Hospital Ship (The Rim Confederacy #5) (2 page)

But I don't need to do that, either.

Opposite his bunk was a solid cinder-block wall, gray in color, and he was happy he at least remembered colors.

He tilted his head up a notch and saw a sink and a pedestal toilet ... pretty standard brig hygiene items.
Water was running too
, he thought but he really didn't care a damn.

What happened last night?
He couldn't get rid of that thought, and he broke out in a sweat since all he could remember was the sound of sirens. Cop sirens and ambulance sirens. All getting closer and closer ...

He grimaced and he would have shaken his head, but years of hangovers had taught him to avoid moving his head like that, if possible.

Instead, he looked down at his feet and saw the last wall of his cell was bars, many bars, and a plain corridor beyond it. Nothing more.

As his focus came closer, he saw his uniform pants were badly soiled and bloodstained, and his belt and shoelaces were missing.

Suicide watch.
As the perpetrator, he had been put in the brig, his belt and laces taken, and put under surveillance too.

So he looked up and up to the ceiling, and there was a camera pointed down at the bunk.

If I could smile,
I would
, he thought, and then he closed his eyes.

Hours later, he once more awoke to find a tray with food on a stool in front of him.

Jail food was notoriously bad, but he tried to lift his head to look at it—some kind of macaroni and cheese with a large bottle of water and pudding.
Wonder what flavor
, he thought as he gently sent out his left hand to grab the bottle.

Having barely enough strength to open the bottle with one hand, he wedged the cap into his mouth and tried to use his teeth like a set of pliers to grasp the cap and turn.

He couldn't.

It took more than he could handle at present, and he drifted back off to sleep with the bottle lying on his bunk beside him.

A few hours later, he was awakened by some kind of a buzzer, and as his eyes opened, he saw someone had come in to open the bottle and had left it open on the tray in front of him.

He greedily swallowed the whole bottle.

Should have added a whole vial of anti-hangover pills too,
he thought as he drifted off again.

####

Almost a full day in stir, at least that's what it used to be called
, Tanner thought, and he finally had a visitor.

The guard who came to take away last night's tray and bring him some kind of a burrito for breakfast was dressed as a city policeman—a corporal if he could still read ranking insignias correctly. He had asked him "Where am I?" The only reply was a grunt. No lunch tray either.

After some work, he was able to sit up and balance his right arm in its cast on his lap. Wiggling his fingers worked, he was glad to see as he looked around.

Still the same cinder-block hallway and the bars between me and freedom.

The sound of footsteps—two sets of footsteps it sounded like—coming down that hallway made him half-sit up, and he looked out and saw the same corporal but behind him, Bram!

He said nothing as the corporal undid the lock and pushed it to one side as Bram came into the cell. There was nowhere for him to sit, so he sat opposite his captain right on the floor, which made the corporal grunt.

He locked the cell door and ambled down the hallway back to where he'd come from.

Bram looked at Tanner and half-smiled.

"Sir, how are you feeling?" he said, his voice low and monotone as if he didn't want to upset his captain.

Tanner nodded. "Hurting—at least my arm—and my head is still ringing from whatever the hell happened last night," he said. While not a question, it was as much of one as he could ask at this point.

"Yes, well, it was quite an evening, Sir. I—you do remember that I didn't come along to the OneTon, right? I only know what I know from what others have told me—our own marines and the desk sergeant down the hall. But there is quite a bit of, or rather a lack of, verified knowledge of the events, Sir. Can you help a bit there?" he said, and Tanner could tell he was being honest. So he would have to be the same.

"Yes, Bram ... I really have no idea. I went to the OneTon alone, met up with some of our Atlas marines as I remember, and then I lost track of all. I suppose that I got pretty blotto—but other than that, I have no memory of anything between say 2300 hours and then waking up here yesterday in mid-morning I'd think. Not a single thing do I remember—but perhaps with some time ... " he said.

This had happened before. He'd been out for a night on the town, and for days, the events didn't come back to him after the memory blackout. Something triggered those memories, but he had no idea what those triggers were. He sheepishly smiled at his Adept officer.

"Can't you just look in here," he said pointing at his own head, "and tell me what happened?"

The fact that Bram, an Issian, had the ability to look inside someone's conscious mind to see what he could find was a given out here on the RIM, but all Tanner got was a headshake.

"Sir, yes—that is one of the reasons I was able to talk my way in here—well, along with a request from Lady St. August too. But no, what I see is a muddled mess ... you're still very hungover and it's been about thirty hours since this all happened, Sir. But I'll continue to monitor, Sir," he said.

Straightening up a bit, he looked out at the hallway and then moved closer to Tanner, crabbing along the floor until he was close enough to speak in a very low tone. Tanner pointed up above his head, and Bram nodded, acknowledging he knew the cell was under surveillance.

"Sir, here's what I know—at least what I was told. At about 0030 hours, for a reason that no one can as yet list, you attacked a Caliphate marine over at the doorway to the big back room. You held your own—fact someone said you were winning 'til some of his squad got involved and you were quickly getting the tar beat out of you. That brought up some Atlas marines, and the brawl got big, but for a reason no one knows, you got up on a pool table and began to throw the billiard balls at some selected targets. Some marine lost his nose they say, two have fractured skulls and are up on the Hospital Ship in orbit—serious injuries I'm told. Then, Sir ... don't know if it's true or not, but you grabbed a pool cue and used it like you'd use a Merkel and tried to shoot many in the room. You—I'm told—were screaming about 'violet eyes,' and that stopped the various brawling marines. Sir," he said and looked at Tanner with a raised eyebrow.

Tanner nodded. The 'violet eyes' was troubling, but as to everything else, he still had no idea, no memory, and could add nada.

"Thank you, Bram, that does help somewhat—but I've no memory of any of it."

Bram half-smiled at his captain.

"Sir, the only other issue appears to be who has jurisdiction on this matter. OneTon is a civilian bar, under the Neres City police department—yet you and all the rest of the participants were military—the Barony Navy, marines, and the Caliphate marines too. So it's being argued later today in Superior Court as to who looks into this for the state. I'll attend and then get back to you, Sir," he said.

Tanner smiled. "Bram ... I don't know—"

"Sir, not a problem, let's just get by this, shall we?" he said, and Tanner was glad to have such a friend.

The two navy men looked at each other and there was little else to say.

####

Research Associate Nathan Ward hated going to work.

The work itself was the second best thing in the world that had ever happened to him—getting this assignment on the Barony Hospital Ship had been a real test of his selling himself, but it had worked out well.

But getting to the lab was the real thing he hated.

He smiled at himself in his mirror. His wall calendar showed that exactly one year ago he'd had that big win on the Nerian Station at the casino he liked so much. He'd had seventeen, he remembered, the deck had just been reshuffled, and he felt he should ask for a card. Playing twenty-one was not his real thing—that was craps—but he'd just lost half his stake, and he'd sat down to play a bit of cards to mellow out. Seventeen, he had seventeen, and the dealer asked him again if he wanted another card, and she had a queen up.

Gambling was his favorite thing in the whole world; there was no doubt about it. That day, he nodded and she gave him the four of hearts. He smiled, and when she flipped over her card to show she had twenty, he smiled even more.

Flipping over his hole card to show his jack meant he'd gotten twenty-one and had won.

Not a lot, but he somehow knew that at that exact moment his luck had changed. He collected his chips and went directly back to the big craps table. He watched the action for a moment and then covered the numbers, as the shooter's point was six, he remembered.

He combed his hair, and remembered the point was six, and it took thirteen rolls until she made her point. And he won big time.

As he did again and again, until he had tripled his stake, and that had felt so, so good, he remembered as he finished tying his tie and slipped on his lab coat as he left his quarters.

Until later, he shrugged, when he'd had to sign for more after the tables turned and he lost it all—and more too.

Thank God for this job.
At least the monthly pay meant he could try to provide some kind of payment to the casino and keep himself afloat. The calls were starting to come more often, and that was a problem, as no one, of course, knew he liked to gamble—at least that's what he thought so far. Keeping this quiet was easy as long as he could make the weekly payments.

Leaving his quarters up on D-91F and taking the lift down to the main corridor over to the various pods was easy. He simply walked, watched, and nodded to other scientists and clinicians and staff.

Stopping at the popular Juice Bar in the lobby was a rule for him, as he kidded himself that without the juice one couldn't do any kind of research. Getting in line, he noted there were only two in front of him, and he watched as the first one took something frightfully green away with a big smile.

In front of him and now first in line was a Navy lieutenant, a woman who looked attractive from the back. Blonde hair, curvy, and about thirty or so, and he heard a voice he liked as well.

"I had one of those Kale-Shakes earlier this week, and while I liked it, it had one ingredient I didn't seem to care for—could I get it but without the Kale?" she said and a moment later, she and the server behind the counter were roaring with laughter.

"Nancy," the server said, "you kill me ...super-sized, right?"

And the lieutenant nodded as the girl in white smiled back, nodded, and went back to prepare the drink.

Turning toward Nathan, she grinned and said, "Old joke—but works, eh?" and a big smile followed it.

He was caught with surprise and didn't know what to say, but he chuckled and smiled back. Before he could even introduce himself to this beautiful woman, she got her juice and marched away.

He had the same Kale-Shake and enjoyed it as he turned to take the walkway to his destination.

Once he reached the pod that held the Barony Research labs, he turned in off the curved central corridor and slapped his hand on the entry panel, which read his ID from his palm print, beeped, and opened up for him. He had a sudden thought as to what a DenKoss scientist might offer such a security panel but then smiled. Most likely they just slid a fin on top, and that thought had him smiling as he entered the secure facility.

He passed by the guard who always nodded to him but yet didn't take his eyes off his console monitor—Nathan wondered if he was playing solitaire, but he ignored the issue and kept on walking. He went by the unused conference room and then lab door after lab door where the various scientists who were all working on cures and vaccines and even weaponizing some of the worst bio-dangers man and aliens had ever discovered. He kept walking and eventually he reached the end of the major pod corridor and entered the last room.

He went over two rows and opened up his locker. He quickly changed from his civvies into a white full jumpsuit, zipped it up from the crotch up to his neck, and slid on the soft boots that went with the lab outfit. He left the changing room, went down the side corridor to the airlock area, and again palmed the security panel, which let him in. As usual, his suit was near the close edge of the hanging lines, and he got it down without hitting his head as he sat on the bench beneath the suits.

He slowly slid first one leg, then the other inside, and then both arms too. Standing up he clicked the seal button and the suit did itself up, zipping up the middle slowly but securely. He reached up and took down a clear plastic helmet, which he dropped over his head into the collar and twisted it into place. "Well, it's supposed to twist in the first time," he said to himself as he twisted it three times until the latches clicked, and he was now totally sealed off from the world around him.

He walked slowly off to the doorway ahead. The AI in the room noted his access and opened the door ahead of him. After he entered, it closed the door behind him. Nathan stepped onto the big red "X" on the floor ahead and made sure he held onto the stanchions provided, and moments later a jet of spray came out of the ceiling, walls, and floor all at once. He had to stand there as long as the spray was on, which he knew was five whole minutes, during which he ran over today's protocols and where the issues might be lying in wait for him.

The spray ended and he let go as the stanchions retreated into the floor, and he walked to the end of the room.

He waited as a light from the ceiling scanned him, up and down. He heard the three chimes.

The airlock door opened and he faced a fifty-foot corridor of clear-plas that ended with the outer door of the secure labs where he did his work.

He walked slowly along the corridor and was glad partial grav had been thought of too. Ahead of him lay his lab, the most secure on the Hospital Ship.