Rising, Rhonda tried to push the Captain’s bed but realized it was bolted to the floor. God Almighty! She’d forgotten that dumb security measure to prevent recovering criminals from using the beds to make barricades.
She didn’t dare move Cole by herself. Any jerky motion could upset the fresh glue mending his upper chest. The robots would do a better job. “Move Captain Riggeur to the entryway,” she ordered in her professional voice.
The spidery robots remained in their cradles and didn’t come out to help. The last tremor had probably disconnected the medical A.I. Fetching a Gurney from the supply room, Rhonda brought it next to Cole’s bed.
She activated the automatic bed feature. The frame purred and the mattress extended sideways over the Gurney. Pushing the next button released the mattress, along with the sleeping Cole, as gently and quietly as if the machine operated on a cloud. Then Rhonda unhooked his I.V. He wouldn’t need it anymore. She rolled the Captain’s Gurney under the wide reinforced archway between the surgery and the recovery room.
Satisfied Cole would be safe, with nothing to do until he awoke, Rhonda returned to the scrub room and threw their gray uniforms into a cleansing unit for a full cycle. Both would be ready when the Captain awoke.
Rhonda headed back toward the archway to check on Cole when a violent shake threw her off balance. The lights dimmed. She grabbed the edge of a high metal shelf supporting a bank of monitors. Unfortunately, the large shelf broke away from the wall and fell, flattening Rhonda under the thick sheet of metal and a pile of broken equipment. More debris crashed on top of the shelf, and Rhonda felt grateful for the shield of the protective metal.
When the tremor had passed, Rhonda wedged herself to lift the shelf and realized with horror that she couldn’t. Something heavy must have fallen over it, and Rhonda lay confined under a mound of rubble, buried alive in darkness, like in a tight coffin. Darkness...
She tried to change position, but a sharp pain lanced her shoulder. Her scrub top seemed snagged on something. She couldn’t move at all. Trapped like a rat in a dead-end pipe, she thought with growing anxiety. Rhonda found it difficult to breathe and impossible to think. Not enough light, not enough air. She would surely die under here. Panic and despair seized her and she couldn’t help but sob and cry softly, “Help!”
But she knew no one out there would come to rescue her.
*****
The shake caught Tomar and his team as they experimented with an assortment of tools from the maintenance bay, in hopes of cutting a hole in the door.
“Fuck the Gods of the Old Ways!" Tomar brushed off his red overalls. Dust now filled the corridor.
Gramps sat on the dirty yellow floor, scratching his grizzled head. “I heard something fall behind that door. Something big and heavy. Even if we ever open it, we’ll probably find a collapsed wall on the other side. This place is falling apart. Maybe we should just forget about the guards and find our own way out. I’m sure this big shake opened more fissures between the floors.”
Tomar had no patience for the weasel of a man. “Are you questioning my orders?”
Gramps paled. “In no way, Fierce Leader. I was just suggesting, but obviously I was mistaken.”
“Mistaken indeed." Tomar advanced upon Gramps. “Remind me why I keep you alive?”
“You need me to open the doors, Fierce Leader." Gramps’ eyes rounded with fear and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“But you just proved useless as you can’t open this one. And conventional tools don’t seem to work either." Tomar enjoyed the fear in the old man’s face. “We need these two guards in order to open the other doors and you know it.”
“But, Fierce Leader, if we can’t get to the guards, I merely suggested we find another way out. Maybe through the maintenance tunnels and the mineshaft...”
“You suggested?" Tomar’s gave his tone a menacing edge. “Who gave you license to think?”
“I apologize, Fierce Leader. It won’t happen again.”
“Indeed, it will never happen again." Tomar grinned. “I don’t need you anymore.”
“Please, Fierce Leader. You will find me useful in many ways." Gramps stepped back hesitantly, glancing right and left for an escape. “I am a skilled engineer.”
Relishing the smell of fear emanating from Gramps’ skin, Tomar signaled his men to block his retreat, and they moved into place. Then Tomar advanced on the old man and grabbed his shoulder. The Monack’s claws pierced the brittle ribs and Gramps screamed as his blood gushed onto the dusty floor.
Digging deep, Tomar clutched the beating organ in his claws, then he ripped it out and let go of Gramps, who fell like a limp puppet on the floor. Tomar held up the beating heart like an offering. “To you, Gods of the Old Ways. May you smile on me again!" Then he bit into the firm flesh and chewed it with gusto. As his men stared in fearful silence, Tomar finished his treat then kicked Gramps’ bleeding carcass out of the way.
“Get back to work." He lengthened his tongue to lick the sweet blood off his fangs. “It’s an infirmary behind that door, and some of you may need to disinfect that chip hole."
The words effectively prompted the men to work faster.
“We need to get the guards before they die and their blood is too old to give us fresh DNA."
Tomar didn’t even mention the trickier part. He needed the code from them as well, but his true goal was revenge. No one, however, needed to know that. Too much knowledge might encourage more of his men to think for themselves, and he wanted them to obey him blindly. After Gramps’ execution, they no doubt would.
*****
Cole stretched in his bed, in a euphoric state, feeling no pain at all. Had it all been a terrible nightmare? Would he awaken in his quarters before the morning call? As he opened his eyes, he wished that would be the case but did not recognize his surroundings. At least he felt whole and in perfect health, so he could rule out his torture by Tomar as a bad dream, although it had felt very real at the time.
As he pondered that puzzle, amused by its complexity, Cole heard a faint cry, like that of a small animal, or maybe it was sobbing, coming from another room. What room? Where was he?
He tossed the blanket and discovered he wore standard issue long johns. He chuckled. Who had dressed him in these silly duds and why? Was he in yet another dream? His mind found it difficult to make sense of anything.
Lightheaded, unsteady on his legs, Cole followed the sound and ended up in the room where he thought he’d heard a crying sound. At first sight, the place looked like a mess of discarded broken equipment in a pile of rubble. “Rubble?" He giggled. Funny word, “rubble." He rolled it on his tongue to see how it felt. “Rubble." He smiled as it tickled his lazy tongue. “Rubble.”
“Cole? Er.. Captain?" The faint voice sounded familiar and came from the bottom of the heap.
Cole crouched and saw a hand sticking out of the pile of debris. He took it and felt a responding squeeze. “Who is this?" He liked this guessing game.
“It’s Rhonda. Please, help me out.”
Pushing away obstructing debris, Cole peered under the edge of a large metal shelf and vaguely recognized the face encrusted with dust and rivulets of dry tears. He smiled. “Rhonda? What are you doing under there? And why in hell are you wearing yellow?”
“Am I glad to see you, Captain.”
“Why don’t you come out and play?”
“I’m stuck.”
“I get it. You are in my dream." No wonder nothing made sense. Cole was still dreaming. “But if you want me to play your game, you have to call me Cole.”
“What? But Captain...”
“I insist. Or I won’t play with you.”
“All right. Cole, please, help me out of here.”
“Now, that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those yellow clothes." As long as he was dreaming, it wouldn’t hurt to act out one of his secret fantasies.
Chapter Ten
Level Sixteen - Surgi
cal Ward - Yellow Zone
Too frustrated, Rhonda couldn’t laugh at Cole’s silliness. She wondered how much time had passed while she lay trapped under her metal shield with little chance of rescue. She remembered crying for a while then drifting into sleep. Had he recovered enough to help her? She doubted he could do much in his drug-altered state.
Good thing Cole had cleared the debris in front of her face. Rhonda now had a breathing hole. She edged her face closer to the small opening to see him better and winced as the motion pulled her hair. “You mustn’t strain yourself or your wound will reopen.”
“What wound?" He sat cross-legged on the floor in his long johns, patted her extended hand and chuckled. “Oh, I get it. I’m still in the dream.”
“A dream?" Rhonda realized he’d lost touch with reality. His mind didn’t seem to work right. Her shoulders ached and something sharp snagged the top of her surgical smock. She tried to worm away from it but only scratched her shoulder. “Sorry, Captain, but that was no dream. You were wounded, and I did operate on you a few hours ago. We are in the surgery ward on Level Sixteen.”
“Right. That was the dream." He brushed dust off the yellow floor with his fingers. “Yellow Zone." He frowned. “And please call me Cole." Shaking his head, he looked around him in obvious amazement. “This place is a real mess.”
Rhonda reached with her only free hand and grabbed his bare foot to get his attention. “How much rubble is on top of me?" She didn’t want to think of what would happen if it shifted.
Scratching his head, Cole looked up and squinted. “I’d say about two or three tons." He shrugged. “Maybe ten.”
“That much?" Rhonda forced herself to relax and take a deep breath. She couldn’t give in to despair. “How about you find something to pry up this metal shelf. All I need is a few centimeters of free space to crawl out of here.”
“Craawwll..." Cole smiled as if the word amused him immensely. His pupils looked dilated. Definitely the effects of the drug.
“But be careful. You don’t have your strength back, yet.”
“Carreffull..." He stared at her but didn’t make a move to help.
This was no use. Cole just didn’t make much sense. Rhonda wanted to scream at him but reminded herself she must remain calm. So she took a few slow breaths and released the tension as she exhaled, her favorite martial arts technique to find her center. Once calmer, she convinced herself she’d just have to be patient and wait until he regained his logic.
As she observed Cole, Rhonda wished she had a recorder. Cole acted like a cute drunk. If their situation weren’t so serious, she’d find his behavior amusing. Right now, Mr. All-business-and-no-fun looked rather charming, like an innocent child. She tried to smile. “Maybe we can talk." Talking usually helped alleviate her anxiety.
“Talk is good." A far cry from the guarded Cole who avoided personal questions.
“What do you remember?”
“From the dream?”
“It’s not a dream.”
“If you insist..." He brought his face down close to the opening and whispered, “You were very brave.”
“Brave?" The thought pleased Rhonda, but she suspected Cole would never have said that if it weren’t for his drugged condition. “Do you remember the Monack?”
Cole nodded gravely. “You said you killed him and then you saved me. We escaped with Javel and Xerna. You refused to abandon me. I remember that." He smiled and shook his finger at her. “Stubborn.”
Rhonda answered his smile as she realized his recollection of the events remained clear, but he believed the experience to be a nightmare. Curiously, she enjoyed talking to the uninhibited Cole. In Vino Veritas, the truth is in the wine, as the old saying went. The drug acted almost like a truth serum.
Since there was nothing she could do until Cole recovered from the Styx, Rhonda needed a distraction to forget her awful situation. The next quake could crush her or bury her completely. To occupy her mind, she might as well satisfy her curiosity about Cole.
“Who was the child in the hologram you were watching when I called you in your quarters?" The words conjured the image of Cole, naked in the soft light of his bathroom. It seemed so long ago.
Cole’s face remained unconcerned. “My son.”
Rhonda didn’t know Cole ever had a lasting relationship, even less that he’d fathered a child. “I didn’t realize you had a son.”
Cole chuckled. “Neither did I, until recently. Never saw him.”
“What’s his name?" Rhonda felt maternal all of a sudden.
“Liam. My wife’s ancestors were Irish, an ancient tribe from Earth.”
Rhonda tried to shift to a better position under her shelf, but her narrow cage didn’t allow for it. “How could you not know you had a child?”
“His mother was pregnant when we divorced, but she never told me.”
Rhonda had no idea Cole had been married and divorced. She could only imagine him as a workaholic bachelor. “And she kept your child from you? Isn’t that illegal?”
“Not on Upsilon Three." His smile carried regrets.
“Can’t you visit him there?”
“No." He grimaced. “His mother made sure of that.”
“Does he know anything about his father?”
“I doubt it.”
Rhonda felt sorry for him. “Don’t worry. When he gets old enough, he’ll come looking for you. It’s in the blood.”
“I hope so." He spoke easily, as if the drug numbed the emotional pain as well. “The last time I trusted a woman, she broke my heart and destroyed my life. I barely survived the divorce.”
“What kind of wife does that?" Rhonda found herself hating the woman who did such a cruel thing. She also wished she could bring Cole comfort, but her predicament didn’t allow it.
Cole shook his head. “Funny, though. I always thought I had a good marriage while it lasted. How blind can you be?”
Rhonda tried to move a cramping muscle, in vain. She felt trapped and controlled the insidious panic that tried to overcome her. She hid her fear under a grin. “What happened?”
Cole shrugged. “All of a sudden, she turned on me because the job took me away from home for six weeks at a time. She always knew that would be the case. Is that a reason to leave? Whatever happened to loyalty? You can’t trust women." He glanced at her and chuckled. “Present company excepted.”
As Rhonda started to understand Cole’s deep-rooted mistrust of women, she couldn’t help feeling flattered. He’d made her the exception. So, he did respect her after all. “How did you find out you had a son?”
“By accident, when Duran updated my records after my last promotion. He’s eleven now, but all I have of him is a holorecording taken when he was three.”
Rhonda recalled the holoplay Cole was watching when she’d interrupted his morning ritual. She calculated that Cole must have married very young, probably his first love.
“You know what the sad part is, though?" He looked away, as if entranced by the memory. “I always wanted kids, and I miss him. Don’t you want kids?”
“I never thought about it." Rhonda tended to think in terms of relationships rather than marriage. “But now that you mention it, my big house on Banoi would feel empty without a family in it." Seeing Cole more coherent, Rhonda asked, “How are you feeling?”
“A little stronger." He rose to his feet and walked out of sight.
Rhonda heard him foray into the debris. “Find anything?” she yelled.
“Maybe." He came back with a length of pipe elbowed like a crow bar and wedged it under the rim of the metal shelf.
“Watch out. Don’t exert yourself,” Rhonda warned. If he reopened the wound, she probably couldn’t fix him up again. Even with her limited view, she could tell the infirmary had suffered from the last quakes.
“Get ready!”
Banishing the thought that the load above her head could shift and crush her in the rescue process, Rhonda took a deep breath and released
it slowly. “I’m ready.”
As Cole applied pressure on the long end of the pipe, Rhonda heard the metal groan, but the shelf didn’t budge.
“It’s going to take more strength than I have." Cole didn’t sound concerned.
“Try engineering rather than force." She didn’t want him to risk a serious injury.
Another tremor rumbled through the infirmary, unsettling the pile above Rhonda’s head. Terrified, Rhonda willed herself not to scream.
“Get ready,” Cole yelled. “The tremor might help. I’ll try again.”
As the floor shook, Rhonda saw Cole strain against the pipe, using it as a lever. The pipe broke, and more rubble fell down and obstructed Rhonda’s small window. Trapped in the dark, scared and discouraged, Rhonda realized the next quake would bury her alive if this one hadn’t already, and she felt her panic growing. But she couldn’t allow herself to lose control again, so she ground her teeth not to break into sobs.
Cole swept away the debris in front of her breathing hole and she welcomed the sight of his face. “Are you all right in there?”
“I think so." It was all she could do not to cry.
*****
As Cole’s mind started to clear, he could now discern the harsh reality, and his ability to focus gradually returned. He needed to get Rhonda out of her predicament and fast, before the next quake. The poor thing looked as scared as a kitten trapped in a drainpipe, and he couldn’t blame her.
Cole’s body seemed to respond to his command, and apart from a slight tingle in his upper right chest, he felt fully functional. He knew he took a risk of reopening the wound by straining himself, but Rhonda couldn’t wait much longer. “Hold on, I’ll get you out of there.”
Spotting the robot Rhonda had converted to transport him, he wondered whether he could use its power. How many tons could a robot move? He wouldn’t know until he tried.
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