Fracture Lines
A Science Fiction Novel
Book Two
of
The Glass Complex Trilogy
John Hindmarsh
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 John Hindmarsh
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author.
Published by
Rexon Press
Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations, and incidents are entirely fictitious, invented by the author for the purpose of the story. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover
Cover Design by Kalen O’Donnell
http://www.bookablecovers.com/
Formatting
Formatting by Polgarus Studio and, as usual, the result is excellent.
http://www.PolgarusStudio.com
Editing
This book was copy edited by Sasha Paulsen.
Any errors were introduced by the writer.
Sometimes British terminology or spelling somehow finds its way into the story; that’s because I’m Australian.
Beta Readers
A number of people took time out of their busy schedules and read Fracture Lines in draft and pre-edit form, and they made very helpful and constructive comments. You know who you are – thank you very much.
Dedication
I want to thank my wife Cathy for her continuing patience, for providing her utmost support, and finally for re-reading many drafts.
This book is for Cathy.
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Also by John Hindmarsh
Chapter 1
The bright red gurney moved quietly along corridors and around corners on its cushioned tires as it traversed the hospital starship. The controlling AI had a pre-set destination and ignored half-hearted attempts by operators and nurses to question its activities. The gurney passed a nursing station and a khaki-uniformed nurse lieutenant raised his head in an inquiring move. He returned to his viewscreen task when the gurney moved on without hesitation. The AI had received its program via HS xTaur’s computer system and would not deviate from its instructions.
The small vehicle eased aside and slowed when it detected two nurses in the corridor, heading towards their duty stations to commence their shift. They casually checked the empty stretcher borne by the gurney and continued, without comment; gurneys traveling under direction of their dedicated AIs were a common sight for a hospital starship. One of the nurses, her curiosity piqued by the unaccompanied vehicle, attempted to trace the gurney and its mission when she reached her duty station. Her efforts were unsuccessful, and she soon re-focused on her standard shift responsibilities.
After the two nurses passed, the gurney moved back into the middle of the corridor and accelerated, as though wanting to make up for time lost because of the brief delay. As it moved further into the interior of xTaur, it encountered fewer and fewer crew or medical staff.
xTaur was based on a category 10 warship; however, while it had extremely powerful shields, as a hospital ship, it did not carry major offensive weapons. It was able to defend itself against minor attacks and unfriendly boarding parties, and carried a small force of marines in support of its defense.
There were patients on board the hospital starship: personnel rescued from damaged or destroyed starships and wounded marines recovering from injuries suffered in recent territorial hostilities, Empire against Rim polities. Most of the patients were in their final stages of treatment and recuperation and would be discharged when xTaur reached her home base.
Medicos and crew rarely frequented the more remote areas of the hospital ship, and the linking corridors were unlit until motion detectors recognized movement and triggered illumination. Overhead lights flickered on and off in sequence, matching the gurney’s transit through the gray, fullerene-steel lined corridors. It moved along these corridors, now at an even faster pace, with programmed foreknowledge that its path would be uncluttered. Gurneys, rated as emergency transport equipment, had priority over most other AI-controlled mobile devices. This gurney did not falter in its progress, guided as it was by an accurate internal ship positioning system. As it traveled into the depths of the starship, it encountered only maintenance bots, which, recognizing the urgency of the gurney’s mission, moved quickly out of its path. These bots were not programmed to question the presence of other xTaur-registered AI ship life.
The gurney slowed as it approached a stretch of darkened corridor where lights did not switch on and its pace faltered. The gurney’s AI was receiving commands that appeared to conflict with its perceived reality. It halted its forward movement and edged sideways until it was pressed firmly against the outward wall of the corridor. At the moment it was in position, a section of the wall slid back, revealing a hidden doorway.
The door opened and a humanoid body fell through the opening, collapsing awkwardly onto the gurney. The AI did not question the unassisted nature of the body’s fall nor the existence of the damaged black sword that also fell; these things were outside its scope, as were the soft-hued red and blue lights of the portal revealed through the doorway. The gurney, directed by its AI control unit, used its arms to straighten its new burden, securing the body and ensuring it was in place on its stretcher. It placed the black sword alongside the body. Before the gurney moved away, the door to the portal closed, creating a seal undetectable to all including the most diligent and industrious searcher.
The AI had conducted
a rapid assessment and determined the body was alive, although barely so. It recognized the critical nature of its passenger’s injuries and with renewed urgency, the AI instructed the gurney to retrace its original path. The vehicle accelerated to an almost dangerous speed, using its siren and flashing lights to warn of its approach and to advise of its urgent life-saving mission. As it traveled the corridors, it produced a detailed assessment of its patient. On return to the more populated sections of the hospital starship, it ignored nursing workstations on its path, even though nurses, alerted by its emergency alarms, attempted to offer their assistance. The gurney had a pre-programmed destination and would not be diverted from its target. It passed through areas populated with patients, doctors, and nurses, and ignored them all.
At last the gurney sensed its destination and slowed to almost a complete halt outside a small intensive care unit. The door to the ICU swished open and the gurney rolled inside, stopping beside a prepared bed. The sides of the stretcher dropped automatically, enabling easy transfer of its burden. A surgeon and two nurses, alerted by workstation instructions, which included the patients name and rank, were waiting and reacted without delay to their patient’s needs. The gurney’s AI downloaded its medical report to the ICU workstation.
“Lift him,” Dr. Yi said. She was dressed in white trousers and jacket with her colonel’s badges displayed on each shoulder tab.
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the senior nurse.
The two nurses moved the patient from the gurney to the bed while the surgeon reviewed the AI’s injury assessment report, after which she examined the patient.
His head was badly bruised and bleeding from pressure-generated splits in his skin. There was a jagged wound, still oozing blood, reaching from his left temple to his jaw. The side of his head was her major concern, and the AI examination had identified a number of underlying fractures that, she hoped, had not caused brain damage. There was a possibility of brain swelling, which she would need to monitor and determine if and when surgery would be necessary.
“Quickly, remove his uniform,” she urged. When the nurses began to strip the unconscious body, she noticed the blackened hilt of the damaged sword. “What’s that?”
A nurse lifted the weapon. “A sword,” she said. “Damaged. It’s similar to those the front-line officers have. More ceremonial than anything else, I suppose.”
Dr. Yi said, “Put it in the cabinet with his clothes.”
She issued precise directions to her nurses as they prepped their patient. The intensive care staff carried out their tasks with little conversation. They attached sensors and data leads to the patient’s body and skull, and connected them to various diagnostic, monitoring, and pharmaceutical dispenser units. These would measure and report vital signs, monitor recovery progress, and insert medication into the tank and the patient. The nurses completed their tasks in minutes.
At last the doctor said, “Ready for full immersion.”
One of the nurses used a keypad to control the bed unit, moving it towards the immersion tank. The bed tipped, sliding the patient into the tank, where his naked body sank into the warm and welcoming liquid.
Dr. Yi used an ICU workstation to enter a set of instructions for the immersion process based on her assessment, together with details from the AI’s report. She entered her patient’s DNA sample via an attached input device. Meanwhile, small and accurate pumps added measures of fluid and medication as the immersion tank followed its new program. The doctor checked the reported details of her patient’s vital signs and, satisfied, closed the lid of the tank and secured it firmly. She expected, given the nature of her patient’s head injuries, her patient would remain in the tank for at least three weeks. She and her team would monitor him continually, day and night, during the immersion process. Dr. Yi’s main concern was the likelihood of brain damage, caused by what she assessed as the pressure impact from an energy weapon; she was hopeful surgery would not be required.
The gurney, its task completed, had reversed out of the intensive care unit. A one-time externally loaded program wiped the AI’s memory of the last thirty minutes and then deleted itself as the gurney, under its regular software control, returned to its charging station. The emergency transport unit halted in position over the ceramic power supply, now unaware of any of its recent activities.
*****
Chapter 2
“Captain de Coeur?”
Steg raised his head off the pillow to look at his visitor. “Yes?” His voice was a croak. Almost instantly, his head fell back and his eyes closed.
“I’m Lieutenant Carson, Imperial Security. I have some questions for you.”
Steg tried to focus on the officer. His vision was blurred and his eyes watered. “Yes?” His voice had not improved.
“Tell me about your uniform. We do not have its design in our records.”
“Wha—” He did not hide his confusion.
“Your uniform. Where did you get it?”
“Issued—to me.”
“By whom?”
“Imp—Imperial Intelligence Agency.”
“There’s no such agency.” The questioner’s voice held a challenging tone.
Steg’s eyes closed again. His awareness faded as he lost consciousness and he did not hear the conversation that ensued when Dr. Yi entered the ICU.
“Lieutenant, what are you doing here?”
“Doctor, this is none of your business.”
“If you interfere with the well-being and recovery of one of my patients, it certainly is my business. Now get out of this unit.”
“You can’t order me—”
Although Dr. Yi was diminutive, her fury compensated for her tiny build. She arm-twisted the ImpSec officer and marched him to the ICU doorway. The doctor held the rank of colonel and she was not going to be lectured to by a green lieutenant, even if he was wearing ImpSec colors.
“You can’t do this to me. I’m Imperial Security,” protested the young officer, rubbing his wrist. His expression was petulant. He straightened his cuff, shaking out the crease resulting from the surgeon’s grip.
“Lieutenant Carson, you’re banned from all wards where I have authority. In future, if you wish to interview one of my patients, you must submit a written request for me to consider. Also, you will need to be accompanied by your senior officer. Understand?” Dr. Yi dusted her hands and turned away—she had concluded their conversation.
The ImpSec lieutenant left, futilely attempting to slam the air-cushioned ICU doors, all the while vowing, under his breath, revenge for his humiliation. He was far more accustomed to a different reaction; his typical target was some young and naive recruit, easy to both bully and browbeat. His report to his commanding officer would detail this encounter with Dr. Yi as an unwarranted assault on his person and as an insult to Imperial Security. He was annoyed at having his intentions frustrated by those whom he considered beneath him. His was an Alutan family and house failing, although he did not recognize it as such.
In the meantime the surgeon had stepped back into the ICU and checked the vital signs of her patient. He had been out of the tank for less than a day and was not yet in any condition to cope with questions, let alone unnecessary ones from ImpSec with their rough approach and automatic assumption of guilt.
Dr. Yi was pleased with the results of her medical treatment. The young captain was making progress. Oh yes, she thought, he has an ugly scar on the side of his face; the discoloration would fade with time and if necessary, Fleet would arrange surgery to reduce or remove any residual facial disfigurement. Her real concern was the possibility of some memory loss or impaired mental functioning as a result of the impact to her patient’s head. She would not know if her concern was real until he was further along his recovery process. She recorded her observations at the ICU workstation.
###
Steg sensed the presence of someone and tried to open his eyes. His eyelids flickered. At last he was able to hold them open. Judging b
y her uniform and shoulder tabs, a medical colonel was standing beside his bed, observing him.
“Good morning, Captain de Coeur,” said the colonel. “My Name’s Yi, Dr. Yi. How do you feel this morning?”
“I’m—not sure.” His voice still croaked.
The doctor checked the monitoring readouts along the top of the ICU bed. Her patient was recovering, much faster than she had anticipated.
“Your life signs are good. Your condition is improving.” She held his wrist. She intended the gesture to provide comfort and reassurance; she had already observed her patient’s pulse on the readouts. “What are you able to remember? Can you tell me what happened to you?”
Steg thought for a moment and frowned. “It’s all blank. I don’t know. Where am I?” He tried to raise himself off the pillow.
“Gently, don’t agitate yourself,” the doctor cautioned as she pushed him back. “You’re on xTaur, an Imperial hospital starship. You’ll meet my nursing team later. We’ve been treating you for almost four weeks now.”
“A hospital starship? Imperial?”
“Of course. Now tell me about yourself. I need to make notes for our medical records. Who’s your commanding officer?”
“I report to—to—Colonel—Denke. My CO is—General Boston.” His eyes closed and his voice faded.
Dr. Yi entered the brief details supplied by her patient. The ship system did not find a match to the officers he had mentioned. The surgeon frowned, wondering if perhaps she had misheard the names.
###
“This is an official enquiry, Dr. Yi,” reminded Colonel Richmond, the senior Imperial Security officer presiding. It was ten days after Colonel Yi’s run-in with the young ImpSec lieutenant. The colonel, together with two other ImpSec officers, both majors, was sitting behind a courtroom-like bench. The three men wore the green fatigues of serving military officers. Dr. Yi stood before the tribunal. She had dressed in her white uniform, with all the medals she had earned on the battlefield. It was an impressive collection, reflecting, amongst other awards, medals for her bravery in treating wounded personnel while under fire and for her dedication to her patients. She doubted the ImpSec officers would appreciate their symbolism.
Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) Page 1
