Doctor Wilde’s thoughts were interrupted by the return of Nurse Maude McRae.
“There’s something really strange here,” the nurse began, more loudly than she had intended. “I can’t determine the blood type. It seems to be a blend of all the known types.”
Richard walked closer, his anxieties showing clearly on his face.
“Come on!” Tracy Wilde began in annoyance. “Show me the kit.” Tracy walked off with Maude, leaving Claire with Karen, and Richard close by. The nurse continued to cut the jumpsuit off Karen’s motionless body, exposing more and more pale, almost luminous skin. Soon she was draping a hospital sheet over her nakedness, providing the unconscious girl with a measure of privacy again.
Richard glanced back, after deliberately looking away for as long as he could force himself. He was relieved that Karen was covered up – it had seemed like a violation when he had observed the beginning of the clinical removal of her clothing.
Within a minute, Tracy returned, having repeated the blood test herself. She muttered something about quality control to Maude, then she turned to Richard, as if she were about to ask him something. As she took in his appearance, really for the first time, her expression changed suddenly.
“I remember–” She stopped her admission abruptly as Richard stepped closer.
“Please… don’t.” He seemed to be begging her not to continue, not to reveal what she clearly had just recalled about two fugitives on the ten o’clock news, two dangerous enemy agents who were supposed to have such deadly plans for the security of the country.
Claire and Maude watched in confusion as the normal, predictable operation of the emergency department was thrown into disarray.
“Can I talk to you… alone?” Richard pleaded in a whisper to Doctor Wilde. She glanced from the nurses to him nervously, then stuck her chin out and nodded her agreement boldly.
“Claire, see if the intensive care unit has a spare bed available. Maude, I can handle this for now; you can go back to the nurses’ station.”
Richard waited until both of the nurses were out of earshot, then he started to explain the whole thing.
“You must have seen our pictures in the paper. Believe me, we’re not terrorists.”
Tracy listened intently, all the while monitoring Karen’s pulse absently with her fingertips, as if she didn’t quite believe the electronic equipment.
“You see, Karen is from somewhere else, or at least her parents were.”
Doctor Wilde heard the emphasis in his voice as he tried to say it subtly.
“She got stuck here by mistake.” Richard tried to keep it simple. “She has this special building, only it’s really much more, more of a vessel, really, and Citadel - that’s the name of it, is very powerful, so Karen has to take it away from here before the Government or some other organization finds out how it works and starts a new war or something. That’s why we stole the beryllium.”
“Oh. What about the poison, or whatever it was, in the town on the coast?”
“Huh? You mean in Redcliff?”
Tracy nodded. “Yes, that was the name of the place.”
“I don’t know anything about that; I think it’s just the official story-line for the press, all Karen did was burn down the school.”
Doctor Wilde’s eyes widened at this.
“And she made sure no one got hurt. Anyway, it was my idea to torch the school; don’t blame her.” The whole story seemed to pour out of him, as if it had a mind of its own. “It was supposed to be a diversion, so no one would check into Citadel, but it didn’t work. Then there was the accident at the warehouse, where we went to get the beryllium. The security guard died when Tutor burst the tire on his truck, and it rolled and crashed. I didn’t mean for that to happen, but he was trying to stop us, so I thought I could just…” Richard paused, his face showing his still-fresh remorse and total horror at what had happened.
Tracy’s eyes never left his face, her hand continued its contact with Karen’s wrist, though she was no longer conscious of that or anything else in the room, except the desperate young man in front of her.
“Then, at the road block,” Richard continued, when he had regained his composure somewhat, “I don’t know if anyone got hurt, but they started to shoot at us when I drove through the barrier, so I had to get Tutor to destroy their weapons. There was an explosion; I think it must have been the fuel tank in one of the police cars.” Richard stopped, his explanation incomplete at best, but his endurance almost at an end.
“Who’s Tutor?” Doctor Wilde’s question was shot out with great precision, though the delivery was innocuous enough.
“A kind of artificial intelligence created to look after Karen. I don’t know how it works, but…” Richard shrugged.
When he had finished, Tracy looked at Karen and brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face. So innocent… so gentle, yet I almost feel like there’s something more besides… A kind of inner strength. Finally she turned back and examined Richard’s expression, looking for some sign of the corruptness implied by the news report that she had watched just a few hours before.
“How did you get involved in this?”
“Karen chose me to help her. I guess I just got lucky.”
Doctor Wilde could see he really meant it. She recognized the despair in his eyes and knew he was at his wit’s end.
“I’m probably quite crazy, but I’m not going to report this to the authorities,” she decided finally, after checking that they were still alone. “But I don’t know if that really helps her much. I can’t do anything for her.” Doctor Wilde removed the sodden gauze and covered the oozing wound with a new one, moving the sheet up a little higher on her chest afterwards. “She needs blood, and contrary to what I told the nurses, hers must be somehow different from all the types known to humanity. I don’t suppose you’re the same type?” she guessed hopefully.
“No, I’m ‘O’ Rhesus negative,” he admitted quickly. “I just come from Boston. I need to get her back to Citadel. Tutor said he could help her back there. But the Government has blocked off all access to the town, and I don’t know how I can get her past the Army.”
“What happens if you make it back?” she questioned.
“Karen will be able to go home,” Richard confirmed what Tracy had hoped would be the outcome. “Citadel will disappear. And everybody here can get back to their usual routines again.”
“Not everybody. You realize that you will have to go with her? If you stayed you’d be subjected to testing by the intelligence agencies for years.”
“Yeah, I know. But that doesn’t matter, you see, my family all died a year ago when a big truck went through a red light and smashed into our car, so I have no one else to stay for, except my aunt, and I hardly even know her. Karen is more important to me than anybody or anything else, anyway. Once she’s gone there would be no reason for me to stay on Earth.”
“You really are serious, aren’t you?” Tracy exclaimed in amazement. “You really mean all this.”
“I know it’s hard to believe.”
Doctor Wilde stared at him a moment longer before replying.
“That’s why I think I do believe you. That and the blood type. The version they gave on the news last night sounded even more implausible than your story.” Tracy took a deep breath. “So… first we have to stabilize her enough so we can transport her.”
“You, -you mean you’ll help!” Richard swayed with relief and stared at Tracy in absolute amazement.
“Call me crazy, but yes, I will. You’d better sit down,” she suggested. She grabbed a chair from a few feet away, slid it closer and guided him onto it, as he staggered some more. Richard sat down heavily, leaned back against the hard wall and closed his eyes. Doctor Wilde watched him for a moment as he hovered in a state close to fainting, clutching that strange box that he never let go of, then a smile crept onto her face as she recalled the anchorman’s words.
Dangerous fugitives? Ha!
When Claire came back, she found Richard asleep in the chair, and Doctor Tracy Wilde still busy with the unconscious Karen, keeping the flow of blood from spreading to the bedding.
“There’s a space available all right, doctor; do you want to move her now?”
“No, she’s not ready to be moved yet.”
“What was all that about blood type? Is there a problem with the kit?” Claire asked, hesitantly.
“I think so,” Tracy agreed readily to the explanation, as it served as a good cover for the truth. “You might want to get another one from stock and put the current one back with a sticker – ‘do not use’, or something. I’ll talk to you about that later. For now I think she’ll do better without a transfusion; just check that the plasma is flowing well, and I think that will be enough to restore her blood volume. Must be the vitality of youth or something, but her blood pressure seems to be stabilizing. She looks no worse than when she came in, perhaps even a little better, and the blood flow has slowed somewhat. I think she actually lost less blood than I first estimated.” She fibbed quickly about the blood in an attempt to make the circumstances seem more mundane. I’d have to conclude it was pooling inside of her, but for the pressure.
The nurse played with the drip system for a moment until she was satisfied that all was correct, then hung around, clearly expecting to take over and let Tracy get on with something else.
“I think I’ll stay with her a while yet, Claire. Why don’t you see about making out the form for entry in the hospital records?”
“I suppose he can give me her name and so on?” Claire asked, looking at the now-sleeping Richard.
“You can get her name later; I think his sleep is more important right now,” Tracy grinned at Claire, her mind racing on to the next step she had to make.
“What about the police? I’ll need a name if I’m to report this shooting.”
“I’ll handle that for you in a minute, okay?” Tracy suggested, trying to keep the tone of her voice casual. “I know how long-winded those forms are to fill in.”
Claire nodded, a little surprised at Doctor Wilde’s helpfulness; usually she left all the routine forms and things of a similar nature for the duty nurse to do.
Tracy Wilde turned back to her patient, effectively dismissing the nurse. She checked the wound once more and found that the blood flow had diminished almost to nothing. She watched the electronic display with increased optimism. Vital signs really do appear to have stabilized; there’s some kind of self-sealing going on – and rapidly – she’s absolutely incredible!
Chapter Thirty-Six
Mars, the God of War
“I can see the trailer again!” Ruth announced at the top of her voice; then they all felt the artificial gravity field reduce for a moment, presumably due to the passage of the Controllers’ ship overhead. For a few seconds the huge black bulk of the ship could be dimly seen through Terry’s port as it settled slowly to the ground, just a few yards from the Railcar. In that brief time, Latt managed to aim the laser at his carefully selected target, high up on the nose of the craft, before the dust hid it again. The others crouched down so that they would not be visible from the airlock window. Latt waited a moment, then disabled the homing beacon that the Controllers had used to guide them to the complex, and switched on the laser. He was counting on their customary directness and single-mindedness, to ensure that they would immediately cross over to their prisoners. If they aren’t already suiting up, they’ll see the alarm signal from the hull monitor or the beacon receiver. I will have moved too soon.
Isaac glanced up and checked one more time the alignment of the polished metal plates that showed him the interior of the airlock. Minutes passed with just the howling of the wind and the scouring sound made by the sand as it blasted the sides of their hideout.
A slight thump was felt, not heard, then Isaac saw movement in the mirror as one, then both aliens entered the airlock, wrapped in the same kind of protective clothing in which he was now overheating.
These guys must be very tough to have walked across that space in this wind. Let’s see how tough they really are! He activated the Inducer, which had been adjusted to produce a narrow beam, high-intensity induced gravity field equivalent to almost four times Earth’s gravitational field, at right angles to the ‘normal’ field within the Railcar. There was a different kind of thump from within the airlock, and the aliens disappeared from view. Isaac started to get up, holding the Inducer control and reversing the field setting as he did so, then he crouched back down again as a flash showed through the airlock window, followed by several more. At the same instant, a deafening, whistling sound could be heard, and when Isaac risked a quick glance around the crates he saw several small, round holes in the airlock door. The whistling sound started to fade, and as Isaac bent over the remote control unit he heard a voice, which he thought must have been Terry’s, shouting:
“Quick, reverse it! They’ll be in any second!”
I’m trying. It’s not responding; it must be stuck! Isaac concentrated on his task, unaware that he had not replied audibly. After a desperate struggle, he finally succeeded in reversing the effect and was rewarded with another dull thump from within the airlock. Struggling once more with the control, which seemed suddenly to have become stiff, he managed to return the switch to its initial position; this time there was no thump, but then almost immediately the whistling sound returned to its previous intensity.
Terry got up from his hiding place and ran to the airlock. “They are getting away! One’s got the other by the arm! He’s dragging him! Blast! I can’t see them anymore.” Terry thumped on the airlock control and the outer door closed again. As the sound of whistling air died down once more, Isaac ran to Latt and looked over his shoulder at the video screen. He was rewarded with a glimpse of the huge black ship, or at least the forward tip of it, before the sand and dust obscured the view again.
“How long have you been hitting them?” Isaac asked.
“About sseven of your minutess,” he said, raising his wrist to display the gold Rolex watch he had borrowed from Terry. “I don’t know if it will work at all, it’ss ssuch low power to produce heat damage at thiss range. Then there’ss the at-ten-uation due to the dusst, and the ssuperior sstrength of the Hybralloy.”
Terry ran back from the airlock. “Here, will this help any?” He held out a small, black object with a large, strangely shaped handgrip. It was unmistakably a weapon. “One of the Controllers must have dropped it in the airlock.”
“A ssmall vissible ssynchronized light generator!” Latt exclaimed eagerly, grabbing the unit from Terry. “They’re in trouble now!”
Laser! It’s called a laser! Terry smiled and shook his head as he watched the enthusiasm Latt emanated as he stepped out into the laboratory and staggered over to the heavy-duty laser, mounted through the centre of the domed roof. Struggling with the effects of the increased gravitational field, Latt still managed to flip open the section in the middle of the greyish cylinder, snap back the cover on the black hand-laser and transfer the small but crucial component into the unit aimed at the Controllers’ ship within seconds of Terry’s announcement.
Not wanting to waste any time, Latt stayed in the laboratory and worked the laser manually, switching it to the visible spectrum mode and adjusting the characteristics of the driver to the new frequencies. Finally, when he was satisfied that it was functioning at maximum output, he staggered through the apparent hills and valleys of the laboratory’s gravity field and back over to the video monitor.
Something that looked like a white rod was sticking out of the front of the black ship. As Isaac and Terry looked over Latt’s shoulder, the beam died suddenly, then returned. After a few more seconds it started to pulse on and off, spending about five seconds on and two off in each sequence.
“It’ss not a continuouss operation… Lesser,” Latt explained, finding the appropriate word (though not the pronunciation) after a moment’s thoug
ht. “But it can be run like thiss for quite long periodsss.”
“How’s it going?” Ruth called over. “I can’t see anyone outside either observation port.”
Before the others could respond to her question, the Controllers’ ship lifted off tail-first and disappeared into the murk. Latt’s spirits plummeted in direct proportion to the visibility of the ship, and his initial reaction was to drop down and cower on the floor and wait for death to find him. Somehow he resisted and continued at the controls, and as he worked, a feeling of rage began to boil up inside him like nothing he had ever felt before. His fingers moved rapidly in a frantic bid to maintain the same point of contact, but within seconds there was nothing visible to fire at.
Suddenly, like an immensely tall pillar of gleaming limestone, a solid cylinder of light burst through the gloom and hit the rocky Martian surface just yards away from the laboratory. Latt quickly redirected his pulsed laser at the point where he estimated the top of the beam of light would be, a growl starting to build in his throat like a power boat approaching. As he did so, the pillar of light moved sideways, cutting through the laboratory like a careless hand through an insignificant and insubstantial spider’s web. Instantly the ‘Railcar’ was filled with swirling dust which began to sand-blast the occupants and contents indiscriminately.
Latt struggled to aim the laser as its mount wobbled precariously on the edge of one half of the domed laboratory. He held his breath as long as possible, then, when the attacking beam had slipped across to one side and was no longer visible, he fumbled his way into his breathing apparatus, blinking his eyes rapidly to try to clear them of the twin effects of decompression and grit.
“Over there!” Terry shouted as the beam reappeared on the video screen.
Latt tried to redirect the laser but the over-stressed mounting mechanism finally jammed completely. He watched helplessly as the pillar of light approached once more. Feelings of despair battled with newer ones of rage and hatred, and he felt torn in two by the emotions within him. Strangely, the pillar wavered as it neared the complex, as if the Martian wind were somehow shaking its insubstantial structure.
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