The Confluence: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 6)

by Valerie J Mikles

  “This is why I didn’t want him in one of your chambers,” Morrigan told Draver. Laying Tray flat on the floor, she used a finger to clear his mouth. There was blood coming from his gums, tear ducts, and ears, but his heart was still beating. “Can you breathe, Tray?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t have let it get this far. I’ll set up the imager. I want record of this damage,” Draver replied.

  “He’s a patient, not a specimen.” Morrigan snatched him by the collar and punched him in the face.

  “I feel like some god damn genie is granting me wishes in a twisted way,” she muttered, tending to her patient. Tray needed her now.

  Danny fanned the front of his shirt, wincing every time the fabric hit the tender stunner burn on his sternum. His pillow smelled like Chase, and every time he caught a whiff, he smiled imagining the wise-cracks Chase would have made if he were still in here. Amanda took over nursing Danny when Morrigan left the ship. Even when her meds were on the fritz, Amanda had a strong inclination to help the injured. She said it was because her mom was a nurse, but Amanda didn’t remember her mom, and back in the Revolution days, Amanda didn’t get near the wounded while her mom worked triage.

  Amanda’s feet fell heavily on the hollow crate she’d pressed to the wall. She stepped up and down, her hands braced against the wall, her light steps becoming heavy stomps as her energy tanked. Her pants turned to gasps, and she dropped to one knee. It wasn’t the first time in the last hour that she’d worn herself ragged, but her wheezing was getting worse.

  “You shouldn’t push that hard,” Danny chastised, rolling off the bed and crawling out of the sleep alcove.

  “How else will I remember how to run?” she said, huffing and puffing. She pressed a hand to her ribs, trying to slow the rise and fall of her chest. “Running is important. We’re not tourists here.”

  “You can breathe well enough to talk. That’s good,” he said, crawling to the box and nuzzling her face.

  “Blood pressure meds?” she gasped.

  Danny frowned. “Don’t have anything in here. Do you know what you’re looking for? I don’t want to interfere with your other meds.”

  Scooting closer to her, he massaged her neck and shoulders. It was uncomfortably hot and humid next to her, but it was nice to hear her soft sighs when he touched her.

  “Captain! Captain!” Hawk’s muffled voice came.

  “Hawk, if you can’t find your Feather, use the Vring,” Danny reminded him via Feather. He tipped open his door and heard Hawk clambering up the stairs. “Hawk, what is it?”

  “Danny, it’s Tray. He’s hurt,” Chase called, stumbling down from the ward room, keeping both hands on the rails.

  “Oh, Zive,” Danny muttered, grabbing a pulse rifle from the locker and tapping his Feather. “Saskia, what’s going on? Are you under attack?”

  “Danger is past. We should be in port in a minute,” Saskia replied, gasping between words. “Tray is injured.”

  “How bad? What can I get prepped?” Danny asked.

  “Scanner,” she panted. “We’re moving slowly. He can’t walk.”

  Danny felt sick again, and he hadn’t even eaten. He pushed open the door to his quarters. “Amanda, do you know how to set up the scanner?”

  She nodded, rubbing her chest. She was moving slowly, too.

  “Saskia, I can bring the Bobsled,” Danny offered.

  “It would take longer to load him in than…” She coughed and didn’t bother finishing the sentence. If Tray couldn’t walk and they didn’t have a taxi, then they were carrying him. The gravity was weighing hard.

  “Chase, how long to prep the Bobsled?” Danny asked, making his way slowly down the stairs. The residual sting of Coro’s stunner blast combined with gravity and adrenaline made him dizzy.

  “Can we use it here? Does it work in this gravity?” Chase asked, sitting on the stairs and scooting down one at a time. Hawk dashed across the bay and ran down the already open ramp.

  “Hawk!” Danny hollered. Hawk stopped with his toes still on the ramp, looked back to Danny, then ran out anyway. He didn’t even have a weapon! A few moments later, Miguel Santos came up the ramp, carrying a body wrapped in a white sheet. Saskia held his arm, sharing the load, and they both sank to the floor as soon as they were through the door.

  “Oh, Zive,” Danny prayed.

  “Calm down. You’re hyperventilating,” Hawk coached, coming in a few paces behind with Morrigan in his arms. “Deep breaths.”

  “You need to call the Enn. Tray was assaulted,” Morrigan cried, directing the order to Danny.

  “Tray’s a foreigner. You assaulted a citizen—Dr. Draver,” Santos retorted, throwing a look over his shoulder.

  “He prioritized his data over his patient!” Morrigan said, straightening her legs so that Hawk would have to put her down.

  “How could you let this happen?” Hawk accused.

  “You shut up or I’ll punch you, too,” Morrigan warned. She half-knelt, half-fell next to Tray, and for a moment pitched forward, trying to catch her breath.

  “A doctor did this?” Danny asked, cradling his brother’s face. There was blood around his eyes and nose, but none of it fresh. His head lolled when Danny felt for a pulse, and he stirred when Danny called his name.

  “The doctor was with me. The stunner blast to his back says someone dragged him in that grav-chamber,” Morrigan replied, crawling to Tray, aiming a knitter at his chest. At his heart. “This is more extreme than any reaction he had to Quin-based gravity chambers. Their system must be calibrated differently. Is no one going to call the Enn?”

  “Guard. Only if Santos thinks they’ll help,” Danny said.

  Santos sucked in his cheeks and shook his head. “If I call for an ambulance, they’ll report this to the Guard. That may be safer.”

  “Morri, can you treat this?” Danny asked.

  “I won’t know until I get him under a scanner,” she exhaled, rubbing her temples.

  “Call the ambulance,” Danny said.

  “No,” Tray croaked, rolling onto his side.

  “It’s all right, baby. You’re safe,” Saskia whispered, stroking the shell of Tray’s ear.

  “She tried to kill me,” Tray moaned, arching his back as pain radiated down his body.

  “Who? Morrigan?” Saskia asked.

  “Infirmary. Go,” Morrigan panted, dropping the knitter and bracing her hands on her thighs.

  “Doctor, you’re a hairsbreadth from your own medical emergency,” Santos said, angling Tray’s face to make sure he could breathe. “You belong on that ambulance with him.”

  “No. I won’t go out there again!” Tray cried.

  “Help me,” Morrigan insisted, hauling Tray upright.

  “Move,” Santos ordered, shoving between the others. He scooped Tray up, and carried the man through the lower deck hatch. Danny stumbled after Santos, catching Morrigan under the shoulders and helping her keep pace. Santos was right; they all needed doctors.

  Santos set Tray on the center bed. “What can I do?”

  Tray grabbed Santos’ jacket. “Arrest Solvere. She tried to kill me!”

  13

  Danny gripped the handrails in the hall as he paced. The burnt skin on his chest was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Benedict James and two other medics worked on Tray, while Saskia tried to convince Morrigan to lie down on the second bed.

  “No. No drugs,” Morrigan moaned, pushing the jet away.

  “This is medicine, and you need it,” Saskia insisted, clamping Morrigan’s arm and injecting the jet. Danny winced empathetically and rubbed his arm. She’d denied herself motion sickness medication during the flight, and she’d resisted the salt tabs for landing. Danny was glad her fear of backsliding didn’t translate into withholding meds from the rest of them.

  Tray’s body bowed and he kicked his legs, resisting the help of strangers. Danny touched the door, but he knew there was no space for him at Tray’s side right now.

&nb
sp; “Danny,” Chase said, coming down the hall and touching his arm. Danny turned quickly, pressing his face to Chase’s shoulder.

  “A crew’s here to take the water,” Chase said, giving him a squeeze.

  “No, they can’t,” Danny said, backing up and pressing his hands to his head. “If the ambulance needs to leave, they’ll block the way.”

  “Coro’s already trying to send them away,” Amanda said, peeking out from the crew lounge. “He’s shouting at them.”

  Danny cleared his throat and shook with anxiety. It was hard enough letting Santos bring the ambulance here, knowing that the Guard might get involved. In water transports, Guard were always involved. Usually Tray handled this part.

  “Did Saskia take all his weapons?” Danny asked. Neither Amanda nor Chase knew the answer. “Cover me from middeck.”

  Amanda nodded and closed the crew lounge door. The ladder in there would take her upstairs, and no matter how often he rotated the lock code on their armory, she found a way in.

  “You realize her hearing isn’t natural, right?” Chase said, pushing Danny past the infirmary to get him moving. Danny hustled ahead of Chase and tipped open the door to the bay. He heard Coro’s shouts as soon as the hatch cracked.

  “You are not touching my water until I talk to my wife,” Coro ranted. He stood at the top of the ramp, hands on hips, glaring at the two port workers and two unlucky guards outside. They wouldn’t board without invitation or provocation.

  “Coro, I’m not hauling this water back to Quin,” Danny hollered. “We agreed to a trade—”

  “I can tell by looking at that stack that the shipment is short,” Coro huffed, motioning to a single grav-lift with a small load.

  “You get half the payment now, then we bring the other half after,” the stockier guard said.

  “Can I drive the grav-lift,” Chase whispered in his ear. Danny barely stifled his chuckle.

  “I’d like to move quickly so the salt doesn’t damage the tank,” said one of the workers. Danny didn’t recognize him, and he wondered what happened to all the old port workers now that they weren’t getting any white market goods.

  “We’re having a bit of a medical emergency. You might have to pause for an ambulance to pass,” Danny said.

  “Shouldn’t be a problem. This tank is smaller than what we usually get,” the man replied.

  “Yeah, it’s surprisingly hard to find big tanks on the black market. And really hard to fill. The weight’s the same,” Danny said. But they were a water hauler. The best excuse to bring a ship that size to Terrana was a water haul. “Take the grav-lift left and to the back. Chase will show you where. The guards stay outside.”

  Danny stepped out of the way, dragging Coro with him.

  “Where do you think you’re going, Santos?” Coro groused, seeing the other man heading down the ramp.

  “Away from you,” Santos replied.

  “Saskia said you would have information about my wife,” Coro said. “The only reason I’ve waited this long—”

  He grabbed Santos roughly by the arm, and Santos drove his elbow into Coro’s gut. Coro went rolling down the ramp, but Danny caught his belt and hauled him back inside. Coro tried to sit up, then dropped his head again, rubbing his aching neck.

  “You don’t want to cross to their jurisdiction with that attitude. When we know where she is, your time will come,” Danny promised, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the two guards. If Santos called for their help, they’d come aboard. Coro grumbled angrily and Danny dragged him to the right side of the bay out of the way of the port workers.

  “Hawk, bring the med kit,” Danny called. Hawk pouted at being pulled away from the grav-lift that both he and Chase were ogling, but he brought the kit and nursed Coro with a thermal strip to the neck.

  “Did Saskia ask about the microcruiser that came in a few weeks ago?” Danny asked Santos.

  “I swear, I know nothing,” Santos said, loudly enough for the Guard outside to hear. He paced back toward the lower hatch, then dropped his voice again. “There’s been a lot of talk about Panoptica since it happened. The fringe hunters have stepped up their brutality. I don’t know why they think there’s suddenly money behind the bounties. Unless some kind of reward came on that cruiser.”

  “Only my wife!” Coro growled. “You’re telling me some fringe hunter killed her?”

  “You don’t listen well, do you,” Santos sneered. “Sikorsky Disappeared off your ship. Maybe she Disappeared off hers.”

  Danny glanced up to the mid-deck catwalk. Amanda lay flat, her eyes surveying the bay, her pulse rifle pointed in Coro’s general direction. From Tray’s effort, they knew Janiya had been at least two days in the 1, so she hadn’t teleported off the ship.

  “People Disappear all the time on Terrana,” Santos continued. “I saw it myself three months ago. Johann Kuhn vanished.”

  Danny’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his former housemate and best friend.

  “These Disappeared—they’re teleporting,” Coro said, regaining some composure. “They’re still on the surface somewhere.”

  “Johann disappeared from the 5?” Danny asked.

  “He never made it to the 5,” Santos replied. “He was near death and slated for incineration. He asked me to take him to the tunnel, to the junction between the 1 and the 4. He seemed to think help would find him there.”

  Danny closed his eyes, his heart palpitating as the horror story progressed. Hawk noticed and squeezed Danny’s arm.

  “Did help find him?” Hawk asked.

  “It must have,” Santos said. “His body was fragile. I couldn’t carry him into the tunnel on my own. I hoped that whomever he wanted to meet would be there to help me. I put him down. I didn’t turn my back more than a few minutes.”

  “He ran away,” Coro said.

  “He couldn’t walk,” Santos said.

  “Then he teleported,” Coro said, facing off.

  “If he had that ability, he would have done so before he suffered,” Santos said, looking guilty for his part in the torture. “As far as my superiors are concerned, the body was incinerated. But I know he Disappeared, just like Gray. And probably Coro’s wife. You can’t hunt the Disappeared.”

  Danny felt like a puddle of goo and emotions. He’d left his best friend at the mercy of the Guard. It didn’t matter whether Johann made it to safety or not. He’d been tortured to within an inch of his life, and he’d died alone amongst strangers.

  “Sky was also on the cruiser, too,” Hawk said. “Do people ever Disappear together?”

  “Sky? My Sky?” Santos stammered, his face getting pale. “Ishtar/Sky? The one who stole a shipment of Hanyu jewelry and left me heartbroken?”

  “Sounds very much like her,” Hawk said, exchanging a look with Danny.

  Santos laughed incredulously. “I saw her this morning. I completely lost it. I thought it was Lea being carried away, but I was talking to Lea at the time… then I just assumed I imagined it.”

  “She couldn’t walk?” Hawk asked worriedly.

  Santos shook his head. “A Guard took her to the 3.”

  “What’s in the 3?” Hawk asked.

  “Nothing bad that I know of,” Santos said. “Parker and Solvere meet there for sex quite often, but nothing bad.”

  “Can you take me there?” Hawk asked.

  Tray gurgled as his mouth filled with fresh blood.

  “Let’s move him,” an unfamiliar male voice floated past his clogged, aching ears. Tray felt his body lift from the bed, and he jerked upright, fearing another attack. His vision filled with reddish stars, and his gasps were wet with blood and saliva. The male voice gave more orders and Tray felt hands on his shoulders, stabilizing him in the partially upright position.

  “Are you all right? Can you still breathe?” the medic asked. Tray felt a tube press against his tongue and a light vacuum suctioned away the fluid. He mumbled something incoherent, and as the spots cleared, medic Benedict J
ames came into focus.

  “We’re taking you to the hospital. Would you prefer to lie on your side while we move you?” Benedict asked, adjusting the covering that Tray had become tangled in. He vaguely recalled them cutting away his clothes to check for open wounds, but this wasn’t like a gunshot.

  “Morrigan,” Tray croaked, twisting side to side and searching for her. She lay still on the second bed, her mouth hanging open, a blanket covering her body.

  “She’s staying here,” Benedict said, pushing Tray’s shoulder with more firmness.

  “What did you do to her?” Tray demanded, swatting at his hands. He felt someone else holding his legs down. Or maybe that was the after effect of the grav-chamber crushing the life out of him.

  “She wore herself out in the gravity. She’s going to get some rest,” Benedict said, his soothing demeanor never wavering. Tray sobbed, feeling anxiety pushing through the fog of whatever drugs had been pumped into him.

  “Where’s Danny?” he moaned.

  “Handling the cargo,” Saskia spoke up. She sat at the foot of Morrigan’s bed, her back to the wall, her stunner resting on her thigh. She looked exhausted.

  “You’re letting them take me?” he accused. Clenching his fists, Tray rolled out of the bed. His knees were stiff, and the force of the landing jarred him. Feeling dizzy, he grabbed the bed for support.

  “Mr. Matthews!” Benedict admonished, his arm snaking around Tray’s waist, putting pressure on his bruised skin.

  “I’m not going!” Tray shouted, shoving him back and stumbling out of the infirmary. The deck plates were cold against his bare feet, and it was upsetting feeling the air between his legs.

  “Mr. Matthews.”

  “Let him be,” Saskia advised.

  “You’re making your injuries worse,” Benedict protested, following Tray into the hall. “You’re bleeding internally.”