Chapter 9
Stephen Thornton brought his motorized chair to a stop inside the cavernous, garage-type building that was the main staging area for this particular Dominion facility. The whole place was abuzz with activity. Everywhere he looked faceless figures in augmented charcoal gray body suits were performing weapons checks, loading the four discreetly armored black SUVs that stood lined up at the heavy metal overhead door, or performing other last-minute tasks. Today they were field testing a new weapon in their arsenal, one specifically designed for missions such as this. Whether it was worth the cost of development remained to be seen.
Conventional wisdom in subduing mutants had to date been focused on weaponry such as electrically-charged clubs and sub-dermal governors. These methods were fairly effective but far from perfect, as evidenced in numerous skirmishes between Genomex and Mutant X. The new energy-absorbing suits the operatives were wearing were the next step in the evolution of mutant detention systems, touted as a sort of Kevlar developed specifically for engaging mutants with energy-based powers. The product of years of research and testing by Dominion scientists, they represented a huge and very expensive breakthrough in the cutting-edge field of nanotechnology. The suits were in essence made up thousands of tiny nanocells woven into the fabric in overlapping layers. They protected the wearer from harm by absorbing and storing a number of different types of energy, much as solar cells absorbed solar energy. This gave the wearer an important edge in dealing with such opponents, but the suits did have some weaknesses. The nanocells could absorb only a finite amount of energy, which meant that they could be overloaded. Further, they could not absorb the kinetic energy of a punch or kick, and they decreased the wearer's agility by approximately ten percent.
Thornton watched them in their preparations with a sense of foreboding spreading through his gut. These were highly trained professional operatives, among the best assault forces the Dominion had to offer. They had to be. This mission was vital. Its success would save them years, perhaps decades of research, and would go a long way toward helping the Dominion achieve its ultimate goals. Failure was not an option. To that end, the mission had been carefully planned, incorporating intricate detail about the layout of the facility, the very latest intelligence regarding the grafted abilities they would be facing from Naxcon's security forces, and detailed information about their ultimate objective. Theoretically they should be able to accomplish their objective - strike quickly, decisively, and be gone with their prize - with relative ease. Unfortunately, if his analysis was correct the mission was already compromised.
His orders had been twofold; to delay Mutant X in order for the assault team to attack Naxcon and spirit away Target Alpha before rescue could arrive; and to find out all he could about the woman's husband. He had failed on both counts.
First, he had been trying for the last half hour to contact Lexa Pierce to give Mutant X the skillfully crafted intelligence intended to lead them down a false trail, but there had been no answer either from Sanctuary or from Lexa's cell phone. Thornton was certain that it meant the team was already at Naxcon, although as yet he had no confirmation of that. Why hadn't they waited? Probably the woman's husband was behind the premature move. They might even have already rescued Target Alpha by now, although Naxcon boasted a formidable security force. The latest information was that Damien Acosta had even sent two extra teams of his DNA grafted mutants to augment the regular security. Still, Mutant X was a powerful, experienced team with the extra advantages of surprise, stealth, and the temporary addition of a strong and highly motivated telekinetic. It would be a serious mistake to underestimate their capabilities or resourcefulness. In any case, it was plain that contingency plans would have to be formed immediately to deal with this disturbing development.
Even more troubling were his findings about the telekinetic, Matthew Star. Thornton hadn't been able to find out a single thing about the man. He wasn't in the mutant database that Adam Kane created which the Dominion had covertly cloned to their system. Neither was his wife, for that matter. He wasn't listed in any government or law enforcement database anywhere in the world. It was as if he didn't exist, which led to one of two conclusions: either the name was fake, or his resources were such that he had been able to totally expunge any trace of his identity from official records. He was an unknown, a wild card, which made him potentially very dangerous. Thornton's people were currently researching unofficial records, including conducting an extensive search of the area where the kidnapping occurred, under the theory that he either lived or was staying somewhere nearby. Sooner or later something had to turn up. The limousines, the cadre of bodyguards and the weaponry they carried shouldn't be that easy to hide.
But that was for later. Right now it was the mission that was paramount, a mission whose strategy now had to be altered. He looked out across the staging area. A sharply tailored white business suit stood out among the sea of gray. Upon the request of the Council Master, Dominique was personally supervising the final preparations of the assault team being sent to retrieve Target Alpha. Originally the team wasn't supposed to leave for another hour, but upon receiving word of a mass evacuation of all but Security personnel from Naxcon the timetable had been accelerated. The assumption was that Acosta recognized that this kidnapping would attract the attention of The Dominion, and that he was taking action accordingly to secure his prize. The assault force would be leaving momentarily. Thornton feared they were already too late.
Dominique caught sight of him across the staging bay and frowned. She had a final word with the mission leader and the two of them started walking briskly toward Thornton. The crisp clip of her French heels signaled her vexation as they echoed across the cement floor.
"Stephen, what are you doing here?" she asked sharply, "I thought you were busy seeing that Mutant X was diverted from our operation."
Thornton inclined his head, acknowledging her annoyance. It was about to get worse.
"We have a problem," he rumbled, "I've been unable to contact Ms. Pierce for the last half hour."
Dominique's eyes narrowed sharply.
"You think Mutant X has moved prematurely?"
A soft buzz interrupted before he could reply. He took a customized Blackberry from his pocket and studied the screen.
"I'm sure of it," he said, "We now have confirmation that security forces at Naxcon are engaging a small group of hostiles with enhanced abilities. It can only be Mutant X."
"You were supposed to delay them!"
Thornton shrugged; it was moot at this point. "Evidently they had other ideas."
Dominique whirled to her mission leader.
"Commander, get your squad on the road now! Do whatever you must to secure Target Alpha, and take her immediately to the Palinor facility."
"If you encounter Mutant X, subdue but do not harm them unnecessarily," Thornton interjected quickly, "Incarcerate only if you have to take the woman from them, or if they know you are taking her." Dominique impaled him with a look like a flung dagger but did not countermand. The squad leader nodded and hurried off, urging his people into the waiting vehicles. Multiple weapons clicked into readiness; feet pounded as a score of trained operatives leaped inside the SUVs. Engines roared to life, and they peeled out of the bay in single file. The two Council members watched until they were out of sight. They started toward the inner double door. She glanced sideways at him, regarding him with a measured look.
"I suppose you did that to protect Ms. Pierce," she said.
"I did that to protect Dominion assets and to keep our options open."
"Of course. Options." Dominique scrutinized him thoughtfully. "You know, you seem to have taken an almost proprietary interest in Ms. Pierce since you brought her into the organization."
Thornton stopped his chair abruptly, forcing her to turn back toward him.
"The mission has been compromised," he rumbled in his deep, bear-like voice, "Whether it is still viable is an open question. There are outcomes now in play which could pose a threat to Dominion interests. It would be prudent to have strategies in place to deal with those contingencies."
"Such as?"
Thornton started forward again, Dominique falling in by his side.
"It's possible, although unlikely, that Mutant X has not yet rescued Target Alpha," he said, "If they haven't, the mission remains viable. We can take the woman and leave."
"And if Mutant X already has her?"
"Then the situation becomes more complicated," Thornton admitted, "But still workable. Ms. Pierce has never seen the new energy-absorbing suits, so she won't be able to identify our men as a Dominion force. Since the counterattack is at the Naxcon facility, it shouldn't be hard to convince them that Damien Acosta was the one who spirited her away. This will divert their considerable threat liability toward Acosta should they insist on going after her, and we will retain their loyalty by pretending to help in the search for her."
This time it was Dominique who stopped. She looked down at her crippled colleague with grudging respect.
"Weakening Acosta even more than they are undoubtedly doing right now. That's an interesting analysis, Stephen," she said slowly, "We can even send a second force as backup to 'chase off' the first – unfortunately too late to save the woman, of course. But again, what if Mutant X already has her, and they identify our assault squad as Dominion operatives?"
"Then 'complicated' becomes a problem," Thornton said, "While Ms. Pierce would obey an order to stand down, it is highly unlikely at this point that the rest of the team would be so compliant. Her husband certainly wouldn't."
"That brings us back to taking Mutant X into custody right away," Dominique said. Thornton shook his head, making his long, graying mane sway.
"Doing that would unnecessarily remove any future value they would have to us as agents," he retorted, "We shouldn't eliminate such a valuable asset unless we have to." He glowered at her. "There is also the husband and his organization to consider. It is apparently powerful, the extent of its resources unknown. Star's continued interference, directly or indirectly, and the subsequent impact on Dominion interests cannot be discounted. If we can divert him as we divert Mutant X, we can subsequently use them both to our advantage."
She started slowly forward once more, lost in thought. The husband was indeed a variable that they hadn't factored into their original plan. But there was one scenario he hadn't mentioned.
"And if we have to take her from them?"
Thornton kept his eyes straight ahead, his dour face revealing nothing.
"Then we take her."
Her surprise registered only in an eyeblink before it was quickly hidden. She had expected him to offer another alternative, but he gave her nothing she could use to demonstrate his bias concerning Mutant X. Very well. She knew he wasn't stupid. It would just require a closer watch on the wily old fox. Sooner or later he would betray himself. After a moment she nodded in agreement.
"Your reasoning is sound. I'll update the squad leader at once and inform the Master of your suggestions."
Thornton nodded, his face impassive. If he noticed the speculative gleam that flashed in her eyes before it was quickly hidden he gave no sign. They continued from the bay in silence.
Just before they reached the door the soft buzz sounded again. Thornton tapped a couple of keys on his Blackberry.
"Developments?" Dominique asked.
Thornton looked up at her, his expression grim.
"There has been an explosion at Naxcon."
As soon as the room stopped reverberating Jesse shakily picked himself up off the floor and staggered over to where Lexa was similarly gathering herself a couple of yards away. After dispatching their foes they came over to link up with Brennan and Shalimar, then the four of them together would pick up Matt and Jaryl and get the hell out of Dodge. They had crossed the center divide over to the south side chemistry labs just in time to see Carter shoot his fire daggers at the doorway of the storage room where Brennan's head had been only a couple of seconds before. Jesse hadn't expected the explosion else he would have massed out to protect himself. As it was, though he hadn't been in the direct path, he found himself flung backward like a straw in a strong wind, the small of his back impacting painfully with the edge of a counter before knocking him on his butt.
Jesse helped Lexa to her feet and looked around, trying to gain his bearings. The powerful blast had filled the air with a mushroom cloud of smoke, dust and debris. Through ears still ringing a bit he heard a whirring sound emanating from a couple of different quarters. It took a minute for him to be able to identify what he heard as industrial strength air scrubbers that had kicked on automatically when they sensed the sudden influx of smoke. This was something else that was standard in any top research lab; a necessary precaution in the event of an accident involving an airborne pathogen. They must have their own power source, he mused thankfully, since the electricity had been cut off in this portion of the building. Hopefully they would soon be making inroads in the choking haze. He and Lexa were both coughing a bit in the polluted air.
They started making their way together through the debris, keeping an eye out for other survivors, but soon separated. Lexa quickly found the elemental who had set off the explosion. He was alive but unconscious, bleeding from his mouth and a gash on his forehead. From the look of his jaw, though, the former wound appeared to have been sustained before the explosion. His companion was nearby, trying to pull himself to a sitting position, groggy and groaning, holding the side of his head in one hand. He looked up to see Lexa coming toward him with her right hand cocked and already lit. He shook his head slightly, grimacing as he did so, and held up his other hand, bloody from a piece of shrapnel tearing through it, in a gesture of surrender. Lexa peered at him closely, gauging whether or not this was a ploy and trying to decide if she should toast him anyway just to be sure. She also took note of the heavily built containment unit lying on its side that he was leaning on for support, his elbow cupped by a dent in the panel. His eyes were dull and unfocused, offering testimony as to what portion of his anatomy struck the unit and caused the dent. Concussion, she decided, a nasty one. Slowly her hand dimmed. He was no longer a threat.
Jesse, meanwhile, had continued on toward the storage room using the light from the windows to guide his way. More light poured in from gaping holes in the ceiling, exposing sections of the second floor. Some of the openings were big enough to have allowed large objects to fall through; a desk, some filing cabinets and panels of office furniture were stacked like carelessly dropped toys in front of what had been the doorway, joining with ceiling debris to form a broken wall blocking immediate access to the room. Sagging bits of carpet drooped through from above; some small part of his mind registered amazement that they weren't on fire. Beyond the wall the floor had been swept clear as by a giant's hand except for more ceiling debris and the twisted plexiglass doors. Three rows of counters which had been in the direct line of fire had been shorn from their bolted moorings and tumbled in a heap like so many dominoes, their overhead cabinets snapped off by the torque and thrown into the pile, the contents of both scattered broadcast. Broken glass was everywhere, crunching under foot with a mixture of other granular debris. Bits of paper and drywall flakes were still floating down through the smoke like a gentle snowfall.
The odd thing was that the great majority of the damage was all in one direction. The rest of the storage room was still standing, relatively untouched. The explosion had taken out the greater part of the doorway, one front corner and part of the wall on that side, the destruction fanning outward and upward, but not behind or to this side of the blast point. The reinforced steel and concrete construction evidently contained the worst of the devastation, just as it was designed to do. Shorn of its support, the ceiling above it had come crashing down, replacing much of the blown-out area with a cavity-filled wall of debris.
Around the lab the air scrubbers began to wheeze and sputter as they strained to deal with the massive amounts of smoke and dust, but they were making obvious progress. Drawn by the currents they created, the smoke was beginning to drift toward them in lazy little curls, some even being pulled through the many holes in the debris wall, still solid enough to be seen but getting thinner. Jesse made it to the storage room and stuck his head through one of the larger holes created by an angled filing cabinet.
The air inside was thick with roiling dust being pulled toward the holes and the taint of chemicals. There must have been tanks of hazardous stuff in here, which would account for the explosion. He wiped grit from his eyes and looked again, trying to pierce through the haze. The little that remained of the door lintel had been crunched by a fallen desk. Beyond that, all he could perceive were a couple of what might be shapes lying on the floor and the darker, more solid shadow of the original wall stretching into the gloom. He flattened his palms on the rough, broken stone and concentrated, preparing to turn it intangible so he could go in and get a closer look.
Nothing happened. Jesse looked at his hands in surprise and found that they were shaking violently. Now that he had actually gotten here the ramifications of what happened were beginning to sink in. The force of the explosion had vented through the doors because structurally they were the weakest point. The rest of the room didn't have that weakness. That meant that whatever – whomever – inside the reinforced walls had to have caught the blast full force.
Brennan was dead. He had to be. If the blast could do this to reinforced masonry, what would it do to an unprotected human body? Destroy it, that's what. There would have been nothing to take cover behind even if he'd had the chance. Even worse; although he hadn't seen her duck inside the room as he had Brennan, Jesse knew in his gut that Shalimar was in there with him. Where you found one you frequently found the other, particularly in dangerous situations, and there was no sign of her out here. Jesse felt tears burn in his eyes, hot and stinging. He couldn't concentrate enough to phase through the wall, couldn't bring himself to go into that room and confront the awful reality, to see his friends, or what was left of them, torn into small, bloody pieces. There wouldn't even be enough left of them to bury. His head dropped low in despair, grief welling up inside him.
Lexa materialized from the shadows. Taking in the scene in a glance, she silently laid an uncharacteristically soft and sympathetic hand on Jesse's shoulder and squeezed gently.
Someone sneezed on the other side of the wall.
Later on Shalimar would marvel at how her mind parsed those few seconds surrounding the blast with crystalline clarity, as if time broke into segments, like a film being advanced frame by frame. Flash! Comprehension of the imminent explosion. Flash! The leonine strength of Brennan's hands, the surging power in his arms as he hurled her toward the back of the room. Flash! A sense of futility, as there was no cover, yet instinctively curling into a ball as she hit the floor, her arms wrapped protectively over her head; Flash! Expecting Brennan to either drop down beside her or shield her with his own body; he was protective like that. Flash! The realization that he was still on his feet, and in fact had swung between her and the tanks, tall and solid. Flash! The crack and sizzle of electricity, blindingly bright, bigger and louder than anything she had ever seen from him before, blazing from his hands, not in bolts as usual, but with his palms facing each other from arms' length, his fingers curled inward, the concentrated energy arching between them like an enormous wall of blue-white fire. Flash! The incredibly strong stench of ozone flooding her senses. Flash! The roar of an explosion; Flash! Gritting her teeth and bracing for the shock wave, which didn't have nearly the impact she expected; Flash! The stink of ionized dust roiling in clouds, inundating her. Flash! The slow shriek of shearing metal. Flash! Multiple crashes of falling debris, but miraculously none of it reaching her. Silence.
Cautiously Shalimar uncoiled, coughing and choking from the curtain of falling dust which covered her like a blanket, clogging her senses. Half blind from the flash, her ears still ringing from the roar of the explosion, she straightened slowly and very carefully, testing her limbs for injury. Though sore and stinging from the earlier glass cuts, everything moved with her, which she took as a good sign. She lifted her head and wiped at her eyes, peering through the gloom. Dust particles danced in the light from the ripped-open ceiling; tendrils of smoke slowly wafted up and away, gradually thinning the haze around her.
She couldn't fathom how she survived such a powerful, contained explosion. The wall where the tanks were racked had been pulverized. So had the floor beneath the racks, as well as the doorway. Shorn of support and also in response to the blast itself, the ceiling and parts of the floor above had collapsed, cutting them off from the rest of the lab with great hunks of rubble. It wasn't solid; she could see numerous holes of various sizes spotted all through it, helping to filter the dust away. The devastation, though, was oddly selective; the area where she was lying and behind her was essentially undamaged, as if the force of the blast had been blocked, or perhaps channeled upward somehow.
Shalimar got her hands beneath her and pressed slowly to her knees. She pushed a sheaf of whitened hair from her eyes. Her mouth and nose were filled with acrid, bitter powder. Her ears still rang from the blast, although that was beginning to subside. Now if only the pounding in her skull would do likewise. Her head felt thick and fuzzy; she just couldn't seem to get a grasp on exactly what happened. The choking dust seemed to have clogged her brain as well as her senses.
She sneezed, and in that instant of temporary clearing her nostrils picked up a scent that cleared the cobwebs from her mind in a flash. Memory and knowledge fused together into instant, horrible clarity. Brennan! Now she understood why he hadn't hit the floor with her, and what the huge burst of electrical energy meant. She leaped to her feet, her heart turning to a lump of solid ice, and started scrambling toward one particular pile of rubble where the smell of his blood was the strongest.
He lay angled on his right side, unconscious, his left arm folded protectively atop his head. A heavy chunk of I-beam had shorn loose from its parent in the ceiling directly above and landed across his exposed ribcage. Cement blocks and what might be pieces of the tanks or their steel racks had both his legs trapped below the knees. Bits of ceiling panel and broken rods of reinforced steel lay all around. Behind his head was a chunk of concrete with a thin line of blood staining its broken, knife-sharp edge. She flung it aside frantically along with some smaller pieces of debris and dropped down in the narrow space between his head and the I-beam.
Blood dripped from a nasty slash across his left forearm, no doubt caused by that piece of concrete she just tossed. As muscled as his shoulder and bicep was and the way the arm was angled Shalimar would have to move it slightly to be able to get at the carotid artery to check for a heartbeat. She lifted it gently, wincing at the fracture she felt beneath the cut, and carefully eased it aside, exposing the side of his neck. Her hand trembled as she slipped it into the open space, terrified of what she would find, or rather not find, as she placed her hypersensitive fingers on the pulse-point in his neck.
"Shalimar!"
Her head twisted at the exultant shout. Two figures appeared from the gloom; Jesse and Lexa had just phased through the debris. They darted forward.
Jesse's immediate impulse to seize her in a joyful, rib-cracking embrace died stillborn in the next instant when he caught sight of Brennan half buried in the rubble. Elation turned to cold fear in a heartbeat. Seeing her hand on his neck Jesse looked down at her in mute dread, unwilling to put voice to the question because he was very much afraid that the terrible answer was already chiseled into her frozen features. Her wide, anxious eyes met his.
"He's alive." She didn't trust herself to say anything more. Jesse would find out on his own soon enough. The spark of life she felt when she pressed her fingers to the artery in his neck had been frighteningly weak. Her feral hearing picked up a faint, horrible sort of gurgle as his one good lung fought to suck in air. She also knew that there was more blood than was currently visible on his arm – a lot more. She could smell it.
She rose and stepped around Brennan. Positioning her feet for optimum leverage, she seized the I-beam with adrenaline-boosted strength and levered it aside. Jesse moved into the place she vacated and knelt down.
"Oh, God!" he exclaimed, appalled, at his first look at the damage. Lexa gasped.
Blood was spreading across Brennan's gray Henley shirt from both directions of the point where the ridge of the I-beam had slammed into him, collapsing that portion of his ribcage and making the side of his chest look deformed. Jesse gingerly pulled the cotton fabric loose and eased it up to expose a deep, oozing gash about ten inches long. He pulled a clean handkerchief out of his back pocket and applied it to the open wound.
"Keep pressure on that," he said to Shalimar. He probed the chest and side area gently, his expression grim.
"Four, maybe five broken ribs," he reported presently, "The spine looks okay. Left lung collapsed, probably punctured. Breathing is uneven and shallow." The chest wall was bruising massively. Judging by how far down and around the discoloration was progressing there was probably some internal damage as well, but there was no way to tell for sure right now and Jesse didn't want to pile on. Things were bad enough as it was. Shalimar leaned in beside him.
"His left forearm is also broken; it looks like he tried to protect his head. He could still have a concussion, or even a skull fracture. I haven't had a chance to check yet."
"What the hell happened?" Jesse demanded, using hands and feet to clear himself a larger space.
"They had chemical tanks stored here," she explained, "There were about a half dozen with flammable markings on them standing in racks on that wall. Brennan must have seen the fire elemental targeting them. He threw me to the back, then let off this really huge blast of electricity just as they blew up. I don't know what he was trying to do, but…"
"I do," Lexa put in, "He had an idea that he could create an electrical field to block energy. He was experimenting at Sanctuary before this whole mess started." In a few terse sentences she described the practice session she had interrupted that morning.
"And blocking the explosion forced part of the energy upward," Jesse said, "The original idea looks like it worked – I don't see any shrapnel-type injuries."
He could almost visualize what must have happened when the two fields of energy collided. The explosion was deflected but the impact shattered the shield. The energy couldn't be destroyed, of course. It had to go somewhere, drawn outward in part by the energy of the explosion as it rebounded, and partly upward. Jesse almost shook his head at the irony. In all likelihood it was probably Brennan's own electricity that had brought the ceiling debris down on him, but even if he'd known what would happen he wouldn't have had time angle his shield properly to prevent it. All he had time to do was save Shalimar. In theory, the idea had been a brilliant one. Jesse grimaced. Yeah – except for nearly being crushed to death, it was a great move. He moved down toward Brennan's feet, stepping carefully over pieces of warped, sharp-edged metal, almost turning his ankle on a fragment of cement that crumbled unexpectedly underfoot. Lexa moved in to finish clearing around the rest of him.
"Uh-oh."
Jesse hadn't liked the look of the way Brennan's legs were pinned. He phased his hands through the blocks, feeling around carefully. The two women looked over at him.
"Compound fracture, left leg, above the ankle," he reported. Shalimar started to reach over to grab the side of the offending concrete, but Jesse shook his head.
"No, don't – there's an edge underneath caught on the bone," he said, "If you yank it you'll make the fracture worse." He thought for a fast second. "Let's do this: I'll phase the debris; Shal, you pull him free. Lexa, I need you here."
The others moved into position. Shalimar eased Brennan more onto his back so she could get a better grip under his arms, wincing inwardly a little as she felt her forearm rub against the third degree burn on his back. Jesse took a breath, then nodded. As his power turned the debris intangible, the feral lifted her injured teammate and began backing up. Lexa slid her hands underneath the calf of Brennan's leg, supporting it at the break as it came free. It was easy to see where it was; the bone poking from the inside brought the leg of his jeans to a point, a smear of blood marking the spot. Shalimar kept going until she had him well clear, then lowered him gently to the floor.
Jesse knelt beside Brennan's legs to continue his examination of the fracture. Lexa stepped back out of his way. She wanted to help, but really couldn't see how she could at the moment. "He's going to need surgery. I know a doctor we can take him to."
Jesse nodded his acknowledgement and kept working. Feeling very much like a fifth wheel, Lexa went back to the debris wall and peered through. The visibility was getting better thanks to the air scrubbers, which she could hear laboring mightily.
Air was the only thing she could see moving. It looked like the opposition had been successfully taken out – at least temporarily. That bought them a little time; how much was anyone's guess. After that – well, the storage room itself would protect them somewhat, but sooner or later they were going to have to come out. They were also going to have to devise some way of carrying Brennan without exacerbating his injuries. Could Jesse phase them all out? Lexa didn't know. It might therefore be prudent to have an exit that didn't depend on him.
She studied the piled debris, searching for the thinnest point with the idea of carving an opening. When she was certain she'd found it she used her laser power to start carefully slicing a vertical line through the stone, adjusting slightly wherever possible to take advantage of as many holes as she could. With her other hand she pushed the cut pieces out of the way, trying to angle them sideways so they wouldn't have to stumble over them so much on the way out. Cutting the door through the back wall would have been slightly closer to the Helix, but from what she could see the stone was a lot thicker there. She had chosen the thinner wall because it was quicker, but also to help conserve her energy. She had a nasty feeling that she was going to need it before they made it out of here.
Shalimar took the opportunity to crouch at Brennan's head, her fingers moving carefully through his thick, dust-caked hair. The fallout was still coming down, although not nearly as much, the drywall flakes whitening the grey cast of his skin to a deathly pallor. Those that landed in his blood took on a pink tinge, adding an incongruously cheerful bit of color to the monotone backdrop.
"The skull and neck seem intact," she reported presently. Her fingers strayed once more to his neck. She looked up apprehensively. "Pulse is becoming erratic."
Powder mixed with sweat was forming a thin layer of paste on Brennan's face. Wanting to do something, anything, to help, she thought to wipe it away but had no handkerchief or similar cloth at hand. Improvising, she brushed the dust off the ruffle of her blouse's neckline and discovered that her hands were trembling. Impatient with herself for allowing nerves to affect her at a time like this, she grasped the flimsy material in an extra-firm grip and ripped it loose with one long pull. Twisting the scrap around her fingers, she started to clean gently around his nostrils and mouth. Something gleamed wetly near the ear canal. She touched it. Her fingertip came back red, and she stiffened in alarm.
"There's blood in his ears!"
Jesse swore under his breath. "Stay on the carotid," he ordered, moving up to kneel once more by Brennan's side. Damn. Bleeding from the ears meant internal injuries. Not unexpected, but definitely not good. Not good at all. His jaw set in a grim line. While they all had been given training in field medicine techniques, Adam had been the one with the actual medical degree. The little Jesse did know was practically useless; he had no computer to help him, no equipment, no nothing save the Helix's medkit, which, being in the Helix, wouldn't do him any good at the moment. All he had been able to offer so far was his handkerchief on the side wound, which was already soaked through with blood.
What he wouldn't give for his laptop! At least he would be able to review emergency trauma procedures, but without it he felt hopelessly out of his depth. Jesse was the team's computer and all-around tech specialist. Since pretty much everything at their home base inside Sanctuary was beyond-cutting-edge high tech, that made Jesse the repairman for just about everything from the computers to the Double Helix. But that didn't necessarily include the human body, although he got the feeling that the others were unconsciously looking toward him for that skill set. He was the fix-it guy, wasn't he? If he could strip down the Helix's aeronautic systems and put them back together again, why couldn't he patch together his best friend's shattered ribs and crushed lung? Moving parts were moving parts, right? If something was broken, you replaced the part, rebuilt any severed connections, and everything was fine. That was the way his mind had been trained.
He fought back a wave of panic. He wasn't a doctor, dammit! Sure, he had started to educate himself in more advanced emergency medical techniques, but he was a long way from feeling confident or competent to replace Adam in that regard. Brennan's injuries were far beyond what Jesse felt qualified to handle.
His hands moved carefully toward the center of Brennan's chest, probing for additional breaks. His jaw clenched as flesh gave under his fingers. He couldn't do this. He had no tools. They needed to get Brennan out of here, to a real doctor, the one Lexa mentioned, and fast. But how? He looked around frantically for something, anything that might serve as a makeshift stretcher.
"Where are Matt and Jaryl?" Shalimar asked, her face as pale as the dust shrouding her clothes and hair. The pressure under her fingertips flickered. Surely the empath could help Brennan; she had healed his knee quickly enough. These injuries were much more serious, of course, but perhaps she could at least stabilize him until they could get him further medical help.
Lexa had asked herself that question earlier, and didn't like the answer.
"Either they're down or they took off," she said, rounding off the last sharp edge on her completed doorway. Privately she was betting on the latter, but either way it didn't look like they were going to get much help from that quarter.
"They wouldn't have taken off!" Jesse snapped. Jaryl had come back for him once; he refused to believe that she wouldn't again if it were at all possible. He searched his mind, feeling for that someone-looking-over-his-shoulder sensation he felt when Matt responded to his thoughts earlier. It wasn't there. Shalimar, however, perked up, her feral hearing penetrating through the grinding rasp of the scrubbers.
"I think I hear them," she said, turning her head slowly, "And it sounds like they have their hands full."
Jesse shot an I-told-you-so look at Lexa. She shrugged.
"Maybe I should go see if I can help.
She had gotten only a couple of steps before the irregular beat beneath Shalimar's fingers winked out.
"No pulse!" she cried.
