Her answers began to slur, she was so tired, could hardly stay awake. Exhaustion would not help, she knew. The Anawoka in charge called a halt, asking her what she wanted.
“Something to eat. And drink. Some orange juice or something. Maybe a pain pill. And someplace warm to sleep for a week.”
Told they’d need all urine and feces sampled for a few days, she nodded, put on the warm robe offered to her, and went off to the tiny dining area. A medic brought her a pill, and a glass of juice. A steaming plate of scrambled eggs, toast, ham, applesauce, with hot tea, and a warm coffee cake soon arrived, and she ate, looking at Hunter. He helped with her meal, just there, saying little.
A flatscreen drifted to them, and the image of her son, Tari holding him, appeared, she pointing to a similar screen, no doubt, saying, “There’s your mommy, there she is.”
Lori smiled, leaned to the screen, and blew her son a kiss. “Eric, hi, I’ll see you real soon, OK?” she said, and crooned to him a little. The boy reached for her and began to fuss and cry. Tari ended the call right after that. Lori sighed and went back to her meal, quickly finished it.
Hunter led her to a small room with a bed. She dropped her robe, and lay on the sheets. They felt warm and soft. He pulled up the light covers, softly tucking them around her, asking her if she needed anything else, but she did not hear him. He dimmed the lights, and sat there with her, watching over her as she slept.
A dull throbbing of pain, and a full bladder brought her to consciousness again. She turned over, and opened her eyes. Hunter sat there in the dimness, and she said, “Hunter, is it morning?”
He jumped up, came over to the, took one hand and said, “Past morning. But no one’s counting. How do you feel?”
“Terrible,” she said, as the lighting level slowly rose. She saw the horror in his face, and added, “But better than yesterday.”
“Can you get up?”
“Yes, give me a hand.”
Slowly, groaning just a little, she eased upright, got her legs over the edge of the bed, and sat there, surprised at how stiff and sore she felt. All over. The Anawoka doctor’s face appeared on the monitor as the medical techs rushed in again. One handed her the urinal. She slowly stood, her muscles aching, she stiff and sore all over for sure, slid the narrow bowl between her legs, and went.
She looked down at the dark tinged urine sample, and began to cry. The tech took it away, quickly. The second tech ran some monitors over her, and took a few light scrapings from beneath bandages. It examined her head wound closely. Hunter got her back up onto the bed, and put his arms around her, and she sat there, sniffling, leaning against him.
The Anawoka, upset as all the other races always were at the sight of human tears, quickly ran the sample. It said, watching the display, “Better today. You are better today. Good improvement. Your body is healing. Soon you will be OK. Don’t worry.”
Lori leaned against Hunter some more, not feeling much better, stiff and in pain everywhere it seemed, many places tight with bandaging.
The medical tech asked if she wanted breakfast, and Lori nodded.
Still in isolation, they brought a big meal into the room next to the bedroom–fruit, waffles, eggs and coffee cake again, coffee, juice. She started with the coffee, savoring it, and ate all the rest, and asked for refills as she talked to Hunter.
“Morales is furious,” he said, looking at her seriously.
“He has a right to be.”
“Yeah, well, who knew?”
“You did. He did. You warned me. And I ignored you both. Shit.” She looked at him, but he said nothing. “I won’t make that mistake again. Any word from the surface?”
“Yeah, some minister or something is broadcasting a sort of mini-tirade, demanding restitution, charging us with war-like actions, listing lots of ‘citizens,’ as he calls them, killed or injured. The fires at the two air bases are just going out, they’re pretty well wrecked. You did a hell of a number on that prison, too, you know, it’s a shambles, pretty well burned out now, along with part of the town.”
“The prisoners?” she said, holding the warm coffee cup on both hands and drinking from it.
“Loose in the town.”
“Killing and looting?”
“No, on the contrary. Some welcomed by the people, but no trouble. Maybe they were political? They seem to be getting ready to try to repulse an attack.”
“From who? The garrison?”
“No, they’re wiped out, seems like. I suppose the powers that be are none too pleased. Who...”
“T’ming, they kept calling the head honcho. The Prince of the Realm, and shit like that. Him, I think I’d like to meet sometime,” Lori said. And when I do, I’ll kill the mother fucker.
“Yeah, well, what do you think you want to do next?”
Still sipping the coffee, she said, “Show me the video.”
She watched it while the medics administered to her again, changing the dressings and wiping at her wounds. She looked at them, but they said nothing.
“I’d like to see Morales now,” she said, when the medics left.
“He’s waiting outside,” Hunter said, and tapped a com link.
The window cleared as Morales entered the observation room next door. He looked at her, and said, “Lori, I’m sorry.”
She waved at him. “Not your fault. Next time I’ll listen to you, and not the idiots from the UN.”
He nodded.
She took a deep breath. “I think we need a sortie to the surface. I’ll check with the captains, but I think it’s time for another show of force. I’ll want your most heavily armed lighter. I want you to pay a visit to this guy,” she said, motioning to the still image on the wall screen behind her. “I want him to know that I’m alive, and rather pissed.” She looked at him. “Find him. Send him a message, use a hologram. In his dwelling. Or office, or wherever the hell he is. Can you find him?”
Morales nodded.
“You tell him that we will meet him to discuss his demands, and present a few of our own. At a time and place of our choosing. We’ll send for him. Meanwhile, find a good place to bring him, where we can land and not be disturbed. But not so far away it takes forever to get him there.”
“When?”
“Visit him as soon as you’re ready. But give me a day or two to get over...”
“Lori!” Hunter said, loudly.
She went on, “...being so stiff, and for you to find a good spot, and make preparations. We’ll want to invite all the races. Then we’ll all go and have a little heart to heart chat with–what’s his name, anyway, anyone know?”
“Yeah–Borrelia. Maybe a prime minister, or an equivalent position, in that big country. Some high mucky-muck, anyway.”
“Good. I’d like to initiate high level talks. I’ve had my fill of prison wardens.” Morales just looked at her. “Major, be assured, that if I go to the surface again, you will be with me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod.
“And when you find him, tell that Borrelia guy to keep his army out of that town and leave it the hell alone, or we’ll bombard his cities from space.”
Morales smiled, and said, “Yes, Ma’am.”
“Now, do you have a battle report for me, on that prison escape we engineered–they engineered,” she corrected, pointing at Hunter.
Morales gave a little nod of his head. “Yes, Ma’am, you were brilliant as usual,” and he smiled as she frowned at him, but she said nothing more, and he started his report.
“Treachery,” Eagle One broadcast to everyone, he said, as it leaped upward, stunning the two people inside, and narrowly missing capture by the heavy, metal netting hidden in the lawn area, and fired upward by explosives. By the time it dropped back, while the few natives scattered, disappearing into hidden holes, and fired at the doorway, blowing it apart, to see another, far more massive doorway, a blast door for sure, and no one in sight, it was too late. Lori was gone, captured by the natives. Or k
illed.
“We didn’t know which, and raced in to see what we could do, try to grab a few natives, to hold as counter-hostages, but they were all gone, vanished,” he said. “We tracked your locator for a minute, until it went off. We landed a squad, the sappers blew the inner door, but the interior of that underground complex was deserted. And dark, maybe they thought that would stop us, we ran inside, weapons ready, scanners going, to where we lost the signal. It was a four corners intersection in the underground tunnels. The aerial sensors reported ground vehicles speeding away in every direction, we didn’t know which ones to follow, or what.”
He looked at her, taking a breath. “It was very well planned, they sure took us by surprise. I apologize for failing to...”
Lori held up a hand. “I said, forget it. It’s over, and we’ll know better from now on.”
“You eventually tripped the locator?” Lori nodded. “It was nearly twenty kilometers from that college complex, two towns over. We sorta expected you to wind up in a military base, somewhere, and were watching the closest ones. The prison surprised us, though.”
Morales paused, then said, “The bigboys, the Pokos, the illi-illi, everyone, is some impressed with how you broke out, and pleased at the havoc you unleashed on the prison.” He smiled, and paused again. “As am I. And I am even more pleased to see you back with us, and regret you are battered and bruised.”
“I’ll survive.” They looked at each other, Lori breathing slowly. “Guess it comes with the job. But thank you, and I’ll thank the bigboys, the Pokos, and the illi-illi, for their help with the dog fights. You all did very well.”
“Thank you,” Morales said simply. He asked, “Is there anything more I can do for you now?”
“Find that Borrelia. I want to see him soon. We’re not done here yet.”
“I’ll get right on it.” He stood up at attention, turned, and left.
“Now, I need to talk to Eagle One,” Lori said. “I miss it.”
“Here’s the phone,” Hunter said, handing it to her.
Chapter 19 - Damaged
“You have two cracked ribs, and a slight concussion. That’s the worst of it. Your facial bones are intact, though the skin and muscles are injured. None should result in permanent scars. You know about the other bruises and lacerations.” The Anawoka doctor touched her right side. She knew where, every deep breath gave her a jolt of pain. Her breasts, full of milk, ached, too.
“Kidney damage?”
“Some. Expect blood in the urine for a day or two.”
“Permanent?”
“Unlikely. Bruising, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“Several blood vessels also bruised.”
The medical assistant dabbed anti-septic on her cuts and bruises, and quickly covered the exposed areas with dressings.
“Intestinal?” she asked, worried about that the most, as she lightly touched her swollen lower lip, felt the tenderness there.
“Some untypical organisms are found there now. Their impacts are unknown. But they seem to be multiplying, and we worry about that. How do you feel, any stomach discomfort?”
Lori shook her head. “No, not so far. What do you think we should do?”
“We should remove the alien organisms. Some common treatments seem to hold promise. We would like to start treating you now.”
Nodding, she said, “OK, how?”
“A purge, first. Then medicinal treatments.”
Lori make a face, but said, “OK, we’ll try that.”
Lori drank the infusion, a bitter tasting fluid with a chalky, oily after flavor. It began to work quickly. Off and on throughout the next few hours, she spent on the toilet in the throngs of cramps and diarrhea, her waste going into plastic pouches, for testing. She had no appetite for lunch, but needed to keep drinking, tried warm tea and cold ginger ale. She was dismayed to be handed a second dose in the midst of it all. The treatments disrupted her oral pain medication, and more was administered with a couple of shots to her buttocks. She expelled her milk, all went off for testing, and that eased the pressure in her breasts. After, she rested, mostly watching TV relayed from the surface, jumbles of unintelligible sounds, and some strange shows. The ads were far more interesting, and she began keeping a loose record of some items of potential interest for trading. Should they ever get that far.
Once the worst of it passed, she napped, and slept most of the mid-afternoon away, awaking with more cramps near five p.m. Moving slowly and stiffly, she came back from the toilet, and Hunter asked her if she’d like something to eat or drink.
“How about a beer?” she said hopefully, but his stoic face confirmed that was unlikely.
“Soup, maybe. Or some cola, or more ginger ale, or tea? Anything appeal to you?” he said.
“Soup, not too hot.”
A tray immediately appeared, with a small loaf of warm bread, butter and strawberry preserves. It all tasted good to her. Hunter took a similar tray, and joined her in the room. She asked him how he felt, and he said, “Fine.”
“You have to do all this?”
“No,” he said.
Captain George called her later, as she dozed in bed. She sat up, smiled at him, asked what was happening.
“We’re bringing the K up close to the Scabiosa. The Mandara is here, too, we’ll all form up near the new space station.”
Lori’s face showed her surprise. “Is that wise?”
“We think it is. Actually, we’ve established a bit of a dialogue with the remaining space station staff. They’re all science-types, quite well educated, open to new events, and well, fascinated with all us aliens. They do find us, and everyone but the Pokoniry, to be rather ugly.” He smiled, as did Lori. “They heard about your experience on the surface, and have extended profound apologies. They also sent over, in one of their small shuttles, this,” and the view panned to a large arrangement of flowers, colorful, wispy blossoms and green and white fronds, but everything drooping, flopped over. “It’s for you.”
“You check it for a listening device.”
Morales, nearby the Captain, nodded. “Yes. It’s clean.”
“Not very impressive.”
“Actually, we think it is. Probably grown in low-G, or maybe even zero-G. Lori, I don’t think they know we have artificial gravity.”
“You didn’t invite them aboard?”
“No, not yet. They have invited us to visit them there, and we think we’ll do that first. Anyway, these flowers can’t handle gravity, or at least not one-G.”
“Well, nice of them to do that. What else do they say?”
“Oh, that as a result of talking to us, they’re expecting to be arrested by T’ming, tried for treason to the Realm, and executed.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah. Say that if they go back to the surface, they’ll be shot, only a matter of time until they’re captured up here in orbit. They’re pleading with us not to leave.”
“The thought has crossed my mind. OK, so you’re hanging around to give them some protection from a surface assault?”
“Thought we would. That OK?”
She nodded. “Yes. Fine. We’ll buy them some time, anyway. OK, can they help us get any dialogue going with the surface? With T’ming, or anyone?”
“Well, not T’ming, he’s not taking their calls, called them cowardly traitors, and that was that. But they do have a number of contacts elsewhere on the surface, mostly in the science fields in other provinces, and some of the Pokoniry and bigboys are following up on that.”
“That’s some progress, good.”
“What’s your status? Ready to come home?”
“Oh, long ago. But I’m stuck here till I shit my brains out, I think. They’re gonna make sure there ain’t no alien microbes anywhere in my body, even in the hidden recesses of my colon, before they’ll let me go.”
“Um, the rest of you?”
“Battered and bruised, as you know, but on the mend. I can bend over a little
now, and take a deep breath once in a while.” His distressed face showed her she’d overplayed her attempt at humor. “Sorry, no, I’m healing well. Be back good as new in no time.”
“Good. Good.” He looked relieved. “Soon as you’re ready, we’ll send a shuttle over.”
“Be good to see you, Captain.”
“You too. Let me know if you need anything.”
Later that evening, a Pokoniry arrived, clicked on the wall screen and announced a relay would happen shortly, from the sortie to the surface. Lori looked at Hunter, questioning.
“Major Morales left a while ago. Took quite a task force with him, the natives will shit when they hit the radar screens. Every ship sent a few air cars, or lighters, they’re all loaded for bear, hope they’ll be challenged. Should arrive down-gravity in a little while.”
“They know where to find this guy?”
“Yeah, we have a cambot there, he’s in an office of some sort, a few others are with him, or working nearby. He appears to be of pretty high rank, we think he’s gotten a few calls from the head man himself.”
“T’ming?”
“Maybe.”
“Any lead on his whereabouts?”
“No, we’re working on that now.”
By the time they finished, the local TV screen showed a news program of some sort. That was interrupted by alarms, the translator said they were being invaded from space, everyone was to remain where they were, the military were in charge, and would repel the incoming vessels as soon as they landed.
“You tell Morales that?”
Hunter checked on another screen. “Yes, he knows, but he’s not planning on landing.”
The TV screen now showed brief clips of a number of air cars flying quickly in formation, in view and gone. Hunter switched to real-time views from one of the lighters, and they watched as the squadron bored in toward a complex of high rise buildings in a lush and green valley some distance inland. Tall, snow topped mountains appeared on the far horizon.
T-47 Book II (Saxon Saga 6) Page 32