Death Drop (7 page)

“How can they do that?” Otto asked.

“By linking their own structures together; thus forming temporary, artificial replacement parts. They will also release amounts of medicine into his bloodstream in order to help with the pain and prevent infection. He’ll have full use of his arm after he walks out of this room, Colonel.”

Doctor Artemus Blink took the awestruck stares from Otto and the colonel as complimentary and shot them both a quick wink as he held his palms up under Bertie’s right hand. Without a word from Blink, the top digit on Bertie’s index finger flipped back on itself and a hiss of white gas engulfed the doctor’s hands as he turned them over and then rubbed them together under the jet of cool, tingling cleanser.

Otto noticed his jaw was slightly open and his mind was running wild trying to imagine what other wonderful contrivances the doctors in the Dissension used to keep the soldiers alive and healthy. “What about protection, Doctor?” asked Otto, regaining control of his rampant imagination. “You mentioned it was an exo-
armor.
”

“Ah, yes,” replied Blink enthusiastically, the wild look flashing in his eyes again. “Once the bandage is set and the nanomachines have deployed, they release a chemical agent that seals the outer surface of the bandage. Its impact resistance and strength will be comparable to the armor on a Fire Sprite class ship, but it will continue to be as light and flexible as an ordinary bandage. It’s quite an amazing invention!”

“Sounds like fixing Malo’s arm is going to be easy,” the colonel said, sounding relieved.

“It sounds easy—because that’s the easy part.” The painful wincing look returned to Doctor Blink’s pointy face.

This time, Malo read the not-so-subtle insinuation and raised his head to speak. “What hard part?”

“Well—er—Malo, we have to put your arm back into its natural position and—well—um—you didn’t exactly get this taken care of in a timely fashion, so the swelling will make it much more difficult to set your arm.” If the doctor was trying to hide how painful the procedure would be, he was doing a terrible job. His face twisted into a dreadful grimace as he spoke. “It is going to require a tremendous amount of…
force…
to put it back where it belongs.”

The mechanical arm housing the off-set contraption with the manacles moved
ominously into place, and Bertie’s right hand closed the top two cuffs around Malo’s bicep with a cold clank. Bertie had to readjust the lower portion of the attachment, as the standard angle was not extreme enough to account for the position of Malo’s contorted limb. Upon closer inspection, Otto and the colonel both noticed that the two off-set sections of the device clasping Malo’s disfigured arm were joined by a series of cogged gears that glistened with a slick coat of fresh lubricant. The cogs had several black tubes snaking between them which then continued up the length of the mechanical arm and disappeared into the side of Bertie’s rectangular body. The lower manacles clattered grimly into place, and Malo grunted in pain as they tightened uncomfortably around his swollen flesh.

“What about an anesthetic, Doc?” Colonel Abalias asked with more concern than Otto had heard in his voice in over twelve years of service together.

“I’m afraid that—with the infirmary being dismantled for the evacuation and the amount I would have to give Malo, not to mention the time to take effect—I just don’t have anything that will do the job.” Dr. Blink sighed heavily and gave Malo a regretful look. “He’ll just have to wait until the bandage is in place and the nanomachines start administering the pain medication.

“Bertie is going to restrain you, Malo, please don’t be alarmed.”

Bertie’s left arm reached over the top of Malo’s shoulder and across his chest, gripping him tightly under his right arm. Bertie’s other arm wrapped securely around Malo’s waist, pinning him to the flat surface where he sat, anxiety and adrenaline beginning to course through his veins and overpower his senses.

“I’m going to need full power, Bertie, if you please.”

A throaty rumble shook from somewhere deep inside the medical machine as Bertie prepared himself for action. Both Otto and Colonel Abalias exchanged uneasy glances as the charging sound emanating from Bertie’s power core escalated to a high-pitched frenzy. Malo was breathing in short, rapid bursts and concentrating on channeling his fear to help quell the intense pain he was certain would overwhelm him at any moment.

“Now, Bertie!” Doctor Blink yelled over the tumult.

The black tubes surrounding the shiny cogs on the device shackled to Malo’s arm stiffened instantly as pressurized gas sped through them. The ridges of the slickened gears dug into one another as they strained for a micro-instant against the resistance of swollen tissue and blood. Then there was a palpable, blood-chilling crunch as flesh and bone moved, against its will, back into place. Malo wailed in unbearable agony and everyone but Bertie clasped their hands over their ears.

Malo’s enormous legs pushed against the ground with torment-charged might, and Bertie strained to keep the Moxen from thrashing against the manacles that held him and damaging his tender arm any further. Dr. Blink’s face registered alarm as Bertie’s treads lifted from the floor.

“Doctor,” Colonel Abalias shouted over the pandemonium, “put that damn bandage on and get this man some pain killers!”

“His arm has to be free from the device in order to apply the bandage, and I can’t release him if he’s thrashing around—he’ll offset his arm again and we’ll be right back where we started! We have to deaden the pain or render him unconscious—quick!” The doctor was frantically looking from the colonel to Von Holt, while making certain to stay well out of reach of Malo’s legs, which would whip through the air each time Bertie wrestled the Moxen back to a sitting position.

Suddenly, the examination room became uncomfortably cold, as if all the heat had been swallowed by a ravenous black hole. Otto and Dr. Blink exchanged perplexed looks as steam rolled from their noses and mouths, and the bitter chill nipped at the tips of their ears and noses. They looked to Abalias for his take on the situation, but he was no longer standing where he had been when the melee began. He was moving purposefully toward Malo with his arm held in front of him, fingers outstretched. His eyes shimmered an impossible color of blue, and Otto noticed that his usually snow white fingers and arm—all the way up to his elbow—were covered in a layer of ice.

Malo was still howling a piercing cry; his good arm was flailing recklessly through the air when Abalias placed his icy hand over Malo’s elbow. Malo flinched at the colonel’s frozen grip, momentarily interrupting his yowls. “Malo, calm down. I’ll help with the pain, but you have to get yourself under control, soldier.”

Malo could feel cold begin to flow through his arm, as if someone had cut him open and was pouring liquid ice into his wound. The cool wave moved out from the colonel’s hand with increasing intensity and pulsed deeper into Malo’s burning flesh. Malo’s tormented cries lessened as the pain retreated in the wake of the advancing cold, and soon he was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional snort.

“Not too much, Colonel!” Dr. Blink said excitedly as he hurried from his position by Major Von Holt and stepped between Abalias and Malo. “We don’t want to irreversibly damage the nerve endings or burn Malo’s skin.”

Colonel Abalias let go of Malo’s elbow. His eyes softened to their usual shade of blue and the room, almost instantly, increased in temperature. The ice encasing his fingers and arm did not melt; instead, much to Otto and Dr. Blink’s surprise, it slowly absorbed back into his pores, revealing his milky white skin once more.

Doctor Blink was still considering Colonel Abalias with extreme interest when four metallic clanks broke the silence, and Malo’s arm was freed from its restraints. The doctor turned his gaze from Abalias with one curiously raised eyebrow and set to work quickly applying the Haleonex to Malo’s arm. He started at the wrist and methodically wrapped the bandage so that each layer overlapped the last, forming what looked exactly like tiers of armor plating. The doctor finished wrapping the exo-armor dressing at Malo’s shoulder, for stability, and when he was done, touched his small finger to a rectangular, metallic box at the tail end of the fabric. The box had two tiny lights perched above what looked like a screw head mounted flush with the surface of the object. The moment Dr. Blink touched the device, one of the lights began flashing red and the screw turned itself steadily to the right until it clicked loudly and stopped moving. The red light extinguished and the light next to it illuminated a constant green. “There, that ought to do it,” said Blink proudly, hopping down from the stairs and facing the colonel as the outside of the Haleonex bandage solidified into a shiny, hard surface. “Bertie, you can let go now. You should have a full and pain-free range of motion, Malo. How does it feel?”

Bertie retracted his arms to his sides and Malo slowly stood up. He rolled his shoulders and then flexed the fingers of his left hand as he felt the last of his pain subside. He rotated his arm in a gigantic circle and his finger tips lightly brushed the ceiling, sending a small wisp of dust fluttering down and landing gently on Bertie’s flat surface.

Bertie gave three distinct brushes at the grains of dirt; then pointed an outstretched finger and shook it indignantly at Malo.

“Malo feel good.”

“You could put that arm through the hull of a star freighter without hurting yourself,” Dr. Blink said.

“Um—er—DO NOT put your arm through the hull of a star freighter, Malo—Doctor’s orders!” he amended sternly, looking up at the roguish grin on Malo’s mouth before turning to face Colonel Abalias.

“Thank you, Colonel. I don’t think I would’ve been able to save his arm without your quick action.”

“Don’t mention it,” the colonel said dismissively.

“Are you all right?” asked Blink.

“It’s really nothing—I’ve done
much
more
than that in my time,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Blink had a thousand more questions about the colonel’s powers burning in his mind, but before he could start his inquisition, Otto beat him to the punch.

“Now I know why your office is always so damn cold!” Otto exclaimed. “That was amazing, Colonel!”

“Well, my body gives off cold like yours does heat. So, the room isn’t actually colder, my being in it just makes it that way. I actually prefer the heat—I’m permanently cold, so being anywhere warm is like a nice vacation.” He allowed himself a rare bit of humor and it worked flawlessly as everyone, except Malo and Bertie, shared an enthusiastic chuckle.

“Malo kill Mewlatai now.”

Malo’s solemn words brought the colonel, Otto and Dr. Blink crashing back to the grave reality their laughter had momentarily released them from just seconds before.

“Yes, Malo,” Abalias said. “Tell me what happened with the Mewlatai after you posted on the plateau.”

“Fish man and Malo cover entrance. Wait for Mewlatai. Ship land…”

“What kind of ship, Malo?” Otto interjected. “Do you remember?”

“Black—dark—Zebulon,” Malo growled.

“Zebulon?!” Otto said with disbelief. “A dark black, Zebulon star freighter?”

Malo nodded in confirmation and then snorted in disgust.

Otto slowly lifted his hand to his mouth and placed his first three fingers to his lips. He stood there silently as Colonel Abalias continued the debriefing, and he had the appearance of someone who had figured out the deepest, darkest secret of the universe but didn’t quite believe it yet.

“Then what happened?” the colonel continued, casting a curious, sideways glance at Otto.

“Mewlatai land. Inject fish man…inject…fish man…with poison. Try to inject Malo. Malo try to SMASH!” he roared, and this time it was the colonel’s turn, along with everyone else—including Bertie—to jump in surprise. “Malo fail. Mewlatai too fast, too strong. Hurt Malo’s arm, knock down. Inject Malo…”

“Injected you?” All three questioned him simultaneously.

“How could he have injected you? If the Mewlatai had injected you with poison, you would be dead!” the colonel said adamantly.

“Not necessarily,” Dr. Blink countered as he approached Bertie’s side once again. “There are several possibilities that we may consider. First, the Mewlatai may not have injected Malo with enough poison to kill him. Given Malo’s size it’s possible but unlikely, because he hasn’t shown any symptoms of poisoning…” Dr. Blink paused and looked up at the Moxen giant. “You haven’t felt sick or thrown up since you were injected, have you, Malo?”

Malo shook his head.

“Then we must consider the possibility that the Mewlatai injected him with something else.”

Otto and Colonel Abalias looked at each other with a shared expression of concern.

“But, gentlemen, we won’t know what it is or if it’s dangerous or if it’s contagious until I draw some of Malo’s blood and run some tests.”

Dr. Blink signaled to Bertie to prepare a syringe and his mechanical hand enthusiastically dove into another compartment. Suddenly the room vibrated again, only this time it shook more vigorously than when Malo had approached the outer door. Powerful booms cascaded down the corridor and slammed into the outer wall, sending a fine mist of rock dust floating from the ceiling. The sound grew louder as the room shuddered uncontrollably; and just when Colonel Abalias, Otto, Dr. Blink, and Malo seriously considered that the worn timbers supporting the excavated chamber might collapse under the strain of the quaking, the sounds stopped. At that moment, something knocked heavily at the examination room door.

Boom! Boom! BOOM!

“Come in,” the colonel said firmly.

The door opened and something that looked like it had fallen from the rocky disks around the seventh moon of Aldeen trundled through the door. For all the weight of his footsteps, the figure was average in size and just short of Abalias’ full height. Now that he was in the room, the pounding of his walk was accompanied by the dull, dry sound of stone grinding against stone. Jagged spikes jutted from his brow and encircled his entire head, leaving a shallow crater in the center. He had sharp cheeks and dark eyes that were too small for his long features. If he had a nose, it was not visible in the countless cracks and indentations that adorned him, and a large portion of his face, just below his left cheek, looked like it had been broken off. A strap ran the expanse of his barreled chest and held an enormous gun in place across his back. He was carrying a large battle hammer in his big, rough hand and he used the other to raise a grinding salute to the colonel.