by HR Ringer
Griff shook his head in amused denial. “You know… I was trying to ignore the appearance of her leg. I can’t recall seeing that much muscle on many male soldiers.”
Sam didn’t reply as she readied the next four probes. Within a matter of minutes, she had the last bits of polonium-coated bullet fragments extracted from Xiùlán’s thigh. She covered all the wounds in sterile pads after applying liberal amounts of medigel; the air splint was the last step. “It’s all up to you now, my love.” Traynor kissed her as she laid her arms alongside her body and wrapped the blanket around her.
With a thready sigh, she looked at Griff and said, “Is there anything in your pack to eat?”
“Sure.” After rummaging around a bit, he tossed a field-rat in her direction, pulled out another and opened it to eat. “Probably not the best food you’ve ever eaten, but it’ll keep you alive.”
Traynor placed her back against a nearby support column and opened the package with her teeth after pulling off her surgical gloves. “You’re assessment of this stuff is correct, but it’ll fill the hole for now,” she replied after rapidly downing half the contents. Taking a sip from her water container, she finished off the contents of the package with a grimace. “Certainly not for those with sensitive stomachs.”
Griff appeared to be enjoying his ‘dinner’, something Traynor attributed to the length of time he’d been in the Navy. As soon as they were done, Sam pulled on another pair of surgical gloves as she rose to her feet and grabbed a fresh container of medi-gel; looking at Buchanan she said, “Okay, Chief. Time for you to strip.” The look of surprise on his face was quickly replaced by one of shy embarrassment. “You heard me, Griff. Off with your clothes. I need to treat your injuries before I attempt to access the comms level.”
Buchanan pulled his shirt off first, then hesitated until Traynor commented, “Geez, Chief. I’ve already seen your equipment… and probably closer than any of the women you’ve bedded in the past… Let’s have ‘em off, then.”
Mumbling curses under his breath, he removed his purloined boots, then gingerly pulled his pants down to his ankles and stepped out of them. Traynor grinned at his discomfiture as she crouched in front of him. “Spread your legs a bit, and for gosh sakes, don’t flinch!” Traynor inspected the wire left by the batarian interrogators and commented, “That couldn’t have felt good when it was energized.” She gently tugged on one end of the wire she’d cut, but there was no movement except to pull at the skin surrounding it.
Griff chuckled, despite standing stark naked in front of a woman he barely knew professionally. “You don’t know the half of it, Traynor. Batarians were laughing their asses off! Every time that wire was energized… well, let’s just say that soldier came right to attention. They were having so much fun with that wire I think it distracted them from beating me as much.”
“Damned batarians. No wonder it’s burned into your skin. You’re lucky they didn’t think to use that wire for an amputation! Happened to a companion of ours… tank driver on Klensal – Marine Sergeant Tobias Perkins – slavers mutilated him, then killed him. As for this thing,” she said as she pointed to the end of the wire, “it’s as we thought when we found you – it’ll need to be removed in a sterile room under local anesthesia. Best I can do for you is apply medigel all the way around… follow the burn line. Grab underneath your sack, Chief, and pull everything up so I can get…”
Griff was only too happy to comply – anything to keep her from having to handle his scrotum and penis. After finishing the application, she worked her way around his legs, dabbing medigel on the many burns and punctures inflicted on him; standing, she worked on his torso, front and back, until she came to the last burn on his side. Standing in front of him, she smiled lightly and snarked, “Would you have rather had a man do all that for you, Chief?”
Griff made a move to pull his pants back on as he thought about her question. “Truthfully, I don’t think it would have made a bit of difference to me. Not used to having anyone tend to me down… there.”
“Just another part of your body, Chief.” She pulled her surgical gloves off and pulled her gauntlets back on, sealing them to the sleeves of her under-armor shirt. “I’d hate for you to lose any functionality because I didn’t take care of your injuries.” Holding his shirt out so he could shove his arms in the sleeves, she added, “Better get used to it, ‘cause I’m going to ask Dr Jakira T'Lana to take care of you once we’re safe on the Ionsaí.”
“An asari doctor?” Griff was incredulous. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“I do,” she said. “Griff, that stinkin’ wire has got to come outta there as soon as possible. I don’t think you should wait until we’re back at an Alliance facility.” Placing her hands on his shoulders, she looked up earnestly at his greenish-gray eyes as she concluded, “Trust me… You didn’t see it as close as I did, and I’m telling you it simply cannot wait.”
Looking defeated, Griff simply nodded, then asked, “What now?”
Traynor took a few steps and grabbed her power cells. “You stay with Xiùlán, keep an eye on her condition… give her some water if she wakes. I’m going to see what I can do to get us a ride out of here.” Handing him her backpack, she added, “Keep this safe. If that artifact gets lost or destroyed, every damned bit of pain we went through will have all been for nothing.”
“Keep your comlink open, Traynor. If you step in a pile of shit you can’t extricate yourself from, I’ll come help you.”
Samantha looked admiringly at the big man and replied, “Appreciate it, but you need to stay with Xiùlán and keep that artifact safe. That’s all that matters now.” Sam checked her weapons, made sure her kinetic barrier was functioning and looked at Xiùlán. “Wǒ huì jǐnkuài hái gěi nǐ, wǒ de àirén,” she whispered. [我會盡快還給你，我的愛人, - I'll be back to you as soon as possible, my love] With that, she turned and headed towards the next access hatch.
* * *
** CARTAGENA STATION • LEVEL FOUR, COMMUNICATIONS LEVEL **
Traynor hacked the lock on the access hatch from a distance so it wouldn’t auto-open at her approach; standing by the latched edge of the panel, she grabbed a handle and held the door to prevent it swinging open when she released the bolt. After listening intently at the door for several minutes, she deemed it safe enough to open the hatch in order to take a look outside.
Being so close to the outboard hull of the station, she wasn’t surprised at the lack of activity in the corridor outside. Even though she knew the futility of cloaking on a batarian manned facility, she energized her cloak anyway – a few of the C-Pat members on patrol were Turian; fewer still were human. The uncertainty her shadowy figure would cause if it was seen far outweighed the disadvantages of using it in the first place.
This level of the station possessed less space than that of the level above, and it was sub-divided further into sleeping compartments for 350 crew. That part of the space not devoted to crew rest consisted of a number of dedicated comms compartments; each was devoted to a state-of-the-art system, independent of the equipment installed in the previous or next compartment. She eased her way past several closed doors before finding the one she wanted; the compartment housing the interstellar communications equipment, set up to send to and receive from the three massive comm buoys serving the region of the abyss closest to the station.
Carefully unlocking the door, she entered several commands into her omni-tool before carefully entering the darkened room. Once she was sure her physical presence wasn’t being recorded, she inspected the entire compartment, including the area behind the massive cabinet housing the comms equipment, just to make sure there wasn’t a hidden entrance – or exit – that could be used against her.
After hacking the lock on the door so it would silently alert her to any attempt to open it, she dialed in the frequency the Ionsaí would be monitoring, activated the massive radio system and sent her emergency pickup message in a coded microburst.
She waited long enough for a reply, which came rather quickly. Downloading it to her omnitool for decryption later, she shut down all the machinery after eliminating the evidence of her electronic trespassing.
Traynor opened the door just enough to inspect the passageway; seeing no one in either direction, she energized her cloaking shield, armed her omni-tool and left the compartment, walking rapidly back the way she’d come. She was almost to the hatch, just passing the last door when it opened without warning. She instantly pressed herself against the opposite wall and froze as two batarian’s sauntered out from what was revealed to be a lounge area with tables, at which several others were sitting, eating, drinking and smoking.
Sam thought for a brief instant she might have gotten lucky, as it appeared both of the C-Pat officers would continue towards the far end of the passage. Unfortunately, one of them turned and looked at the exact spot where Sam was standing.
Pulling his sidearm was the last mistake the batarian ever made; as he was taking aim at the shadowy figure he was just barely able to see, a powerful arm whipped across in front of him, just below his receding chin. He was still standing several seconds after a massive amount of blood began running like a waterfall down his chest; his head rocked backwards from the fist connecting with his nose, increasing the rate of blood flow from his sliced open neck and knocking him off his feet. The other batarian, having turned to see what was happening behind him, died almost instantly when Traynor punched him hard in the middle of his chest. The omni-tool launched a white-hot ceramic blade; this flew over her knuckles, piercing the batarian’s sternum, heart and spine before the point exited his back.
Turning back to the lounge area, she hit the next guard in the throat as he was coming at her, crushing his airway with her knuckles as she sliced his midriff open with the butterfly knife in her right hand. The next two, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, encountered Traynor’s boots as she leapt straight up and kicked both of them in their faces with enough force to fracture their skulls – they may as well have run headlong into a concrete wall. As these two were crashing to the floor, Sam unleashed several shuriken, one after the other; each of the poisoned blade tips finding its mark in the faces of the remaining batarians just rising from the tables to join the fray.
When all movement had ceased, she looked around the room. Finding another door towards the back, she quickly hacked the lock to ensure it would stay closed before returning to the main entry and outer passage, where she hastily dragged the two dead guards back into the room.
Sealing the door from the outside, she quickly made her way back to the ladder leading up to the utility tunnel access hatch between this deck and the ‘secure’ level five above. Once inside, she relocked the hatch, then made her way back to where she’d left Griff and Xiùlán.
“Didn’t hear much over the comms, Traynor.” Griff smiled as he added, “There did seem to be a few grunts from exertion. Resistance must have been light.”
“Got discovered by a nest of the bastards… all dead now, but the alarms will be going off soon as someone walks into that passage. Right now, I have to decrypt the message I received from the Ionsaí. Should tell us where and when we’ll be picked up.”
“Understood. Think they can get here before the day is out?”
“We’ll see, Griff.” She placed her back against a metal beam next to Xiùlán and slid to a squatting position beside her injured friend. Opening the compressed message on her omni-tool, she worked her way through the decryption protocols until the complete text of the message was revealed.
“Looks like we need to go down to sub-level one-alpha – it’s a service tunnel running along the middle circumference of the station – tunnel is round, two-meters in diameter. Uses hover cars to ferry supplies to the various receiving and shipping docks, like the one where all this started.” Sammy studied the schematic accompanying the text. “There’s a service stairwell about thirty meters further along. We can go down the ladder, access the tunnel and catch a ride on a couple of the cars. Their programing can be over-ridden easy enough. We just need to reach the receiving dock at sub-level one, section nine.”
“What happens then?” Griff wanted to know. “What’s the timeline?”
“A squad of commandos using our shuttlecraft will fly into the dock from the Ionsaí. They’ll send us a signal just before they arrive, then home in on our beacons. We enter the warehouse, get in the shuttle and fly away. Need to be there in five hours.
A snort of derision was Buchanan’s answer. “I will give you my entire salary from this operation if getting off this miserable station proves to be that simple. Personally, I think we’ll have to shoot our way out of here. Be lucky if we all make it off!”
“Have a little faith, Griff,” Traynor replied. “It may not come to that.” Traynor leaned over Xiùlán and whispered her name.
“Sà mǐ…,” came the whispered reply. “When can we go home?”
Traynor gave her lover a bit of water as she replied, “Soon, darlin’… very soon.”
Chapter 26: Clandestine Extraction
We can never be gods, after all – but we can become something less than human with frightening ease. – N.K. Jemisin, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms
* * *
C-Pat – Cartagena Patrol, analogous to C-Sec (Citadel Security Services), employing mostly batarians
Inamorata – A woman with whom one is in love; a female lover (Italian)
n’Tuj raugh – Hell (Batarian)
* * *
** CARTAGENA STATION • ON THE MOVE BETWEEN LEVELS **
After waiting for nearly four hours in the utilities tunnel between levels four and five, Griffen Buchanan and Samantha Traynor, carrying a mostly unconscious and critically injured Yuán Xiùlán, made their way thirty meters to a utility stairwell; Traynor had discovered these stairs would allow them to descend to sub-level one-alpha, a service tunnel used for transporting supplies to the various loading docks around the circumference of the station.
Traynor cautiously descended the stairwell first, all her senses attuned to any hint of patrolling members of C-Pat. Finding no evidence of recent visits by anyone, she helped Griff carry Xiùlán down, followed by their packs. This new level proved to be populated only by computer-controlled hover-carriers, all moving at a brisk walking pace through the two-meter diameter tunnels that opened on either side of the small control compartment in which they found themselves.
Griff waited with Xiùlán as Traynor hacked into the automated transport system – she needed a hover-carrier large enough to carry the three of them to the receiving dock at sub-level one, section nine; further, she needed to coordinate their arrival time to coincide as closely as possible with the arrival of the commandos aboard the shuttle from the Ionsaí, the asari Oseros class corvette that had been their support vessel for this operation. After calculating the speed of the carriers, which had to travel in single file in the tunnels, she applied her result to the distance from their chosen rendezvous point.
As an empty carrier moved out of line to stop near their position, Traynor looked at Griff and explained, “We’ll ride on this carrier to the receiving dock. Only trouble is there are several control compartments similar to this one along the way.” Looking at the empty carrier, she concluded, “Since we cannot be sure there won’t be batarians in those compartments when we pass by, we’ll need to lie down on either side of Xiùlán. The cargo cover and lack of lighting should keep our forms from being easily seen.”
Griff looked unconvinced, saying to Traynor, “Seems like we’re just delivering ourselves into C-Pat’s arms. What if there are batarians in the control compartment at the receiving dock? We’ll be at a distinct disadvantage while attempting to dismount from the carrier.”
Traynor’s frown conveyed as much as her reply. “They’ll all be off chasing ghosts… or maybe even running from ghosts. Anyway, let’s get our gear and Xiùlán loaded…”
Griff shook his head, not quite bel
ieving his ears, but trusting she knew what she was doing as he started loading their packs at one end. Helping Sam with Xiùlán, they made sure she was comfortable – or as comfortable as she could be with a shattered leg. There wasn’t a lot of room left for him or Traynor, but she had him climb on nonetheless; He was positioned on his side, head by Yuán’s feet; Sam would lie on her side as well, facing outward with her head near Xiùlán’s. As she climbed on the carrier, she pulled the cargo cover over the three of them and their gear, covering herself last. The cover was a tightly-woven mesh material, so only a strong external light source would reveal what was underneath; Traynor and Griff however, would have a good view through the mesh, as long as they remained motionless.
Now all they had to do was wait until the station’s computer, hacked and programmed by Traynor, reinserted their container into the traffic pattern, sending it on its way to the sub-level one, section nine receiving dock, where they’d rendezvous with commandos from the Ionsaí.
As their container was on its way to its assigned receiving dock, Traynor felt safe in allowing herself to doze; one of the many things she had learned in the past twenty months was how to ‘listen’ to her internal clock. This allowed her to fall asleep quickly in order to rest while sub-consciously remaining alert to any danger. Each time the container drew near the next control compartment, Sam automatically roused herself to watch and wait, to ensure they weren’t discovered by C-Pat as they moved slowly past the dimly lit area.
As soon as they were beyond discovery, Sammy rolled over to face a semi-conscious Xiùlán, lying on her back with her left leg immobilized. “Nǐ zěnme yàng, xiùlán?” [你怎麼樣，秀蘭？- How are you doing, Xiulan?]
A whispered, “Wǒ hái huózhe…” [我還活著 – I am still alive…] brought a small smile to Traynor’s lips. Kissing a feverish cheek, she whispered back, “Jiānchí zhù, ài.” – [堅持住，愛 - Hold on, love], then gave her a sip of water. Checking her chrono confirmed they should be nearly to the control compartment that would allow access to the section nine receiving dock.