John suspected a laryngeal fracture, but it seemed more than that. Simmons had grabbed her by the throat, but the crushing force with which he had slammed her into the bulkhead lent itself to a host of possibilities, none of which were good news.
A concussion was guaranteed, but likely a hematoma as well, given the force with which her head had impacted the wall. The most troubling, however, was the fact that even with her labored breathing, Twitch’s body was completely limp. With Simmons’s obviously augmented strength, a C5 or C6 spinal injury was highly likely. Twitch’s diaphragm was struggling to compensate for her non-responsive breathing muscles, but even if her larynx wasn’t crushed, a spinal injury that high might mean Twitch could suffocate or suffer brain damage from oxygen deprivation if he didn’t get her to a ventilator soon. He hadn’t brought his medical kit along for this meeting, but even if he had, Twitch was going to need to get to a real medical bay immediately or she would be beyond anyone’s help.
Meanwhile, Voide had scrambled back to her feet, her left arm clutching her right shoulder as she and Molon, despite their injuries, stumbled like animated corpses down the corridor toward Simmons. Dub had just begun to roll over and try to regain his footing farther down the corridor. Landing that hard had to have knocked the breath out of him at the very least.
Mel darted over to where John was kneeling beside Twitch.
“Can I help, John?”
“She’s badly hurt, Mel. I need to stabilize her, but if I don’t get her to a sickbay very soon, she’s not going to make it.”
“What can I do?” Mel asked.
“We have to secure her neck as much as possible, and I might need to open her airway. Do you have a knife?”
“No, but he does,” she said, grabbing a combat blade from its sheath hanging from the downed security officer’s waist.
Mel handed John the blade and he began to cut strips from the fallen guard’s uniform. Using the blaster rifle as a makeshift neck board, John bound Twitch’s head as securely as he could to it.
“John, what else can we do?” Mel asked, the pleading tone evident in her voice.
“Nothing until we can move. She’s struggling to breathe, but as long as air is coming and going I don’t want to perform a field tracheotomy if we can avoid it. Besides I don’t even have a fitting tube to use. We just need to pray someone can take this Simmons guy out soon. Twitch isn’t going to last long lying here.”
Mel stood up silently and joined Voide and Molon to turn on Simmons. John wondered if the gentle Fei and the other two injured officers had any hope of triumphing over the clearly-augmented GalSec interrogator.
“Please stay back,” their Angelicum defender said to Molon and Voide, who continued to advance on Simmons. “You cannot defeat this man. He will kill you. Leave him to me.”
“Hah,” Simmons scoffed loudly. “Leave me to you?”
Once again the augmented GalSec officer’s voice revealed a more volatile and emotional state than his norm. It was as if something that had been buried deep within Simmons had suddenly been released, transforming the normally emotionless man into a volatile killing machine.
“You have no idea who or what I am, do you, Malak?” Simmons raged.
“Should I?” the faux sergeant answered.
“Well, you weren’t the Angelicum that ripped me apart and left me for dead. That was one of those six-winged Seravim freaks. Unfortunately for you, I didn’t die. GalSec kept me alive and offered me the chance to join Project Firelake. I was rebuilt, upgraded, and augmented for one purpose: to fight you and your kind.”
As Simmons advanced on the Malak, fists balled and at the ready, the Angelicum only shook her head in disappointment, her translucent wings pulsing darker and more slowly.
“You have traded the gifts of the Creator for human technology,” the Malak answered. “Despite what you think, you have not made yourself stronger. You have exchanged the perfected image of God for the flawed inventions of man.”
Simmons laughed as a twisted grimace replaced the mocking rage on his face. He increased his pace and spat his final words as he closed the last few steps between himself and the Malak with blinding speed.
“You know, the heads of Project Firelake aren’t sure if it is actually possible to kill your kind, but I am willing to give it my best effort.”
Simmons reached the Angelicum agent and launched into a flurry of blows almost too fast for the eye to track. Attack after attack from Simmons was blocked and countered, the Malak’s wings pulsing from bluish-white to gleaming silver, with each clash sending flickering strobes of light down the corridor. In between defensive moves, the Angelicum launched her own strikes, with the punches, blocks, and counterpunches blending into a furious blur between Simmons and the Malak. Simmons proved just as adept at fending off the Malak’s offense, the barest glisten on his skin bearing testament that it was anything but effortless.
The Malak’s instruction to stand down had not deterred Molon and Voide from advancing, but John was comforted that at least Mel had chosen to stay back. Regaining and losing Elena in the blink of an eye, and now the possibility of losing Twitch was enough of a cost today. He couldn’t contemplate losing Mel too.
Voide reached into a pocket on her right sleeve and pulled out a tiny disk. She tossed it at Simmons, and it clung to his back where it struck. Simmons paid no notice, concentrating fully on his stalemate with the Malak. Voide tapped the control module on her wrist and grinned ferociously, baring her own elongated fangs as Simmons began to twitch and spasm violently for a few seconds before falling to the floor.
In the brief moments of Simmons’s standing seizure, the Malak landed half a dozen lightning-fast strikes to the interrogator’s head and torso, adding overkill to whatever Voide had done to bring down the GalSec interrogator.
“What was that?” John asked, his eyes fixed with wonder on Star Wolf’s security chief.
“A LAMP,” Voide answered. “Localized Activatable Magnetic Pulsar. It temporarily frags electronic systems, sort of a mini-EMP. Marines use them to take out powered armor suits, but I started carrying one after my first run-in with that stinking cyborg. See, Molon, I told you he was an augment.”
Molon clearly wasn’t listening. As soon as Simmons had dropped to the deck, Molon’s attention went fully to Twitch. He sprinted over to where John was kneeling beside the wounded executive officer.
“How bad is it, Doc?” Molon asked.
“Bad,” John replied. “I need to get her to Star Wolf’s sickbay now, Molon.”
“Can you save her, John?” the captain asked, his lupine eyes glistening behind a series of rapid blinks.
“I honestly don’t know.”
Twenty-Eight – Flight to Furi
John turned to face their rescuer as the Angelicum operative touched her wrist communicator.
“Abbot, this is Angel. Package secure. Commence diversion. We should be aboard Star Wolf and clear shortly. Avoid docking sections until we are away. Confirm?”
“Angel, this is Abbot,” came the reply across the comms unit. “Message confirmed. Commencing attack run. Affirm avoidance of docking sections pending all-clear. Abbot out.”
“Who are you?” Molon snapped at the Malak, whose translucent wings shimmered gradually dimmer before fading completely.
“I’ll explain later,” The Angelicum replied, motioning toward the corridor Dub said led to Star Wolf. “For now, we need to move. John, is Twitch all right?”
“Do we know you?” John asked, for the moment the Malak’s familiarity derailing any focus on her question.
“I know you,” she replied. “That is enough for now. Please, can Twitch be moved?”
“She has to be,” John answered.
By this time Dub had scrambled to his feet and joined them, doing his best to reach behind his bulk and rub his lower back. Mel and John looked to be the only Star Wolf officers who had escaped the encounter unscathed.
Molon winced slightly as
he moved to pick Twitch up from where she lay. John had never seen such concern on the Lubanian’s wolfish features.
“Molon, are you hurt?” John asked.
“Probably cracked a rib or two, but Twitch is more important,” Molon replied.
“Be careful with her neck and head. Do the best you can to move that as little as possible until we get her to sick bay for a complete exam.”
“Got you, Doc. Everyone, grab those blaster rifles and clear us a path. Dub, you know the way?”
“Aye, Cap,” Dub replied with a nod.
“Then lead on. And blast anyone that steps between us and Star Wolf, no questions.”
“Aye, sir,” came a chorus of replies.
Even John realized he had affirmed the order and grabbed a blaster rifle, forgetting for the moment that he had almost no idea how to use one. Voide snatched it from his hands and Dub grabbed the other free blaster rifle that wasn’t currently serving as Twitch’s neckboard.
The Malak fell in behind them and covered the rear as they made their way toward Star Wolf. There was no additional interference as they made their way to the airlock where the ship was docked. That might be due to the periodic spasms that had resonated through Revenge every few seconds since the one calling herself Angel had given the order. Alarm klaxons sounded throughout the ship, and red flashing lights punctuated the corridor every few meters. John was no expert, but those sure felt like bombardments from one or more enemy ships attacking the PI cruiser.
John’s suspicions were confirmed just as they reached the airlock and an announcement came across general comms.
“All Revenge personnel prepare for emergency depressurization in three minutes. Emergency DP protocols in effect. All personnel outfit in vac-suits and report to battle stations immediately. This is not a drill!”
Fortunately Star Wolf had docked with Revenge via an umbilical attached to the primary starboard airlock. This was at least on the same side of the ship, and only one deck away, from sickbay. With Twitch’s condition, every second mattered.
“Voide,” Molon barked as they entered Star Wolf’s airlock. “You have the conn. Get to the bridge and get us underway, and no psycho-revenge crap. Get us clear and get us into voidspace now. We’ll worry about payback later.”
“Aye, sir,” Voide said, the grudging tone clear in her voice.
“You won’t all get clear until these docking clamps are released,” Angel said, standing on Revenge’s side of the airlock doors. “Prepare to leave, I’ll stay behind and clear the clamps from this side.”
“We’re not leaving you,” John protested.
This was the first real Angelicum he had met, and he wasn’t about to leave her behind to die. Could angels really be killed? He had never thought about that before now, but wasn’t interested in testing the answer on their rescuer.
“Can the heroics, sweet-face,” Dub said to Angel. “Get your tiny tokus in here. I’ve got the clamps handled.”
The Malak stepped inside Star Wolf’s airlock, dubiously eyeing Dub. The malmorph engineer approached the panel, closed the airlock doors, and snaked the mechanical appendage containing his NID into a data port in the panel as he activated a private comms channel from the controls.
“All right my little beauties,” Dub said, raising his hands as if he were about to conduct a symphony, the NID umbilical extending to accommodate his movement. “Spiderbot squad seventeen, load subroutine filename: debark. Authorization code: ‘parting is such sweet sorrow’. Execute.”
The sound of metal clamps releasing rang through the airlock. John saw through the viewing pane that Star Wolf had detached from Revenge and begun to drift apart from the PI cruiser. Dub, in between waves of his arms to inaudible music, touched a control and closed the outer panel as his NID interface detached and retracted. Through the airlock viewport, John watched as the external airlock access closed and secured. Dub took an exaggerated bow.
As Voide punched in the codes to open the inner airlock doors and grant them access to Star Wolf’s middle deck, John turned to Dub.
“Anyone ever tell you your flair for the dramatic is really annoying?” John teased.
“Only all the time,” Dub grinned.
“Knock it off,” Molon growled, Twitch still dangling in his arms. “Dub, get to engineering and make sure nothing goes wrong between wherever the heck we are and the voidspace jump to Furi, Tede, or whatever jump point is closest that leads anywhere the heck out of Dawnstar space.”
“Aye, Cap.”
“Captain Hawkins,” Angel said. “If I might also go to the bridge, I can help reconfigure your transponder’s FF identifier to signal our fleet that we are safely aboard, and ensure there are no mistakes while Star Wolf makes the exit point.”
Molon glared at Angel, not looking like he was ready to completely trust her just yet.
“I already have our Friend/Foe identifiers set for Unaligned, PI friendly,” Molon replied. “Given that we are in Dawnstar space, I don’t think we’ll be changing that.”
“I know,” Angel answered. “However, those are not PI or Dawnstar ships firing at Revenge. We need to reset your FF identifier to Unaligned, Theocracy-friendly.”
“You know something, lady,” Molon snarled. “I’ve had about enough of this ‘you know us but we don’t know you’ routine. How about you hand over that blaster rifle to my communications chief right now before I toss you back out that airlock.”
“And Mel,” Molon said, turning toward the comms officer. “Accompany Miss Familiarity to the bridge and you personally check the ID’s of the attacking vessels and execute the FF transponder ID changes if they are indeed Theocracy ships. But if you sense any duplicity or anything off at all, then kindly blast our mysterious benefactor to atoms.”
“Yes, captain,” Mel acknowledged.
“Suit yourself, captain,” Angel replied as she handed the blaster rifle to Mel. “But I am not your enemy.”
“We’ll see about that, after I attend to my XO.”
They then moved through the inner airlock doors and were greeted by two Star Wolf security officers in combat suits, weapons at the ready.
“Stand down,” Voide ordered. “All friendlies.”
“Aye, Lieutenant Commander,” the security officers answered, stepping aside.
Voide, Angel, Dub, and Mel ran on ahead, bypassing the starboard elevator and taking the longer route, so as not to delay Molon and John getting Twitch to sick bay. Molon and John stepped into the waiting elevator and John activated the controls. The elevator took them to the upper deck, just down the corridor from sickbay.
John rushed past Molon as they reached the wider auxiliary space just outside the elevator doors by sickbay. The larger open space could serve for recreation, storage, or medical use as needs demanded, but currently held the four extra med-beds which John had prepared earlier for the encounter with Revenge.
“You want her here, John?” Molon asked.
“No,” John answered. “These are just beds, Molon. I need her in sickbay where all the equipment is.”
He sprinted down the corridor ahead of the captain to ready a medical bed for Twitch. Molon followed him a few moments later.
“Put her down here,” John said.
John grabbed a handheld cranial scanner from the equipment cabinet as Molon laid Twitch gingerly down on the waiting bed. John gave him an unceremonious shove as he began working the scanner around Twitch’s head.
“What else can I do, John?” Molon asked.
“Honestly, Molon, you have a ship to run and you are in my way. Get on the comms and tell Patch and Bob to get to sickbay immediately, and then go get us out of this system. There is nothing else you can do for her here. I promise I will let you know as soon as I have something to report.”
“Don’t you let her die, John,” Molon said, a tone of warning in his voice.
“I’ll do my best,” John answered, shaking his head as he busily worked to remove the blaster rifle to wh
ich Twitch was bound, to replace it with a proper neck board. “You have to know, Molon, after the hit she took, she’s more in God’s hands than mine right now.”
“Then He’d better not let her die, or He’ll answer to me.”
*****
Molon called for the two other corpsmen to report to sickbay, as John had asked. Part of him wanted to stand outside sickbay until he knew for sure what would happen to Twitch. John was right, though. He had a ship to run. Voide was a good officer, but giving her a retreat order that ran against every grain of her aggressive nature was a gamble. With them now floating just off the hull of a Provisional Imperium cruiser, the best thing Molon could do for Twitch was to get to the bridge and make sure the rescue effort wasn’t all for naught.
He had more than a few questions about that rescue. Who was this Angelicum operative, and how did she know so stinking much about him and his crew? An extended interrogation was in her future if they all lived through this.
Molon stepped on the bridge. Angel stood beside Mel’s comm station, the two of them working together at the controls. Mel was a gentle soul, but very intuitive when it came to people. Molon suspected that had more to do with her Fei physiology and her people’s latent psionic potential than any developed sense of discernment. Whatever the reason, in the time she had been aboard Star Wolf, Mel had never failed to rightly judge someone as friend or enemy. If she trusted this Malak, he would too, at least for now.
“Voide, status?” Molon said, approaching his command chair. Voide leapt to her feet, vacating the captain’s chair as she moved to take over at the security station. Molon stood in front of his chair rather than taking a seat.
“Dub’s got the engines fired up and we are en route to the jump point to Furi,” Voide replied. “Looks like those PI scum weren’t in a hurry to get anywhere else. We’re almost exactly where Revenge grabbed us.”
“ETA at voidspace jump point?”
Star Wolf (Shattered Galaxy) Page 41