Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2)

by John Hindmarsh

  Steg colored again, and the three nurses giggled at his discomfort. He asked, “Can you tell me your names?”

  “I’m Tessa.” She indicated the second nurse. “Allow me to introduce Sara.” She pointed to the third nurse. “The lady who was holding the scalpel is Stacia.”

  Steg nodded to each Fain in turn as she was introduced. “Would you have used it?” he asked Stacia.

  “Oh, yes, if you had harmed one of ours. Without hesitation.”

  “I’ll remember,” he replied. “I thought you had to be contracted to a man? Millie explained it to me.”

  “Not when we can support each other. As I said, there are fifteen of us, and we are trained to be free, to accept life without a Fain-master.” Her reply was matter of fact, although Steg had never heard of free Fain.

  “I suspect there are some stories—”

  “One day, when we know you better.”

  *****

  Chapter 10

  “He simply appeared,” exclaimed the nurse, barely controlling her agitation. “The gurney delivered him to our ICU.”

  The Alutan Advocate-General’s Senior Representative, Ser Mason, paused his note taking and looked her in the eye. “You acted promptly, providing assistance.” It was an observation, almost praise. The small amount of warmth in his voice did not assuage the tension in the room.

  The gloomy interview room with its dull gray walls added to her discomfort. Two men—from the regional office of the Advocate-General, she had been told—occupied the chairs opposite her, across the table, which was of heavy metal, paint peeling, and bolted to the floor.

  “We are trained—we are all trained to react quickly to emergency situations with our patients.” She smiled hesitantly.

  “Yet he wasn’t a patient.”

  “He was—his details were in the ICU database. Our unit had been reserved, and we were on alert. He was injured, dying, perhaps.”

  “And he didn’t speak to you?”

  “I think he moaned with pain. He was unconscious all the time.”

  “What injuries did he have?”

  “He appeared to have been burned, blasted, somehow, on his head and shoulder. Left hand side. Some of the burns were severe. It was though he had been heavily impacted—with almost deadly force—on the side of his head. He was concussed, and the ICU diagnostic identified brain swelling.” She paused for a moment and then rushed her words. “He was carrying a sword, and I think the hilt must have partly protected his head where he had been blasted.”

  “A sword? Do you know where it is?”

  “It was with his belongings, in the unit. Dr. Yi said to store it with his uniform.”

  The questioner made another note. “She did? When was that?”

  “When we prepped him for immersion.”

  “Did you or Dr. Yi know this man?”

  The room was suddenly still. She drew a breath. “No, not at all. I told you—I told the others—those military—ImpSec—people—I had never seen him before. We treated him the same as we would any patient.”

  The Advocate-General’s Senior Representative turned to his companion, whom the nurse assumed was the junior of the two men. “Ser Brest, any questions?”

  The younger man stared at the nurse. She shuddered inwardly. His eyes were cold, his demeanor not threatening but accusing, as if he had found her guilty of some unstated and unknown serious crime.

  He spoke. “Do you actually think we are all idiots?” His voice was almost venomous.

  “Wh—what? I have told you—”

  “A pack of lies. That’s all we have been told, by you, by the entire medical staff, here. This stranger, unknown to you all, a uniformed officer, dramatically appears, injured, magically delivered by a gurney, and you all rush around to care for him.” Brest stopped, seeming to restrain himself from expressing more anger.

  She rushed her words, almost crying. “It’s true. He was delivered by the gurney. Of course we would care for him. It’s what our hospital ship does, you know.” A tiny glimmer of rebellion struggled to surface from under the waves of her fear.

  Senior Representative Mason checked his notes and then continued as though his companion had not spoken. “How was this man dressed? What was he wearing and what did he carry in addition to this sword?”

  “It was—it seemed he was wearing a military uniform. Similar to the uniform our marines wear. Not as fancy, more utilitarian. He had rank insignias, like an officer’s.”

  “So you think our uniforms are too fancy? You are an expert?” demanded Ser Brest.

  “No—no, not at all. I didn’t say that. Our marines are brave. They like to have color in their uniforms, is all.”

  “Did he have other weapons?” asked Mason.

  “Well, he had the sword, of course, and a sidearm. I don’t know what kind of weapon it was.”

  “We’ve been checking the security camera files and have a surveillance video, which we’d like you to watch.” He turned to his younger associate. “Run the first file.”

  She had wondered why the video equipment was set up on the table. She waited as the younger man switched on the equipment and selected a file on the linked computer. After a moment the file opened.

  “Now watch. This is corridor 25A, on voyage 121, thirtieth day, seconds before twenty-hundred hours.

  The video displayed the gurney, empty, heading along the corridor. The display froze. The nurse looked up at the man who was managing the display.

  “Keep watching,” Brest snarled.

  She returned her attention to the frozen image. After what seemed interminable minutes, the video re-commenced, and now the gurney was traveling towards the camera. It held a patient.

  “That was six minutes later. Now tell me,” the Junior Representative asked, “just how did you manage that? These cameras are secure. No one has access to them. No one.” His voice grew more intense, savage. “How did you do it?”

  “But—but I didn’t do anything.”

  “So you say. Run the next file,” Mason directed. The video showed the two nurses and a doctor as they began to prep the patient. “That’s the sword you mentioned?” There was a sword beside the unconscious body.

  “Yes.”

  “And this is you, your fellow nurse, and Dr. Yi?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  He signaled again, and Brest continued the video, which was focused on the medical team as they carefully placed the patient into the immersion tank. “That’s it? Nothing else you want to tell us?”

  “No, sir. That’s all that happened, sir.”

  “Amazing. Something untoward’s taken place on this starship, and you’re all involved. We haven’t discovered how you interfered with the camera—”

  “Sir, I did not interfere with any camera.” She almost stamped her foot. She was indignant, and her innocence overcame her fear. “We treated an injured person. That’s what we do.”

  The older man looked at his companion. “What do you think?”

  Brest looked up from his computer screen. “Reluctantly I must admit, the sensors say she is not lying.” His voice had lost its venom. “Either she’s been processed in some way to defeat our equipment, or indeed, a extraordinary—inexplicable—event occurred on board the HS xTaur.”

  Mason made some more notes, and when he finished, the two men silently packed their equipment away.

  She watched anxiously until it seemed they were about to depart, and concern won the day. “So I can go?”

  Mason looked at her for a long moment. “Oh, indeed, no.”

  She frowned, biting her lip. It was a bad habit and one she had not been able to stop. “Am I under arrest?”

  “Shall we say—assisting with our inquiries? We intend to question the members of your ICU team and other medical personnel again to discover the truth of what happened on your starship.”

  He stood up and headed to the door as he spoke, followed by his companion. “No, you’ll be assisting us for anoth
er day or two. Perhaps longer. Whatever it takes. There’s a guard outside this door and he’ll escort you back to your quarters. We’ll continue to provide—um—secure—accommodation for you and the others until we’re finished. No, don’t protest. It won’t do you any good, at all.”

  Nurse Rowe sat back in the hard metal chair and stared with hopelessness at the wall as the two men exited. She knew they would discover only that the medical team had treated the patient until eventually he’d been removed by ImpSec to their prison.

  *****

  Chapter 11

  “The more time I spend in space, the more certain I become that we cannot account for everything we encounter,” said Brest, as they made their way towards the Citadel housing the headquarters of the Alutan Advocate-General and his deputies. It dominated the entire surroundings and was occupied by at least five hundred deputies and thousands of their support staff. Additionally the Advocate-General could call on twenty thousand or more field representatives, plus all the Alutan-sourced units of ImpSec when and if required. The total force, well in excess of two hundred thousand personnel, was to support the A-G’s primary mission of securing the oligopolistic corporate structure of House of Aluta and its vassal worlds. It was too few, at times, Brest thought, given the worlds they needed to keep secure and the pressures arising from those worlds. Enforcement and fear was the A-G response, and it seemed effective. So far.

  His companion laughed. “Try telling our boss. He expects an answer—a solution—for everything. This one’s going to throw him. Wait and see.”

  Their passes allowed them through the various checkpoints until they reached the upper levels where the Deputy Advocates had their offices. Here, even though they were accredited employees, they approached the guards cautiously. It was a well-supported rumor the guards were selected for their complete lack of a sense of humor. The two men handed over their passes and then, separately, walked through the screening station. Of course they carried nothing that could be regarded as a weapon this far inside the Advocates’ Citadel. Each man was handed temporary floor passes, which would expire after three hours. If a pass-holder was still on the floor when the time limit expired, the freedom provided by the pass would automatically end. No excuses. Immediately following expiry of a pass, the holder would be tracked by overhead detection devices and, more than likely, would be shot by nervous guards.

  “Relax,” commanded Mason. “Stymo isn’t as bad as that. He’ll bark, for sure, if he’s displeased; however, he was in the field, once. He knows what it’s like out there. Here we are, this is his office.”

  They handed their floor passes to a door guard who examined them carefully before allowing both men through the heavy security door into a large outer office.

  An aide waved them towards a conference room. “Sir Stymo will join you in five minutes. Please take a seat. Refreshments are available. Help yourselves.”

  The conference room was large enough to seat twenty people in relaxed comfort. “This is set up for a large group,” whispered Brest. “Last time we debriefed, we met in a side office. I think we may have fallen into the pit on this one.”

  Five minutes turned into ten. They waited in silence. Thirty minutes had passed when the door opened and a group of strangers entered, followed by Deputy Advocate Stymo. He greeted the two men in friendly tones.

  “Gentlemen, so pleased you could attend. I invited some of my associates; they are interested in your investigations. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Senior Representative Mason and Representative Brest. Take a seat, please, everyone.”

  There was a flurry of exchange greetings and gradually the gathering settled into attentive listening.

  “Thank you all,” said Sir Stymo. “You have all read my summary? I, too, am anxious for a detailed briefing on this bewildering series of events. Senior Mason, would you like to start?”

  “Yes sir.” He looked around the conference table at his attentive audience. “Gentlemen. A month ago we received a report from ImpSec concerning events they’d encountered on one of our hospital starships—HS xTaur—resolution of which was beyond their scope. They asked for our assistance. This happens only rarely and thus the A-G categorized the request as urgent. We, that is, Representative Brest and myself, were transferred from our other investigations and directed to meet xTaur at Waypoint G10. We each arrived within twelve hours of the starship. In the meantime, ImpSec’d sequestered a group of medics, both doctors and nurses, some of whom are senior specialists, removing them from the starship. They were, of course, extremely annoyed, indeed angry, and lodged protests with the Imperial Medical Service and the Imperial Naval Base on Freedom, which is xTaur’s home port. I expect there’ll be formal statements of complaint in due course, addressed to the A-G.”

  He stopped for a moment, anticipating questions, and then continued at Sir Stymo’s direction. “In all, ImpSec removed and sequestered twenty-five medics from xTaur, plus five general hands. They copied a large number of files from the starship’s security cameras and other security and tracking devices. Eventually ImpSec allowed the starship to continue to her home port while the medics were held for our arrival.”

  “And what caused this alarm, Senior?” asked one of the attendees. Mason did not know his name.

  “That’s what we set out to determine, sir,” Mason responded. “Apparently—and I say this with some care—a stranger, wearing an unknown military uniform, suddenly appeared on board this Imperial hospital starship and was delivered by gurney to an ICU, while the ship was in transit. His name and rank had been entered, somehow, into the MedSys records, prior to the patient reaching the ICU. He had been severely injured by a shot from some kind of blaster or similar weapon. The medical teams provided diagnosis and emergency treatment, and after some days of intensive care, downgraded the stranger’s condition from extremely critical to serious, with full recovery expected.

  “ImpSec, via a junior officer, became involved and attempted to remove the patient from the ICU. The senior medico, Colonel Yi, previously had ordered the junior officer out of her wards. She charged him under Articles of War for attempting to remove a patient under treatment, contrary to her express orders. Details are in my report. The officer subsequently was discharged from ImpSec and sentenced to ten years imprisonment. ImpSec, once the patient was released from medical care, arrested him for spying—a Section 301. This was followed by an unusually rapid hearing, and the ImpSec court sentenced him to death. He was offloaded to one of our prisons on Centyr where the sentence was to be carried out. The man has since disappeared. There’s no trace of him anywhere that we could find.”

  “This is all verifiable?” snapped one of the listeners.

  “Sir, ImpSec provided all their security videos for us. Hours of recordings. We have been through all of them, sometimes more than two or three times. The files are authentic—we had them validated by A-G Laboratories. Double checked, by two separate labs. It is our determination that the tapes validate the account of the medics.” He paused and looked around the table. No one questioned him.

  He continued, “We identified and accounted for everyone in the medical teams. Prior to our involvement, ImpSec also carried out checks, which we validated. Of course, our checks were more thorough. We questioned everyone, multiple times, intensively. We truth-tested them. A-G Truth Teams monitored our tests and confirmed our results. Everyone believes absolutely the details they told us. Our investigations confirm the medicos are telling the truth.”

  Sir Stymo held up his hand. “Very good. I take it they have been released and allowed to continue to their destination?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. We ensured their service reports do not contain anything unfavorable. They all performed their duties, as one would require. They cooperated fully with our investigation.”

  “Did you question the ImpSec officers?”

  “Yes, sir. Aggressively. Including the young lieutenant. You’ll find our recommendations in our detailed report regarding the
members of the ImpSec court who tried this so-called spy. They were—cavalier, shall I say—with how they carried out their duties. This person—spy or not—did not receive a fair trial.” Mason looked to Sir Stymo for direction.

  The A-G deputy waved him to continue his report. “You investigated the prison—what is it, Diyark?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. Diyark Prison’s nothing short of a hellhole. Prisoners arrive there and simply disappear. Of two hundred prisoners delivered to Diyark in the prior three months, thirty or more had disappeared as of the time of our investigation. I wouldn’t be surprised if more have disappeared since. There were too many prisoners and disappearances for us to investigate further. Our detailed recommendations include the need for a major investigation—the prison’s rife with corruption.”

  “You have documented this corruption?” The question was from one of the other men seated around the table.

  ”Yes, sir. We’ve included evidence where we could. We weren’t equipped or authorized to conduct a detailed investigation of a prison with more than five thousand inmates and fifteen thousand employees.”

  Sir Stymo said, “Well done, indeed. Brest, do you have anything to add?”

  “Sir, I agree with everything presented. We co-authored the report.”

  “Excellent.” Sir Stymo addressed the attendees around the conference table. “Ladies and gentlemen, I will arrange delivery of copies of the report and associated files. I’d like to thank Mason and Brest for their excellent investigation. If you have questions of fact, scope, or otherwise after you read and review their report, I can arrange another meeting.” He turned back to the two investigators. “I know you’ve only now returned from Centyr. Take a well-deserved break and report back to me in one week. I’m sure we’ll have some questions for you.”