Within a minute he was in the local infirmary, the medical staff hovering over him, getting his arm into a bionic cast that would hold the injured area still and allow his arm to work at the joint. He was given booster shots of nanites, protein solutions, and a cocktail mix of drugs. Soon after he was fast asleep, his last thought how unfair it was to be injured in such a freak manner.
“You OK, son?” was the first thing he heard the next morning.
Cornelius opened his eyes and looked up at the face of Captain Zhukov, looking down at him with a concerned expression on his face.
“No pain, sir,” he said in a disappointed voice.
“Not your fault,” said the Captain. “Maybe no one’s fault.” The Captain was silent for a moment, looking at the wall, then back at his prize trainee. “You worried that you might have to recycle?”
“Yes, sir. That I am.”
“Let me see what I can do about that,” said the Captain, patting Walborski on the shoulder. “I might be able to swing something. You won’t graduate with this company, but we may be able to get you into one at this stage of training.”
“I would appreciate that, sir,” said the Corporal.
“You just work hard at rehabilitating, son,” said the Captain, patting Walborski again on the shoulder, standing up, and walking away.
The rest of the day was spent with medical personnel hovering over him, scanning, probing, making sure that the first stage of the healing process was going according to plan. If the first stage was accomplished without any problems, the rest would just occur without much need for supervision. By day three he was declared ready for rehab, and the bionic cast was removed. The arm was still tender to the touch, and the muscles didn’t look quite like they were supposed to, but it was definitely an improvement over what he had seen right after the accident.
That afternoon Cornelius jacked into the simulator program, becoming a whole and hale soldier going through combat. The simulator took all his concentration, running him through what seemed to be real time simulations that compressed a day into every hour. The trainer would help to complete the hard wiring of his nervous system, while giving him more experience. Part of that experience was dying. Several times he made mistakes, and those times he was killed. One was relatively painless. The other.
In the other he had an arm taken off by a laser beam. The pain was almost unbearable, and only kicking in the pain block of his system allowed him to deal with it. The simulator did a perfect job of making the illusion real, and the wounded trooper didn’t get to cover in time and caught a projectile through the stomach. He lay there on the field in an agony that no pain block could handle, feeling the life seeping out of him despite the efforts of the nanites. Blackness started at the edge of his vision and moved in, until all was dark. He woke from the simulation with an indrawn breath, knowing he didn’t want to undergo that in reality. And that’s why they throw that in there, he thought as he lay in the bed sweating. He lay there for a few moments, catching his breath, then jacked back in for another go. He was still at it when the medical personnel interrupted him for dinner, then back at it until they activated his reticular system and put him to sleep.
* * *
“Corporal Walborski? I’m Sergeant Sutton, your physical Therapist. And how are you doing today?”
Cornelius looked at the vision that appeared before him with an open mouth. Katlyn, he thought, immediately making the comparison. She had the same strawberry hair, the same dusting of light freckles over her nose, a nose that was so much like hers that to see it made his heart ache. The eyes were the same color and had the same twinkle. He adjusted that comparison with a second glance, seeing the differences as well as the similarities. Her face was a little rounder, she was taller, though the contours of the body that showed through the tight uniform were similar.
“Are you OK, Corporal?” asked the woman in a concerned voice.
“You just reminded me of someone,” he said in a choked voice. “Someone important to me, once.”
“A breakup,” she said with a frown. “You’re a good looking guy. I’m sure you won’t have any trouble attracting another woman.” She flashed him that heart stopping mile again.
“It wasn’t a breakup,” said Cornelius in the same choked voice. “It was my wife, and she was killed by those bastard aliens.”
The beautiful blue-green eyes opened in shock. They closed, and her jaws moved as she went through the motions that Cornelius knew was a link.
“My God, but I’m sorry,” said the Sergeant. “I had no idea. I checked your file on the way over, but only the parts that were germane to my job.” The woman pushed the words out in a rush, the tone of someone being apologetic but not knowing how to apologize.
“It’s OK,” said Cornelius, touching her forearm with his good hand. “You had no way of knowing. I’m Cornelius, by the way.”
“I’m Devera,” said the woman, an embarrassed smile creeping onto her face. She closed her eyes again, linking into the database. “My God. The Imperial Medal of Heroism. And you only just started your career.”
“I told the Emperor I really didn’t deserve it, but he refused to take no for an answer.”
“You spoke with the Emperor? You know the Emperor?”
“Yes to both,” said Cornelius with a smile. “He’s a really great guy. Let me keep my baby at the palace and everything.”
A look of what could almost be called adoration appeared on the woman’s face. Cornelius almost said something to bring her back to reality, then thought better of it.
“But, I remind you of your wife,” she said, the smile disappearing from her face. “I am so sorry, but I am not her.”
“Of course you aren’t,” said Cornelius, realizing that he might have blown any chance he had with this women, who is was suddenly very important to get to know.
“Let’s get to work,” she said, motioning for Cornelius to get out of bed. She left the room for a moment to let him get dressed, then led him down the corridor to a therapy room.
Cornelius got to work, using the machines that pushed his muscles to the limit. His forearm was still weak, though stronger than that of a normal man. He was determined that it would again be superhuman in the shortest possible time.
“It’s time for a break,” said Devera after hours of sweaty work.
“I could keep going,” said Cornelius, not wanting to quit despite his fatigue.
“You need to get something to eat,” she said, tossing him a towel. “That’s the problem with you supermen. You always want to push past your limits. Nanite boosters and protein shots are all well and good. But you also need solid food. And some rest for tired muscles.”
Cornelius followed the woman to the mess hall and got a full tray. She sat down next to him and talked the entire time. Mostly the conversation was business, but Devera could not keep herself from asking questions about the Emperor and the palace.
“Perhaps I could get you an invitation the next time I visit,” said the Corporal with a smile.
“Don’t you think that is getting a little too personally involved?” she asked, the smile leaving her face again.
I really don’t need to get involved, he thought, looking into the eyes that said anything but she didn’t like the idea of personal involvement. I need to keep focused on the prize. He sat there for a moment, thinking, and she looked at him with a curious expression. It’s only been eight months. Not even enough time to grieve.
“What are you thinking?” she asked, placing a hand on his forearm.
But Katlyn wouldn’t want me to be miserable. She’s gone. I’ll never see her again, whether she went to heaven like the preachers say, or just ceased to exist. If there is a heaven, I don’t think I’m destined to go there. “I’m thinking that you’re not in my chain of command, so there is no regulation against my asking you to accompany me to see the palace.”
“I’m, not sure about that,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s tim
e to get back to work anyway.”
Cornelius nodded and followed her back to the therapy chamber. His mind wasn’t totally into the workout now, but he went through the motions. That must have satisfied the Sergeant, because she kept giving approving comments, though her mind didn’t seem to be totally into the workout either.
“See you in the morning,” she told him after she had walked him back to his room.
Cornelius lay awake part of the night, thinking about this woman he had just met. Love at first sight? I don’t really believe in that. I knew Katlyn most of my life, and our love grew through that knowledge. He wondered for a moment when he had become so philosophical. A result of the augmentation? They had told him that his thought processes would be much faster than before. Didn’t that mean an increase in intelligence? How much of one?
The Corporal lay there for a moment more, linking into the military net and sending a com request through. Prior to the deployment of the wormholes what he was trying to do would have taken days to reach the target of his com. Now it got through almost instantaneously. He was not surprised when the person he was trying to contact wasn’t available. Of course he had more important things to do. That he would get the message he was sure. He wasn’t sure of the response, but he was hopeful.
The next morning the Sergeant was again at his bedside when he woke. Cornelius wasn’t sure she would be there. It would have been easy for her to swap assignments with another therapist. That she was here was a sign of interest? Or just that she took her duties seriously?
The day passed with him working out and their talking, mostly about his progress and plans for the future. That was a topic that really didn’t make much sense to him. The Army was in charge of his future. Then the conversation turned to more personal things.
He learned that she was to be married in the recent past, to an officer. Said officer was assigned to occupation duty on a former Lasharan world, populated by fanatics who had no concern for lives, their own or others. Her fiancé’ had been one of the many lives lost on that world. And so she had joined the Army, giving up her own studies in premed to become a physical therapist, working with men and women who had undergone regrowth and had a need for experts to help them get back to full function.
On the fourth day Cornelius finally received the reply he had been hoping for. He sent the original message on to Devera’s personal mail, so she could see the origin and know that it was fact.
“How in the hell did you do that?” asked Devera the next morning when she came to get him for his day of therapy.
“I told you, I know some people. And it seemed like you really wanted to meet the Emperor. So this is your chance.”
“I don’t know,” said the women, looking at Cornelius out of narrowed eyes. “I have a job to do here, as do you.”
“And the invitation comes with an Imperial command that orders everyone involved to expedite our travels.” He saw that the woman was still uncomfortable. “Look, you want to meet the Emperor. I know you do. And it’s not like I’m taking you off to a private rendezvous. This is the Imperial Palace we are talking about. The most protected place in the Empire, with the heaviest surveillance assets known.”
“This doesn’t feel right,” she said, a blush coming across her fair face.
“Look, are you going to disobey an Imperial Order? That doesn’t sound like a loyal soldier to me. I have no choice but to go. Do you want me to tell Sean the First that you decided he was not important enough to take a day of your time and meet him.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” said the woman, putting her hand up to her mouth.
“Then it’s agreed. We leave tomorrow morning. We’ll tour the palace in the afternoon and have dinner with the Emperor that evening.”
“I guess I can’t refuse,” she said, a smile breaking out on her face. “So I might as well enjoy it.”
It took an hour the next day to get to the gate. From there it took five minutes to get through the Donut and on to Jewel. The next stage was something that lit up the eyes of the Sergeant up like nothing before, not even the technological marvel of the wormhole gates. They were escorted by Secret Service agents to a luxurious aircar that was as roomy as a small bus. A staffer served them drinks as the car lifted and headed on a roundabout path to the Palace.
After the car landed they were ushered into a room with Secret Service agents and some medical personnel. “We need to check you out,” said one of the Agents. “Can’t tell you why, but it is important. And very secret.”
“No problem,” said Cornelius, letting a med tech take a deep tissue sample from his arm. There was no pain, and he smiled over at the woman he had brought here, letting her know that it was OK.
“You both check out as you,” said the lead Agent with a smile. “We’ve arranged a tour of the Palace. Starting with some of the public areas, then the private.”
“Public areas?” asked Devera with a surprised expression.
“Of course,” said the Agent, who was a cute woman with a completely harmless look about her. “This building is a public resource of the Empire. Most days there are tour groups from schools, civic organizations and just plain citizens going through.”
Cornelius watched the woman carefully. She did a good job of masking her movements, something that had to come with a lot of training. But he could see the signs, the fast movements of the eyes, the way her ears perked up at sounds that were out of the normal range of hearing. Sounds he could hear. She was augmented, as he was sure most of the nonmilitary security was.
They first went through the public areas, where masterwork portraits of past Emperors and other members of the Imperial Family were hung in ornate frames, and jewels and symbols were encased in shatterproof containers. It was a display of the past of the Empire as seen through the lives of the ruling family. Cornelius understood that many of these same objects, or at least their copies, were on display in one of the buildings of the Imperial Museum complex in the center of the city.
The private display was even more impressive in its own way. They toured the actual rooms where Imperial policy was formulated before it reached the official parlors and meeting halls. Then it was to the gardens, or at least a sampling of the gardens.
Devera stared in wonder at everything they saw. Cornelius had seen some of it before, and he was not as fascinated with history as was his date. The Ranger was into the here and now, and what he could do to affect it. But it felt good to be in the company of a beautiful woman who was obviously having the time of her life.
They spent the last couple of hours playing with Walborski’s son. Devera obviously enjoyed playing with the smiling baby, who had grown beyond his father’s belief. Could she end up being your mother? he thought, then dismissed that train as going much too fast in his own mind into what was only a nascent relationship.
Then it was time to go to their rooms and get ready for dinner. Their rooms were separate enough to pay homage to propriety, but close enough that he could always hope for a liaison.
When they entered the dining room, a different one than where he had eaten before, they were the only ones there. Cornelius let out a calming breath as he took his seat on the side of the table, Devera seated across from him. Last time he had been here two thirds of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had been invited as well. Not that he had minded talking with them, giving them his impressions of the enemy that he had fought in such intimate quarters. But tonight that would have been a bit much.
“The Emperor Sean Ogden Lee Romanov, Sean the First, and the Imperial Consort, Doctor Jennifer Conway,” announced a voice.
Cornelius and Devera both came to their feet to positions of attention.
“At ease,” said Sean with a laugh. “I’m just the ruler of human space, not your company commander.”
Cornelius smiled and accepted the grip of his liege and friend, then kissed the back of Jennifer’s hand. He had to admit that the Doctor had never looked better, and she had been an exceedingly
beautiful woman when he had known her on Sestius.
“And such a gorgeous woman you bring to my house, Cornelius,” said Sean, taking Devera’s hand and kissing it. “Welcome, Devera.”
“Your Majesty,” she said, her face reddening.
“Call me Sean,” said the Emperor. “Tonight you are among friends. Tomorrow we can get back to the bowing and scraping.”
Devera laughed, and Cornelius smiled as he saw how she was being caught up in the charm of Sean. Jennifer looked him over with what Sean saw as a Doctor’s eye, and it didn’t take a genius to know what she was thinking.
“You're no longer the skinny little farmer,” she said, touching his chest. “The military has really changed you.”
“Augmentation probably had something to do with it,” said Sean. “Though I’m sure hard work and good food played its part.”
“But the cost,” exclaimed Jennifer, a painful expression on her face.
“No worries there,” said Sean with a shrug. “I happen to know that Cornelius has a very unusual genome. His life span shouldn’t suffer from the augment process.” The Emperor looked Cornelius in the eyes. “Your son shares the genome, thanks to all your dominant genes.”
“He has his mother’s eyes,” protested Cornelius.
“But the important genes came from you,” said the Emperor. “I want to look into your family tree. I have a feeling that someone in the Imperial line jumped in there somewhere.”
That left Cornelius with something to think about. If it could be proven that he was a distant relative of the Emperor he might be entitled to some small patent of nobility. Not that it really mattered much to him, but it would be nice if Junior had some privilege in this society, in which, though it espoused the ability of people to rise above their birth, heritage was still important.
The rest of the evening was magic, with Sean and Jennifer making the two junior NCOs feel welcome in the hall of ultimate power. Cornelius studied the Emperor during the evening. Through the smiles and the laughs he could see the stress that the young man was under. He also saw the strength of the man, and knew that no one in the Empire was better suited for the task.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 05 - Ranger Page 16
