Across Our Stars: Victor

by A. Payne

  Hamish moved too quickly for Victor’s mind to register what happened. A fist hit Ethan’s ribs, and then he was airborne. The back of the man’s head struck the hard ground, but he never lost control of his pistol.

  “Ethan, no! Get out of there!” Victor called to him.

  The gun raised to fire three more point blank rounds at Hamish’s chest. One missed outright, the second clipped him uselessly in a metal-enhanced rib, but the third carried between the bones into actual biological matter. Despite the blood spilling from the circular bullet wound, Hamish never uttered a single sound. Nothing changed.

  “Take it down now!” Trevor yelled to the surface team seconds before Hamish took down the connection. With no alternative, the psychic sprinted forward and hurled his own body at Hamish to distract him from murdering their leader.

  Victor activated the shock baton in his hand, igniting a sizzling arc of electrical current at its tip. The weapon proved a useful tool despite its simple and archaic design, especially against violent patients. Against cyborgs with older, unshielded equipment, the baton could be devastating. He wasn’t counting on it to knock Hamish’s electrical systems offline, but he did hold on to the hope that it would knock him out.

  Before Victor was able to get in close enough, Hamish swung around with a heavy punch. The doctor barely avoided the strike with a quick sidestep. He touched the live end of his baton to the cyborg’s elbow but Hamish shrugged it off without any outward reaction.

  He’s not going to stop until he’s dead or the person directing him drops control. The realization was sobering.

  Hamish landed a glancing blow across Victor’s shoulder which almost made the doctor lose his grip on the baton. He grit his teeth, fingers tingling with a pins and needles sensation, and drove his weapon against Hamish’s thigh. The cyborg’s knee buckled then an invisible force thrust him away two yards. It had to be Trevor.

  “Trevor, catch!” Hart called.

  Another shock baton arced toward them. Trevor caught it out of the air and took advantage of Hamish’s brief display of weakness. Both of the twins were equally skilled in martial combat, a plus in Victor’s favor when it came to taking on his opponent.

  Hamish avoided one strike after the next, weaving in and out despite Victor and Trevor’s joint effort to take him down. They narrowly blocked his attacks with their weapons, but Victor lacked Trevor’s agility, balance, and telekinetic ability. Hamish’s fist came dangerously close to splitting open his head until Trevor spun a roundhouse kick that knocked his brother off the mark.

  Damn, they’re both so bloody quick. Victor had never trained with Trevor before to see him in a combat situation. It quickly became evident Victor could have never stood against Hamish on his own.

  Trevor’s baton struck Hamish in the lower spine. The cyborg arched his back but inevitably recovered seconds later to sweep Trevor’s feet out from beneath him. With murderous intent, he crouched above his twin and raised Trevor’s head by a handful of hair.

  Now’s my chance!

  Victor leapt forward and extended the prod toward the back of the cyborg’s head, touching the arcing prongs to the base of his skull.

  Hamish dropped Trevor, keeled over on his side to the floor, and didn’t move. This time Victor was positive he would remain that way. At least for a little while.

  I hope… Now to get him secured.

  Hart beat Victor to the punch, producing a set of medical restraints from her field pack. “See to the big boss, Victor, I’ve got this,” she told him.

  “Lockhart,” Ethan groaned from the floor. “Get in the system and shut down what he did or we won’t be around to save his life.”

  “He’s already on it.” Victor assured him. “Be still, mate. You won’t be breathing easily for long if you try to trot back to the bridge with fractured ribs.”

  “Who’s trotting?” Ethan’s chuckle swiftly turned into a pained wheeze.

  Hart kept guard over Hamish, out of his reach with her Taser in hand. After everything they’d witnessed, they didn’t trust the wrist restraints to slow him down if he regained consciousness.

  “Decompression sequence aborted,” Trevor relayed. “Communications are up. I’ll get Jem back online in a few minutes.”

  “Are we back in contact with our teams?”

  “Not yet, sir. Scanners show there was an explosion in the facility. Looks like it was contained to the lower level.”

  Victor’s fingers stilled against Ethan’s chest. A chill crawled down his spine and his pulse quickened, a sudden sense of dread overcoming their recent triumph in subduing Hamish.

  “Hold on,” Trevor spoke up suddenly. “Incoming message on the back-up channel.” He switched through the frequencies until a familiar voice crackled to life over the static.

  “Jemison, this is Cresswell. Requesting immediate emergency trauma response. I repeat, immediate emergency response.”

  Ethan’s attempt to rise was put to a quick stop by his protesting ribs. The pain, combined with Victor’s restraining hand, kept him on the floor.

  “Victor, I need you to stay here with Hamish. Hart, get a full team together now and whatever extra marines you can fit on the shuttle. I’m not losing any more people. Not today.”

  Chapter 30

  “Wounded incoming.”

  The medical ward doors opened in conjunction with Jem’s verbal announcement, admitting the rushed and loud arrival of the response team. Nothing prepared Victor for the sight that greeted him once he stepped from the room where Hamish was restrained under heavy sedation.

  No, not Zoe.

  It was always a possibility while serving on a military vessel. Husbands and wives disembarked from the ship all of the time to serve on combat missions, but they usually came home intact. The losses suffered recently by the Jemison were unusual occurrences in an age when the military guarded the galaxy with an iron fist. That was especially true during peacetime while the Empire held an unwavering treaty with the Soviets. There hadn’t been a true war in a decade.

  “Victor, we need you!” Lilibeth called out. A second gurney floated in behind the first, bearing Daniels’ limp form.

  Both units displayed the vital statistics of their occupants in a real-time holographic display projected above the heads of the floating gurneys. The stable readings for Daniels triaged him into Oshiro’s responsibility to receive less urgent care, unlike the woman who consumed Victor’s focus. Zoe’s critical stats required more.

  “Administer two CCs of cybex sulfate in a liter of saline to her. Now!” Victor had never been the doctor who shouted orders at his staff, but he became that man in an instant. He moved alongside the grey-lift stretcher during Zoe’s transfer to the surgical theater, where he and Davis brought her to rest upon the operating table.

  By the graces of adrenaline and stimulants, Victor remained on his feet for another seventeen hours. She coded twice on the table but was revived by a tenacious team of doctors and medical assistants.

  I won’t lose you, too, Zo. I can’t. I won’t go through this again.

  He worked above her to the point of exhaustion, personally applying aerosolized replacement skin after removing damaged tissue. A sense of unnatural focus came over Victor that guided his hand with superhuman dexterity. By the end of it, he could barely tell anyone his name, let alone power down his surgical laser. Hart had to pry it from his fingers and deactivate the tool herself after he slumped onto a stool beside the operating table.

  “We will transfer her to a room,” Lilibeth assured him gently. “Please. You are in our way.” A tiny smile accompanied her words, smoothing away some of the grim mood.

  Victor reluctantly stepped into the hallway while the two women clothed Zoe into a patient gown. Oshiro waited for him, open concern etched into his tired features. Between the various patients requiring their attentions, few medical personnel could claim to be well rested.

  “You should shower and rest, Victor. I will sit with her,” Os
hiro promised, pressing a small cup of tea into his hands. The fragrant steam wafting upwards was familiar, a family remedy Oshiro had pressed on him a few occasions in his lifetime. He accepted the cup then shuffled down the hall without a word.

  I’ll just get cleaned up and then I’ll sit with her myself.

  Victor washed his face, changed out of his scrubs in the locker room, and then settled behind the desk in his office for only a moment to enjoy the tepid cup of green tea. He was asleep before he set the empty mug on his desk.

  ***

  Soothing notes from the strings of a cello gradually slithered into Victor’s hazy consciousness. A few more minutes passed before the increasing volume pulled him completely from sleep to the dim interior of his office. The automatic desk chair had leaned back and tilted into a perfect incline. Someone had also sprawled a medical warming blanket over his chest. Cozy heat radiated from the double-insulated piece of material.

  “The hell?”

  “Good morning, Doctor del Toro,” Jem greeted him. The office lights gradually brightened to their normal daylight settings.

  Zoe! Victor thought in a panic. No. Everything must be well. They’d have come to get me if that wasn’t the case, he reassured himself with rational thinking. “What time is it? How long was I out?”

  “Ship time is 0216.”

  I slept around eight hours… Despite the protesting of his back and sore muscles, he rose from the chair and tossed the blanket behind him over its arms. “Status on Zoe Raines?”

  “Sergeant Raines remains in stable condition. All vitals are within normal limits.”

  “Status on Grayson Daniels?” he asked next.

  “Commander Daniels has been released from medical,” she relayed smoothly.

  “Did we have any other major injuries from that skirmish?”

  “Negative, Doctor. All further injuries were minor and treated by medical technicians.”

  “What’s the status on Hamish Lockhart?”

  Jem’s silky voice took on a chilly edge. “Hamish Lockhart is awake and requesting your presence. Commodore Bishop is with him now.”

  “How is he awake? I didn’t go into his braincore yet.”

  “Commodore Bishop would not allow Doctor Oshiro to wait until you awakened,” Jem informed him. “With the blueprint Lieutenant Cresswell obtained from the laboratory and my assistance, they were able to safely perform an emergency craniotomy to remove the guidance chip without causing further harm.”

  “How long did that take?”

  “Less than one hour. Doctor Oshiro is an accomplished neurosurgeon. Hamish awakened only an hour ago.”

  The fine hairs on the back of Victor’s neck rose.

  Did Hamish recall anything about their frantic efforts to bring him down? Victor would find out soon enough. Without further hesitation, he shrugged into his lab coat and stepped into the hallway. His route took him past Zoe’s room, where he peered in at her through the translucent observation window. Floating vitals with large green numbers confirmed Jem’s assurances, so he sucked in a relieved breath and watched her for a while.

  It’s over now. She’s going to pull through.

  Once completely satisfied with watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest and stabilized vitals, Victor drew up her chart for a quick look. Good. Oshiro kept his promise. Hart and Davis were the most recent to enter and leave, maintaining a steady supply of Neurothol to eliminate Zoe’s pain – and also keep her heavily sedated. He reviewed everything else on the chart and estimated another two hours until she awakened.

  Someone had set the glass observation panel to Hamish’s new room to ‘privacy’, transforming the clear glass to an opaque mirrored hue. Victor knocked first by habit prior to entering.

  “Look who’s up. You look a sight better, mate.” Ethan offered out a steaming mug of coffee before the door even clicked shut. “By the way, you were drooling in your chair. Thought you should know.”

  The friendly taunting put Victor at immediate ease and diffused what he expected to be an awkward meeting. Hamish ducked his head shyly and focused on his hands, both of which were folded over his lap. The bashful behavior humanized him.

  “Hamish, this man is Doctor del Toro. We’ve got him to thank for having you back,” Trevor said gently.

  “Hello, Doctor,” Hamish said in a hoarse whisper. He barely made eye contact. His right hand raised briefly then lowered with a dull slap against his hospital gown covered thigh again. “Thank you.”

  “Call me Victor, please,” he requested, while offering out a hand to the man in the bed.

  Uncertain, Hamish glanced at his brother first for approval. When Trevor nodded, the older twin raised his hand to accept Victor’s greeting.

  “It’s good to finally see you awake, Hamish. How are you feeling?” He has excellent control for a fresh cyborg, Victor noticed. Hamish barely gripped his hand for a shake and released it as quickly as possible, afraid of causing damage with his new fingers, no doubt. It’s like he doesn’t trust his own strength.

  “Like shit, sir. I… Trevor told me I hurt a lot of people here.”

  “You hit like an Imperial dreadnought, but I’ll live. So will the others that you injured,” Ethan said cheerfully. “I assure you, it’s nothing I haven’t felt before, mate.”

  Hamish didn’t appear convinced or comforted by their assurances. “I’m guessing you all didn’t come here to pat my hand and tell me it’s all going to be okay. You have questions and military protocols direct you to hand me over to United Command. I’m not dumb. I know what happens next.”

  Victor glanced at Ethan. The Commodore looked too at ease, his expression too cordial if he planned anything of the sort.

  “The HMS Bulwark is en route with an ETA of about seven hours. I’m not going to lie to you, son. They have orders to take you back to Command for treatment,” Ethan said.

  “Ethan. You know as well as I do that they’ll subject him to weeks of questioning before he receives a bit of treatment,” Victor said. “If he receives any at all.”

  “I know, but they think he’s a risk,” Ethan replied.

  “I know he’s dangerous. There’s no doubt about that, and he’s got cybernetics that don’t exist on the market,” Victor said defensively. Concern for the wellbeing of his patient overwhelmed his sense of reason. “But that doesn’t excuse medical neglect. And turning him over without receiving help is exactly that – neglect, mate. We can’t allow them to take him.”

  “What if they lock him away again? Hide him?” Trevor’s worry carried over in his voice and expression.

  “Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” Hamish spoke up. “I know what they plan to do, Trevor. It’s all right.”

  “Hamish–” Trevor began, only for his brother to swiftly cut him off.

  “The doctor’s right about it. I’m a weapon now, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

  “No. You’re more than a weapon,” Ethan interjected. “Trust me, son, whatever they intended for you to be, they failed. The very fact that you are sitting here, apologizing and worrying about what happened under their control, proves that.”

  “Then we need to protect him. We owe it to one of our own to keep him safe when he needs us,” Victor argued.

  “Yeah, about that. As I was planning to say before you became Doctor Passionate and interrupted me,” Ethan said, rubbing his chin. “I’ve sort of tossed the rulebook aside and taken some pre-emptive measures to guarantee Hamish’s safety. Until we can ferret out this nonsense, I believe no one is to be trusted.”

  Doctor Passionate. Victor harrumphed. “I’m guessing you have a plan. So are you going to clue us in or keep the suspense?”

  “Nisrine submitted an official report to the Royal Archives on Astreya. You know how they like to have everything in triplicate and stored on their tidy shelves.” Ethan waved his hand in an absentminded gesture. “The head archivist took it upon himself to personally message and send over a copy to He
r Royal Majesty, the Empress. She has requested an audience.”

  “What?” Trevor’s eyes practically bugged out of his head.

  “Your brother is getting a royal reception home,” Ethan clarified. His wide grin reached smug proportions. “I’d like to see them sweep that away into forgotten obscurity.”

  “Does the Bulwark know that?” Victor asked, floored.

  “I imagine they will shortly.” Ethan’s amused laughter filled the room. “You’re not going to the Bulwark, Hamish. The Jemison will deliver you to Albion by Imperial decree. The flagship will escort us.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Trevor sank back into his seat again and stared at Ethan in wonder. “Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. I’m only doing what’s right,” Ethan said.

  Hamish’s voice dropped to a slight whisper. “Is it going to be… public?”

  Ethan’s expression softened. “To a point, yes, but I think the Empress is a wise enough woman not to make a spectacle out of you. The important thing is that too many people in the upper echelons will be aware of your situation for you to be easily shuttered away again. The Empress is big on pomp and ceremony, so the media has been notified that a lost hero has been found.”

  “I’m not a hero,” Hamish quickly spat out. He ran his fingers over his close-shorn hair. A couple of weeks had passed since the most recent surgery, but the remnants of his scars revealed the critical points of entry for their brain modification. Eventually, Hamish’s hair would conceal them completely.

  “You are,” Victor gently said to him. “Thanks to your actions, over two dozen souls were spared from that laboratory. They’re alive because of you, mate.”

  “I don’t know how I did it,” Hamish said. “They routinely drugged me for ease of handling, or so they said. But that day I was clear headed for the first time in a long while.”

  “I think I know why,” Victor said. “We also sedated you, but suddenly all at once, most of the drugs were cleared from your system. Their own tool became their undoing. Perhaps it isn’t fully functioning or wasn’t properly deactivated in the lab after one of their tests, but it saved you.”