the tabletop
console, and a holographic schematic of an Imperial-style installation
leaped out of the center of the table; another adjustment, and a series
of passages were outlined in red. The route from the prison cells to
the docking bays was long, tortuous, and confusing.
Melenna chuckled. "This is where Liak comes in. His people are
tree-dwellers; he can find his way through any strange maze of branches
with never a wrong turn. For some reason it works on space stations as
well. We don't understand it, but we don't argue with it."
"The tractor beam's just a single," Haslam continued.
"Weak design--says they don't think anyone can escape.
Gowan, you'll break into the main computer and disengage it while our
medic here is fixing Vibrion. At full power and with some of Enkhet's
fancy ship-handling, we should be able to break free long enough to
make the jump to hyperspace. Questions?"
If anyone else had any, they weren't admitting it; the only response
was a series of crisp nods from the other team members. I had one, and
it was bothering me enough that I didn't even react to the interesting
fact that Gowan and not Enkhet was the computer jock.
Haslam looked at me sharply, but only said, "Okay, dismissed.
We'll meet outside the shuttle at 0600 tomorrow, bay 36.
Get some sleep, everyone. Aurin, stay a moment, please."
Once we were alone, I said, "You left something out of the briefing.
What if I can't get him moving? I don't think you mean for us to just
go off and leave him alive. Who gets to do the dirty deed?"
"Frankly, I'd rather have a medical droid along," Has-lam said
coolly.
"Put a glitch in its programming, and it does exactly what the mission
calls for and it doesn't develop any moral scruples at the last
minute.
Unfortunately, Emdees are expensive. Human medics are a lot cheaper
and easier to replace."
"Nice to know I'm expendable," I murmured under
my breath.
Haslam ignored the comment, but after a moment some of the coldness
faded from his face, leaving a look of almost--helplessness.
"Aurin, I don't get any thrill out of killing. I've got a job to do
here, just like you. The fact is, we can't leave him to die at the
hands of the Imperials, or of his disease.
And it's not just because of the information he'll spill.
Interrogation is . . . well, not a pleasant way to die. I want to get
him out as much as you do, but it may not be possible. The question
is, if it comes to that--can you give him something to make it quick
and easy for him?"
"You're asking me to kill him. I can't do that." If I was sure of
nothing else in this confusion, I was sure of that much. Apart from
any other considerations, I'd sworn an oath before they let me out of
the Byblos Academy of Medicine: boiled down, it consisted of "First, do
no harm."
Haslam wasn't surprised. "Okay," he sighed, "it's my responsibility.
I'll take care of it." Then, in a whisper, "Blast it, I wish they
wouldn't do this to me."
I hesitated. I didn't like the train of thought developing in my mind:
Look, if the guy's gonna die anyway, isn't it your job as a physician
to make sure it as easy as possible? If we can't get him out, Haslam
is gonna shoot him. If you can't Square your conscience enough to
overdose him with potassium and make it fast and painless, can you at
least sedate him enough so he sleeps through it?
But that means I'm helping Haslam kill him. I'm being dragged along on
this mission to save his life if it's at all possible, not to help end
it.
You're on this mission to serve your patient as best you can, whether
it means saving his life or helping him die as easily as possible.
Skies, I hate this!
"I can give him some conergin," I heard myself saying abruptly. I was
dimly surprised to hear that my voice was flat, steady; my insides
certainly weren't. "It won't kill him, but it'll put him down deep
enough to let you do what you have to."
Haslam looked up sharply. "You'll help me?"
"I'll help you. But only after I've tried everything I can to get him
moving and out of there. And this is a medical problem, not a military
one. It has to be my decision. Not yours." I held his eyes with my
own, feeling sick. "If that's not acceptable, you and the Rebellion
can find yourselves another medic. Or a droid."
"Done," Haslam replied, grasping my wrist as if closing a business
deal. Which, of course, we were.
The flight to Selnesh was relatively short, only four days in
hyperspace. Of course, four days with the dilemma I had hanging over
my head is an eternity and then some. I spent them packing and
repacking my medpac for greatest efficiency, mentally reviewing the
resuscitation plan, and getting used to the weight of the hold-out
blaster up my left sleeve. Melenna had handed it to me just after
boarding as a matter of course.
"Wait!" I'd blurted. "I don't want this. I don't even know how to
use it."
"Real simple." Melenna shrugged. "Point and shoot."
"But I don't want it! I'm a doctor! I don't shoot people!"
"This go-around, you may have to." Disgustedly, Melenna pushed up my
tunic sleeve, fastened-the little holster around my forearm, and
snapped it down with a final-sounding click. "If you can't, don't.
Just try not to shoot any of us, okay?"
We popped back into normal space over Selnesh about the mid-afternoon
of the fourth day. If I'd set out to build a prison planet from the
core outward, this would have been it: a gray rocky ball in the middle
of nowhere, its sun no more than a bright bluish star. "Bleak" did not
even begin to describe it. The surface was totally bare of color or
vegetation. The sterile white plasteel dome of the prison sat like a
fungus directly below us as we descended.
There was literally nowhere else to go on t
his world that
would support life for more than a few hours. I could see why nobody escaped
from here.
While Enkhet, already in his stormtrooper armor, exchanged code strings
and pleasantries with the docking bay, the rest of us lined up in
preparation for deception.
Melenna wore free-trader's gear, Liak only his fur, and I a plain
civilian tunic and trousers; the precious medpac was fastened around my
waist under the loose, long tunic. All three of us wore wrist
binders.
Gowan, also in armor, held a blaster rifle carefully pointed at the
floor. Haslam was in a gray officer's uniform and looked, at least to
me, thoroughly official and intimidating.
The jar of landing in the bay was slight; evidently Enkhet was as good
a pilot as everyone said he was. I clenched my fists tightly, the cut
of the binders into my wrists announcing, I don't like this. I want to
go home. Right now. I'm not cut out for a life of adventure.
Somehow sensing my nervousness, Liak turned around and growled
something incomprehensible but reassuring-sounding.
"Pretend you're in a holovid," Melenna suggested brightly.
"Playing the part of a prisoner. That's what I do.
Just don't say anything. Let the Lieutenant do the talk-ing-it's what
he's here for."
"Thanks," I muttered. Nerves always take me in the stomach, and mine
was turning somersaults just then. Better the stomach than the hands,
anyway--a doctor had better have steady hands, whether she's nervous or
not.
Enkhet joined us from the cockpit. "All clear," he announced
casually.
"No challenge. They sound bored."
"Good enough," observed Haslam. "Let's move out."
Getting past the docking bay was a lot easier than I'd expected.
Haslam, doing a perfect imitation of an Imperial officer---clipped
speech, formal stance and all--identified himself as one Lieutenant
Grailant, operating number 13398247, and us as smugglers and possible
Rebel sympathizers. The base commander, who looked as
if he'd heard
it all one too many times before, waved us tiredly back toward the
passage I figured had to lead to the holding area.
We filed down the gray hallway, ending up in a large bay with
cell-lined hallways branching off at regular intervals.
The central computer bank was inhabited by four stormtroopers holding
blaster rifles at least as big as the ones Enkhet and Gowan wielded,
and a crisply pressed officer type wearing captain's insignia who
looked a whole lot more alert than his commander. The officer glanced
up as we came in, and the troopers all shifted slightly to aim their
rifles not precisely at us but definitely in our direction. I suddenly
found it harder to breathe.
Part of my brain was seriously considering saying "Count me out,
thanks, I don't want to play anymore," turning around and walking back
to the ship. Since this would have ruined Haslam's pretty scenario,
and I was too frozen to move anyway, I kept still and silent.
Haslam repeated the name-rank-and-operating number business for the
officer, who (thank the skies) didn't seem inclined to be
challenging.
Instead, he helpfully fired up the computer and assigned the three of
us cell numbers.
Prisoner processing apparently took place inside the cells, rather than
in the open area--to reduce the incidence of breaks, I guessed.
Since a break was precisely what we had planned, I didn't find this
information encouraging.
Enkhet pressed the muzzle of his blaster into my back, pushing me
forward. Captain Whoever stepped forward to help get us hardened
criminals into cells for processing.
Haslam stopped him with an upraised hand.
"I'm going to have to ask you and your men to leave for a few
minutes."
"What?" the captain asked blankly.
"I need you and your men to leave the area temporarily."
Haslam spoke even more quietly, with an air of complicity.
"I'm with Intelligence. We suspect these prisoners have had access to
top-secret information about the movements of various Rebel cells.
It's not that we don't trust a
loyal Imperial officer, but the presence of these prisoners here has to be kept absolutely top secret
until interrogation is complete. I'm sure you understand."
"Does Commander Caton know about this?"
"No, and it's important to the war effort that no one knows just now.
I can't tell you any more. I shouldn't even have said this much, The
reason I brought them here is because I know the reputation of this
base's officers and men. There's no more secure place in the
galaxy."
"I understand," the captain said gravely, and motioned the troopers to
follow him out the door. Evidently flattery went a long way.
"I'll also have to disable the security cameras temporarily.
Just until they're processed, you understand. No one must know of
their presence here."
"Understood." And it was as easy as that. The Imps simply walked out
and closed the doors behind them.
Gowan, helmet off, was already slicing into the computer; after a
moment, the cameras mounted around the ceiling went dark.
Haslam moved lightly around the room checking for I didn't know what,
while Enkhet removed our binders.
Melenna stretched her arms and hands forward to remove the stiffness.
"You didn't have to tighten them quite so much," she complained
mildly.
"My hands are asleep."
"You're the one wanted to be convincing."
Liak growled an admonishment, and the squabble--probably the latest
chapter in an ongoing saga--ceased.
Meanwhile, I was digging into my medpac again, assuring myself one more
time that none of the precious equipment or drug vials was damaged.
The ticklish clenching of my muscles, the usual prelude to a full-bore
resuscitation, was beginning to push through my fear. "Where is he?"
I demanded.
"I'm looking," Gowan replied absently, his attention entirely occupied
by the flashing images on the screen.
"Okay, here it is. Cell 2826."
"Well, come on, let's go[" "Aurin," Haslam spoke quietly. "I'm in
command of this mission. We go when I say."
"Haslam," I said in the same tone, "you got us past the Imps. Now it's
a medical mission. That's my department, remember? There's a man
dying in one of these cells. I've got work to do. Let me do it." The
words "or else" hung in the air. I didn't know quite what "or else"
would involve, but Haslam realized I was serious anyway. He
half-laughed, half-sighed, and gave the move-out signal.
The cell was at the far end of the center hallway. While Enkhet stood
guard near the hall entrance---Gowan had stayed behind to compute some
more Haslam entered a complex code into the keypad at the side of the
door. It slid open to reveal a thin, gray-haired human male lying on
the pallet at the far end of the small room. He rose half up on one
elbow, eyes widening at the sight of us. I absorbed details as I moved
; quickly to his side, unstrapping the medpac from around my waist: he
was very pale, his eyes sunken and his lips dry, indicating
dehydration, but he was awake, alert and aware. I'd been prepared for
a patient at death's door, and was surprised at how relatively good he
looked.
"Is this the rescue party?" His voice was soft and hoarse, but held a
hint of wry humor.
"That's us." Melenna had followed close behind me, and gave him a
dazzling smile I suspected would get any man off a deathbed in short
order. She'd probably intended it that way. "Anything to make the
mission a success," she'd commented briefly during the ride in. If
flirting with the rescuee would help, she'd do it.
"I wasn't . . . expecting you." He had to breathe in the middle of
the short sentence; yes, he needed some help. During the exchange I
had been rapidly unpacking my equipment; now I placed the IAU
Intravenous Access Unit--on his upper chest and pressed the activation
switch. While the catheter burrowed through his skin in search of the
large subclavian vein leading directly to his
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