Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) (53 page)

Read Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) Online

Authors: Marshall S Thomas

Tags: #Fiction : Science Fiction - Military Fiction : Science Fiction - Adventure Fiction : Science Fiction - General

BOOK: Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree)
4.55Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

And then Honeyhair was there, furious, her hands at my shoulders, sharp nails digging into my flesh. "Don't you ever give up! Don't you dare listen to Satan! You're a soldier of God! You kill those cursed Darks, those Demons, those slave soldiers. Kill them all, kill everything that moves, you hear me? You watch out for your comrades, all of them! You make sure they all survive! And you show Satan he shouldn't have picked a fight with the ConFree Legion. Kill all those slaves, and spit on their stinking corpses, you hear me?" She was trembling. "And never surrender! Never give up! You hear me, soldier? You return with your shield, or on it! And I'll be waiting, no matter what!"

A hot red haze encased me. My head was throbbing, burning. It felt like I was sweating blood. My eyeballs ached. My heart was pounding and it hurt. Something was happening. My surroundings slowly came into view, flickering and fading, swirling slowly all around me. I was dizzy, head spinning, I was going to choke, I wanted to vomit. I tried to move, to raise my arms, anything, but I could not. I was paralyzed. I strained to make out the blurry images that were floating lazily around me. A pale face was gazing at me as from another dimension. No details. Looked like a girl, long hair. People were moving behind her. There was a lot of noise.

"Prophet! Can you hear me? Blink your eyes if you can hear me." I was blinking my eyes anyway, to clear away the blurry view. Windshield wipers, I thought. Why don't our eyes come equipped with windshield wipers? Got to remember that.

"He's conscious. Check the…" but I was not conscious, I was fading away again, into the dark. I was glad to leave. My body had been burning. Why don't they put out the damned fire, I wondered. Then I fell into the dark.

The next time I surfaced in that particular dimension, wherever it was, it seemed a lot more peaceful. It was quiet. It was like I was slipping in there clandestinely. My body seemed…muffled, all the pain gone, but I could tell things were still pretty strange. My heart was booming away and my flesh still felt like it was hosting a minor brush fire.

Light seeped in through my closed eyelids. I cautiously opened them to take a peek. The overhead was a wild tangle of medical equipment hanging from the ceiling panels, twisted up plastic tubing of mysterious med liquids and spotlights and packs of e-blood plasma and dangling biotic chargers and lots of other things that I did not recognize at all. I was in a hospital bed and somebody was sitting beside me on a chair. A nurse, her white uniform spattered with blood. She was evidently asleep in the chair, still holding a medpad in one hand. It was dead quiet, the lights were down and I had the impression that there were a lot of patients all around me. I could hear them breathing. Now my vision was clearing up. I was wrapped up like a mummy. Yes, the nurse was sleeping, I could hear her deep breathing. I tried to focus on her face. Pale strained face, honey-colored hair tied back behind her neck. Honeyhair! It was Honeyhair! Exhausted, spent, but it was clearly her. Oh no, I'm dreaming again. I closed my eyes. I don’t need dreams like this!

A medalert pinged once and alerted the nurse. I opened my eyes again to see if I was still in the dream. Honeyhair was leaning over me from her chair, the medpad slipping from her fingers to the deck. Honeyhair!

"Oh my darling, can you hear me?" She whispered it. I was stunned, captivated by those emerald eyes.

"Honey…hair," I croaked. She blinked those lovely eyes and beamed – her whole face just lit up.

"Don't try to talk," she said. "Just relax. You are getting the best care in the galaxy. I'm right by your side. The Legion is right by your side. And God is right by your side, too. Oh my darling, I am so happy. So happy!"

Sure is a realistic dream, I thought. Just looking at her, my eyes filled with tears. Can't be true, that's ridiculous. Why would she be here, in a war zone? She's on Quaba. No. She's so lovely. But I'd best close my eyes and float away. So I did.

When I came back again the place was considerably busier. It was brighter. Nurses and doctors were moving briskly from bed to bed. A dull roar. Out of the corners of my eyes I could see rows of beds to my left and right and more beds across an aisle that ran past the foot of my bed. The beds were all occupied, and the medics seemed quite busy.

"Four Six Two is conscious. Spot check on Four Six Two." It was a young nurse in white, turning away from me now. Young? She looked like she should still be in midschool. A second nurse appeared, an Assidic female, who also looked pretty young. She leaned over my bed and spoke. "Four Six Two, spot check, patient conscious, vitals green, calling PC nurse. How do you feel, sir?" I couldn’t quite tell if she was talking to me or to someone else. She had a comset clipped to one collar.

"Ahh…I feel kind of bad," I replied. An understatement. I felt as if I had just been removed from the roasting rack after a long, slow session.

"Glad to hear it. Your condition is much better now."

A young doctor showed up, unshaven, weary, rumpled white jacket. His eyes were gleaming with excitement. "How are you? How are you, Four Six Two? Um, Prophet. How are you?"

"You tell me, Doc. I feel kind of dead."

The young doctor laughed out loud. "You are not dead, Prophet. That much is for sure!"

Honeyhair came running up abruptly, a glorious smile. "Oh thank God! Thank Deadman! Oh my darling, how wonderful! You're going to be all right. I've been watching over you for days. We've all been watching over you."

The young doctor was scanning my charts on the d-screen by the foot of my bed. Honeyhair bent over me and blew me a little kiss. There was no place to kiss me because my entire body was cocooned with medcasts. There were openings for my eyes, nostrils, mouth, and presumably more down below but I was unaware of what was happening down there. It slowly dawned on me that this was an unusually disorganized, messy hospital. I couldn’t figure out where we were. Then the entire place shuddered and vibrated as a low growl sounded.

"Honeyhair," I said. "Where are we?"

"We're on the Second Level," she replied excitedly. "Thirty Second Fleetcom Emergency Field Triage Hospital. You'll be evaced as soon as we can return to topside."

The Second Level! Adrenalin shot through my system. "What are you doing here, Honeyhair? I left you behind on Quaba, safe and sound. How did you get here?"

"I'm a nurse, dear. A registered nurse. Delta wouldn’t take me, but there was an emergency call for nurses, medics and physicians of all kinds throughout ConFree. They were taking everybody. This is a national emergency. Do you think I could stay at home? They were showing the triage sites, all day, every day. All those wounded soldiers – thousands of them. Every time you switched on the d-screen. I volunteered. Trina volunteered. Mary volunteered. Everybody volunteered. And here I am. And I'm so glad I did it!"

"I love you so much, Honeyhair." I was exhausted, just from talking, ready to crash.

"Likewise! Got to run! I'll be back soon as I can. Love you!" And she ran off, almost colliding with another nurse who was running in the other direction.

Δ

"So what happened to me, Honeyhair? I don't remember a thing." It was a day later. They had removed the medcast from my right arm, and replaced it with several smaller medpads. That freed up my right arm so I could scratch my nose, which had been driving me crazy. They had also carefully removed part of the medcast from my lower face, so my nose and mouth were completely exposed. Thick medpads were affixed to my cheeks. But the rest of the headcast remained and it was braced to a frame so I could not move my head or neck at all.

She was holding a little plastic cup of water to my lips. Deadman, that water was good. Heavenly! "You were hit. You were hit real bad," she said. "But, by the grace of God, you survived. That's all I know. It was God. I've been praying to God every day since you left me, and He has answered my prayers."

"Where was I hit? I mean, how bad was it? Did I lose my balls?"

"No. trooper, you've still got your balls. But it was bad enough. You were hit in the head, neck, chest, lower abdomen, thighs. They're re-growing everything. And you'll be evaced to ConFree as soon as we can get you to the surface."

"In the head."

"Yes."

"There's a problem with getting to the surface?"

"Yes. We're surrounded and reinforcements are fighting their way to link up with us and cleanse the Second Level. It's a big battle. It's been going on for a week." As if to reinforce her words, a shudder ran through the walls and deck and a distant thunder sounded.

"Why did they put the hospital down here?"

"The Battle of Level Two has been underway for awhile. This area used to be relatively secure. We had lots of casualties on this level that needed immediate triage. So we seized this old factory, cleaned it out and moved in all our equipment. They were rocketing us before we silenced them."

"What happened with Delta?"

"I don’t know. We don't have time to do anything except work on the casualties that they rush into triage. We don’t know the big picture."

"MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY! CRITICAL! MAKE WAY!" Four troopers in dirty black armor came charging along the aisle, hauling a fifth trooper on an air effects stretcher, no helmet, clad in bloody armor scarred with white Xmax hits. They were gone in a frac.

"I need to know what happened to Delta," I said.

"I'll find out, Honey. I'll find out."

The door at one end of the room snapped open and an armored trooper stepped in, his E balanced on one hip. There was another trooper behind him. Their faceplates were closed, a dark ruby red, like dried blood.

"What do you need?" one of the doctors asked gruffly.

"VIP inspection," the trooper replied, looking around warily. The second trooper strode down the aisle and took a position by the other door.

"Fuck that!" the doctor replied, enraged. "There'll be no VIP inspections in here! Get the hell out of my ward and take your VIP's with you!"

The trooper ignored him, gesturing in a crowd of visitors clad in armor. One of them was a female. She turned to address her group. "Turn off those holscans!" she said icily. "If I see anybody taking pix, I'll have you arrested for treason!" Then she turned to the doctor. "Please excuse the interruption, Doctor. I want to visit our heroes. Do I have your permission?"

The doctor seemed at a loss for words, then replied, "Yes, of course. Of course."

The armored female visited every bed, taking her time, talking in a low voice with the patients. The rest of the group stood around watching her. There were a lot of security people. Although I could not move my head, I could see her out of the corners of my eyes. And it slowly dawned on me who she was. It was the DG – the Director of ConFree, Antara Tarantos-Hannah. Herself. Visiting her wounded heroes. Good Lord! The Director! Right here! Right in the war zone. Surrounded by the enemy! I had last seen her when she greeted the Bright Liaison Office delegates in Quaba City.

She chatted with the wounded soldiers, those who could talk. She personally presented them with the blood badge – every one. She blessed them all. She thanked them all. She leaned over and kissed them. Once in awhile she cried, but mostly she remained in icy control.

Honeyhair stood up so the DG could take the seat next to me. I was struck by the DG's incredible physical beauty as she settled into the chair. Lovely pale brown flesh, silky ruddy hair, chocolate brown eyes. What a honey!

"I want to thank you personally, Trooper, for your service to the people of ConFree, and for your sacrifice." She placed a blood badge on my pillow. "Bless you." She gently rested one hand on my headcast. "You'll be going home soon. To a grateful nation. We're going to have a great victory here. Thanks to you, and to all your comrades. Your sacrifices construct the future." She leaned over and kissed me tenderly on the lips. "May God be with you," she said as she stood up. "They tell me you returned to us from the dead. You can't give more than that." And she made the cross of the Legion, tracing it in the air above my bed.

After the DG departed, Honeyhair resumed her seat by my side. She seemed a little nervous.

"Returned from the dead, huh?" I asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry, dear. They told me not to tell you – until later. Psychological trauma, they said."

"Well, here's a news flash. Once you've been shot in the head and killed, any psychological trauma resulting from that event will be minimal in comparison to the event itself."

"Yes. I'm sorry, dear. I love you so much!"

Δ

That was one chaotic ward. Honeyhair was not there most of the time. She had plenty to do. I was recovering – so I was low on the ward's priorities list. But I looked forward to every time she approached my bed. She always had a smile for me, even when I could tell she had just been crying from whatever tragedy she had just witnessed. This time it was different. Yes, she had been crying. But there was no smile.

"What is it?" I asked.

She stood beside my bed, as if in a daze. There were blood speckles on her white uniform but that was not unusual.

"I…I…you know that Doggie and Scout were evaced by the Brights," she said.

"Yes, I know that."

"I couldn't find out anything about them. It's hard enough making inquiries in Legion channels, asking the Brights anything at this time is impossible."

"Right. I got it."

"And on the Legion side there's no place to ask about an individual squad. No place that has the time to answer, anyway. So there's only the casualty stats."

"Yeah?"

"Only the stats are almost endless. And not well organized."

"You search for warname, serial number or assignment. It takes a nanofrac."

"I know that. I found something." She hesitated. I could see the tears, filling her eyes. Oh no. Oh no.

"I'm sorry, my darling. It's Nitro."

I was silent.

"He's listed as KIA." She couldn't look me in the eye.

"Details please." Arie. KIA. Killed in action. No! It can't be!

"No details. It was just a list of KIA compiled from battlefield tacmod reports. The list was entitled 'Misc KIA'."

Other books

Keeper Of The Mountains by Bernadette McDonald
Dearly Loved by Blythe, Bonnie
Guarded for Pleasure by Lacey Thorn
The Forgetting Machine by Pete Hautman
Bad Intentions by Stayton, Nacole
Werewolf in the North Woods by Thompson, Vicki Lewis