Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree)

by Marshall S. Thomas

  "What happened with Delta?"

  "I don’t know. We don't have time to do anything except work on the casualties that they rush into triage. We don’t know the big picture."

  "MAKE WAY! MAKE WAY! CRITICAL! MAKE WAY!" Four troopers in dirty black armor came charging along the aisle, hauling a fifth trooper on an air effects stretcher, no helmet, clad in bloody armor scarred with white Xmax hits. They were gone in a frac.

  "I need to know what happened to Delta," I said.

  "I'll find out, Honey. I'll find out."

  The door at one end of the room snapped open and an armored trooper stepped in, his E balanced on one hip. There was another trooper behind him. Their faceplates were closed, a dark ruby red, like dried blood.

  "What do you need?" one of the doctors asked gruffly.

  "VIP inspection," the trooper replied, looking around warily. The second trooper strode down the aisle and took a position by the other door.

  "Fuck that!" the doctor replied, enraged. "There'll be no VIP inspections in here! Get the hell out of my ward and take your VIP's with you!"

  The trooper ignored him, gesturing in a crowd of visitors clad in armor. One of them was a female. She turned to address her group. "Turn off those holscans!" she said icily. "If I see anybody taking pix, I'll have you arrested for treason!" Then she turned to the doctor. "Please excuse the interruption, Doctor. I want to visit our heroes. Do I have your permission?"

  The doctor seemed at a loss for words, then replied, "Yes, of course. Of course."

  The armored female visited every bed, taking her time, talking in a low voice with the patients. The rest of the group stood around watching her. There were a lot of security people. Although I could not move my head, I could see her out of the corners of my eyes. And it slowly dawned on me who she was. It was the DG – the Director of ConFree, Antara Tarantos-Hannah. Herself. Visiting her wounded heroes. Good Lord! The Director! Right here! Right in the war zone. Surrounded by the enemy! I had last seen her when she greeted the Bright Liaison Office delegates in Quaba City.

  She chatted with the wounded soldiers, those who could talk. She personally presented them with the blood badge – every one. She blessed them all. She thanked them all. She leaned over and kissed them. Once in awhile she cried, but mostly she remained in icy control.

  Honeyhair stood up so the DG could take the seat next to me. I was struck by the DG's incredible physical beauty as she settled into the chair. Lovely pale brown flesh, silky ruddy hair, chocolate brown eyes. What a honey!

  "I want to thank you personally, Trooper, for your service to the people of ConFree, and for your sacrifice." She placed a blood badge on my pillow. "Bless you." She gently rested one hand on my headcast. "You'll be going home soon. To a grateful nation. We're going to have a great victory here. Thanks to you, and to all your comrades. Your sacrifices construct the future." She leaned over and kissed me tenderly on the lips. "May God be with you," she said as she stood up. "They tell me you returned to us from the dead. You can't give more than that." And she made the cross of the Legion, tracing it in the air above my bed.

  After the DG departed, Honeyhair resumed her seat by my side. She seemed a little nervous.

  "Returned from the dead, huh?" I asked.

  "Yes. I'm sorry, dear. They told me not to tell you – until later. Psychological trauma, they said."

  "Well, here's a news flash. Once you've been shot in the head and killed, any psychological trauma resulting from that event will be minimal in comparison to the event itself."

  "Yes. I'm sorry, dear. I love you so much!"

  Δ

  That was one chaotic ward. Honeyhair was not there most of the time. She had plenty to do. I was recovering – so I was low on the ward's priorities list. But I looked forward to every time she approached my bed. She always had a smile for me, even when I could tell she had just been crying from whatever tragedy she had just witnessed. This time it was different. Yes, she had been crying. But there was no smile.

  "What is it?" I asked.

  She stood beside my bed, as if in a daze. There were blood speckles on her white uniform but that was not unusual.

  "I…I…you know that Doggie and Scout were evaced by the Brights," she said.

  "Yes, I know that."

  "I couldn't find out anything about them. It's hard enough making inquiries in Legion channels, asking the Brights anything at this time is impossible."

  "Right. I got it."

  "And on the Legion side there's no place to ask about an individual squad. No place that has the time to answer, anyway. So there's only the casualty stats."

  "Yeah?"

  "Only the stats are almost endless. And not well organized."

  "You search for warname, serial number or assignment. It takes a nanofrac."

  "I know that. I found something." She hesitated. I could see the tears, filling her eyes. Oh no. Oh no.

  "I'm sorry, my darling. It's Nitro."

  I was silent.

  "He's listed as KIA." She couldn't look me in the eye.

  "Details please." Arie. KIA. Killed in action. No! It can't be!

  "No details. It was just a list of KIA compiled from battlefield tacmod reports. The list was entitled 'Misc KIA'."

  "Miscellaneous KIA! What the hell does that mean? Miscellaneous KIA! You mean like miscellaneous genocide, miscellaneous nuclear war, miscellaneous killer tsunami, miscellaneous giant asteroid dropping onto your planet and ending all life? Is that what they mean?" I was shouting. I wanted to rip off the damned casts and charge around, breaking whatever got in my way.

  "It means the report is uncategorized," Honeyhair said, calmly. "It's an initial battlefield report from a tacmod. There is only his warname, Nitro, his serial number, I checked it, and his assignment Delta Research. That's it." The tears were streaking down her cheeks now.

  "I refuse to believe it!" I said. I died for Delta, I thought. That was the deal. Delta was to survive. Arie can't be dead. He can't!

  Honeyhair's alert button sounded. "Got to go!" she said, turning and stumbling off, blinded by tears.

  Δ

  A wild, hair-raising alarm warbled through the ward, almost deafening me, awakening me from an uneasy nap. It sounded like a red alert. What the hell?

  "PERIMETER ALERT! ENEMY ATTACK! EMERGENCY STATIONS! BARRICADES UP! SECURITY TEAMS TO YOUR STATIONS! ALL MED PERSONNEL PROTECT THE PATIENTS!" People started running through the ward – first fully armored troopers with E's, then a flock of doctors and nurses. Something heavy whacked me in the chest. It was an A-vest, and Honeyhair was adjusting it so it rested over my cast. Her other hand held an E. Several doctors and nurses ran down the aisle to the far door where they began pushing random furniture up against the door. Big med supply cases, contents cascading out and falling to the deck, desks and tables and chairs. They were strapping on the A-vests as they worked, and they were all armed. By then, all the patients were hidden under the A-vests loosely dropped on top of them.

  "Honeyhair, what…" A tremendous explosion sounded and the whole building shuddered. Auto-X sounded, peppering the building. I could hear the individual explosions, then counterfire, more auto X. Damn it! I couldn't move a frac, and the enemy was about to kick in the door. I didn’t want to die like this, helpless.

  "Hush, darling. All is well. Nobody is getting past that door." She was right at the foot of my bed and she had her E pointed right at the door. Everybody did, all the doctors, all the nurses. The door was glowing red with all the laser spots dancing over it. Honeyhair appeared perfectly relaxed, aiming the E carefully, precisely. "Don't worry, dear, I've done this before. I had plenty of training on Providence, remember, when Trina and I were assigned to that air raid shelter."

  "Security alert, enemy is Commune troopers. Humans, humans. Reaction team is attacking. Get 'em, guys. Get 'em!" Thank God! Only humans, not Darks or Demons. Maybe the bad guys were running out of assets, to throw these humans at us. A tremendous firefight erupted
outside. Tacstars started going off. All right!

  "Go back to sleep, darling. They’re going to have to go through me to get to you, and that's not going to happen." She sounded supremely confident. I remembered when I had first met her. She had been a stunningly beautiful, arrogant, disinterested, selfish brat. She was still stunningly beautiful, but not the rest of it. She had sure changed.

  Δ

  "You're looking a lot better," Honeyhair said, with a big smile. I was sitting on the edge of my bed. The docs had removed most of the casting, I was finally out of the head brace and gingerly trying out my new mobility. There were deep nasty scars all over my neck, face and shaven scalp. I might have been ugly, but I was alive.

  "I feel a lot better," I replied. "A whole lot better."

  "Just in time. They're going to move you up to the Tough Love for further recovery and examination."

  "Just so long as they don’t send me to the House of Horrors, I'll be happy." I had had a very bad experience in the Legion Neurological and Physiological Reconstructive Recovery Hospital on Quaba after Galinta, and I never intended to return there. The CS Tough Love was a hospital ship and it had an excellent reputation. The Commune attack on our field hospital had been successfully repulsed and the siege was broken, so I could go any time.

  "Hello there." We looked up. It was Bees, armored and armed, her helmet clipped to her waist, her Battlestorm strapped to her shoulder.

  "Bees!" I said. "Oh my God, that's wonderful! It's great to see you!"

  "Likewise. Hello, Honeyhair. I didn’t expect to find you here."

  "I volunteered." Honeyhair smiled happily.

  "Good. Good," Bees said. She seemed quite serious. "Prophet. Don't move." She reached out her armored hands and held them around my head, without touching anything. She stood there awhile, then lowered her arms. "Excellent," she said. "Excellent! You’re in fine shape, Prophet. Fine!"

  'What was that all about, Bees?" I asked. "That's what the B's do when they're reading our minds."

  "Yes. And checking your health. And reading your soul."

  "Yeah?" I smiled. "So how is my soul?"

  "It’s strong, Prophet. Strong!" She had not yet smiled. She was deadly serious. It wasn't like her at all.

  "Tell us the news from Delta!" Honeyhair demanded.

  "Doggie and Scout are with the Brights – in the hands of God. They are fine."

  "What happened with Arie?" I asked. "How did it happen?"

  "Nitro went after you when you took off on your suicidal charge. I know you wanted to protect Delta, but there are consequences for actions like that. Nitro went after you to protect you. He was offering his life, for yours. And then Blackie took off after Nitro, probably to protect him, or maybe both of you. Nitro got hit about the same time you did." Bees seemed calm and emotionless as she discussed those horrible events. I was stunned.

  "Did they recover the body?" I asked.

  "I recovered the body. Ice and Smiley tried to keep him alive, and failed. I didn’t fail. He's now in the Sixtieth Legion Triage Recovery Unit of the Tenth Legion."

  "What! Arie is alive?" I was shocked.

  "Yes, He's alive. Just as you are."

  "You said he had been killed!"

  "Yes, I did. He was KIA. But I brought him back. The same way I brought you back. Only it wasn't really me. It was God. I'm nobody. I'm just an instrument."

  "Bees, that's wonderful! That's wonderful!" I reached out and embraced her. She seemed cold and unresponsive.

  "Don't you want to hear about the rest of the squad?" she asked. An icy hand seemed to close around my heart.

  "Yes, please."

  "Blackie was also hit, when going after Arie. His doggie armor saved him from a more serious wound. He survived. The Prof is taking care of him."

  "I thought Smiley was taking care of him."

  "Smiley was hit in the battle for Lift Twelve. Right in the chest. He was KIA. But I wasn't there – I couldn't get to him."

  "Smiley!" Oh no, I thought – not Smiley! He was just married, just enjoying his new bride. I'd have to tell her about it, tell her that there was no more future, that all her happy dreams, and his, were gone forever. Another Delta dead. And what was I dying for? What about that pact I had made with the Gods –I die, they live? What about that?

  "It’s all right, though," Bees resumed. "He was surrounded by Bright soldiers. Some nameless Bright took the time to restore life to his body, may God's will be done. He's now recovering with the Brights."

  "Oh God, thank God! Bees, please don’t do that! You almost gave me a heart attack!" I said.

  "Thank you, Bees," Honeyhair said. "Thank you for all you have done. It's incredible, what you have done."

  "Don't thank me. I have done nothing. Thank God. It was God who gave you back your husband, and God who gave Blondie back her husband, and God who gave Christine back her husband. Not me." Bees looked sharply over towards the door, then up to the ceiling. "Oh look," she said. "Look!" She raised her arms up to the ceiling which was covered with dangling medical equipment. "Angels!" She was beaming, watching invisible angels shooting along just under the ceiling, swirling past over her head, towards the opposite door.

  "Oh! Oh! Look! They're so beautiful! Do you see them? Do you see them?" She was looking up there in awe, twisting her head around to see them all, sheer rapture showing on her face, sheer joy. Everybody in the ward was staring at her, doctors, nurses, patients. I looked hard, but couldn't see any angels.

  "Oh, they’re magnificent! Look at the colors! They're visiting the wounded. You are all soldiers of God and the angels are visiting you! Rejoice, God is watching you and He loves you! He loves you!"

  "Honeyhair," I whispered urgently, "Get her out of here before they restrain her and toss her into a padded cell. Now, please!"

  And she did it.

  Chapter 19

  Zone Three

  The Confederation Ship Tough Love was a spectacular, spotless hospital star city that could handle unlimited casualties of the worst kind in a calm, peaceful, efficient and orderly manner. The ship was staffed by the very best of Fleetcom's Medical Corps and in an emergency such as this one, they were joined by volunteer medical help from all over ConFree. It was a pleasure being there after the chaotic conditions downside on Vulcan.

  I was walking wounded but spent much of the day under examination by an unending host of medical types. Soldiers who had returned from the dead were of great interest to a whole lot of researchers intent on reversing battlefield deaths. I knew how important that was – ConFree had conquered death with immortality but that didn't stop bullets. But the Brights could revive the dead, assuming there was anything left to revive. It was astounding, and ConFree needed the secrets of their success. I knew how important it was to cooperate, but this time it was not in a hostile, cold bureaucracy like the Legion Recovery Hospital on Quaba. There was nothing tough about the care we received on the Tough Love. All I could feel was love, and respect. The doctors and nurses treated us like heroes. They knew what we'd been through.

  "Man, you are one ug-lee soldier!" I opened my eyes. I was on the sun deck, where scores of wounded vets were soaking up the beneficial rays from ceiling racks of blazing artificial sunlight. I looked up from my lounge chair. Somebody was standing over me. I blinked and he came into focus.

  "Arie!" I struggled out of the lounge and embraced him. We stood there a long time, and it felt so damned good knowing he was alive, and I was alive, and we had both survived it all.

  "All right, all right, enough kissy face," Arie said. "People will begin to wonder about us." We drew apart slowly and looked each other over.

  "Well, you don't look so bad," I said. "Except for the chest protector or whatever that is." We were both dressed for the sun room, shorts and floppies, but Arie wore a white armorite covering over his chest and back. His arms were scarred badly – and his legs.

  "Yeah, they blew a big hole in me," he said. "But Bees saved my ass. I died, they
tell me, but she revived me and kept me alive until the docs could get to me. They said my heart was mostly gone, but they put in a new one."

  "Do you remember getting hit?" I asked.

  "No. Nothing at all. They tell me Blackie went after me, but I remember nothing."

  "Arie. Thanks. I know you came after me. I'm sorry. I didn’t want to endanger anyone in Delta. That's why I was out there, on my own. I wanted to end the threat before they could go after Delta."

  "Ah, don’t worry about it. We all know you're a raving maniac. Nobody was surprised when you went charging off like that. But I couldn't leave you out there on your own. Man! You really got zapped, didn’t you?" He was looking over my extensive scars.

  "Yeah, they hit pretty much everything that was worth hitting. Except they missed my balls."

  "Well, that's good. You know if you decide to leave the Legion you can get a starring role in children's horror flicks. You can be the monster."

  "Is it really that bad?" I touched the scars on my face.

  "Yeah. It is."

  "Well, they tell me it will heal. I died, too – I don’t know if they told you. And Bees saved me. The woman is a saint."

  "I won't disagree with that. Yeah, I heard about it."

  "Arie. Listen. Bees is going off the deep end. She's losing it. And we’ve got to help her." I told him about her vision of angels in the Thirty-Second Triage.

  "Well, maybe she did see angels and maybe they were real," Arie said. "Nothing would surprise me at this point."

  "It doesn't matter if they were real or not. If she keeps on acting like that, she's going to get into trouble."

  "I think it’s more likely that she's going to be viewed as a valuable national treasure. Do you know any other human who can bring battlefield dead back to life?"

  "Well…no."

  "She'll be fine, Prophet. Don't worry. With her talents, they'll let her see angels all day and nobody will say a word."