Chapter 4
Saving Grace
Disclaimer: Yeah, Landmark owns it all. This is the same disclaimer you read all over the internet and web. Let's be truthful, though – this could have been a great show that Landmark and Mattel let slide into oblivion. Shame on them for being before their time in the entertainment business.
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The alley was dark but for a single bulb of light that cast eerie shadows on old cargo containers stacked along the walkway. The area was empty, quiet except for the steady thrum of music permeating the brick of the bars that faced outward toward the street. Jon wished he had not listened to Hawk and had carried a pistol. The alley smacked of danger, setting all of his senses on edge.
Hawk followed close behind him. "You sure about this, Jon? Feels like a setup."
Someone spoke from behind the crates to their left. "Lucky for you, it's not."
Jon spun around, focusing in on the voice. The man who had thrown him out of the bar stepped from the shadows. He leaned against the crates and folded his arms.
"Are you the Healer?" Jon asked.
The man shook his head. "No, I'm Holcomb. You might call me the Healer's 'agent'. No one sees the Healer unless I approve it, so state your business and do it fast."
Jon stepped forward. "I'm Captain Jon Power. This is Major Masterson. We run a resistance cell to the west, in the desert. Our pilot's been seriously wounded in a firefight with a biodread. She needs a doctor."
Holcomb raised an eyebrow. "A biodread, eh? We don't get too many of them around here. What was its interest in your pilot?"
Hawk grew impatient. "Her charming personality," he snapped. "Look, are you going to help us or not? If not, we're wasting what time she has left to find someone who can."
Holcomb stood unfazed by Hawk's ire. He unfolded his arms and hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Where's your pilot?"
Jon felt a surge of hope. "Aboard our jumpship, about two clicks south of town."
Holcomb paused, locking his eyes to Jon's. Jon did not waver.
Then the man nodded. "All right, let's go." Holcomb opened a channel on his wrist communicator. "Sanders, this is Holcomb. Meet us at the south entrance with a transport. Alert Sanctuary that we have incoming wounded . . . and wake up the Healer."
"Acknowledged," a man responded. Holcomb turned and started toward the street.
"We have a sky bike," Jon said, following. "It'll get us there quickly."
"Yeah, and leave a bright signature for the overunits to find. The last thing we need right now is a raid. We'll need a transport to move your pilot anyway."
"You all seem to have quite a setup going here," Hawk said. "How is it everyone else can't breathe without Dread forces coming down on them and you have all this?"
Holcomb gave a smirk. "When you feed the big monster what it likes to eat, its belly stays full."
Whatever that meant, Jon said to himself. At that very moment, he really did not care what it all meant or how the people of Robertsontown managed to live so well.
They threaded through the crowded street, which had heavier traffic now. The south end of town was even busier, with at least a dozen vehicles parked at odd angles. A young man was standing on the running board of one, motioning to Holcomb who returned the signal and led them to what looked like an old sand racer.
"Get in and hold on," Holcomb said, climbing into the front seat. "If you're hoping for a smooth ride, this ain't going to be it."
Jon got in, grabbing on to the roll bar for support as he slipped into the back seat. Hawk followed suit. The racer reminded him of the vehicles they sometimes found abandoned beneath the sand in the desert. Roll bars, as his father once told him they were called, boxed the vehicle in to prevent the occupants from being crushed if the racer overturned. This one had been outfitted with a payload area in the back, clearly a platform that was not originally intended to be on the buggy.
Sanders hit the ignition, and the engine sparked to life. Jon felt the steady vibration of the motor, impressed that it sounded so quiet and tuned.
Holcomb turned around as Sanders pulled away from Robertsontown. "Show us where to go."
Hawk, who was seated behind Sanders, leaned forward to give directions.
Holcomb addressed Power. "Tell me what happened."
Jon put his hand on the roll bar to steady himself as the transport picked up speed. "We're still not sure how Dread found our base except that we know that Blastarr managed to go through the jumpgate. We're sure our gate system has been compromised. Our pilot was ambushed at our command center."
Power fought his emotions as he continued. "She was alone when Blastarr and a unit of biomechs showed up. She blew the power core and destroyed the base before Blastarr could get any information."
Holcomb listened intently, incredulous at Power's last statement. "She was inside the base when it blew?"
Hawk joined the tale. "Yeah. The blast caused the floor to collapse. Created a pocket with enough room to keep the upper floors from falling in on her."
The transport hit a bump in the terrain, and Holcomb now took hold of the roll bar, as well. "What do you think is wrong with her?"
Hawk recounted his initial diagnosis for Holcomb. "We have limited stasis on the jumpship. What's available won't last much longer."
Their new ally faced forward again and made a call using the radio in the transport's dashboard. The sound of wind whistling through the open-top transport made it impossible to hear his words.
Hawk continued directing Sanders toward the jumpship until it could be seen in the distance. Power called to let Tank and Scout know of their approach.
"We're on our way," he told them.
Then they were upon the jumpship. Before Sanders could bring the transport to a complete stop, Holcomb was out of the cab and heading for the ramp leading into the fuselage. He might have made it all the way inside had Tank not stopped him with a large hand to the chest.
Jon rushed forward and stepped between them, effectively blocking Tank from Holcomb before a confrontation could ensue.
"He's okay," Jon said. "He's going to take Pilot to the Healer."
Tank gave Holcomb a nod, trusting his commanding officer's judgment, and let him pass. Jon was on Holcomb's heels as they entered the jumpship. To the left, Scout stood at the med bunk, monitoring Pilot's condition. He moved away as they approached.
"Something's wrong," Scout announced with alarm. "I was just about to call you. The scanner's showing a drop in her vitals."
Holcomb moved to the med bunk and examined the readings. Alarms began to ping and whine suddenly as the stasis began to fail.
Hawk moved forward to help. "We're losing her!"
Holcomb remained calm but resolved. "No, we're not going to lose her."
He activated his wrist communicator again. "Sanders, I need an A.L.S. unit up here, on the double."
The letters focused Jon on Holcomb. "What's A.L.S.?"
Holcomb reached for Pilot's head to check the wound there, lifting the blood-soaked bandage. "Advanced Life Support. It's similar to stasis, but damage to the organs from long-term use is much less severe."
Sanders' boots clanked against the ramp of the jumpship as he carried a case into the hull. Holcomb took hold of the handle and sat it on the med bunk. Inside was a monitor similar to the one that sat above the med bunk but definitely an upgrade.
Another alarm rang out, and Holcomb finally seemed disconcerted. He began deploying the medical devices from the kit more quickly.
Sanders assisted by calling out readings to Holcomb. "Stasis integrity at four percent. One minute to failure," he reported.
Holcomb withdrew a small curved device from the kit and moved to the head of the med bunk. He gently rolled Jennifer's head to the side, exposing the carotid artery.
"Integrity at two percent. Thirty seconds to failure," Sanders said, doggedly watching the readings.
The tension built among Power's crew as they watched Holcomb activate the device. A needle issued forth from the edge, and he brought it to her neck.
Jon's panic rose uncontrollably as he watched Jennifer's life slipping away on the readouts. The sight of the device pushed his anxiety to its limit. "What are you doing?!"
Hawk's hand was a steadying force on Power's shoulder, keeping him at bay from the work at the med bunk.
Holcomb paid no attention to the outburst. He brought the needle to the skin of Pilot's neck and inserted it with purpose into the artery.
"Fifteen seconds to total failure," Sanders said coolly.
Holcomb's concentration was acute. "Almost there." He continued to insert the needle, watching the readout on the device.
The cabin was silent with heavy anticipation, the only sound coming from Sanders' countdown.
"Five seconds to failure."
Holcomb looked up quickly. "Got it! Go!"
Sanders hit the command panel in the kit and activated the A.L.S. system. Pilot's body jerked up in response. A weak seizure overtook her, but Holcomb was quick to calm Power's crew.
"It's okay," he assured them, holding Pilot's head in his hands. "It happens when a patient transitions from stasis to A.L.S. It'll pass in a second."
Sanders handed Holcomb a tiny vial of amber liquid. Holcomb used one hand to insert it into the A.L.S. device. Almost immediately, Pilot's tremors slowed until she was deathly still. Another stab of panic rushed through Jon as he looked at the monitors to make sure she was alive.
A fleeting look of relief wash over Holcomb's face before the man was in charge of his emotions once more. Holcomb blew out a breath that puffed his cheeks. His large hand went to Pilot's forehead in a gesture of comfort.
"You're safe now, sweetheart," he said, stroking her hair. "You're safe."
Holcomb looked up at Hawk and said, "We just bought her three more hours. It's up to the Healer to do the rest."
He told Sanders to prepare the transport and began detaching the stretcher from the wall. Hawk unfastened the clamps at the other end and lifted in tandem with Holcomb. Power followed behind them as they carried Pilot toward the ramp and out of the jumpship. He stopped when he saw Tank and Scout waiting by the cockpit, watching the stretcher pass.
"I need the two of you to stay with the jumpship," Power said. He saw the impending protest building but stopped them, saying, "This rust bucket is all we have left. If anything happens, you're under orders to take off and regroup. It'll be up to you to make sure the resistance doesn't fail."
Tank's eyes closed solemnly but he said nothing. Scout watched as Holcomb and Hawk carried Pilot out into the cool night air.
"You take care of her, Captain," the sergeant said quietly.
Power nodded. "Count on it."
Outside, Hawk and Holcomb loaded Pilot into the cargo space of the transport, strapping her in tightly. Holcomb now took a seat in the back with Hawk while Power rode up front with Sanders.
A break in the clouds allowed the moon to illuminate the plains on which they rode. The area was vast and deserted except for the glow of Robertsontown in front of them. Sanders did not bring them back to the south entrance where they had departed from earlier. Instead, he took a route to the western side of the town that had not yet managed to resurrect itself from the days of the Metal Wars. Rubble was strewn everywhere. In what was once a bustling city laid buildings that had toppled and left small mountains of crushed concrete in the streets.
The moon was high enough to light their way. Sanders left the vehicle's lights off as they picked their way through the debris using deliberately cleared paths through the wreckage.
Power looked back to check on Jennifer. Holcomb was reaching over to steady her head with two large hands to keep the A.L.S. device in place. Jon could see the device now. It formed to the curvature of her neck, three inches of black material with a digital readout. He had no choice but to trust that Holcomb was saving her life with it. Watching the thick needle slide into her skin had seemed violent somehow, gruesome and vulgar. So much of the damned war had been just that – gruesome and vulgar.
Sanders reached down for the transport's radio. "This is Sanders. We're at the back door."
Sanders took them into one of the few standing buildings in the area. Jon looked up and counted at least six stories inside what looked like it used to be a central meeting place of some sort. Bare walkways that made up the floors above them looked odd and naked without any guard against someone falling. Then he saw the glass on the floor, walls shattered into tiny diamonds of ruin. Jon looked up at the floors above them as the transport pulled into the atrium of the building. Only then did he notice the roof was gone, probably made of glass, as well, that had been blown out of its frame so long ago.
Sanders drove slowly into the atrium, following swept paths through the glass and ruins toward a darkened area opposite the entrance. The sound of the engine reflected off the walls in eerie echoes that relayed how large the building was with all its darkened corners. Jon caught movement above them in his periphery. Armed human sentries stepped from the shadows to look down upon them as they entered deeper into lobby area.
Hawk turned toward Jon and gave a minute jerk of his head to alert Power of the sentries. Jon acknowledged it but said nothing. There was nothing to be done but trust Holcomb and his crew to do the right thing.
The transport pulled toward the shadows where the doors to an elevator shaft were open. The opaque black inside made it look almost solid in contrast with the moonlit objects near it. Sanders placed a call on the transport's radio once more. "We're on the back porch."
Holcomb exited the transport and rounded the end to the cargo area. Jon kept an eye on the balconies as they processed, stretcher in hand, toward the elevator shaft. A sentry met them, a man Jon did not see in the shadows at first due to the black clothing the guard wore. The stranger took over carrying duties from Holcomb.
Holcomb used his communicator again. "Send the car. The clock's ticking."
Jon felt a rumbling in the floor as a generator kicked on somewhere in the distance. The dark rectangle of the elevator shaft began glowing as a car neared the level's entrance. A bright light split the darkness as the car rose into view. Pain stabbed through Jon's eyes as the blinding jolt pierced his vision as the doors opened.
Holcomb stepped into the car, followed by Hawk and the sentry who were carrying Pilot. Sanders followed Jon. In the stark brightness of the elevator car, he wished it had remained dark, for he could now see just how badly injured Jennifer Chase really was. The right side of her face was bruised and swollen. Dried blood had turned the collar of her uniform to a rust color. The deformity in her left wrist was even more pronounced than he had first noticed on the jumpship.
Jon held her hand as Holcomb checked the positioning of the A.L.S. The car began to descend, causing a feeling of momentary weightlessness when it began to drop. Every few moments, Pilot's body would flinch, as if in rebellion of the artificial means keeping her alive.
"When we get down there," Holcomb said, examining Pilot further, "you're going to be searched for weapons. Don't make these people nervous. They have no problem shooting you."
Hawk held the stretcher tightly in his hands. "After all the trouble we've gone through? We've had too much fun to ruin it now."
Jon ignored Hawk's sarcasm, drawn to a sudden tightening of Jennifer's hand around his own. "What's wrong with her? Why does she keep doing that?"
Holcomb looked up at him. "I'm not sure. We'll know more once we get down below."
The elevator car descended for another half a minute until it came to rest at its destination. The doors slid open. Jon looked up, expectantly. A young man and an older woman stood there with an empty gurney. His attention was on the area behind them, though. It was modern and clean, as Jon remembered civilization before Dread had destroyed everything. The walls gleamed in cleanliness, a look foreign to what he knew. Even his father's lab had been dank and laden with cold cement. This place was like a shiny new coin, out of place in a very dull world.
Holcomb urged them forward, instructing Hawk to get the hard-backed stretcher on to the gurney. The attendants turned the gurney to the right, down a dimly lit hall. Holcomb took the lead, pulling the cart along toward a triage area. He made a left turn and brought Jennifer into a treatment area.
Jon and Hawk were greeted by four guards. They turned the two toward a wall to be searched. It flashed through Jon's mind briefly that Hawk might have been carrying a backup weapon, but that fear was allayed when the guards released them to enter the triage area. The guards followed close behind the two men as they entered. Holcomb was bringing the response team into full swing.
"We in stage two A.L.S. conversion with seizure activity. I want a body scan and a full support unit in here now," Holcomb ordered. "Where's the Healer?"
"On the way," the older woman to the side reported.
The room was full of diagnostic equipment Jon had not seen since his days of his father's projects, machines to monitor biological readings of a patient on the edge of death. The monitors issued warnings as each was attached to Pilot's body, large crimson signs of her critical condition.
Holcomb gave a passing glance to Power as he worked. "Captain, how long would you say she was down there?"
Jon snapped his attention to reality. "A half hour, maybe a little more."
The older woman began cutting material around Pilot's wrist, slicing into the dark blue fabric of the Powersuit. Another seizure gripped Jennifer's body, this time stronger and more violent. Holcomb held her torso steady with a bulked arm.
The hallway outside the triage area was dark, but Jon saw the silhouette of a figure approach. He could hear a dull mechanical thump as the figure walked into the medical area. He saw the dull glow of a red light near the right eye of the leading shadow. To the left and right, two more followed, mechanical clanking feet sounding like shockwaves off the modern walls. Jon realized the two behind the figure were anything but human. They were machines, the breed of Dread's biomechanical foot soldiers.
Jon lunged toward Pilot to get her out of their reach. He was caught from behind by one of the guards who held both arms securely just as his hand brushed the sheet of the gurney. Hawk was similarly subdued. Holcomb looked up from Pilot.
"Just go with the flow, Captain, and everything will be okay," he admonished, concentrating on Pilot more than the struggle in the doorway of the triage area. "Don't make things more difficult."
The figure in the hallway entered the triage area. It was inhuman. Part mechanical, part biological, Jon saw a nightmarish similarity to Dread.
"Holcomb, damn you!" yelled Power. "What have you done?!"
"It's not what you think, Captain," Holcomb responded, continuing to hold Pilot still. "This is the Healer."
Jon struggled even more against the grip of the guards until the Healer gave a nod. Then he felt a sting in the middle of his back that knocked the wind out of him. He went crashing to the flooring, hearing Hawk drop down next to him a second later. The last thing he saw was the Healer stepping into view, a mechanical leg blocking his view of Pilot. Then the world went black and silent as Jon slipped into unconsciousness.