Hospital Ship (The Rim Confederacy #5) (11 page)

Sleep. I need sleep. I need to slow my brain down enough with no Scotch to help.

He shook his head and rolled on his bunk, and the mind's eye picture of Tibah lying on the grass, dead, would not go away.

He half-sat up, bunched up his pillow to change position, and pulled the sheet off his lower half so the cool air would help make the sweats go away, but that didn't work.

He felt again the spasms that had swept across his legs as he had been needled by some convict, and the sudden falling to the stage scared him once more. His calves were knots, and he had to reach down to try to knead away the clenched pain.

He got up and walked off the knots, or tried to, and that only partially worked, yet he paced until the pain was lessened before he slid back onto his bunk.

He knew he had to get up soon, and yet sleep was not possible so he lay down again.

He punched the pillow again to make it more solid beneath his head, and the sound reminded him of the sound of those bodies hitting the grass. He flinched and flashed back on pulling the trigger of his Colt—how the recoil had felt and how the bullet had flown and knocked Tibah down.

He knew he wouldn't sleep.

He knew he couldn't sleep.

He knew the symptoms by now of his PTSD, and he knew the only cure that had worked was not allowed here on the Hospital Ship; he had no Scotch to put himself to sleep with, and that was the simple truth.

He flipped over, pulled back the sheets to cover himself, and tried thinking of anything so long as it was not of the prison planet that had made him a prisoner of his past. .

CHAPTER FOUR

Nathan slammed his hand down on the console off button and shook his head.

The goddamn casino had cut him off completely—no more gambling until he got current on his payments, and where he'd find 9,000 credits today was going to be a problem.

Taylor, his rich brother, had cut him off just a week ago. His mom couldn't afford another credit as she lived off Taylor too, and his sister and her husband were estranged from him—he owed them too much already.

He needed credits. It was that simple. But where to find them?

If only he had a stake, he'd jump on a cruise over to the Caliphate and gamble on their big station in person.

Win in person. That was what he wanted to do, yet it was a wish that would never happen.

He sighed and played with his touchstone—a Caliphate casino chip from his first big pot win three years ago.

Not worth much, this ten-dollar credit chip was something he kept as a good luck charm.

The amount of good luck it had brought to him was so slim he should have tossed it into a pot years ago.

He sighed. He needed those nine thousand credits and he needed them now—or by the end of this week for sure.

And the costs that were a part of being a couple were so new—he had no idea how they'd even make the weekend. He needed credits.

But where could I find them ...

And worse than that, I would have to tell Nancy about this ... this addiction is the only thing I feel so bad about, yet I still hide it. I have to ... or do I? A real man wouldn't ...

####

The shuttle that carried Major Stal down to Ghayth was full—jam packed with more equipment and supplies and another squad of Barony marines as well. He sat on a case labeled MREs, and he glanced down to see the side panel indicated it was lasagna.

He smiled.

Eating a bag of lasagna that had a shelf life of three years at eighty degrees Fahrenheit and could withstand a parachute drop of 22,000 feet meant the packaging was more hearty than the contents. He'd learned that over a lifetime in the Marine Corps.
Whomever the chef had been to create these food rations should have to eat it too,
he thought.

He checked his PDA, saw they were still a half hour out from touchdown, and spun slightly to his right to look at the view-screen at the front of the big marine shuttle.

Ghayth was the third planet in the Valissian system, within the Goldilocks zone, and while the screen had infrared holograms over the solid gray clouds below them, he couldn't see dickey-do-dingo. Not all the same gray, he noted, but dark grays, charcoal gray bands, steel gray tiers, and even bright shiny aluminum-shaded grays.

But all gray is all anyone who looked out could see.

The hologram on altitude flashed, and he saw they were now only 20,000 feet up, and the pilot swung a few degrees to port to set up his descent path.

"Pilot," Alver said, "I'd like to drop off the squad at Base-1 if possible before going on to deliver these MREs over at Base 5—got that?" he said.

"Wilco, Major, Base-1 it is," he said as he then steered about sixty degrees farther to port, and the holograms on screen lit up with the large red circle labeled Base-1 took its place at the center of the display. On the top left-hand side, Alver saw the ETA would be in about eighteen minutes, and he looked out a side window to see the grayness. And not much else.

He turned to the squad leader, one Lieutenant Morton, and nodded to get his attention.

"Lieutenant, just a word—at Base-1 things are still … well, still in flux, let's say. Standard navy and marine protocols but you'll find I think that some items are, well, un-orthodox to say the least. You will need to use your best judgment at times—that's an order, Lieutenant—understood?"

He had chosen to say this out loud, in the general area of the seating in the shuttle, so the whole squad would hear his briefing.

He wanted them all to know about the state of Base-1 and that if the Major ordered it, they'd all have to be flexible
... at least that was his thought.

The lieutenant nodded, snapped a salute back to his major, and added a simple "aye, aye, Sir" to acknowledge the orders.

That's one thing done, and hopefully handled.

One more to go at Base-5. That made him sit up a bit straighter, and he was going to re-think his position when the pilot said "Sir?"

He turned back to the view-screen and was glad to see the gray clouds that perennially covered Ghayth had thinned down, and below he could see dark green-forested hills and rounded mountains ahead. Huge valleys ran between some of those mountains, and he wondered whether there were rivers down at the bottom of same—then he snorted. Of course, there'd be rivers. It was raining all the damn time, so the waters would always be flowing somewhere. Just as he thought that, a lake went by, a narrow one that filled the bottom of the valley as far as he could see off to the left. For a moment, he thought he saw some kind of surface disturbance, maybe fish, and he almost drifted back to thoughts of fishing with his father decades ago on Gazaya as a boy. He smiled one more time and then tossed off those memories and looked back out the side window at the rocks that lay there. The part of the landslide that jutted into view was long and made up of rough, rocky slabs of stone that looked like they'd slid from the mountain in the last few decades. At some point in the past thousand or so years, there had been a slide of rock, which was unusual as most of the mountains were older, weathered, and forested mounds. Only a couple showed any rock at all, and the area here had just one of those formations. Or at least what had been a formation that had suffered some kind of fault, or earthquake, or something that had made the rocks slide and eat up part of the meadow where the new town was being built.

This planet is ours,
he thought.
We annexed it, the paperwork had gone through, and Ghayth is ours to do with as we please.

No sentient species were on Ghayth and only minor predator and prey sub-species lived there. The oceans had not been explored and the creatures that might live in the oceans were as-yet unknown..

We will get to that,
Alver thought,
but not yet.

All they were doing now was harvesting. Trees. They were harvesting trees and that's what Base-5 was all about as it held a huge forest.

It wasn't his job to know why the area was so populated with these special trees, just that it was.
My job is to provide security for the harvests
, he thought,
and that's all I need know
.

The shuttle whirled to port and slowed. He felt the momentum die as the pilot brought her down on the landing pad such as it was. The landing pad was designated by matted down grass, a big "X" painted in yellow to aim at, and piles and piles of skids with supplies and inbound cargo containers.

Nice to see the area is full,
he thought
and my job is not to hand-bomb any part of same—one of the perks of being a major.

Moments later, the all clear sounded and the shuttle doors slid open.

"Squad, disembark," the lieutenant barked, and the twenty-four marines double-timed out of the shuttle, down the ramp, and out onto the planet.

Alver followed at an amble. He watched as a marine on landing pad picket duty checked the lieutenant's orders on his tablet, and he watched as the squad was pointed off toward a set of barracks tents to the southeast. Just past the landing area, more than a handful of small cargo movers were picking up those containers and moving them off toward the town that had sprung up just a few hundred yards away. In the far distance, he recognized the area where he and Captain Scott had cut down that first tree—the one that had led to all of this just a few months back. Now, with over 6,000 inhabitants here on Ghayth spread out over five base camps, the Barony had made a small footprint on the planet.

"Not enough," he said to himself, but he also knew this would change too.

He noted the new commercial space being added to the grade-level street in front of him, and that had him a bit stumped. Why add retail space to a new base—and the answer came quickly. It'd be filled with shops, restaurants, and the like to let the forces—navy and marines and air force personnel—have their own lives too. On the far right side, the new administration buildings were going up too—the sounds of construction were strong and loud, and they already had five stories built. Beside it and more to the center of the new town lay a whole building that Alver knew held offices, labs, cafeterias, and the rest of the forces' support services too. He had an office there, but admittedly, he had only been in there a couple of times. He didn't even have a chair there, but then with the amount of time he'd spend there, it mattered not a whit.

He returned to the shuttle, sat in one of the seats, and waited while the pilot signed something on the landing officer's tablet and nodded to the corporal as he left and the sliding doors closed.

"Base-5 in about twenty minutes, Sir," the pilot said as the shuttle lifted off, yawed to the east, and jumped up to supersonic speed in less than a minute.

Alver watched as the grayness partially returned and the ground now thousands of feet below was barely visible. They moved through a front, and the sound of the big raindrops as they pounded into the front of the shuttle at this speed was deafening.

In less than the expected twenty minutes, the pilot dropped down to a thousand feet and the shuttle slowed. Below it, he saw the big yellow "X" of the landing pad and the small group of barracks and quarters off to one side.

The large, square blue building dominated the other structures. In this building, the harvested trees and their secrets were being tested and then stored.

Moments later, the sliding doors of the shuttle opened and Alver left in stride and marched past the landing officer who looked at him.

"Sir—Sir—Major, you need to check in with me before you—"

"At ease, Corporal, I'll be back to check in later. That's a sure thing," he said and never even looked at the man.

Instead, he strode the few hundred yards to the big blue building and entered the sealed doorway where he was once again challenged.

"State your business, Major," the armed Provost guard said as he held the major at gunpoint.

A Merkel, Alver noted, safety off, and finger on the trigger.

Ready to take out anyone who shouldn't be here, which was protocol. And expected.

"Sergeant, I am Major Alver Stal, CIC of the Marine Corps here on Ghayth. I carry with me papers for Commander Williams. Papers for his EYES ONLY, Sergeant, but I ask that you confirm with the commander, please," Alver said and waited.

The sergeant stared at him for a second. The guard's thumb slid the safety back to ON with a loud
click
, and the Merkel was lowered to the man's side.

"Acknowledged, Major, I was told to expect you. You can go up directly, second floor, room 219, please," he said and Alver nodded and then turned to his left to climb the stairs.

Once in the anteroom of 219, he looked down at the Navy lieutenant commander and noted her name was also Williams. Makes one wonder, he thought for a second, and then he ignored any thoughts of nepotism, which was probably a good thing.

"Major, the commander will see you in a minute, you may be seated," she said and waved over at the two folding chairs that sat all alone against the far wall.

He nodded and walked over to the chairs but didn't sit. Instead, he looked at the only thing on the wall, a hand-drawn map of the area around Base-5. To the north, there was empty space, and to the east, there were several red circles, some with a big blue "X" inside. A large oval labeled Base-5 was on the bottom, and to the west was a series of bright yellow circles. He knew what they were, and that was the issue for today's meeting.

"Major, the commander will see you now," the lieutenant commander said, and she pointed at the doorway down on his left.

He entered the office and made sure to close the door behind him.

Facing the man behind the desk, he walked over and sat heavily in one of the two chairs in front of the desk that was full of folders and papers.

He nodded to the commander and then gave him a quick smile.

"Commander, good to see you again," he said and waited.