“Sergeant, take two of these men and a Humvee to the downed helicopter and collect all the metal ingots that you can find. Bring them here. Make sure you protect your hands from the metal. It is poisonous.”
The sergeant saluted smartly and pointed at two of his platoon.
“Michealson. Funk. Follow me! The rest of you, cover these two for the Major.” He ran off at the double towards the smoking wreckage, his men following without question.
Ed found that he had lowered his gun arm until the pistol was pointed at the ground. He tentatively squeezed and found that his trigger finger was no longer frozen. He tried again to speak, but his tongue seemed to be disconnected once more. He looked at Karen and found that her eyes were still staring into his. So grey, so powerful.
Minutes passed, and no one moved. A soldier coughed nervously. Richard looked back over his right shoulder anxiously towards the distant wreckage, finding that he could see neither the helicopter nor the Humvee. He could feel his left hand slipping in the blood pooling around it as he tried to keep Karen upright, and he could feel his own strength ebbing way as she desperately borrowed from him. Where are they? She won’t last much longer. He gauged the distance to the nearest private, wondering if he could somehow snatch the soldier’s weapon if she passed out. He looked at the man in the Air Force uniform. The Major’s trying to break free. He studied the older man as his face whitened, his desire to break free growing wildly, like sunflowers in the oppressive summer heat of a closed greenhouse.
The sound of a vehicle approaching caught everyone’s attention. It slithered to a halt with a squeal of brakes a few yards from the semicircle of soldiers.
“Present with the ingots as ordered, sir!” Sergeant Preston saluted again.
“P-put them over there, against the C-citadel. That’s an order, sergeant.” Ed struggled with all of his might, but the only evidence that Karen was weakening was the slight stutter in his speech.
The sergeant shouted at his men to cover his uncertainty. Within two minutes, all the ingots were in place.
“Now, take your men and report to the lead tank commander. I’ll bring these two in myself. On the double!” Baynes shouted, as Preston’s face betrayed his amazement.
Karen and Richard watched until the men had departed. Now there was just Ed Baynes left between them and their destination, and only a few more feet of churned up mud to cross.
Karen smiled with relief as the ingots started to fizzle. They vanished one by one, until they were all gone.
Ed tried one more time and found that his weapon arm was free at last. He swung it up, started to pull the trigger.
“No, Major Baynes,” Karen commanded, as she restored her control with her last ounce of willpower. Ed fell to his knees, dropping his gun on a mud-splattered clump of grass before him, his face a mindless blank.
Richard felt her sway towards him; he leaned back, against her, and managed to keep them both on their feet. What little remained of his own strength was streaming into Karen’s wounded body, leaving him light-headed and dizzy.
“Yes, of course I know your name!” she smiled, easing off her control until fear returned to his features. “And yes, I am stronger, even now, when I am suffering from the wound inflicted by your barbaric followers.” She threw his thoughts back at him with disdain. “I’m leaving this planet.” She glanced up at Richard’s face, just inches from her own, and smiled fractionally through the pain. “We’re leaving this planet. And you needn’t worry. We’ll never bother you or your paranoid society again.”
“Time to go,” Richard murmured in her ear as he saw movement off in the distance in the trees.
Karen, catching his thought, sent out a desperate command to the sniper Richard had glimpsed.
The marksman was overwhelmed with astonishment, as he felt compelled to fling his expensive and deadly weapon several yards away. It sank barrel-first into the mud with a slight slurping sound.
Karen sensed a dreamlike stupor flooding over her. Get… Baynes’ gun…
Richard felt Karen slipping away; he reached down and picked up the pistol as she slumped over against him. He felt his knee ‘pop’ as he stood upright again, supporting her weight awkwardly for a moment until the searing immediacy of the pain faded slightly.
Baynes found himself staring down the barrel of his own gun. He gasped as he felt Karen’s control fade into nothingness.
“Don’t move. Just take off the belt. Slowly.” Richard directed him with a slight movement of the pistol. “Drop it in front of me. Now, back up.”
Ed moved slowly back until he bumped into something. He felt behind him with his hands and discovered that he was once more in contact with the cool, ultra-smooth surface that was Citadel’s skin.
“Open up!” Richard hissed as he stepped left, dragging Karen towards the entrance with his free arm wrapped around her middle, his fingers slick with blood. She slipped forward as his hand lost traction and his arm simultaneously gave out; there was the characteristic shimmer as she tumbled through the wall and out of sight. He turned and inclined his head towards Ed slightly, still covering him with the borrowed weapon.
“Goodbye, Major Baynes.” Richard crouched down, feeling for and picking up the gun belt with his blood-soaked left hand. He backed up, limping slowly, until he shimmered into the ship.
Ed was left standing, quite alone, in the remains of the orchard, right next to the refuelled and incredibly powerful Scout Craft.
Chapter Forty
Success is a heady drug – Anon.
“Lock the door again, Tutor,” Karen commanded brightly.
Richard turned to see her standing comfortably upright a few paces to his left. He dropped the now unneeded weapon and belt on the soft moss floor and a moment later she was in his arms. He hugged her tightly, feeling the warmth and softness of her body through the thin cloth, finding that his left hand was pressed against the bare skin of her exposed back. Emotions overflowed – he found he was grinning and crying, almost sobbing, all at once. After some timeless period his brain caught up with the sequence of recent events, and then he released her and stepped back suddenly, looking down with concern at the bloodstained gown that she was still wearing.
“I’m completely better,” she assured him. “Tutor activated the main medical computer, the ‘Medic’, the moment I was inside Citadel. Apparently it even has a synthesizer that restores damaged organs and flesh and makes up lost blood. But....” she pulled the blood-sodden surgical gown away from her chest, embarrassed at its form-hugging revelations. “I really must get some proper clothes on again!”
Richard smiled with relief as he watched her turn and walk towards the Pool Room, the hospital blanket, also blood-soaked and bunched up, hanging precariously from the shoulder straps at the back of her hospital gown, serendipitously concealing her otherwise uncovered rear.
“Computer… ‘Restore’!” she called out exultantly, as she reflected on the likelihood that Richard was in less than optimum condition after their adventure.
The pain in his knee and the ache in his arm and back disappeared, and Richard shrugged his shoulders, swung his arm and flexed his leg, discovering that his muscles were suddenly as large, no – somehow, better developed – than they had ever been, and that he felt like he could pick up a Humvee if he needed to.
She swivelled as she neared the Pool Room, feeling his surprise and pleasure at this new development impacting on her mind. She winked as she did so, then her eyes widened in a momentary alarm. She reached back behind her, discovering with an exaggerated relief that she was not quite exposed. Her face flushed deeply, almost as if to provide evidence that she was now equipped with the normal complement of blood. She grinned, her dimples showing on both sides of her face.
“Dr. Wilde is very good, but these hospital gowns!?” And she shimmered through the end wall, laughing at Richard’s expression.
Richard stood rooted to the spot for a moment, then the realization that she wa
s fully restored at last and finally safe back within Citadel made him feel deliriously, almost overpoweringly happy. He ran to the other end and dived into the pool with an exultant yell.
“Tutor,” he began a little later as he climbed out clean and dry and looked down at his new outfit, which he noted with absent-minded approval, was black with sparkles across the new broadness of his chest. “How did you manage to move Citadel? I thought you said there wasn’t enough fuel left to fly it?”
“There was just enough left for a short pulse of power.” Tutor had found the beryllium remains – really just some dust – in a few locations near the Drive, and had brought them into the Eliminator just seconds before the jump, so that there would be no risk of them being lost as a microwave release to the false overload caused by the Power Coupling Unit. “In fact, I got three point seven three seconds of drive before the beryllium dust was consumed. Just point zero one less than I had estimated. That is why Citadel fell a bit short of your location.” Tutor wisely limited the specifics of the reply to two decimal places.
“It’s a good job the power ran out a little earlier than you figured.” Richard walked back into the Moss Room. “As it is, we got coated with mud when Citadel smacked into the ground!” He looked around, a little surprised that Karen was not back yet. “So, are we really safe now?”
“Yes,” Tutor said confidently. “With the fuel you brought back, we could ignore even a nuclear attack.”
Richard absorbed that silently. “So, what happened to the remote unit when we crashed?”
“It was buried beneath the wreckage of Bradley Hawk’s helicopter, but it is still functional.”
“Amazing!” As Richard looked around at the starry scene overhead, a feeling of comfort and familiarity, almost like coming home, came over him. “What’s happening outside?” he asked finally.
“There is a lot of movement of equipment going on, lots of soldiers running around. It does not appear to have much purpose to it, though.”
Like chickens with their heads cut off. He grinned as he pictured the scene, then decided that it would be better to see it as it actually was. “Visual please, Tutor.”
“Would you consider joining Karen in the Control Centre? The audio-visual monitors are configured better there.”
Richard started to speak, but cut himself off abruptly. I guess I can’t blame Tutor for not realizing I was expecting Karen to come out of her Pool Room at any moment. He stepped forward, concentrating on his intended destination, and found himself in the Control Centre. Ahead of him, all the visuals were on, showing the Abrams forming up facing inwards in a semi-circle about a hundred yards from Citadel; men were running between these supposedly invincible main battle tanks, although one of them had already been neatly disabled by Tutor, as easily as an ant is crushed underfoot, putting the lie to that false assertion. Overhead, little black silhouettes circled around, high up in the sky, like flies above a rotting carcass. From various points around Citadel, thin streams of smoke climbed, almost straight up. A fine haze covered the entire scene. Further back, way out on the ocean, was the huge bulk of a battleship that had just arrived.
Karen heard a sound, or sensed a presence, behind her chair and got up. She turned to face Richard. She, too, had a black outfit on, and hers also had a blaze of silver dots diagonally across the front from her right shoulder to her left hip. This time, the jumpsuit was a perfect fit, revealing, just as Richard had surmised, that she had an excellent figure. He stepped forward again, and she was in his arms once more.
“So, you like the way I look, do you?” she murmured into his shoulder.
“Is it that obvious?” He blushed, leaning back so that he could see her face, but keeping his arms around her waist.
“I do like the Medic!” She reached up, and slid her hands up his arms and rested them on his now very well-developed shoulders. She reached up with one hand and stroked his cheek with the back of it. “I can hear you better all the time, especially when we touch,” she assured him. “That poor sharp-shooter!” She smiled dreamily, misty-eyed. “Will he be punished for throwing his rifle into the mud?”
“Only if he admits to doing it…” He smiled back, amused at the thought of such a unique predicament.
“Thank you for caring for me, keeping me alive with your own will to live.” Her eyes, bright blue once more, stared into his. “Go ahead,” she replied to his unspoken question, so he kissed her.
A few minutes later, Richard stepped back, taking a deep breath, and studied her outfit again. “I think I know what that is,” he said, referring to the pattern emblazoned across her clothes. “It’s a star map.”
“Yes, Richard, you’re right. Tutor said that this one,” Karen touched the one that was in the centre, at the bottom of her sternum, “is Arshonna - or at least the star which that world circles around.” She grinned in excitement. “I can’t wait to see it!”
“Excuse me,” Tutor sounded reluctant to interrupt them. “But I think we should remember where we are.”
“What’s the matter, Tutor?” Karen asked cheerily. “Are they still out there?” She turned around and looked at the scene outside. “Nothing much seems to have changed.”
“Look!” Richard pointed to the left. “That tank just fired at Citadel!”
“That is what I was trying to show to you–”
“There it goes again!” Karen exclaimed. “How could it miss from so near?”
“It is not missing! It has hit Citadel four times – no, five times,” Tutor corrected as another flash of fire showed at the muzzle of the tank. “Since Richard came up to the Control Centre.”
“That’s incredible!” Richard leaned on the back of a chair and stared at the tank. “We don’t feel or hear a thing… unlike those poor guys in the tank, I imagine.”
“They’re aiming right at the door;” Karen deduced, “they must think that if we can get in there, so can one of their shells!”
“There are additional safeguards to prevent that, even if you had not directed me to lock the door,” Tutor assured them. “I activated the Structural Protection Field, which is a force field in the form of an encapsulating sheath three feet thick, commencing about two feet out from the surface of Citadel. Nothing that they can throw at us will penetrate that.”
“That’s a relief!” Karen whispered.
“Even though it’s not dangerous for Citadel, or us,” Richard began, slowly. “I think we should stop them, just to show them who’s boss.”
“You might hurt them, Richard; remember that they are just obeying orders,” Karen cautioned him.
“I’ll be careful,” Richard assured her, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Tutor, can you throw a wide beam of red laser light at that tank, maybe four inches in diameter, and combine it with an infrared laser strong enough to raise the barrel of the gun to melting point in about thirty seconds?”
“Affirmative.”
“Commence firing.”
Richard watched in amusement while the red beam did its work. Seconds after it appeared, the entire tank crew scrambled clear and ran back down the pockmarked orchard slope. The barrel started to sag, then collapsed onto the armour-plated surface beneath it.
“Cease firing!” Richard commanded, theatrically. “That’ll teach them,” he laughed.
“True,” Karen smiled back. “Don’t you think we ought to get going, now?” she said quietly.
“Yeah.” Richard noticed her anxiety and caught a hint of the disappointment behind it. “I guess I did get a bit carried away. Being invulnerable is a bit of a ‘trip’. Maybe we–” He was cut off by the flash of a huge explosion, which blew the tank to smithereens, scattering pieces way beyond Citadel. Some created huge splashes amidst the whitecaps in the ocean as they landed a fair way offshore. Richard cleared his throat, nervously.
“Can we leave now, Tutor?” Karen broke the silence for him. “Do we have enough beryllium to get to Arshonna?”
“Insufficient data avail
able. There is space for more in the fuel storage area, however.”
“Do we have enough to take us back to that warehouse in Springfield?” Richard asked hesitantly.
“Certainly.”
“Is there some kind of pre-flight check-list?”
“All systems appear functional. All checks completed.”
“Let’s get comfortable!” Richard ushered Karen around to one of the three seats and took the one next to her. “It’s your ship,” he said politely.
“How long would it take to get there,” Karen asked carefully. “Without hurting anyone?”
“Three minutes, thirty five point–”
“That’s close enough,” she reassured her mentor hastily. She reached over and held Richard’s hand. “Please comply.”
“I’m just releasing the remaining battlements first;” Tutor explained. “Sorry about the delay, but otherwise they might come loose during the flight.”
As soon as Tutor finished the explanation, Citadel fell away from the ground like a spider falls from the ceiling. Redcliff was visible for a few seconds, then shrank to a dot, and finally disappeared beneath Citadel as the curvature of the horizon became apparent. The total lack of sensation caused Richard to tense up; the experience was both real and surreal to his twenty-first century mind, conditioned as it was to elevators, roller-coasters and jet planes.
“D-d-do you think you could go down a little slower?” He stuttered, once he had managed to draw a shuddering breath.
“Approach is usually slower. It seems that most humans have an irrational fear of crashing, so they programmed accordingly,” Tutor surmised. “I am just checking to ensure that there are no aircraft in our path.”
Citadel started to descend rapidly. Richard found he was squeezing Karen’s hand tightly, and made an effort to relax. He forced his eyes away from the viewscreen, and looked at Karen instead.
She turned and smiled calmly at him.
“Just relax,” she murmured. “Tutor knows what he’s doing.” She sent Richard a mental wave of calmness, and he glanced back at the screen in time to see Springfield growing rapidly beneath them. Their descent slowed gradually, until the industrial area was visible. A few seconds later, they were hovering by the loading dock. No one was around.
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