by Cindy Borgne
I was terrified, but stood my ground. It was too late to back down now. "Damn straight I am. Now see to this man's wounds."
“Shit!” the commander yelled to his men at the front of the hold area. “Medic! Get a medic over here. Move, damn it.” He switched a control on his wrist. “Pilot, get us to an aid station now.”
I pulled back Layne’s visor. Blood dripped out of his ears and down his forehead as he gasped for air.
The commander bent down over Layne. “What’s your name?”
Layne didn’t answer.
The commander turned to me. “Do you know his name?”
“Uh, no.”
A medic hurried down the hall carrying a medical pack. He unzipped Layne’s suit. Blood coated his body. The medic grabbed equipment to start an I.V.
“Do not let him die,” said the commander. “That’s an order.” He walked away and down the hall toward the front of the ship.
Out a side viewport, I could see us speeding away from the area of combat. Layne strained to speak. I leaned down and put my ear next to his mouth.
“Tell Kayla,” he whispered and stopped. I strained to hear him. “I love her.” His eyes slowly closed.
The medic holding his monitor cursed and threw it down, pulling out a pair of paddles from his emergency kit "Clear!"
I found it unbearable to watch and turned away. I caused this. Thousands of people are dead and maybe Nate. Who knows where Clare is. People are dying because of me.
I breathed heavily, leaned over and gripped my hair. How could I have thought I was doing a good thing? This is my fault.
The medic shook his head. “The commander wanted the impossible.” He removed any medical equipment.
A couple of soldier’s sealed up Layne’s remains in a body bag. They did it fast and emotionless as if they had done this hundreds of times. I remembered my vision of Kayla crying in the hydroponics room. Now I knew the reason.
The medic took my arm. “Come with me to a bunk, so I can look at that leg.”
I didn’t want to leave Layne, but the medic continued to tug at me. Sharp pains went up my leg. I hobbled down the hall closer to the front of the ship and sat down on a bunk built into the side of the wall behind the bridge.
“Sir, we’ve spotted Deltoton vessels,” said the pilot.
“What’s Deltoton doing here?” yelled the commander.
“Stand down, Marscorp.” A female voice came over the radio with an emphasis of disgust on the word ‘Marscorp’. “This is Admiral Reese with Deltoton. We will not allow this battle to continue.”
The officers gathered in the hall. Even the medic got up to listen.
“What’s going on?”
“Why are they stopping us?”
“Delta is supposed to be our ally.”
“Continue this battle and you will make Deltoton one of your enemies.” Her voice was like a brick.
“That bitch,” muttered the commander.
“Now what do we do?”
“We have to wait until we hear from Admiral Beacon.”
“Some of your people have not disengaged,” Reese said. “Stop or we’ll begin our attack.”
Deltoton Aeronautical had a huge military almost equivalent to Marscorp. Usually larger corporations didn’t befriend the smaller ones, but apparently this was an exception. I trembled and gripped a bar on the frame of the bunk. The sight of Nate flying out of the ship flashed repeatedly in my mind. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my shaking.
Out the front port, vessels flew in all directions. A new battle with Delta could break out at any time. I tugged at the collar of my envirosuit, trying to release some heat. The stale air lacked the normal amount of oxygen. The ship rattled from a nearby explosion. My knuckles whitened as my fingers gripped around the beam.
The medic peered at the wound through the thick material and held back a wince. “We’ll be over at the aid station soon. They’ll fix you up. You better lay down.”
If I did, I wouldn’t be able to see anything but the ceiling. I preferred to be sitting if something happened.
“I need to start an IV.”
It felt like pushing against a cement wall as I forced myself to lie down. At the same time, I didn’t let go of the beam. My heart skipped a beat every time the ship dipped. Every vibration seemed more than normal for a vessel. Either it needed an overhaul or something was about to malfunction. The medic injected something into the IV.
“What’s that?”
“For the pain,” the medic said.
The next few minutes seemed more like hours. The vessel landed with a few bumps. Two medics helped me onto a gurney and carried me out of the rear of the ship. We passed through an airlock and into a large tent-like warehouse with wounded soldiers on gurneys along the floor. Doctors went from one to another.
They set me down on the ground next to about two hundred other wounded people. Most of them slept with IV bags attached.
Medics went through the crowd, calling out to other doctors about which soldiers were in the worst condition. Voices blurred together, sounding like everyone spoke from the end of a tunnel. Clare said she would be at an aid station. I looked at each person, hoping to see her – if she even made it here.
“Someone will get to you soon,” the medic said.
I doubted that. The men hurried back to their vessel. I tried to sit up, desperate to search for Clare, but my leg wouldn’t move. My eyes wanted to shut, and my head felt like it gained thirty pounds.
“Damn medic,” I mumbled right before passing out.
Chapter 8
I awoke still lying in one of the rows of wounded soldiers on the floor of the aid station. An empty IV bag hung above me, looking like the same one since I arrived. Someone had removed my envirosuit and covered me with a blanket. Foul odors of blood, urine, and sweat hung in the air. I covered my nose with my sleeve.
Every few minutes someone would moan or cry out in pain. I wanted to ask someone about Nate, but none of the medics or doctors came close enough. An occasional hovercraft passed over the clear ceiling and caused the portable walls to vibrate.
I touched Layne’s com still in my pocket. Most of the wounded slept. In the crowd, nobody would notice me. The medical personnel were too far off and too busy.
I slipped the com out, clutched it to my chest and rolled onto my side. I scrolled through the messages on the small screen. Most of them were from Kayla. Her last name “Merceir” sounded familiar.
This is Lieutenant Merceir. I’m an assistant diplomat for Gentech.
I held my breath. The one on the radio was Kayla. I held the com to my chest, and my heart pounded beneath my hand.
We have tried numerous times to discuss peace with your leaders, but they refuse to answer our messages. Gentech greatly desires to work with Marscorp and end these conflicts. We feel we can help each other reach our goals if only we could set up negotiations.
Her message sounded reasonable. Why can’t we work together despite having different goals? Messages from Kayla sat in the inbox, tempting me to play them. I hesitated in fear of what I might hear would add to an already overwhelming guilt.
After several minutes of irregular breathing, I gave into curiosity, knowing that if I didn’t do it now I would do it later. I shakily opened the com and toggled the volume control to low. A small holographic image of Kayla’s face appeared above the com.
“Layne, how about I come out to the mine?” she said. “I know you don’t want me to, but I miss you. At this rate we’re never going to find time to get married.”
Her tiny image went out with a flicker. I swallowed hard against my tightening throat. The brief moments of Kayla in my visions made me feel like I was in paradise. Happiness as if I’d been reunited with her after years of separation. But why did I have these visions if she was engaged? Am I even sane? No, there has to be a reason.
I found Layne’s response and played it. “Now sweetie, while it is safe here I’d feel better if you stay put. I
promise I’ll be back in a month, and we’ll be married then.”
Apparently, she didn’t stay away from the mine. Layne was right, but they would’ve been safe if it wasn’t for me. I played another message from Kayla.
“Hi Layne, don’t you ever want to run off somewhere together? All we do is handle problems for Gentech. Do you ever think about giving up being a leader?”
I found Layne’s response.
“It’s hard to be apart, and I find myself daydreaming about you often. But our jobs are important to the safety of our people. When things calm down, we’ll take a long break. I would love that. ” Layne’s face faded.
One of the doctors came a bit too close. I slammed the com shut and stuffed it back into my pocket. Even though she planned to marry Layne - even though she was a Genner – it didn’t matter. Her fiancé was dead, and I had a big part in it.
My mind raced back over the visions several times. A sharp pain went through my head, forcing me to stop. I was thirsty and shivering, but didn’t care.
This had to be a nightmare. My mind went in circles. I lost track of time, maybe I dozed off for a moment. Is Nate among all these wounded?
I lifted my head and strained to focus as the room weaved. Most of the wounded were on the ground, but some sat in chairs along the portable wall. A few others wandered around aimlessly. None of them looked like Nate. I slid the IV out of my arm and put the tape back over the vein. Rolling to my knees, I stood up, keeping most of the weight on the good leg and staggered about, checking all the faces.
My dizziness made me concerned I might step on someone. I sighed in relief at making it to an aisle between the wounded. Pain radiated from my wound and my knees buckled, but I ignored the pain and wouldn’t let myself collapse in fear that Nate might be worse off than me.
Nobody gave me a second glance in the chaos. I slowly made my way closer to an opening where doctors went in and out. When my dizziness increased to seeing black spots, I sat on my knees, figuring if I didn’t rest I might end up unconscious. At the far end of the room, by one of the doors, a woman similar in size to Clare stood in a lab coat talking to another doctor. She had the same short, gray hair.
“Clare….” I tried to yell, but, as usual, nobody heard me over the patients and doctors talking. I stood up and made it through the doors into a large hall.
“Hey!” someone yelled.
Two medics grabbed me. “You need to go lie down.”
“But I know her.” I pulled away from them.
The two doctors talked to each other at the end of the hall. The medics kept a firm hold of me.
I struggled against their tightening hands. “Let me talk to her. Dr. Clare….”
Clare spun around and ran over. "Ian! What are you doing here?"
“Please,” I saw no sense in going into that and slumped to the floor, “have you seen Nate?”
“You’re wounded.” She knelt, touched my forehead, reached in her pocket for a circular thermometer, and held it to my temple. “Forty Celsius.” She rolled her eyes and touched my wounded leg. “This is infected.” She looked at the medics. “Why didn’t someone take care of him?” Her voice rose. “He’s an elite member and you leave him here?”
“We didn’t know,” one said sheepishly.
"You." She pointed to one of the medics at my side. "Get a wheelchair and bring him to my examining room." Her voice croaked when she spoke, as though she’d been strained for hours.
“Y-yes, ma’am.” One of the medics scurried off.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “I’m responsible for . . .” A stubborn knot formed in my throat. “I-I didn’t come alone.”
“I know, you foolish boy. I hoped you wouldn’t be here too.”
“You found Nate?” I struggled to my feet.
Clare helped me up. "Yes, but he went a long time without oxygen. He's still not responsive."
My heart raced. “Where is he?”
Clare motioned toward one of the enclosed rooms at the back. An aide brought a wheel chair over. I ignored it and staggered toward Nate’s room.
“Ian.” Clare grabbed my arm. “Don’t.”
I pushed her away, stumbling toward a series of cubicles. “Where?”
Clare pointed to a room at the end. I hurried for it and pulled the door open. Nate was covered with sheets, his eyes closed. A tube connected to a respirator and forced the oxygen into his lungs one breath at a time.
“No,” I mumbled, feeling as if someone knocked the wind out of me. “Nate?” I gently squeezed my friend’s hand and looked for some sign or a small movement, but nothing happened.
This was my fault. I sagged to my knees, clutching the railing for support. Clare said something, but it sounded like she talked at the far end of a tunnel. The future was here, and my knowledge of it made things worse. I never wanted to have visions again.
“Nate, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, but it was so useless.
Clare and a medic pried my hands off the bed and pulled me into a wheelchair. I didn’t have any strength left to protest.
“Can you help him?” I asked, softly.
“I can’t say at this point.” Clare pushed me out of the room. “I need to take care of your leg.”
We went through the door and into another room. Clare’s assistant parked me in front of a stack of boxes at the back. Everything ached as she helped me onto the examining table.
“I realize why you came – you came to warn us and you were right about this not going so easily for us.” Clare handed me a water bottle. “But you shouldn’t have attempted this. You’re too important to be in danger.” She patted my hand. “Next time, don’t doubt me.”
I hummed in agreement as I guzzled down the water.
“Marscorp has been lulled into a sense of security by their egos.” Clare fumbled through several small containers unable to find what she was looking for. “Our medical vessel was barely far away enough to avoid the explosions.”
She found medicine in the boxes and loaded an injector. “Some of my associates were not so lucky. They were too close and there were no survivors.” She hovered over the wound. “I need to remove some shrapnel.”
There was a quick knock on the door. Clare opened it.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a commander said. He took a quick look around. “The situation is rather shaky right now. Deltoton wasn’t kidding about defending Gentech. They destroyed about twenty of our vessels when we tried to take a small hangar.”
“Just what I need. More wounded on half a medical staff.” Clare’s face reddened.
“And they want us to leave.”
“They’re our allies. Can’t they at least give us some time to take care of our wounded?”
“Our diplomat is working on that, but we may not have much time. We need to speed up the process of getting patients back to Central.”
Clare stared at him and grumbled. The commander left with a sympathetic look as he shut the door. I breathed heavily anticipating Admiral Beacon’s outrage upon finding out that that his human lie detector was in critical condition. “B-Beacon , he’s gonna . . . .” I put my hand to my forehead.
“Easy now, he’s never really punished you, yet. You’re too valuable.” She pressed the injector near the wound, reached in her pocket and put a lumpy metallic piece in my hand. “This is what the Genners are mining.”
I picked it up and turned it around with my fingers as my leg went numb.
“Have any idea what that is?” Clare asked.
“No, but I’m guessing it’s not gold.”
“It’s platinum and I’m sure Gentech is paying Deltoton for their help.” Clare cleared her throat. “It’s a strange turn of events, but this will give Deltoton an edge. I’m not sure how Gentech will figure into this. Most likely Deltoton will turn on them after we leave and take over the mine.”
Clare paused, expecting me to comment, but I couldn’t think about organizational strategies along with my guilt and c
onfusion over Nate and Kayla. If Nate didn’t make it, I didn’t even know if I wanted to live.
“As you know,” she continued. “Earth people seldom enter into trade with Mars organizations, but for something like platinum, I can’t see them turning it down. Deltoton’s going to be able to greatly increase their military muscle.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” I said, softly.
Another knock came from the door. Clare opened it a crack and stuck her head out.
“The commander wants to speak with you,” said someone in the hall.
Clare turned back to me. “Rest here, I’ll be back in a moment.”
The commander could’ve wanted Clare for many things, but I had a feeling it was about me.
Chapter 9
Clare came back into the room with wrinkles deepening across her forehead. “We’re going back to Central in a midrange now.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I was wrong about Beacon. He intends to punish you.” She took an injector off the shelf and pressed it into my leg near the wound. “This will partially numb the pain for the next few hours.”
My stomach tightened. “What is he going to do?”
“I’m not sure.” Her voice wavered as she roughly tossed supplies into her bag. “Something about making you see the results of your foolish behavior.”
“But I already know . . . .” Tears tried to build up again.
“Just cooperate. He’s in one foul mood.” She handed me a bottle of water. “Drink up.” Her urgent tone suggested I might not get any water for a long time.
A lieutenant poked his head through the door. “Your vessel is ready.”
“We’re coming.” She helped me off the table.
We walked down a long hall to the other side and into a docking station. Several people went in and out of the back of a midrange, carrying supplies and helping some wounded soldiers inside. Others went in on gurneys. Clare directed me over to the dust-coated military envirosuits along the wall.
“Get a suit on.” She took a smaller sized one off the hook for herself.
I found a reasonable sized one for myself. “What about Nate?”