Citadel (Book 1): Training in Necessity

by Clevenger, J.

  Red patients went into the ER, immediate care would make all the difference there. Green were walking wounded, no immediate danger. Some of them were made to wait while others were put to work, helping out.

  "She can give blood but that's all, correct?"

  "Yes sir, type O, one liter a minute." Renolds answered, not slowing the pace of her fingers over her phone's screen as she spoke. "I've got the rest of the ambulance services back online. They'll be sending everyone our way. First arrival will be in less than five minutes."

  "Good work. How'd you manage that?" Two more greens and a yellow. The last would definitely need intervention but he could wait.

  She grinned. "I contacted my provider and pointed out that if he could give emergency services free support during the crisis, he'd be a lock as their new standard carrier."

  He couldn't help grinning himself. "Nice." Woops. The orderly he'd just handed a black tag patient over to looked horrified. Black meant no hope. They'd be made comfortable but that was it. Wasting any further resources at a time like this could mean the death of someone savable. "Any further word from the Citadel?"

  She paused to confirm before answering. "Healer support is due in less than ten, sir."

  "Did they say who?" He sent two MAs to restrain a yellow patient. The man had a broken femur and if he kept thrashing like that he'd pull the leg loose from its improvised traction. It could easily get him a black tag if the bone severed the femoral.

  "I don't recognize the names. Aid Station, Retcon and a security detail."

  He froze as she read off the names. It was more dignified than the dance of joy he wanted to do.

  "Take over here." he ordered, ignoring the fact that an intern should never be trusted with triage on this scale. She didn't bat an eye, even when he turned and ran into the ER.

  * * *

  The area was crammed with as many patients as he could manage, red along the walls and black in the primary sections.

  "Keep them breathing," he ordered, "nothing else matters right now. As long as their hearts are beating they'll still have a chance!" Despite the urgency of his words, his hands were steady as he worked the bag, pushing air into the lungs of a man who had more blood outside his body than in.

  A bright scarlet light washed over everything, clinging to himself and everyone else in the room, everyone with that precious heartbeat. At the same moment, he felt a familiar flow of energy. He was a little less tired than he should be, a little more alert. He ignored the shocked looks around him as he let go of the bag and did that dance of joy he'd been holding in. He only let it last for a moment, but it was a good moment nonetheless.

  * * *

  "All you have to worry about is patching the worst damage. As long as Stanton Aid is in the room, every one of our patients will get a little stronger by the second. Don't be afraid to take risks. Retcon can reset anyone's body so they're in the same shape they're in now. Once you have a patient stable, sing out. She'll flash your patient so she can reset them to the same state if something else goes wrong."

  Greg watched the looks of awe spread. It was easy to tell who'd worked with the pair before, they were the ones who just did as he'd told them without having to be reassured. There was no such thing as a black tag with those two.

  * * *

  They'd had to open the patient's ribcage and go in with far less finesse than heart surgery normally involved. Now... now it was fixing itself as he watched. All they were doing was clamping the damaged arteries and veins in place. That was enough. They used the same process, just holding body parts in the right location until the damage repaired itself, as they closed.

  "You're just sitting there!?"

  Greg looked up, his own heart sinking.

  "Stop her!" he shouted. How had she gotten back here?

  A woman, covered in mud and soot, charged through the ER. She was headed directly for the Citadel contingent, screaming, where Stanton Aid lounged in a folding chair with a book in hand. Retcon stood just behind him, both recognizable in their Healer greys and masks.

  "My son is dying and you're sitting there? Mons-"

  Greg watched as a flash of red came from Retcon, followed by a blast of intense heat from one of the white clad operatives that served as their security. The screaming was cut off abruptly as the woman's charred corpse fell to the ground.

  "No! Keep working, dammit!" he commanded the handful of hospital staff who were moving to help the fallen woman. Before he'd finished, that same operative raised his left hand and a wall of ice separated the Citadel contingent from the rest of the room. The ice didn't look right, pale blue rather than clear. "Can you handle it from here?" he asked Renolds.

  "Yes sir, it's outside of my training but I understand what you're doing." she answered.

  He gave her a moment to make sure she had it, then approached the strange ice. Coils of fog streamed off it. Greg made sure to keep his stride even and controlled.

  "I'm sorry for the disturbance." he said.

  The dim shape that he thought was Retcon moved a little closer. "No harm done." she said. "I'll fix her up before we leave. You need to make sure it doesn't happen again, though. Next time, I might not be fast enough."

  "I'll see to it." he said, sick inside. That had been too close. He left the ER, determined to do just that.

  * * *

  Seventeen hours, but they'd done it. All the black tags had been stabilized and admitted to the hospital proper. The last four reds were being worked on now, and he was sure they'd be fine soon.

  "Thank you." he told Stanton.

  The senior Healer looked up from his book. "Not a problem. Looks like you've got things pretty much under control here." He gestured to the two Healer trainees, wearing grey pants and white shirts. They left the patients they'd been assisting with and returned to the Citadel group. "We need to leave or the rest of the Citadel's medical contingent will be useless all week." Stanton Aid folded down the corner of his page and stood, folding the chair he'd been using down into a bundle small enough to fit under his arm.

  "Stanton, do you mind if I ask you something?" Greg asked.

  He just nodded.

  "Why the book? I know your power helps everyone in the room, regardless of what you're doing, but tonight's not the first time I've seen it cause problems."

  The Healer shrugged. Greg thought he might be smiling beneath his mask. "Thirteen years since we first worked together. Has it been bugging you the whole time?"

  "Actually, yes." Greg answered sheepishly. For some reason his normal confidence deserted him every time he spoke to the other man.

  "I don't like seeing people hurt." His voice was level, calm. "I know that must seem strange, given what I do, but it's always been the case. My power's effect is strongest when I'm calm. I use the book so I don't focus on what's happening around me."

  Greg watched the Citadel contingent depart, unsure how he felt about the answer. Stanton Aid might not look it, but he was old enough to be Greg's father. Most of his life had been spent saving lives, just like tonight.

  "Incredible. So much... I can't even imagine what I'd do with that kind of power." Renolds spoke, she'd approached without his notice. "I wonder, what could they do if they didn't spend most of their time fighting people in funny costumes?"

  He didn't turn away from the Healers and their guardians. "I imagine they'd probably be dead."

  "What?" The confusion in her voice was stronger than the exhaustion barely held at bay by Stanton Aid's influence.

  Greg had to take a moment before he answered her. "That's what happens to Healers that don't join the Citadel, at least the ones with any sort of power. That's why the hospital's not full of them." He turned to face her before he went on.

  "Imagine you're rich, powerful and desperate. Maybe it's a tumor, maybe heart disease or something else. The point is, you've got something bad that normal medicine can't fix. Even the more common Healers can't really help you."

  She nodded, s
low and considering. Since their talk, she'd been making an obvious effort to do that.

  "You've got the resources to get the attention of a big time healer, Aid Station, Retcon or Vector. One of the ones that comes along once every few decades." She obviously didn't recognize the last one. No surprise, she'd shown a lot of promise but... to put it kindly, her career had ended early.

  "Even most of them probably won't be able to help you, not really. Healers are almost never able to do anything significant about chronic conditions. But you're desperate. Maybe you don't believe what they say, maybe you don't care. Even a little relief might be more valuable than gold to you. So you find a Healer, you take them and you keep them. You make them use their power as often as they can, push their limit until you burn them out. Once they're no good to you anymore... you can't exactly let them go, can you?"

  She swallowed. "Has... has that actually happened?"

  Greg shrugged, the weariness was hitting him hard, now that Stanton was gone. "Only a few times and mostly in the early days. Partly, that's because most Healers attach themselves to the Citadel, or someone else who can protect them. Also, thankfully, the sort of person with the mindset and the ability to do that is a rare thing."

  He almost mistook her quiet for consideration, but she'd finally moved past simple exhaustion and was nearly dead on her feet. "Renolds." Greg shook her shoulder to get her attention. "Go home, your job's done here." She just nodded, dully. "Oh, one thing before you go." She looked up, a little life creeping back into her expression at the thought that she might be needed. "I was wrong about that potential. You're already a damn fine doctor."

  Gregory Haus couldn't count the number of lives he'd saved that night. He thought of the man whose leg he'd reattached, the girl whose eyes he'd helped fix, even the woman who'd woken from a death she wouldn't remember in a flash of red light. None of it compared to the look on Dr. Renolds' face in that moment.

  * * *

  Silver State Charter High School

  She gave a small, tight nod. “Trainee Hive, carry out your orders.”

  He drew his pistol and, before the teacher or her classmates could react, fired a single shot. There was a spray of blood from the fallen girl's arm, just below the shoulder. She woke with a gasp and a startled cry.

  "Help me!"

  Every computer screen in the room went black and the lights came back on. “Power levels are stabilizing. It’s over.” announced Director Greer. Quicker than Hector could track, William Power shouldered past him and scooped the girl up like she weighed nothing at all. There was a gust of wind; it reminded Hector of standing by the side of the road when a semi passed, and Power was gone.

  "What- Did you- Was that William Power?"

  Hector was a little impressed. The older man, presumably the class's teacher, was obviously terrified but he was pulling himself together for the sake of his student.

  "Yes sir. The girl-"

  "Her name is Abby, Abigail Werner." There was a touch of fire in the man's voice as he interrupted Hector.

  He nodded, then carried on. "Abby then. She was Empowered, probably just now. I'd guess she was having trouble in class?" The man nodded. "We think she's a Turing type, someone who can control or influence computers with their mind. She doesn't know how to control it though, so..." Words failed him as Hector tried to explain what Abbigail's newfound power had unleashed.

  "We had to stop it." he said instead, gesturing at the city in chaos, through the hole William Power had left in the wall.

  "You shot her." The teacher's voice was flat.

  Hector nodded. "I had to wake her up, fast. It seemed likely that the shock would bring her out of the... the trance her power was keeping her in."

  The man didn't ask, he didn't have to. Hector could see the knowledge in his eyes, what Hector would've had to do if the first shot hadn't worked. "You couldn't have just used smelling salts or something?" he asked instead.

  Hector gave him a sheepish grin. "Sorry, didn't have any on me. I'm still in training." He made a note, one more item on the list of useful gear. Luckily, this one was small enough that it wouldn't be much of an issue.

  * * *

  Beneath the Tower

  Everyone else had already left the room. The directors of Support and Analysis would have their hands full, cleaning up the mess the last hour would've left behind. Their personnel had left with them. Representative Randall had left to... represent something? Hector had no idea, but the man had seemed to think it was urgent. That just left him, well, five of him and Director Melody Shift.

  During the crisis, she'd been calm, confident, exactly the woman they'd needed. Now that it was past... she was just an old woman who hadn't slept in too long, clutching her cane as she struggled to stand. Hector stepped forward to help her and looked her in the eye once she was on her feet.

  "Well? Spit it out boy." Her hands were shaking but her voice was still as steady as ever.

  "Ma'am... your orders... I'm not in Columbia anymore. I had almost fifty mes, spread all over the city."

  She didn't say anything, just held his gaze with her own while she waited for him to finish.

  "I know there is... was, a solar power plant near the city. I... I think it blew, right after I shot her."

  "What's the girl's name? I assume you know by now." There wasn't any emotion in the director's voice, just a straightforward request for information.

  "Abigail Werner." he said. "If you hadn't told me to keep her alive, to wake her up instead of..." He couldn't say it. Hector was sure... Hector thought he could've done it, but he couldn't say it. "The plant might have stabilized. The city might still be there. I know it was only a few seconds, but... why? After everything we've been taught, after everything you had them put us through, why did you hesitate?"

  * * *

  Silver State Charter High School

  The high school kids had been nervous at first, scared of the stranger who'd just shot someone they knew. But a Citadel trainee, one just a little older than them and one who obviously knew William Power, was just too good to pass up. They swarmed around Hector, asking question after question. It was almost enough to leave him feeling overwhelmed. He answered a few, trying to get them to calm down, until a boy asked one that cut right through the chaos.

  "What's going to happen to Abby?"

  * * *

  Beneath the Tower

  She hadn't seemed to mind that he was questioning her, even when he was a hair's breadth from accusing her of being responsible for the death of a city. But implying that Director Melody Shift had hesitated out of compassion, out of reluctance to order the death of a child? That seemed to do the trick.

  "Operative Hive, be silent." she ordered. The look in her eyes, that cold anger in her voice... "Abigail Turing-"

  "It's Werner, ma'am." He didn't know how he'd managed to interrupt her. Thank god his tone had been polite.

  "Not anymore it isn't." she said. "Abigail Turing is an Empowered on the same scale as the Tyrant or the Monarch. Without any training, without even knowing what she was doing, that girl brought one of the most powerful nations in the world to its knees."

  "That's why w-" he started to say. The room flickered, and the Hector that had been talking felt the strangest sensation.

  He was falling. He tried to reach out, to catch himself, but he couldn't feel anything. He hit the ground, bounced. It was so strange. That Hector tried to speak, not even sure what he wanted to say, but no sound came out. He couldn't seem to catch his breath...

  "I told you to be silent." Director Shift said, vanishing and reappearing in front of another Hector.

  That one, as well as all the other Hectors in the room, was too distracted by the sensation of being decapitated to respond. She'd only teleported a few feet, but she'd taken his head with her and left the rest of him behind. He supposed it was really no worse than if she'd slapped someone else. It hurt him, left him frightened and embarrassed, but it didn't do any real harm.
The body, and all its duplicated items, would dissipate over the next few hours. It wouldn't even leave a mess.

  "We need power like that, Operative Hive. The Battlegrounds are still growing, the Bug Bomb's effects proved stable and the Tyrant is dying. The Citadel's job is getting more difficult by the day. We. Can. Not. Fail."

  She looked into his eyes and Hector was truly terrified. Since his Empowerment, there had only ever been one thing that made Hector fear for his life, one person. Now there were two.

  "Hector, that girl will spend the next months at an American embassy in England." Her voice was quieter, not less intense. "The Monarch's effect should restrain her power until we can teach her to control it. She, and other measures we're putting into place, might be enough to keep the human race from sliding into utter ruin. Do I regret that a city died? Obviously. Would I make the same decision again? Hector, I would've traded ten for a weapon like that."

  * * *

  Silver State Charter High School

  Hector gave the boy the best answer he could. "She'll be in a safe place. Somewhere- somewhere she can learn to use her power without hurting anyone and- and she'll be surrounded by people that will do anything to protect her."

  The boy nodded his head and said, his voice solemn, "Thank you."

  "-weapon-"

  Hector gave the only answer he could. "We're the Citadel, son. It's what we're for."

  * * *

  CHAPTER 13: POWER

  * * *

  Ted farted, again. His indigestion was killing him, his shoulder hurt and he was stinking up the cabin so bad that his first officer had been making excuses to duck out of it, off and on, for the last hour. It was like the world was out to make this day as miserable as possible.

  He wasn't even supposed to be working today. If Turam wasn't still laid up after that wreck, if some Empowered asshole hadn't caused a nationwide blackout and thrown the FAA's schedule into the crapper by crashing half a dozen jets a few weeks back, if some Congressman hadn't wanted a 'priority' flight back to Washington...