“Will do!”
I sling the cloth bag over my shoulder. Climbing the stairs is a test of endurance. When I reach the top, I have the sudden desire to plant a flag and claim the hallway for fifth nation. Instead, I navigate through the corridor. After a few steps, my improvised cane snaps in half. I stumble and my vision blurs as the pain sizzles up my leg. I really need to remember to keep those pain meds with me at all times. I limp-hop to the infirmary. Perhaps I can find a real cane. Instead, I’m surprised to find Dr. Edwards.
“I see you’re keeping your weight off that ankle, Miss Lawrence,” he says dryly.
Why do all the adults I know speak fluent sarcasm? “Why aren’t you in the pits?” I ask. “It’s dangerous to be here and you’re too important.”
“And you’re not?”
“Not what?”
“Important.”
“I’m doing my job.”
“So am I. I’m not hiding in the pits when one of the security team members might need my care.”
That’s really brave. “Thank you, Dr. Edwards.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Lawrence. Now how can I help you?”
“Remember those crutches you said I could use? I need them.”
“Come into my exam room and we’ll get you fitted.”
When he sees me struggling, he offers an arm. Once I’m on the table, he goes to fetch the supplies. He returns with a set of crutches and pain meds. I love this man! He removes the not-so-white-now contraption and inspects my ankle. Or rather, he tortures me by moving my foot and digging his fingers into the joint to determine “range-of-motion.”
Once he finishes the torture, he says, “It’s healing. Not as fast as it should, but, considering the circumstances, I’m pleased.” Then he rummages in a drawer and pulls out another contraption. “This will give you enough support that you can walk without crutches.” He wraps it around my ankle. “However, please stay off that ankle as long as possible.”
“I will,” I promise as I hop off the table. He measures me for the crutches and adjusts them so they fit under my arms. They’re rather spiffy. Made of a lightweight graphite, they’re a purple-ish-blue color with a slight diamond pattern. There’s a round rubber foot on the bottom, a foamy-rubbery grip for my hands, and a cushy pad to lean my weight on.
Dr. Edwards demonstrates how to use them. Only when I successfully cross the room a couple times without tripping or launching myself too far forward does he allow me to leave. And I’m either a natural, or using crutches is so much easier, quicker, and less painful than limp-hopping. Or it could be the pain meds have kicked in. Either way, I’m back at Radcliff’s office in no time.
Doesn’t stop the man from grumping at me for taking too long. That is until he actually looks up from his portable.
“Oh,” he says when he spots my crutches. “That’s a good idea. What’s the status in Pit 1?”
After I fill him in, he asks, “Are we going to have a problem?”
“If we don’t install another pit-wide null wave emitter, we might. Can you see if Jim McGinnis is willing to build another one?”
Radcliff consults his portable and glances at the clock. It’s almost nineteen hundred. “Jim’s in Pit 21 with the astrophysicists. I’ll have the techs talk to him as well.” He taps on his portable. “The techs can use the buggy. If they agree, then they’ll be here by twenty-three hundred.” He studies me. “Come on. You must be hungry. I know I’m starving.”
We walk back to our unit, or, in my case, swoop. That’s what it feels like. Plant the crutches and swoop forward, plant my left foot, move the crutches and swoop again. It’s strangely efficient, eating up lots of ground with each swoop.
Radcliff bustles about the kitchen, while I gratefully sink onto the couch. I pull out my portable to continue working on the op. The door to the unit opens and Niall strides in. He smiles when he sees me, but the poor guy looks like he fought a shadow-blob and lost.
“Sit down before you fall down,” I say, scooching over and resting my foot on the coffee table.
He plops next to me. “Thanks.”
Radcliff pokes his head out. “What are you doing here? I ordered you to get some sleep an hour ago.”
“Can’t sleep,” Niall says.
Radcliff and I wait because clearly that’s impossible.
Niall sighs and scrubs and hand through his hair. “Every time I close my eyes, I see piles of rubble. And I swear I can hear a missile falling from the sky.” He looks at me. “What if I sleep through an alarm? Or if we don’t ever…wake up again.”
Oh, Niall. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull him into a sideways hug. He leans on me. I meet Radcliff’s gaze.
“Then you might as well join us for dinner.” Radcliff returns to the kitchen.
“Sorry,” Niall says. “I’m not usually so…fatalistic.”
“You’re beyond exhausted, sleep-deprived, and, if there is ever a time to be fatalistic, I think this is it.”
“It’s been a rough couple of days.” He pulls back, breaking the awkward hug and rearranging us so we’re in our familiar couch-cuddling position, with me tucked under his arm. He holds my hand and rubs a thumb over my bruised knuckles. “Believe it or not, there were a couple of highlights.”
“Oh?”
“When you punched Jarren, I almost whooped with joy. It took everything I had not to react.”
“That was pretty sweet.”
Niall spots the portable. “What are you working on?”
I start to tell him about Operation Desperation, but then I remember Niall’s heart. I grab the cloth bag and hand it to him. “This is for you.”
“Oh?” He peers inside and glances sharply at me. “I thought—”
“Jarren already confirmed you don’t need to touch a heart to go through the portals.”
“But do we trust him? I’d hate to find out he’d lied during an emergency.”
“That’s a good point.”
“I bet that was hard to say,” he teases.
I mock growl at him. “I don’t want you blind if we encounter shadow-blobs.”
“How about a compromise?”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll keep the heart with me. If we run into shadow-blobs, I’ll grab it. Okay?”
“Just don’t let anyone else touch it.”
“I won’t.”
“All right.”
Radcliff pokes his head out. “Dinner is served. It’s leftovers, but better than energy bars.”
We go to the kitchen and the three of us eat in silence—too busy shoveling food into our mouths to talk. The leftover beef casserole tastes divine and I slow down to savor it. I’ve a feeling hot meals are going to be a luxury. Afterwards, I’m drooping over my empty plate. I spent the last of my energy eating. Niall is also struggling to stay awake.
“Niall, I want you close by tonight. You can sleep in Ara’s room,” Radcliff says.
And I’ll take the couch. That’s fair.
But Radcliff gives us one of his weighted looks. “Ara, do you mind sharing?”
I blink. Did he just— Did I hear— Is this a trick question? “No.”
“Good. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish my report.” Radcliff goes out and sits on the couch with his portable and a fresh cup of coffee.
Niall and I exchange a significant glance.
“Leave the door open in case I need to wake you,” Radcliff adds.
Ah. I lower my voice, “I think he believes you’ll sleep better with me.” Perhaps trying Elese’s sleepover cure for PTSD.
“I really don’t care why,” Niall whispers. “Let’s go before he changes his mind.”
We’re both wearing our jumpsuits and they stay on just in case we have to flee or fight in the middle of the night. Our weapon belts get hung over the back of a chair within easy reach. And I prop my crutches up against the wall next to the bed. It’s nice to snuggle together. I get a sweet good-night kiss that turns s
teamy until Niall runs out of steam. Poor guy is asleep in seconds.
I fight sleep a little longer. It’s comforting being in Niall’s arms, listening to his steady breathing, feeling his warm muscular body pressed against my back. I appeal to the universe to keep us safe. All of us.
Radcliff calls my name softly. I’m confused until I realize he only wants me to wake. I gently extract myself from Niall’s arms. I probably don’t need to be so careful, Niall doesn’t move a muscle. I grab my crutches and weapon belt and join Radcliff in the living room.
Radcliff says, “Dr. Roberta Carson and Jim McGinnis are in my office.”
“Uh, that’s nice.” Why is he telling me this?
“We need to talk to them.”
“Oh, right.” My brain must still be asleep. No surprise since it’s midnight.
Radcliff grabs two cups of coffee and holds the door open for me. I put my weapon belt on and swoop to his office. The astrophysicist and the mechanical engineer are sitting in the two seats facing Radcliff’s desk. Morgan is sitting behind it. She nods at us in greeting.
Dr. Carson, also known as Bertie, spins around at the noise of my crutches, but relaxes when she sees me. My brain is still waking up and I note Dr. Zhang’s absence. Can’t blame the woman. She’s safer in the pits. Jim hops to his feet and offers the seat to me. I thank him and sit down. Morgan relinquishes Radcliff’s chair and stands behind him.
“Officer Morgan was just telling us we need another emitter for the pits,” Jim says. “I’ve the materials and should be able to build you one in a couple hours.”
While I’m happy for the good news, I’m worried something bad will happen to counter it.
“Can you get started now?” Morgan asks.
“Yeah, sure,” Jim says. “I’ve just been sitting around all day. Do you have anyone to spare to help me?”
“Yes,” Radcliff says. “I’ll have them meet you at your lab.”
“Great. I’ll let you know when it’s finished.” Jim strides to the door.
“What do you need me to do?” Bertie is clutching the arms of her chair as if she’s afraid she’ll float away. She’s in her early thirties and is almost as pale as Niall.
“Lawrence,” Morgan prompts.
“We need to find out how the looters are communicating,” I say. Then I explain my theories about them either using outdated technology or using what the communicators and portables use. “Or they could just be sending notes through the portals.”
“Portals?” She wrinkles her nose in pained distaste.
“Yes, portals between Warrior pits on different planets. Jarren confirmed they exist.” I quickly go over the information we have about them.
By the range of her expressions, Bertie is struggling with the concepts, but then she shrugs. “All right. Let’s just go with it. Assuming the portals are indeed short-cuts through the shadow…dimension, I doubt they’re using notes to send messages. Their network is too large and physical notes can get lost or destroyed. I’m more inclined to believe they are using a form of electromagnetic energy. Probably with frequencies between radio waves and the waves used in microwave ovens. Normally the large distances between planets makes this a very poor choice as it would take years for one message to travel to the receiver. But if they can transmit through the Warrior portals, then that’s no longer an issue. Just like it’s fine to use these electromagnetic waves for the portables and security’s communicators because sender and receiver are much closer.”
“If they’re using these waves, can you detect them?” Morgan asks.
Bertie bites her bottom lip. “There are a wide range of frequencies that they could be using. But I can alter our HoLF detector to scan only in that range.”
“How long will it take?” Morgan asks.
“A couple hours to make the adjustments.”
“And how long to detect? Last time you needed twenty days. This time I doubt we have twenty hours.”
Bertie flinches and hunches down in her seat as if a missile is about to strike.
“Officer Morgan,” Radcliff admonished.
Gathering her courage, Bertie straightens. “It depends on if there is a signal to detect. The looter base on the opposite side of Yulin is too far away. Plus with the curvature of the planet, we won’t be in direct line of sight.” Seeing our confused expressions, she adds, “The waves go straight. They won’t bend around a planet. You’d need a satellite to relay the signal to another part of the planet.” She gnaws on her lower lip again. “Do the looters have a satellite above Yulin?”
“Unknown,” Radcliff says. “When they attacked, they flew in four shuttles. One landed in the port and the other three in the desert. We confiscated the one in the port. And we also confiscated the communication devices they wore.”
“Wait,” I say, making a connection. “Why don’t we use their communicators to listen in to them?”
“Without a satellite they won’t work. But if they were to come back here, then yes, it would,” Bertie says. “Unless they change the frequency, then we’d be out of luck.”
“If they think we’re all dead, they won’t change the frequency,” Morgan says.
True.
“Let’s confirm they’re using these electromagnetic waves first,” Radcliff says. “Would the shuttle or those devices help you detect this signal?” he asks Bertie.
“Yes.”
“Which one?”
“Both. It makes sense for the looters to be in contact with the shuttles.”
“All right. When you’re ready with the detector, I’ll have someone meet you at the shuttle and bring along those devices. How many will you need?”
“All of them. Some might be broken or won’t have power. I don’t want to waste time having someone fetch me more.”
Smart. Morgan nods in approval.
“Do you need someone to help you with your adjustments?” Radcliff asks.
“Not really, but I wouldn’t mind the company.”
I don’t blame her. It’s late at night in a creepy abandoned base.
Radcliff glances at me. “How long will it take you to send my report to DES?”
TWENTY MINUTES.
“Twenty minutes,” I say.
“That’s it? There can’t be a single ripple, Lawrence. And it has to be worm-proof.”
Q does the equivalent of a huff of annoyance in my head. I’m more diplomatic. “There won’t be. And Q will protect it from wormers.”
Bertie gives me an odd look.
Radcliff hands me his portable. “It’s ready to be sent. Once you’re done you can accompany Dr. Carson.” He turns to the woman. “Can I get you some coffee while you wait?”
“Uh, yes, thank you.”
I connect to Q through the portable. The report is to only go to the Board of Directors members. Do we still have our escape tunnels through the blockade?
YES. THREE LEFT.
And then I realize we can’t go through them. What if the looters found them and are monitoring them for any activity? Are there any new programs around the tunnels?
DEFINE NEW.
Since the missile strike.
YES. NEAR TWO.
So that third one should be safe. Key word—should. Is there any way to fly this report to DES?
NO. TOO BIG.
Guess we’ll have to risk it. Please transform the report file into a long, super skinny snake. As Q stretches it out, I coat it in two layers of protection and add a program, giving Q the ability to block the contents of the report from anyone who isn’t a Director. Will that work?
YES.
The file elongates and yellow and blue lines wrap around it, showing my protections. Once the report is finished, we send the snake slowly and carefully through the escape tunnel like a thread through a needle. But in this case, that thread can’t touch any part of the needle or it will cause ripples. It takes ten minutes for the entire length to travel through the blockade. But once it’s free, Q sends it to the
directors.
I disconnect and hand the portable back to Radcliff. “It’s been delivered with nary a ripple.”
“Good. I’ll have someone bring those communicators.”
“Can you tell Niall where I am when he wakes?” I ask Radcliff as I stand and grab my crutches.
“Yes.”
Bertie is glancing uncertainly between me and Radcliff.
“Officer Lawrence is fully armed and, despite the crutches, will be able to protect you,” Radcliff says.
“That’s not—” She sucks in a breath. “I need protection?”
“Just in case.”
Bertie walks next to me as I swoop through the hallways. She’s quiet and I have to admire Radcliff’s ability to pull her focus from the strangeness over me and Q to her personal safety. I wonder if he’s ever manipulated me like that. Probably.
Eventually, she snaps from her contemplations and starts questioning me about the portals. Most of my answers are “I don’t know,” which frustrates her. But I’ve no idea what is powering the portals or the reason it works. And I suspect true understanding of the technology is probably decades in our future.
CENTURIES.
If we’re not extinct by then.
CORRECT.
Not helping.
Finally she asks, “Are you certain it’s not an elaborate trick? You’re basing this on information from Jarren, who can’t be trusted.”
“We’ve other sources that have confirmed most of what he claims. And I wasn’t the only person to see the portal in Pit 21, or the boot prints.” I shudder.
“Yes, but you’re the only one to see the person on the other side.”
True. “I understand that you’re finding it hard to believe. Right now, it’s not about the science. It’s about survival.”
“I know, it’s just…”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “You won’t be the first person to go through the portal.”
“Because I don’t have the heart of a Warrior?”
Struck by her comment, I stop. “Yes and no.”
She gives me a tentative smile as if she’s concerned about upsetting the crazy lady. “Which one?”
“Both. Yes, because you haven’t touched a heart. No, because you’re here, helping us despite the danger, despite being scared. I’d say you have the heart of a Warrior.”
Defending the Galaxy: The Sentinels of the Galaxy Page 20