“That young man over there has something I want. A very simple transaction and we’ll be on our way.”
Aurelia craned her neck to see who he was gesturing toward.
She could see a very pale, husky, man lying on a box against the wall.
“Doesn’t look in any shape to make a deal.”
“He only has to tell me where his invention is.” Conlin turned to look at the students, “Or maybe one of these can tell me.”
“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bridget spoke up.
Aurelia took a step forward. Zelan brought his Lumair up to shine in her eyes. Freezing, she waited, quite sure he had his pistol centered below, letting the light make a bullseye of her face.
As if a silent communication had passed between them, Zelan lowered the light.
“What are you doing here, Zelan?” she asked. “I had you down as at least semi-intelligent.”
“I’m disappointed. I expected a more creative insult than that,” Zelan replied.
“Actually, that was a compliment.”
“Look, Doctor, I respect and admire you. I really do,” Zelan continued. “I always thought it was a mistake to exclude you from the East India Operation.”
“Shut up, Zelan!” Conlin yelled.
“Shut up, yourself, Conlin. You’ve made a mess of this whole thing. Besides it doesn’t matter what I tell her. Either she’s on our side or she doesn’t leave here alive.”
Aurelia raised an eyebrow. “I like your calm, matter of fact approach to murder.”
Zelan smiled. “It doesn’t have to be like this. The East India Operation is the best thing that could happen to GEM Co. I know the Pasteur pulls in more profit than any of the other medical ships combined. And I bet you hate seeing half of that go to the bureaucrats in NA-Mars and another percentage going to cover the other ships’ quotas just so they renew our licenses. All your work going to profit someone else.”
“It’s never bothered me before,” Aurelia commented as Zelan paused for a breath.
“It will when they start taking more and more every year. With East India, we’ll have total autonomy, our own security forces, no restrictions on what we buy and sell, no bureaucrats.”
“What about fat little dictators like him?” Aurelia jabbed a finger in the air toward Conlin. She shook her head,”The system may not be perfect but I much prefer it to having people like you two in charge.”
“I told you,” Conlin hissed at Zelan. “That’s why we all agreed to eliminate her in the first place.”
“Nothing’s gone to plan so far but it’s still going our way.” Zelan waved his pistol around. “Medical students trapped in a warehouse. All found dead of course, victims of Sclarian agression. NA-Mars will jump to give us what we want. Not as good as losing the whole Pasteur, but we can build on the emotional appeal of their youth.”
Shifting her weight off her bad leg, Aurelia interrupted Zelan, “I really don’t care about your little game. I’m not playing.”
“You stupid woman,” Conlin’s face was turning a dark crimson, a vein throbbed in his forehead. “You’ll wish this was a game before we’re through. You don’t have the vision. This is bigger than people like you or Meng can even imagine. If you’re not with us; you’re dead.”
“That young man over there has phinotheria. He will be dead if you don’t let me take care of him. I’m a doctor and that’s all I care about.”
“Phinotheria?” Zelan whispered. His face had gone white though his gun hand never wavered. “You’re lying. You haven’t even examined him.”
“I can smell it.”
Something moved behind the three students. A tile in the floor raised up and crashed back leaving a hole.
“Look out!” Torp yelled, jumping to get out of the way. The Lumairs flashed, bounced around the room, focusing on an emerging pair of antennae.
Aurelia took a step. She heard a burst of several rounds, felt pain slice its way across her shoulder. A blow on her back sent her flying into the stacks of crates. Speeding by, Radif was a dark patch of fur between the sparks going off in her head. Several more yells went up followed by more gunfire.
Pushing a palm against the cold, rough floor, Aurelia got to her feet. Her ears buzzed like mad hornets. Something wet trickled down her back.
Conlin and Zelan were both spread-eagle on the ground with Radif over them, linking them together with electric manacles.
Miguel had possession of one of the Lumairs and now lit up the hole in the floor.
Torp elbowed Miguel. “You should have thought of the floor.”
“I should have? What about you?”
“We were all stupid,” Bridget declared. She leaned over the hole, calling, “It’s safe to come up now.”
Picking up one of the pistols, Aurelia skirted Radif and his moaning prisoners to examine the young man on the floor. For the first time, she noticed Steve Miller lying there too. She bent over Miller while watching the hole.
In a moment, a female Kaprinian climbed out of the hole followed by Dr. Rialus.
“Good timing, Jak,” Aurelia called.
“I’m not so sure,” replied the female. “I nearly had my head taken off.”
“What was that all about?” Jak asked, brushing at the dirt on his clothes.
Aurelia motioned toward Conlin and Zelan. “I’m not sure of the details but apparently Conlin is planning to take over the company. The East India Operation.”
“That’s what Keller was trying to tell us. Co-Lanen and I...uhh...” He paused. “Co-Lanen, this is my superior, Dr. Aurelia. Aurelia, Co-Lanen Kentala, she’s an attache at the Rotunda.”
Aurelia looked up from examining Miller. It was rather an odd place for formal introductions and she had never before heard Jak introduce her so formally as his superior. Apparently, he still hadn’t forgiven her for her insults by the Talax. His eyes were cool as he returned her glance.
Co-Lanen nodded politely then pointed out, “Excuse me doctor, but your shoulder is bleeding.”
Putting up her right hand, Aurelia fingered her shoulder. It still smarted. “I think it’s just a nick,” she said.
“Better let me look at it.” Jak said. His voice held only a professional tone.
Aurelia stood up, shaking her head. “I’m all right. There’s no time. We need to get these two back to the ship now.”
No time for apologies either.
Chapter Forty One
Jak flicked an antenna. Let her bleed all over if she wanted to. Ignoring Co-Lanen’s questioning look, he walked over to where the biggest Berellian he had ever seen was propping Renner Conlin and Captain Zelan up against a crate. The two had been gagged. Conlin glared at Jak. Zelan tried to out of his swollen eye.
Crouching down, Jak took out his bruise reducer and passed it over Zelan’s eye. “What do either of you know about Rob Keller?” he asked.
Conlin and Zelan looked at each other then shook their heads.
“He was poisoned with hydromylex. He may have been up to no good but he was a friend of mine. Nobody deserves to die like that.”
“Did Keller say anything about my comm-link?” called Aurelia. “If so, please tell the big baboon I didn’t kill anyone.”
Co-Lanen moved forward, “Can we get out of here? We can all make explanations later.”
Nodding, Aurelia ordered, “Nevad, Martinez grab those anti-gravs and carry him out to the shuttle. Jak, you and I can take Miller. O’Connor run ahead and get the shuttle ready. The password for the controls is HK.”
Bridget ran for the door. The boys and Jak moved to obey. Scooping up his prisoners by the back of their necks, the Berellian carried them toward the door.
Taking Miller’s feet, Jak waited for Aurelia to get a grip on her end. She seemed to be having trouble with her arm. He saw her wince.
“Move.” Co-Lanen behind him was insistent. She pressed her hand forcefully against his back.
He turned his head. Saw her antennae quiver. Saw tiles fly upwards. Sclarians swarmed through the opening, some in black battle helmets.
Co-Lanen pushed harder. His knee hit the floor. With a sharp hiss, something sailed past him, hit the pile of crates and exploded. Flames spurted. Heat roiled over him, hot enough to burn. Thick, choking smoke mixed with white powder covered him, stung his eyes and lungs. He couldn’t tell if the thumping noise was rafter fire or his own heart banging.
“Jak, Jak!” Aurelia screamed his name.
He saw her for an instant, enough to catch the pistol she tossed him. She had Miller over her shoulder in a dead-man’s carry. She wouldn’t make it with that weight on her leg.
Jak turned. Gedden, he couldn’t shoot. “Co-Lanen!” He shouted. “Where are you!”
Out of the smoke appeared a Sclarian. Jak’s finger convulsed on the trigger. The shot ricocheted off the face plate. He ducked from his own gunfire. One more pull at the trigger. The Sclarian fell.
Smoke swirled, lifted. Co-Lanen lay nearby, a bright stream of yellow flowing from her mouth.
“I should have heard them coming. I should have heard them,” Jak realized he was screaming it even as he pulled her into his arms.
Shapes whirled around him. His eyes burned, watered. He didn’t know where the door was.
Strong fingers gripped his neck. Fur brushed his cheek.
“Straight ahead,” The Berellian’s voice boomed in his ear.
Jak ran. Hugging Co-Lanen’s body close, he slipped and slithered over debris. He felt cold air. He was in the street.
“Jak, over here.” Aurelia waved to him from the shuttle, light spilling out. Her face looked deathly white out of the darkness. She had made it after all.
A few more steps and he was inside.
“Where’s the baboon?”
Jak shook his head. He was coughing too much to speak. Carefully, he laid Co-Lanen in the aisle between the seats.
“Can I help?” Bridget knelt beside Co-Lanen in the aisle.
“Find the crash kit,” Jak ordered. Why wasn’t this a medical shuttle? He wiped at his eyes as the girl obeyed. Pulling his knife off his belt, he cut away Co-Lanen’s jumpsuit.
“Sorry,” Torp muttered as he reached across Co-Lanen’s body to pull a rifle from under the seat.
Dimly aware of voices and activity around him, Jak searched Co-Lanen’s body. He found three holes.
He opened the kit handed to him. Started an i.v. Ordered Bridget to keep pressure on the biggest hole, the one that was gushing the most.
The shuttle shook as the Berellian came on board.
“Get moving,” someone yelled.
“We’re not going to make it. We’re over weight.” said someone else.
“We’ll make it. We have to.” That was Aurelia.
Jak gripped the edges of the seats on either side to keep his balance as the shuttle lurched then finally lifted off.
“The Pasteur better be there,” Aurelia muttered.
He strapped an oxygen mask across Co-Lanen’s face.
“I hope they have the bay doors open.”
“Call them and tell them they better. We’re coming in, open or not.” Aurelia again.
His body had gone into reflex mode, doing all the recommended procedures. Nothing worked.
A hand tightened on his shoulder. He looked up. Eyes of jade burned into his.
“Let me. Please.”
He nodded. Once. Crawling out of Aurelia’s way, he moved so he could cradle Co-Lanen’s head in his arms, bent low to whisper to her in their own language.
Aurelia made a quick incision. Then came the horrible noise of tearing carapace. In a second, her hands were drenched in yellow. He had seen those hands work miracles thousands of times. Just one more.
One more.
“The Phoenix is closer. Should I take it?”
“No! We’re quarantined!” Aurelia yelled, her face tense with strain.
She pumped up and down, one hand squeezing the heart, the other trying to seal the damage. It made no sense but he had seen it work.
“The doors aren’t open.”
Up, down. Up, down.
“They’re not...”
Up, down.
“Yes, they are. Slow down.”
The shuttle slowed. Bounced a couple times then stopped. Cheers went up.
Jak lost his balance and Co-Lanen’s head slipped to the side.
Aurelia stopped the heart massage. Looking down, Jak followed the direction of her stare.
He had missed a hole.
A wound gaped behind Co-Lanen’s right ear.
Aurelia started pumping again. Up, down.
“Doesn’t matter. We can get her on life support.”
Reaching out, Jak stilled her hands. She looked at him, a tear welled, spilled over. The first he had ever seen.
“I’m sorry, Jak. I am so sorry.”
Chapter Forty Two
Having finally been allowed out of quarantine and after having showered and changed, Bridget met Miguel and Torp in the Pasteur’s mess hall. The place was packed with mostly second shift people all talking at once. Though she couldn’t make out any of the conversations, Bridget could feel the tension in the air.
Mig waved at her from a table along the far wall. Thankfully, Bridget saw an extra tray of food for her. Ever since the cook, Bortil, had proposed to her, she felt uncomfortable going through the line. She slid into her seat.
The soup smelled good but she found she was still too wound up to feel very hungry. She lifted up the shutter to peek out the port hole.
“Hey, aren’t we still orbiting Jidal?”
“No, we moved out about fifteen minutes ago,” Torp replied loudly.
“Where are we going?”
“Earth, I think. Nobody’s sure what’s going on.”
“Anybody check on Steve?”
Miguel nodded, “He’s going to be okay. Fredrichs didn’t make it.”
Bridget looked at her plate. That final scene in the shuttle replayed itself in her mind. She knew she would never forget it. She had cheered with everyone else that they had landed safely. Turning back, she had caught that suspended moment of pain between Dr. Rialus and Dr. Aurelia.
Was it always like that? Pouring every ounce of skill you possessed into saving a life. Then that terrible gutting of your own heart when you knew there was nothing else you could do?
She had watched Aurelia visibly pull herself together, like watching those old movies they used to run backwards, where the broken vase would become whole again. When the quarantine bus arrived, Aurelia had hustled them all in as if nothing had happened. Bridget’s medical ethics class had discussed not getting involved with patients. At the time, she thought it would be easy. She wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Millie was right,” Bridget said aloud.
“About what?” Miguel asked around a mouthful of sandwich.
“She said Dr. Aurelia would fight through a horde of Kartillions if we needed help.”
Miguel laughed, “I get to be the one to tell Steve. He’s going to love owing her his life.”
“That woman scares me more than ever,” said Torp.
“Well, the company recruiters promised it would be exciting,” Miguel pointed out.
Scootching her seat forward, Bridget asked, “What was all that about East India they were talking about?”
“As far as I can figure, Conlin and Zelan and probably some other people were trying to take over the company,” Torp replied.
Jannie Taylor and a short nurse and a taller one Bridget didn’t know stopped by their table. Jannie looked like she had been crying.
“Hey, you three are the talk of the ship,” Jannie told them.
“Was Conlin really going to kill you?” asked the tall nurse.
“It sure looked that way,” said Torp. “If Dr. Aurelia and that Berellian cop h
adn’t shown up we’d be little black, charred spots by now.”
“Shutup.” Bridget elbowed him. She shivered. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“Really,” said the short nurse. “It was scary waiting in Linden Court, hearing all the shots going off.”
Miguel looked up from his soup. “Yeah, I was going to ask about that. Where’d they put the Phoenix? I’ve never seen a ship that big touch down before.”
“It was beautiful,” said Jannie.
The other nurses nodded and repeated, “Beautiful. Gorgeous.”
“They put down right where our campsite was,” Jannie continued.
The short nurse laughed. “I’ve never run so fast in my life.”
Everyone laughed with her except Jannie whose eyes looked suspiciously watery. “Rob Keller didn’t make it. Dr. Rialus couldn’t bring his bod...him back,” she said with a quiver in her voice. The short nurse put her arm around her.
“Really? I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” Bridget was surprised. “He was really nice.”
There was an awkward silence.
A lab tech walked by and stopped to lean over their table. He must have overheard Jannie because he said, “I hope Conlin gets his. There’s a rumor going around that the Director-General just ordered us home.”
“What for?” Torp asked.
“They’re talking about an investigation. Of Conlin. And Governor Arnott for leaving with the station. I hope they cold-fusion that coward.”
“Me too,” Jannie declared with venom in her voice. “See you guys later.” She and the other two walked away with the lab tech.
“Whew,” whistled Miguel. “This could get nasty.”
***
Aurelia limped down the hall. She had just spent a bad hour in the bathroom. The drop in adrenaline left her weak and shaking. She had emptied her stomach several times over and was still fighting dry heaves.
She could see Jak’s face if she closed her eyes. She had seen that look before. Like those cutout figures at festivals that you put your head through: same look, different faces.
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