A King Ascends, page 2
Both valued their friendship highly. He had put more responsibility on the young man’s shoulders. As they shared information on their backgrounds, Lu-zan came to realize that Jon would probably have a different destiny awaiting him, but he saw great potential in him. He silently wondered whether he had pushed him too hard or too fast. Now both were faced with a grim reality.
Matt paced in front of Lu-zan, waiting for word to come from the planet Sirius. Sirius was a nasty little Class Q planet on the fringe of the Norris system, with many potential problem spots, like volcanoes and flood zones. It had an unusual orbit around its star that caused the environment to change dramatically throughout the year. The planet also boasted numerous very aggressive predators. It was perfect for training survival specialists. What could have taken the entire group of trainees so quickly? wondered Matt. The emergency signal had activated, and no one had responded to repeated attempts to contact them.
Static filled the air. They turned back to the screen that displayed the video feed. The sight that greeted them was grim. The base camp was in shambles, with bodies everywhere. Lieutenant Levison’s voice came on as he read a list of the dead.
“Morris, T-Sun, Quinn, Scheck, and Geburson are all dead, sir. Captain Merritt’s in critical condition, and there’s no sign of Jon Tor anywhere. We’re getting ready to scan the surrounding area with heat tracers. S-24 is hovering and awaiting word to begin.”
“Carry on, Lieutenant,” Matt murmured.
Other screens showed the status of hundreds of other worlds the Intergalactic Police monitored. The training facility had training units on several worlds, but the unit Jon had taken out was to an especially lethal location. Everything appeared normal on all screens except the one they watched.
Matt remembered the last night he saw Jon and the others.
Jon had just finished his presentation to his newest class for camping and survival training—the newest recruits to be agents of the Intergalactic Police Academy. The presentation was before he was to take the group of recent graduates to the planet Sirius. They came from large cities and had the book knowledge, but they had never experienced using survival techniques in a real-world situation.
“Jon, great presentation! Wish I was going with you,” Matt said, as he shook the slender man’s hand. Turning to the older man who stood next to Jon, he continued. “Are you going with him on this trip, Lu-zan?”
The three men made a sui generis group that couldn’t appear more different. Matt, with his wrestler build; Jon, with his height and broad shoulders; and Lu-zan, a man who carried almost an aura of pent-up energy. All looked different, but all had an air of lethal ability.
Lu-zan surveyed the group of men and women from all over the galaxy as they gathered their notes and slowly exited the room. “I’m resting my bones this trip. I’ll let Jon do all the hard work.”
Jon looked with affection at Lu-zan, who barely came to his shoulders. He knew Lu-zan wanted him to handle the basic camping and survival training in the field. Jon had been with Lu-zan for seven years now. There was genuine affection and respect for one another, and Jon felt Lu-zan was like a second father to him. He missed him dearly, since he couldn’t travel to visit as often as he would like. Lu-zan loved Jon like a son, with a bond of trust that had grown between the two men. Lu-zan was the only other person who knew Jon’s past.
“Wish I could go, but something came up, and I’m stuck here,” said Matt. With its subtle shading in gray, the classroom seemed to reflect the somber mood of the group. Looking at Lu-zan and Jon together always made Matt smile. Lu-zan had to look up to talk to Jon, who bent almost in half to listen.
Re-focusing on the screen, Matt wondered where Jon was in the chaos on the field. Silently, he and Lu-zan watched as the S-24 scanner viewed the area for signs of who had survived or died in the carnage. Image residue would tell them some of the story. Matt grieved for the loss of life and hoped they could help in time to save the injured. The S-24 unit could detect heat signatures for eight hours, so they could study to find out what caused the injuries and death. One member of the group had triggered the SOS beacon so that help could arrive relatively soon, considering the remoteness of the planet. Rescue arrived within four hours, unheard of in the vastness of space, but still not quick enough to save most of the group.
“Sir, the scan shows no one else in the immediate area, but Jon’s supplies and gear are here. We found all other members except for two from the planet Borraris. Their supplies and gear are missing.”
Another figure tentatively approached the screen and stood at attention, waiting to be acknowledged by the commanding officer. “Sir, I am Private First-Class Para from the planet Born.”
“Yes, PFC Para, do you have something to add?” asked Matt.
“Sir, we do a lot of tracking back home. A craft landed over there, and a fight took place there,” she said, pointing to the rise behind her. “Someone fell down that rise and probably sustained terrible injuries or death because of the large rocks at the base, but none of these men,” she pointed to the bodies being laid out behind them, “have injuries consistent with that type of fall.”
“So, what you’re saying is one of the missing persons is likely to be severely hurt from a fall down onto those rocks,” Matt clarified.
“Yes, sir. We found blood on the rocks and have sent a sample for DNA identification. We should have the results soon.”
“Thank you, Private. That information is very helpful.”
Lu-zan wandered over to another part of the room where a list of all agents in the field showed on-screen. He also made a copy of a news article. This he pocketed before returning to Matt’s side.
“Send me any reports ASAP and include the S-24 scan when it’s ready. Make sure you miss nothing.” Matt stood with his head bowed.
“Find anything?” Matt asked Lu-zan.
“Can we speak privately, Matt?”
“Of course.” Matt led the way to his office, then closed the door and turned.
“Did Jon ever tell you about his family?” Lu-zan asked.
“Just that he was the oldest child of four children, both parents are living, he’s from the planet Tyrea, and he doesn’t get back to visit often enough.”
“Jon may be in big trouble if something about this attack is related to this at all,” Lu-zan said, as he handed Matt the printout he had just copied.
“I don’t understand. What does the disappearance of Tyrea’s ruling party have to do with Jon? Unless there is a coup going on. Where does Jon fit into all this?”
“Let me tell you about Jon.”
Two hours later, Matt, Lu-zan, and their team viewed the data from the crash site. From its polished, stainless-steel walls, the room reflected the grim faces of the team as they tried to understand the magnitude of what had happened. Ordinarily, the regular police on a planet would handle the problem, but since it involved a team from the training facility, the police were letting Matt’s group handle it. No inter-department rivalry here. This was an attack specifically on their team.
“You already have the infrared scan results showing nothing new. The report by Sergeant Peterson shows an analysis of the wounds inflicted on the dead where they used a cellular disruptor at close range. Logged as missing are Privates Itegia and Morate, both from planet Borraria, and Specialist Jon Tor, from planet Tyrea.”
“Thank you,” said Matt, and turned to another member of his team with raised eyebrows. The nervous doctor adjusted his tie and picked up his notes. He hated to be the bearer of bad news. He knew they regarded him as the best in his field, but he was in awe of Matt. The man was a legend.
Matt watched him silently, noting that the doctor wouldn’t meet his eyes. Matt’s anger and frustration level went up another notch. He tried not to direct any of what he felt toward the doctor. He wished he would just make his report.
Finally, the good doctor drew a deep breath and plunged into his report.
“We’ve completed the brain scan of the officer in charge of the training. He is still critical, so we did a surface scan of his memories. We felt that a deep scan would be too traumatizing. The cellular disrupter hit him on the shoulder, and he subsequently lost the arm and a lot of shoulder muscle. We have started reconstruction measures for the implant of a bio-replacement. We targeted his memory scan to the hour before the deaths. Here’s the rest of the relevant information.”
He hit a switch on the console in front of him. Overhead, a soundless hologram played, showing the officer scanning the planetary inputs on the shuttle’s monitor screen. His hand reached forward and adjusted the feed to the engines as the shuttle slowed, then settled down for the landing. Jon’s smiling face came into view, followed by the rest of the party. His view changed as he looked at the angry planet through the shuttle window. The sky showed an ugly yellow tint from the volcanic ash pumping into the atmosphere and descending on the distant jagged terrain. He got out of the captain’s chair and turned to check his crew member’s facemask. He then led the crew out of the shuttle and surveyed the landing site.
Here, the doctor stopped the recording. “The initial survey had picked this landing site because of its relative stability.” Again, he restarted the recording.
Men and women swiftly set up their tents and organized the camp. They kept guns ready in case one of the powerful predators came to investigate the activity. The recording showed a wet, gray day made sludgy by the ash, and showed the team slipping on rocks and grass as they moved around. Jon gestured to the bucket and water sterilizer he held as if he were going for water, and he disappeared from sight. The captain helped with the organization of the camp and seemed to move toward a ridge showing his hands handling various rocks, while a catalog of shapes and types were displayed inside his mask with an analysis of temperature range. This confirmed his faith that the camp site was stable. Gradually, he moved farther and farther away from the camp.
“That goes on for another 34.3 minutes,” Dr. Tononia informed them. “With your permission, we’ll jump to the part where he comes back.”
The view differed from the other side as he slowly scanned the camp, showing most of the tents erected, the campfire burning with a pan tilted, its contents burning and giving off a lot of smoke. Everything seemed eerily quiet, with bodies lying at all angles and positions, men and women caught unawares by cellular disrupter fire from people they trusted. His view showed one of the two agents from Borraria turn his way, and the view moved hastily as the captain took cover. The view inched around rocks and bushes until it showed another view of the camp. It moved toward the largest tent. A hand appeared with a large knife, and he slipped into the interior. The view panned the space and showed no one in the tent. His focus moved to the transmitter and pushed the emergency locator button. The slightest noise would alert the terrorists to his presence. He jammed the switch on, and the reassuring light came on. He immediately kicked the transmitter to the other part of the tent. His actions saved him and allowed a full ten second burst to be broadcast before a second beam destroyed the machine. A third beam hit him. He was still conscious as he saw Jon appear, still carrying the water bucket he had gone to fill. Jon’s face reflected his racing emotions for all to see. Astonishment, concern, puzzlement, and lastly rage all raced across his face as he realized what had happened. He dropped the bucket.
“Why?” he seemed to say, as he defiantly faced the armed terrorists.
One tech watching in the room began to lip read as the action unfolded on-screen.
The view changed as the officer turned his head.
“They need you at home, Your Highness. I suggest you submit peacefully.”
The officer saw Jon suddenly twist and try to roll, but he slipped on the grass and a disrupter beam hit as he tumbled over the ledge. The greenery blocked his line of vision, so he turned his head to see the terrorists.
“Quick, make sure he’s still alive, you idiot,” one terrorist shouted, as he gestured with his gun.
Periods of blank screen interrupted scenes of Jon being dragged back to the top of the ledge and loaded onto a transport board. The last view was of a small, short-range cargo carrier landing a short distance away. Finally, the recording stopped.
Matt sat, not believing what he’d just seen, staring at the blank screen. Jon, what have they done to you?
“We need to look at what’s happening on Tyrea.”
CHAPTER 3
Dr. Michaels slowly explored the largest injury, looking for some hint of what the white substance was that covered the area, but it was seamless, with a semi-soft covering that felt soft but wouldn’t let her palpate the wound. She tried for a strand or two for analysis, but that didn’t work. Then she tried to cut a sample using a surgical knife, but again was unsuccessful. She smiled ruefully at the knife. Maybe a laser would work. All the other injuries showed a healthy color with no unusual swelling or redness. His present condition bordered on the miraculous. The patient’s breathing was unlabored and deep as in sleep, not a coma, as his brain scans seemed to show.
“Dr. Michaels, here is the prelim criminal scan on this patient. I thought you should see it.” The nurse handed her a small, clear plexitext sheet.
“A criminal scan?”
“Nobody told me not to do one. You know its standard procedure.”
“My fault, I apologize. I forgot to relay the new orders of the prefect for this particular patient. I’m sorry.”
“I just don’t want trouble for following standard procedure.”
Dr. Michaels gave her a slight smile. “I know. It will be all right, I promise.”
The nurse sniffed and walked away.
Dr. Michaels decided she would have to get over her snit on her own. There wasn’t much she could do about it, but she hoped it didn’t blow up in their faces. Then she realized she could learn more about her fascinating patient by reading what was in her palm.
“What will be all right, Doctor?” The gruff voice of the warden sounded from the nearby doorway. She shoved the scan into the second chart of the four she had in her hands, then turned to face him.
“I told her it would be all right to take some time off,” she lied.
The nurse looked back at the warden and nodded her agreement. Warden Skinner waved impatiently. “Sure, sure. How long do you need? You can take a little time off.”
“Oh, just an hour or two. Sir, if that’s okay?”
“Fine, then see you later.” He moved to let her through the doorway. Turning back to Dr. Michaels, he narrowed his eyes.
“Dr. Michaels, I was in the John Doe’s room earlier and according to the readings on him, he’s not in an induced coma as ordered, but in a deep, normal sleep. Would you care to explain?”
She pulled her shoulders back, tried to look taller, and reminded herself that she was a professional and a physician and the warden was neither. A sense of calm came over her.
“As you know, this patient sustained severe trauma of the chest cavity, ribcage, and femur in his right leg. We’re still not sure if there is brain damage. We need a neural brain scan, and I would prefer he be aware so we can better evaluate him. Plus, the blood tests have come back. His blood is Type-A but has a lot of unknown elements in it, and we don’t have enough information in our database to identify them. We are dealing with a lot of uncertainties here.”
“The prefect does not want him awake. He has his reasons, even though he has not seen fit to share them with me.” Warden Skinner sniffed with a scowl on his face. He did not like being told what to do to run his prison.
“The prefect is not a doctor. He also demands we save this patient and then ties our hands,” she replied hotly.
“Okay, Doctor.” He motioned with his hands, pacifying her. “I’ll allow the patient to be brought to consciousness for those tests. Then sedate him again. Do everything quietly, Doctor. Do we understand one another?”
Dr. Michaels gave him a quick nod and a little smile before she turned and hurried down the hall. After she finished rounds, she called her team together and outlined the plan and the need for secrecy. No one on her team would betray them; the prefect had made no friends with his high-handed demands. Even his soldiers rolled their eyes behind his back, but they jumped to do his bidding. Her team would do their best to keep out of his way.
As they filed out to begin “Operation Wooly Eyes,” she pulled the crim-scan out. Standard procedure where a patient has no identification was to take fingerprints, a DNA scan, and a retinal scan. These were fed into the prison computer for a match, and if it made no match, the computer automatically requested a match from the databank at the Interplanetary Police complex.
Absently she toed her shoes off under her desk. After being on her feet for so long, it felt like heaven. The problem is I’ll have to put them on again, which is going to hurt worse, she thought.
“Hmm, surprise, surprise, no match on prison records, but what have we here?” she murmured. There was a notation from the databank at Intergalactic Police Academy. “Request noted, security clearance requested. Please contact 3-001-231-0004-IPA immediately.” She picked up the phone, dialed the number, and wondered whether she was digging her own grave. The warden, she knew, would take a very dim view of this.
She heard a powerful male voice come over the phone. “Matt O’Shea, how can I help you? And how did you get this number?”
“This is Dr. Michaels of the Greenwich Prison Facility. We sent a routine inquiry to the IPA regarding an injured prisoner at our facility, and I received a request for us to contact this number.”
“What’s the name of your prisoner, Dr. Michaels?”
“We don’t have a name, Mr. O’Shea. He is a survivor of a crash on our planet and was brought here to the prison medical center for treatment. He is here with the Prefect Tamias from the planet Tyrea. The prefect says he is a dangerous prisoner being taken back to Tyrea.”
