Lord Banshee- Fugitive

by Russell O Redman

  I immediately doubted this confession, since he was an officer in a warship, subject to the commands of his superiors in the fleet. In every warship I had ever encountered, the captain bore the responsibility to initiate combat, themselves subject to the orders of an Admiral or the equivalent. Someone higher than Wep Singh must have given the go-ahead for the attack, but Befeqadu Singh was willing to accept the blame to protect his superiors. I honoured his courage and loyalty but wondered how he might be defended in a Lunar court after such a confession.

  The TDF field station was primarily intended to treat marines injured in combat, but I knew from personal experience it could handle many other conditions in the hands of a skilled operator. As before, MacFinn’s first diagnosis was hypothermia, exacerbated by an acute overdose of drugs that in small quantities acted as sex stims. The resulting priapism had already lasted long enough that the blood inside had become anoxic and was damaging the tissues. This was completely treatable and could be reversed within a few days, even here on shipboard using nothing more than the field station. He also detected what appeared to be shrapnel wounds in the man’s arms, a bone tumour in his leg, and cracks in the back of his skull from an old injury that had healed poorly.

  MacFinn made the same request for clothing and a blanket, but also requested permission to begin treatment for the priapism immediately. The bone cancer was treatable, but he had not brought suitable meds with him since it was rarely an issue under the combat conditions for which the field station was equipped. The man could begin treatment on any TDF warship like the Columbia but would receive better treatment on the Quetzalcoatl or the Moon. Neither the shrapnel wounds nor the skull fractures were life threatening, but both could be treated to provide him with a better quality of life.

  The Qinghai poloff objected that man’s priapism was a preliminary punishment as part of his execution, which was scheduled to be completed in five hours. The Imperial poloff noted that both officers had been promised honourable executions, but the two traitors would be useful demonstration cases for the efficacy of the putative cancer treatments. The executions could be rescheduled after it was known whether the treatments were effective or just boastful lies. A final thought was that the Qinghai poloff’s own father had died of bone cancer. Perhaps there was hope for a better future. Her ruling was therefore that the executions of both Western Textiles officers be postponed to allow the treatments to proceed. Qinghai Mining could continue its oversight of the prisoners until the medical issues had been resolved and the executions completed.

  The old healer bowed and requested permission to remove the vaginal insert, since the Earth uthikoloshe would surely trigger the mechanism. Having received a nod, she made a small, quick adjustment on the base of the vaginal insert and withdrew three barbed blades, dotted with blood at the tips, then detached the insert itself and pulled it slowly out. Kaahurangi quickly threaded urinary and rectal catheters up one leg of the new pants, attached both catheters to the portable unit, and with permission inserted them into his patient. MacFinn followed suit. Both the Western Textiles officers were released one restraint at a time while the new clothes were drawn over their bodies, then fastened back onto the frames. As the blankets were wrapped around their freezing bodies, they realized that the executions had in truth been postponed and both began to weep.

  Kaahurangi and MacFinn worked down the row of patients, assisting each medic and healer as they learned how to read the monitors on the three other medical units and two field stations. The injured Imperial soldiers had the usual kinds of damage, familiar from the Counterstrike, dozens of skirmishes with pirates, and the interminable regional conflicts. The soldiers were younger than their officers and had few cancerous tumours, but still showed signs of chronic vitamin deficiencies and toxic metal poisoning. If anything, they suffered more from these chronic conditions, leaving me to wonder if this was a distinction based on wealth or whether the food supply had become worse since the end of the Incursion.

  Neither of the Qinghai Mining healers attempted anything inappropriate, but the older healer touched the tumour on her head as they diagnosed each patient.

  The medic who examined Agent Lakshmi-Lee expressed surprise that anyone with such perfect skin and health could have attained a responsible position so young. Ze was astonished to hear that she was in her early thirties in Earth years, having earned her bachelor’s degree in criminal law enforcement with honours, served five years as a spacer working part time with Commercial Intelligence, and afterwards graduated from CI’s academy. She was on her third assignment and had simply had the misfortune to step into the middle of the largest political event in twenty years.

  Her injuries were as conventional as the soldiers’. She had been shot once grazing the belly, and twice in the back. None of the injuries were close to critical organs, although one of her kidneys was being rebuilt. The only serious complication had been the length of time between the attack and the arrival of the Columbia when proper treatment had begun.

  Kaahurangi commented that he had been trying unsuccessfully to discourage her from stressful work until the process was more complete. Both poloffs nodded with intense expressions on their faces.

  Then they came to me. MacFinn ran through the sketch history that we had agreed upon, including the deliberate suppression of my recent memories to avoid further trauma until we could return to the more comprehensive services available on the Moon.

  He then started a more technical description of my embedded medical monitor, noting that shipments of the same units to Mars had been authorized for over a year, customized to the limited meds available. All the recent units contained serious programming flaws, for which he provided copies of the three papers that had already been submitted and two more that were now in preparation. Some of the first units to be shipped were probably on Mars and may have been installed already. Their owners were in potential peril if they could not refill the reservoirs regularly. The two Qinghai healers gasped in horror at one of the model numbers, then went as blank as if nothing had happened.

  In my own case, the trauma I had suffered combined with depletion of the reservoirs to cause severe toxic reactions that resulted in multiple organs approaching failure over several days. MacFinn spent several minutes expanding on the symptoms, most of which individually seemed to be minor in the early stages except for a pre-existing heart problem. There had been aching muscles, tiredness, and an upset stomach. The first externally visible symptom had been the appearance of large patches of dead skin on my back, which had been overlooked until necrosis had set in throughout much of my muscle tissue.

  He followed up with a paean to the genius of the doctor who had pierced the confusion of symptoms to recognize the on-rushing disaster within my body, had diagnosed the real cause of the trouble, and had put together a brilliant series of surgeries, a full roster of corrective meds, and a long-term recovery plan. They were still following that plan, with only minor adjustments as various organs resumed their normal functions. She had been badly traumatized herself by the events, but maintained a professional discipline throughout, her judgement firm and precise. Her bedside manners were exemplary. She had been a veritable angel of hope to everyone who met her, beautiful and compassionate behind the mask of calm that she maintained...

  Kaahurangi cut him off and asked that he focus again upon the patient. MacFinn flushed red from his head to his toes, what I could see of him, at least. The medics and healers smiled quietly, recognizing a few symptoms themselves. I could have added that she had an impish sense of humour and self-identified as a monkey. I hoped some part of that survived our current crisis.

  MacFinn resumed with a description of the surgeries that had been necessary to remove dead and dying tissue. A combined program of TDF and LR meds was proving effective, since the TDF had more experience with deep trauma and LR had more experience with poisoning.

  Many of the meds were introduced though our food and drink, which changed the flavo
urs in ways that few of his patients enjoyed. He joked that it was not serious because TDF crew always complained about the boring but nutritious rations they ate. Only the injured soldiers smiled.

  Kaahurangi added that isolated mining colonies sometimes took dangerous shortcuts with their food during periods of financial stress, which brought nods of understanding around the room. Lunar Recovery maintained the philosophy that food should be both flavourful and nutritious, so their least palatable meds were given separately. That brought another round of silent agreement.

  MacFinn pointed out the traces of each surgery that showed in the current monitor and how to track the progress of my recovery. The medics and healers were listened attentively, intrigued by the capabilities of even shipboard surgeries. They each took turns examining a different part of my internal state, working through the displays. Personally, I was left feeling more queasy than I had since the nightmares began, realizing finally how close to death I had come with all the consequences that would have followed.

  Kaahurangi then assembled a portable MRI that fitted around my torso and repeated the diagnostic procedure. The clarity of the imagery was astonishing, but even more disturbing, as I realized how much of the muscle in my internal organs had died and needed to regrow before I could even walk freely. I had always imagined walking up to a representative of the Imperium and surrendering myself. That could not happen for months, and I was unsure whether we had months before the political arrangements that had allowed the Imperium to assemble such a large fleet disintegrated into civil war.

  MacFinn mentioned that in a few weeks I could replace the full field station with a backpack that supplied the required meds for at least part of each day. I would still have to maintain a rigid schedule of exercise and supervised treatments.

  That largely completed the demonstration. An interesting question remained about the facilities for physiotherapy available on board. I would be needing to restart my exercise as soon as practically possible. Similar considerations applied to all the patients, including the Western Textiles officers.

  Both poloffs objected, but Kaahurangi reminded the Imperial poloff that she had already authorized a full treatment program under the supervision of Qinghai Mining. That triggered another debate between the two poloffs, who wafted out of the room to consult their superiors.

  While they were gone, the healers and medics approached Kaahurangi and requested that he scan the older healer’s head to determine the state of the tumour. This was easily and quickly done after removing a field station from one of the least injured soldiers. MacFinn looked at the display and shook his head, commenting that although the tumour had not yet metastasized and was treatable, it would take almost a year to shrink such a large tumour.

  The woman guffawed and stated that half an hour with a precision saw would remove the whole thing but would leave half her brain exposed. That had been the problem since the tumour had originally been recognized. It was formally possible to insert a metal plate to replace the skull, but the plate would unbalance her head and would interfere magnetically with her other diagnostic instruments.

  Kaahurangi explained that on the Moon they could easily make a template for new bone that would protect her brain while her own bone regrew within the template. In two months, she would have a new skull made entirely from her own bone. MacFinn corrected that to six weeks; the TDF fixed broken bones and cracked skulls more often than Lunar Recovery.

  He stopped without quite completing the last sentence, turned to me and took three deep breaths. In his normal, Tycho English, he said, “Lad, ye scare the liver out o’me, and I canna b’lieve ye talked me into comin, but the wee lass ha faith in ye and I trust her judgement. Ye said I’d be surprised by their sophistication and should traipse through their ships shakin hands. I confess, the saw may be worth seein. I’ll do this, na on y’advice, but on her faith.”

  He turned back to the cluster of medics and healers, bowed deeply, and in his precise, flawless Mandarin asked, “Honoured Sirs, I humbly request that you allow your servant the privilege to see your own medical facilities. I would be most deeply grateful to see both Imperial and Qinghai Mining facilities. If we could visit the other factions, that would be even more gratifying.”

  His voice was steady, but his hands were trembling and I would not allow him near a table knife, much less surgical instruments, until he calmed down.

  Kaahurangi had remained silent through this exchange, but his eyes widened as MacFinn proceeded. When MacFinn stopped, he added, “We would need to make provision for our patients, but I would be humbled and honoured if I could be permitted to join this visit. Is this something we could raise with the two poloffs?”

  The five medics and healers looked at each other wildly, then started chattering rapidly and with great emotion. Watching them, the two Western Textiles officers began to keen in rising fear. MacFinn and Kaahurangi bowed away and hurried to the terrified officers. They held their hands, smoothed their foreheads, and spoke to them quietly. Finally, MacFinn explained that the Imperial poloff had promised that they would be treated honourably and given medical help until they reached the Moon and could demonstrate that the cancer treatments worked. For now, they were safe. It was not clear that they understood or believed what either surgeon said, but their gentle manner calmed both officers back to slow tears that needed to be wiped away occasionally.

  Finally, one of the medics went over and explained that these people were not uthikoloshe, but just a faction who lived near the Earth and were trying to help. What they said was true. She shifted into a language I had never heard before, full of percussives, glottal stops, and clicks, but one familiar to the Worstead’s officers. I found myself longing for another ten years to learn this fascinating language so I could speak freely with these people, share their jokes, and sing their songs. Then I remembered that my Mission was to keep them alive long enough that someone else could make that trip, and I clamped down hard.

  The room was quiet again when the two poloffs returned, accompanied by a phalanx of soldiers and two new officers. One of them I guessed was the Captain, but the other had insignia that in the naval branch of the Earth-based TDF would have designated a junior grade of Admiral. The medics all bowed low, followed by the healers and surgeons. I tried to imitate the soldiers clipped into their frames, bowing their heads and saluting by placing their palms together in front of their faces, as though they were in prayer. I remembered the gesture from the Indian subcontinent and from the Syrtis region of Mars but was surprised to see it in a military context.

  One of the medics repeated the request that MacFinn and Kaahurangi had made for permission to visit the medical facilities on board the Imperial and factional ships.

  The Imperial poloff started, “Surgeon Leyland MacFinn, you are extremely presumptuous. That request should have been directed through me to the Captain, not to subordinates who had no authority to discuss potentially treasonable activities. Since you are a barbarian unfamiliar with civilized manners, your offence will be overlooked. You will be escorted back to your quarters and held there except for your periods of medical duties. STAY! You have not been given leave to move or speak. We were watching and know that this spy put you up to this. He will remain behind to be questioned more closely. Now, return to your original patients and go.”

  Two soldiers fell in place on either side of me. A third escorted MacFinn out of the room, a look of panic on his face. Kaahurangi and Agent Lakshmi-Lee were escorted out by another soldier and soon the room was empty except for myself, the two poloffs, the Captain, the Admiral and five remaining soldiers. My world was shimmering between shades of grey and pure black, but I managed to maintain control of my voice by placing the Ghost and the Agent in charge.

  I waited, looking at my toes, my hands flat open by my sides.

  “You have been to Mars.”

  Not a question, and spoken by a voice I did not recognize, so I remained silent.

  “When and
for what purpose, spy?”

  I replied, “It is true, I was a spy, and worse. If I may presume, I would beg leave for a discrete word with the Imperial poloff.”

  I thought about DS277-5 and hoped his soul was safely in hell.

  “Speak.”

  Straining to get the intonations and accents exactly right, I said, “I have been away from home for a long time.”

  After several minutes, she replied, with hardened steel in her voice, “The sands of home are always clean in the eyes of the lost.”

  I came back, “I would visit my father and mother and kiss the ground they walk upon.”

  None of the message was contained in the words, which could be printed, sung and woven into poetry without harm. It was all in the intonations and accents.

  There was another long pause as her expression hardened into something mixing contempt and deep fear. Finally, “That was a very old code, from the Governor’s accursed legion of devils. It marks you as an assassin in the death squads, a traitor to be executed. Why do you dare?”

  I replied, “Benevolent One, I made a terrible mistake in my youth and joined the Spooks, imagining myself to be wiser than my parents. At least, that is the version on record. The truth is always more complicated. When my wife and children were murdered, I was filled with hate and made the Governor’s worthless cause my own. After a few short years I realized that I had become an enemy to myself, my parents, my friends, and my whole people. I took the opportunity of an off-planet assignment to escape. I refused to complete that mission, which was to assassinate Colonel Mayberry Rashid, one of the best friends that Mars ever had on the Earth. I have been under deep cover ever since. Much later, the Spooks sent another assassin, who killed the man before I had a chance to intervene. I have bitterly regretted my many failures ever since and I long for a chance to redeem myself. However, I do not dare return to Mars, where my crimes were odious and deserve only execution.