Then he looked down at the next question that wanted to know how many hanger locks the ship had. Chuckling about stupid forms wanting to know things they did not need, he simply tapped the line and told it what he knew. “Four hanger locks.”
“Was reported battle damage due to enemy action?”
Tapping the answer box at the end of the line and said, “Yes.” That answer irked him most. The thought of pirates operating on the England itself was disgusting.
The next question was even more ridiculous. “Number of remaining operational spacecraft and ordinance stocks?”
Shaking his head he tapped the line. “No remaining operational Spacecraft or maintenance equipment or ordinance stocks. All critical squadron auxiliary lock equipment not deployed at this time.”
The screen went blank for a second and a line of bold print replaced the form that said. “Two wings of 24 fighter bombers not authorized for Reserve Auxiliary Cruisers.” That screen disappeared after the PDA had registered that he had read it by following his eyes and a second screen appeared with a line saying. “Authorized compliment is One, 24 ship F-35 fighter/bomber squadron and One, 16 ship F-35 torpedo bomber squadron. Do you approve wing complement with maintenance equipment replacement, critical auxiliary lock and ramp equipment deployment and full ordinance stores replenishment for Commander Collins of the RAC Star Queen 52?”
Captain Meyer’s mouth dropped open as he stared at the screen.
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Captain Cook was checking out the fire control and targeting optics of the front nose turret with half her senior officers scattered down the lock around what was left of the old shuttle gunboat. They would show up looking for her with questions after leaving lock 3 and get put to work checking and listing and even pulling equipment so they could eject the old war horse. Even an English uniformed Captain wondered through examining the derelict gunboat for a few minutes. The Captain starting to blow her top at a foreigner wondering around the ship when she remembered why she had a whole lock full of strange people in her ship and quickly ignored her.
A marine eventually came up to the Captain with news about Ensign Abraham’s successful removal from the fighter and that she was alive and expected to live. The Captain smiled. “Well it is about fucking time.” Telling the officers around her that it was getting late and call it a night, the Captain and her 1st Officer, walked out into the passageway. The Captain stopped just outside the hatch looking toward the number 3 lock’s hatch a few feet down and across the passageway. Expecting to see the Doctor and Ensign Abraham coming out the hatch since she wasn’t already in the passageway.
“Ok! Where is the Ensign, marine?”
“Inside the lock sir. They are trying to decide whether they are taking her to the base hospital where they have the special equipment to take care of her or not sir.”
“What? The hell they are!” Taking several quick steps she came to a screeching stop at the hatch. The smell of burnt metal and ozone heavy in the air but nothing else. Not any trace of the stomach retchingstink she smelled 21 years before (and had nightmares about regularly) when she landed in the lock from the outside, pressurized it and took her helmet off. Then spent 15 minutes vomiting her guts out long after they were empty until she was able to finely able to find and slam her helmet down and left the lock after blowing the hatch and its irreplaceable air out into the void, still puking in her suit. Closed the hatch and put it off limits and did her best to forget it was ever part of the ship. Besides, the ship on the verge of dying light years form help did not have the time or resources to worry about a lock full of dead mutineer traitors that they could very well join shortly.
Taking a deep breath she slowly stepped through the hatch and saw the Ensign on a Grav Gurney (which meant it was not a Star Queen wheeled gurney) with several ships doctors including Doctor Wells and several English Defense Force Medical Captains and Majors arguing over what to do with her. Mr. Collins sat on the fighter with a leg across one knee, an elbow on his crossed leg and his chin in his hand. Just watching. A dozen doctors and technicians stood around perplexed waiting for a decision.
As many as a hundred men and women in several uniforms not familiar to her where scattered around the lock and platform sticking out into the empty night. Half of his senior officers were busy ruining their uniforms kneeling on the deck measuring and writing on tablets were next to or even holding hot wire machines cutting the deck or bulkheads. Their uniforms splattered and burned and torn. The distant zing of the cutters could be heard with the matching bright sparks lighting up the lock even from the distance out on the platform. The pits left from the cut out bodies scattered down the deck and sides of the bulkheads. A frame hung on the side bulkhead of the lock down towards the outside end with the ship's Exec helping a First Class hull tech manhandle something out of the frame as a marine stood guard over a box and a priest read from a book with his hand waving over the cart in front of him nearby. Most of the people inside the lock looked like they were finishing up what they were doing in a lock that looked surprisingly clean and bare. No army of zombies or ghosts assaulted her as she stood frozen in the hatch though it still looked like a battlefield.
“You do not have the facilities or equipment to take care of her aboard ship!” An English Doctor could not believe what the problem was. “The base hospital has everything the girl could ever need as well as the experts to completely rebuild her hip and have her walking in two weeks.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Dr. Wells was adamant. “This ship is not going to be here in two weeks and then what does she do? The possibility of ever seeing her family again is damn slim not to mention the fact that she would be an alien on a strange planet with no job and no marketable planetary skills in a recession. A space medic has little training for planet side trauma. Besides she is training to become a doctor that we need. No Captain. We will just have to do the best we can with what we have. Though any suggestions you may have for caring for her will be appreciated.
Captain Summers shook her head still upset at the carnage in the lock even though it had been 20 years ago but the actions of the boy Collins was surprising exemplary as was the crew since she boarded the ship. She doubted few other ships could do any better and most probably worse. The Admiral said she could not give them any weapons but most of the equipment she was looking at was over flowing English warehouses and were definitely not weapons. Fact was the Supply Directorate was refusing to issue the more modern medical equipment that had been developed in the civilian hospitals since the war ended simply because they had so much of the old still in storage and new casualties were rare.
The English Captain stepped forward up to the English Vice Admiral Doctor that obviously out ranked her. “I am Captain Summers from Special forces Command with Supreme Flag rank authority Dr. Quincy. You will provide the Star Queen everything including equipment and technical help they need to take care of and return the Ensign to duty. Along with everything they would need for like casualties in the future. And I mean everything. Including grow tanks and stocks of bionic prosthesis.”
Before the Major could object. “That settles it then!” Captain Cook walked up taking a look at the Ensign. “I am so glad to see you doing so good Ms. Abraham. You did a great job and the whole ship is grateful to all you have done. Now you just concentrate on getting well so you can finish your studies and become our newest doctor and that is an order.” The Captain smiled.
“Captain.” The Ensign said in a whisper. I killed all those people sir. I pushed the button to fire the missiles. I can’t be a doctor after murdering all those people. Mark ordered me to push the button when Mickey told me to push the button but I still murdered all those people.”
“Who the hell is Mickey?” Said the Captain.
“Captain she is doped up from the surgery." Said the English Doctor next to her. "We had to leave her conscious for the procedure to limit the nerve damage done. She
does not know what she is saying Sir. But I am worried about her mental health. Negative thoughts like this and the depression can do a lot of damage during her recovery. She is going to need a lot of help from a psychologist to get over killing the people in those boats even if they were attacking her. In her mind, it was the boats attacking her and not the innocent people. I have seen this many times over the years.” The Defense Force Medical Captain said. “Don’t count on her ever being much use as a doctor or anything else that takes much training. Her mental state will never be up to it as the mental trauma consumes her even if she does not suicide. Our doctors have much experience with this type of mental trauma and in time may be able to return her to non-technical productive work. But we can only do that if you leave her with us.”
“That is understandable Doctor. But I am sure in time she will come to understand what she did, had to be done. She stays Damn it.” Turning to Captain Summers. “I take it you have all this equipment you promised in a portable medical container you can sit up at the base of the ship for the few days before we are scheduled to lift or are you going to need a few extra days to work on the ensign?”
“I am not a doctor Captain but it does not matter. You will have all the equipment you need installed aboard your ship in the next few days before you lift to take with you. Including any specialist doctors to train your crew to use them as long as you need them.”
“And I have the perfect park setting to set it all up Captain.” Dr. Wells said laying claim to the Greedly compartment with the final argument to end the debate.
Captain Cook gave Dr. Wells a dirty look then turned back to Captain Summers. “Oh and just how do you plan we return these doctors when we are done with them?
“We have outposts scattered around the Outback if you still need them when you leave English Space. You will be able to drop off any training personnel when you are satisfied with your crews’ proficiency at one of them. Though we hope you will return from time to time to visit, allowing us to upgrade the systems you purchase.”
“And just how much is all this equipment and technical help going to cost us Captain?” Suddenly not happy with the Captain’s offer of help for a none disclosed price.
“Except for the token transfer fee. Nothing Captain.” Captain Cook gave Captain Summers the look you give a snake remedy sales man and started for the hatch until the Captain Summers said after him. “Your Ensign was wounded battling takers on our planet and has earned everything we can do for her medically without making her ship pay for it in anyway including delaying your lift.” Captain Summers fallowed her as Captain Cook stopped at the hatch. “Besides you are going to need this equipment in the out back to survive. History shows that you will have to fight for your survival quiet often or you will not survive and prosper. Don’t worry we will work out some token fee to make it legal.”
Mark dropped off the Mustang and walked over to Dian as everyone's attention was on the Captains at the hatch as they started talking about that token fee. Captain Cook insisting on knowing how token that fee was going to be. Taking a pen light out of the pocket of one of the doctors he bent down and smiled. Shinning the light into her eyes and back out. Then started waving it back and forth between them rhythmically flashing it into one eye and then the other eye and back again.
Moving it back and forth rhythmically back and forth he started whispering in her ear. “You are doing fine Dian. You are doing so fine and I am so proud of you. I am the one that murdered those people not you. I am so proud of the job you did today. So proud that you tried to stop me from firing on those boats. You tried to keep me from firing on those boats. You remember slapping my hand don’t you Dian. You remember slapping my hand away from the firing button as you told me you hated me. You... Hate... Me? Aaa?” Shaking his head as he grimaced then took a deep breath. “You hate me for pushing the big red button between the seats that fired the missiles Dian. You even slapped my hand away from the firing button but I fired them anyway. Remember the big red button between the seats that fires the missiles. I pushed the button. I pushed the big red button between the seats to launch each and every missile."
More and more of the Doctors around Mark started watching him instead of the Captain’s arguing and his steady rhythm with the light flashing into her eyes, they could hear his steady cadence as he spoke seaming to repeat words over and over again though they could not hear most of them as he continued to whisper into her ear. "Remember me pushing the big red button! You watched me push the button to fire the missiles Dian. You see me lifting the lock and pushing the big red button between us. I am so mad at you Dian for trying to stop me but I was too strong for you. Remember, I reached out of the tub and pushed the big red button between us each and every time we fired a missile Dian. You tried to stop me until I ordered you to stop. Until I yelled at you demanding that you follow orders and stop trying to stop me. That you stop interfering trying to stop me. I made you repeat that you would not stop me from firing the missiles. I made you watch the screen as the crews fell out of the boats I destroyed. Made you watch them fall to their deaths after I destroyed their boats."
The Doctors around Dian started taking an interest in what Mark was doing as did Doctor Wells though they could not hear him either but it was strange for him to be waving that damn light around in front of her eyes and started walking closer trying to overhear his words. "I fired the missiles Dian. I pushed the button Dian. See the big red button between the seats as I push it firing each missile. I ordered you not to stop me Dian. I yelled at you not to stop me Dian and I slapped your hand away when you tried to stop me but I was too strong for you. It is ok Dian for you hate me for pushing the button between the seats. Every time you think of the bodies falling, remember me pushing the big red button between the seats. It is ok to hate me, to despise me, to loath me for pushing the big red button. You did nothing wrong. You could not stop me no matter how hard you tried. You hate and despise me because you could not stop me from pushing the red button between the seats. Remember Mickey telling me to fire the missiles. Remember seeing my hand pushing the button to fire each and every missile. Every time you see the bodies tumbling you will remember me pushing the big red button. You told me not too but I did it anyway. It is ok to hate me for killing all those people Dian. I killed those people. I killed those men. I MURDERED those men!”
“What are you doing Commander?” The Doctor next to the gurney bent down catching part of what Mark was saying into her ear over the noise in the lock.
Mark straightened up and smiled. “Just reminding her that I am the one that fired the missiles and killed those people Doctor.” Looking down and into her eyes he smiled. I pushed the button. I put my hand on the center console and pushed the big red button to fire the missiles each and every time Dian.”
Straightening up again the smile dropped off his face replaced by disbelief. “What? No! Oh Shit Mickey... No.”
The Doctor next to Mark frowned as he was familiar with fighters and getting pilots out of them and started to correct the young Tramp Commander. “That big red button between the seats is not..”
Grim faced Mark had raised his hand above Dian for several seconds as the Doctor started to talk. "I do not appreciate you trying to STOP me when I Murdered those people Dian!" He said in a voice that could kill. Then slapped Dian across the cheek hard. The clap echoing down the lock.
The doctors around the stretcher moved rapidly dragging him away from the Ensign as a shocked Doctor Wells stepped toward the gurney.
The Ensign shook her head. “Just because I tried to stop you from killing those people, you did not have to slap me Mark you beast.” and started crying.
Pinned against the fighter Mark smiled. “Ensign; who killed all those people?” He said laud enough for half the hold to hear making sure his voice penetrated Dian’s crying.
“You did Mark. You pushed the button and I hate you for killing all those people. I am going to be a doctor and I won’t be aroun
d anyone that can kill like you did Mark. Just stay away from me do you hear me! Just stay away from me you murderer!” And started crying. "I don't want to ever see you ever again you murderer!"
Doctor Wells walked over to Mark as his face went from shock to amazement. “I see what you and Mickey tried son and I hope it still works when she comes down off the meds.”
“If you reinforce what I said it will work Doctor. With the sedatives, the subconscious should be easy to influence if it gets enough reinforcement now before she has a chance to sleep, to imprint the memories. These last few minutes of memories should over power the fading bad memories before they get imprinted when she sleeps. Over the next few days the bad memories, the truth, should get lost where she will never remember them. Reality should be just an occasional bad dream if you keep reinforcing what her mind desperately wants to believe." He whispered back. "What she has to believe!” Mark continued to stare at Dian as a smile grew on his face. "Mickey says that this will only be a bad nightmare once in a while. That her mind who wants to, will have forgotten all the bad when she wakes."
Tramp Wars: The Enemy Page 91
