“I’m aware of ImpSec and its enquiries,” said the doctor.
“So you should be familiar with our wide-reaching powers.”
“Your powers don’t allow ImpSec to question my patients and possibly endanger their recovery without my consent and my presence. The law’s well established. If you want, I can quote the Imperial Articles of War and supporting legal decisions, for your records.”
“No, it won’t be necessary, thank you. We are trying to discover how your patient, this de Coeur—managed to board xTaur. There is no record anywhere of his presence, until you commenced his treatment.”
“You’re not correct,” replied Dr. Yi. Her expression did not waver from its professional mien. “I received a MedSys notification, a standard medical alert, on my workstation, which included reservation of my ICU. This was timed at fifteen minutes prior to Captain de Coeur’s arrival at my ICU. Also, the gurney’s AI had established an initial diagnosis of his injury, some seven or eight minutes before the patient reached the ICU. So ship system records existed prior to my commencing treatment of the patient.”
One of the two ImpSec majors spoke up. “Agreed, Dr. Yi. We checked the medical alerts, and yes, one was delivered to you, at the same time the ICU was reserved. However, we don’t know—”
The colonel interrupted. “So, Dr. Yi, you contend you had no prior knowledge of this patient? None at all?”
“You are correct.”
“Do you know anything about this so-called Imperial Intelligence Agency?”
“I know nothing about the agency.”
“Yet you entered the details into the ship system?” interjected the other major.
“Of course. I entered the details advised by my patient.”
“So you enter anything your patients tell you?”
“Why not? I don’t have in-depth knowledge of all the Imperial military and quasi-military structures. I’m a surgeon and, may I remind you, a senior officer in the Imperial Medical Corps.”
There was silence for a long moment.
“Thank you, Dr. Yi. That will be all, for now.” The ImpSec colonel made a file entry.
Dr. Yi turned and exited the ImpSec office. She did not salute. She was more than irritated by the questions and the attitude of the so-called security tribunal. ImpSec had a problem, and it was obvious that its officers were reaching out to find someone other than themselves to blame for their security issue. When she reached her office an anxious nurse was waiting for her.
“Dr. Yi, they’re arresting Captain de Coeur,” she said.
“Come,” commanded the doctor, heading to the ICU. It was only a hundred yards from her office, and she reached the unit as an ImpSec team was preparing to move her patient from the room. She stood in the doorway, effectively blocking the exit.
“Lieutenant Carson.” Dr. Yi identified the ImpSec officer. She noted her other ICU nurse was holding a bruised wrist. “Please return my patient to his bed. You’ve committed at least one offense under Imperial Articles of War, and I intend to submit charges and arrange for your arrest. Do you understand?”
Without waiting for an acknowledgment, she turned to her senior nurse. “Nurse Rowe, please contact the SPs; the duty officer is Major Reid. Tell him we need his presence here, urgently. Tell him ImpSec, in the person of Lieutenant Carson, is attempting to kidnap one of my patients. Quote Articles of War section 3015, subsection 25. He’ll understand.” She did not add she had discussed this possibility with the major after Carson’s first foray into her ward. The doctor turned back to the stunned ImpSec team. “Well?”
“Sir, we’re following the lieutenant’s orders—” a young ImpSec sergeant attempted to explain. Lieutenant Carson remained silent. His plan to remove the patient while the tribunal questioned the doctor had totally unraveled.
“Since when does a lieutenant outrank a colonel?” Dr. Yi demanded. “Are you refusing to obey my lawful command? We’re still in a state of war, and your court martial—and yours, Lieutenant—will make media headlines. You’ll know, of course, the maximum sentence for this offense—as we’re not on an active battlefield where it would be execution—is life imprisonment.”
The sergeant signaled his men, a corporal and two privates, who were holding Captain de Coeur. The doctor watched from the doorway as they returned her patient to his bed. He was almost unconscious and was in no condition to be removed from the ICU. While she was watching, she heard, behind her, the arrival of Major Reid and his team of Starship Police. She did not move from her position and turned her head to address the new arrivals.
She said, “Major, I want to charge Lieutenant Carson for refusal to obey a lawful command, for conspiracy, and for breaching Articles of War regarding removal of a patient under treatment of an authorized medic. His team members are to be charged with conspiracy and, similarly, for breaching Articles of War. I suspect they assaulted one of my nurses and if so, that deed is to be added to their list of offenses.”
Reid moved forward and Dr. Yi stepped out of his way. His men followed crowding into the small room. Two nurses checked their patient while the doctor waited for the results of their appraisal.
“Dr. Yi, are you certain?” asked the major.
“Yes. I warned this officer, I gave him a precise and clear order. I have a recording; everything is recorded in our ICUs. He disobeyed my order. I cannot, as a senior officer in service of the Emperor, ignore an outright refusal by a junior officer to obey a lawful command. His men may not have known of my order; however, they’re aware, or should be aware, their actions were unlawful.”
“Very well. Lieutenant Carson, I’m placing you under arrest. Are you carrying any weapons?”
“I’ll have you broken for this, Yi,” snarled the lieutenant. “And you too, Reid, if you proceed with this farce. Now back off, and let me and my team go. In case you didn’t notice, I’m giving an order, a real order.”
“It’s time to realize,” Reid said, “this time your bullying tactics won’t work. Either co-operate, or I’ll order my men to treat you as a hostile offender. Your choice.”
This will mean another appearance at an ImpSec tribunal, thought Dr. Yi, as Major Reid arrested the lieutenant and his team. She was confident ImpSec would not condone the activities of this junior officer. Of course, she mused, they could, in future, place barriers to hinder my career, in which case retirement would be an attractive and welcome option.
*****
Chapter 3
“Good morning, Captain de Coeur. How’s my patient today?” Dr. Yi smiled as she reached for Steg’s wrist. Five days prior she had authorized his release from the ICU and continued to be impressed at the speed of his recovery. Steg now occupied a standard hospital ward, and while it was designed to hold four patients, currently he was the only occupant. The furniture was utilitarian, the beds were basic and clean, and the walls and ceiling were painted a light blue. The floor was highly polished. There was a slight odor of hospital disinfectant. She had not checked but she was confident there was no dust anywhere in the room; the crew and staff on-board xTaur ensured its reputation for clinical cleanliness was never at risk.
“Improving, thank you.”
“Very good. Yes, I agree, all your signs show a steady improvement.” She tugged her compad out of a deep pocket and sat on the chair beside his bed. “Now, are you up to answering some questions for me?”
“Yes.” Steg was cautious.
Dr. Yi continued to portray reassurance. “Oh, I’m not nearly as aggressive as ImpSec. Remember, I can’t guarantee how long I can hold them off.”
“I understand—at least, I think I do. Can I ask questions, too?” Steg had enough core memory to realize there was knowledge to be gained that would aid his recovery.
“Of course. Now I have you listed as Captain de Coeur. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“First name and planet of origin?”
“Steg. I’m from Homeworld; it’s located in the Centa
ur Belt, Rimwards.” He had recovered general memories of his home planet and its capital, Castlehome.
“Good. Now we get to the interesting parts. How were you wounded?”
“I—I recall someone warning me about a blaster. The warning was followed by agonizing pain, and then everything went black. When I regained consciousness, I was here, on board your hospital starship.”
“Where were you when you were shot?”
Steg’s expression reflected his anxiety. “I—don’t know. I’ve tried to remember. I can recall general things—names of star systems, for example. But when I try for more pertinent details—personal details—everything is a blank.”
“I can confirm your injuries were caused by an energy impact. Fortunately, our tests so far don’t indicate any permanent brain damage. Memory loss? Yes, and all indications indicate it will be temporary. In simple terms you need some recovery time. My suggestion is for you not to stress, keep a relaxed attitude, and your mind should, at some stage, open the floodgates, so to speak. Timing is unpredictable, unfortunately. I can arrange some therapy for you, which may help. Now, you had questions for me?”
“Yes, Dr. Yi. My first question’s simple: where is xTaur headed?”
“We’ll first pass through the Aluta system—I think there are prisoners on board who are to be transferred off xTaur to one of the prison planets. Then we’ll continue on to the Freedom system, where we’ll discharge our remaining patients. Freedom’s our home base. Everyone’s anticipating leave, possibly a month or so. It’s been a long tour.”
“I think my next question’s as simple: what year is this?”
The surgeon smiled sympathetically. “This is 1650 Post Diatonic.” The Diatonic Era represented the period dating from when the new Empire fought with aliens, the Triads, who initially had come close to defeating the Empire’s military forces.
Steg frowned.
“Why, is that a problem?” Dr. Yi asked.
“I—I thought it’d be closer to 1800.”
“Interesting. I’ve heard of memory losses creating this type of contradiction, where the amnesia victim is somehow out of phase with his current time and place. I need to do some research.” She tapped another entry into her compad. “Indeed, our head of therapy will also be interested in this.” She smiled again. “Now tell me about your sword. It appears to be old, perhaps an antique?”
Steg looked startled. “My sword? Ebony—it’s called Ebony. It’s here?”
“Why yes. One of my nurses stowed it in your locker when we moved you into this ward.” Dr. Yi indicated the metal storage unit against the wall opposite the end of Steg’s bed. “It’s at the back, out of the way.”
“Please convey my thanks. I wouldn’t wish to lose Ebony. It’s centuries old and very valuable, at least to me. A family heirloom.”
“Well, it’s now scarred, damaged, on the hilt. Before I leave, do you have any more questions for me?”
“No, thank you. Are you sure—”
“The year is 1650? Absolutely. Remember, it’s important for you to relax as much as you can. Keep in mind what I said: you can’t force the return of your memories. One of my nurses will check on you later this afternoon, and I’ll visit again tomorrow morning. Oh, and your therapy treatment commences tomorrow.”
After the surgeon left the small ward, Steg climbed out of his bed, holding the end of the metal-framed bed for support. He was unsteady on his feet, far more so than he expected, and he fought against waves of dizziness. The tank-based processes, he realized, had not included maintenance of his physical fitness. He was shaken by the doctor’s answer about the year. His memories were of a different time. Something was wrong, yet he was unable to identify what it was. It took him almost two minutes, resting between each step, to reach the locker, even though it was only yards away. He opened the steel door and felt around, working his hand back as far back as he could without falling. The locker was deep. His uniform was hanging there, patched, cleaned, and pressed. Behind it, he found and grasped the hilt of Ebony. He lifted the sword out of the storage unit.
For some reason, he was disappointed. The weapon seemed dead, lifeless, and while he knew it was an inanimate object, for some inexplicable reason he had expected to feel its life force. Steg held the sword and examined the blade and then the hilt. The blade showed heat scaring, more cosmetic than physical. The pommel and grip were both badly damaged, he surmised, as a result of the blaster impact. He recalled carrying the sword high, across his shoulder, and suspected the hilt and pommel had saved his life, absorbing most of the blaster’s energy force, which otherwise would have impacted his head. He held the sword in both hands, horizontal, one hand on the blade, the other on the hilt, trying to remember. Nothing. He shuddered and returned Ebony to the cabinet.
Steg barely made the trip back to his bed without collapsing. He staggered and fell, face down, onto the bed; he relaxed, half-asleep, half-unconscious. He was not aware that his handling of Ebony had awoken the bio-nanite and micronic technology hidden in the hilt, and now, its recovery triggered, the sword began its own process of self-healing. Soon Ebony would reach out, seeking its rightful owner, in order to continue its protective responsibilities.
###
“I have good news for you.” Dr. Yi said. The touch of sadness in her voice conflicted with her smile. “Your current medical condition and your progress with physical therapy are both very good. I suspect your physical condition is back to what you would consider as your normal status. The head of therapy is hopeful that whatever caused your memory loss will resolve itself over time. He has one caution: the process is unpredictable. This all means I can discharge you from my care. There’s one problem—”
She had asked Steg to attend her surgery office and he was sitting in one of the comfortable chairs. When the doctor paused, he raised his head, alerted by the tone of her voice.
“I’ve deferred your medical discharge and can do so for another five days. Once I discharge you, ImpSec will step in. They claim you’re some kind of spy, and your membership in the Imperial Intelligence Agency is impossible, because the agency doesn’t exist. They want to arrest and try you before we reach Aluta, which is some weeks away. I’ve held them off; they realize this surgeon has extremely sharp teeth. If they follow their standard routine, they’ll arrest you, charge you, arrange a court hearing within twenty-four hours, find you guilty, and ship you to one of their private prisons on Centyr—it’s in the Alutan system. They’re Imperial prisons, all managed by the House of Aluta. Unfortunately, I upset ImpSec early in your recovery process, as you may remember.”
The doctor’s news settled on Steg’s shoulders like a dark, depressive cloak. He had focused on his recovery, physical and mental, and had not thought about proving either his identity or the existence of the Agency. He now had only days, it seemed, to find proof to convince judges in an ImpSec court hearing that he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Imprisonment in a jail run by a corporate house was not something he wanted to experience. He had heard about the conflict between Dr. Yi and the ImpSec lieutenant, a junior member of House of Aluta, and the severity of the young officer’s punishment would not endear Steg to that House. He—the lieutenant—in all likelihood deserved his sentence: dishonorable discharge from ImpSec and ten years in jail.
Steg didn’t expect his loss of memory would deter ImpSec from taking some form of revenge. He was at risk, and, he suspected, so was Dr. Yi.
“Will I be able to carry out research to find the details I need, in support of my defense? Or can you arrange for someone to help me, if I can’t use Imperial systems?” he asked.
“I’m unable to grant you access to a workstation. It’s beyond the authority of even a surgeon colonel, given the current circumstances. I can organize additional therapy under the guidance of one of my nurses. She’ll be able to run search commands for you. It’s the best I can do.”
“More than I could expect, Dr. Yi. Thank you for your help. I hope I ca
n find something—” He rose to leave the doctor’s office.
He heard her comment as he closed the door behind him. “So do I, young man, so do I.”
*****
Chapter 4
Steg was both successful and unsuccessful with his searches over the next five days. He validated the date, which seemed an impossibility, given the current state of his recollections of history and personal events. Admittedly, he had large gaps in his memory, gaps he had been unable to bridge, no matter how much effort he applied to the task. He continued searching system records via his nurse amanuensis, hoping at least something would surface to help him convince ImpSec he was genuine, and his claim to service in the Imperial Intelligence Agency was valid. To his dismay, his searches continued to be unsuccessful.
On the final day of his extended therapy, he met with Dr. Yi in the small recovery ward. He sat on one of the casual chairs while the doctor performed her final examination before clearing him for release.
“There may be occasions when you experience severe discomfort,” the doctor explained. “Loss of consciousness is possible, although unlikely, unless you are under extreme stress. If it occurs, you should consult a doctor as soon as possible.” She examined his scar. It was rectangular in shape with a deep disfiguring edge reaching from temple to jaw. “A good cosmetic surgeon can fix this for you.” She paused. “I gather your searches didn’t discover anything useful?”
“Not a thing. I seem to be in a different time era. There are events I found, which seem to belong in my past, and there are some which I think occurred and aren’t recorded. I’m confused.” He shook his head.
Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) Page 2