Don't make a liar out of me…
The thought kept circling around Jon's mind, even as he focused on the immediate needs of the girl on the medi-bunk. Another cold pack under her neck. Two more wrapped around her wrists. That would leave enough for all the critical lower body areas…
I told her she would be all right… that everything would be all right…
The IV for re-hydration and electrolytes. By some minor miracle, he was able to find a usable vein without much difficulty.
We've had too many losses this past year – and the year before that-
One good look from head-to-toe to make sure he hadn't missed anything before he added the cooling blanket.
Let us have this one little miracle…
He stepped back to look at the monitors – willing all the numbers to start heading in the right direction.
And then it occurred to him that this could still be the strangest trap Dread had ever set for them. He'd never heard Scout say anything about scanning the girl for bugs or trackers.
Fortunately, his sergeant had left a scanner at his station. And it ought to pick up any transmitter – even through the cooling blanket.
Three careful passes detected absolutely nothing, and he allowed himself a sigh of relief.
It would have made for a damned unlikely trap, anyway. A scheme that involved knowing Scout's exact flight plan for the day, counting on him not deviating from it, and risking a Youth Leader dying from heatstroke before she was spotted from the air? When he stopped to think about it, the idea was beyond ridiculous.
But how did you end up stranded out there – with that bloody nose and mouth on top of the heatstroke?
That was just one of a long list of questions he already had for the girl – Jennifer. He knew he wouldn't be getting answers anytime soon.
He had done all he could for her for now. Nothing else to do but keep an eye on the monitors and his ears alert for any trouble Hawk or Scout might see coming at them.
He dropped into the jumpseat next to the medi-bunk, and felt his foot come down on something soft.
The hat from Jennifer's Dread Youth uniform. He'd been so preoccupied with adding and adjusting the various cold packs that he hadn't even noticed when it had fallen on the floor.
He picked the cap up slowly and stared at it for a long moment. It was the closest look he'd ever had at the emblem that stood for everything he'd been fighting against for over a decade now.
His fingers tightened around the material – almost unconsciously – and he thought for a second about how good it would feel to tear the damned thing into shreds.
Don't. There might be another use for it later. You never know…
The wave of anger and revulsion faded almost as quickly as it had flared up, and he loosened his grip on the cap. He couldn't bring himself to put it back on Jennifer's head, but it didn't feel right to just cast it aside. He found himself idly turning it over and over in his hands – needing something to occupy them while he watched, listened, and waited.
What have we gotten ourselves into here?
He knew just about anyone else in the Resistance would think what they were doing now was either idiotic or insane. Both, even. Bringing a Dread Youth cadet back to their Base – even one blindfolded and incapacitated - most sensible soldiers would consider that a recipe for disaster.
Especially considering this wasn't just any older cadet. Jennifer had identified herself as a Dread Youth Leader. They knew enough about the structure of the corps to know that meant she was the proverbial cream of the crop – someone preparing for a role in the higher echelon of Overunits. She could literally be the poster girl for the Dread Youth.
Which made Jon wonder why they hadn't picked up any chatter on enemy frequencies about her.
You'd think Dread's forces would be moving Heaven and Earth to find one of their shining stars….
Unless even Dread Youth Leaders are more expendable than we thought…
Then there was the phrase he and Hawk had heard her repeating over Scout's comm link, while he'd been trying to coax her name out of her… "can't go back…"
Maybe she didn't just mean Hardscrabble… assuming that was where she'd wandered from in the first place.
But if it was the Dread Youth that she couldn't go back to – if she'd been kicked out for some unforgiveable transgression - why was she still in uniform – and still identifying herself first as a Dread Youth Leader?
Maybe she can't bear to lose that identity – can't imagine any kind of life outside the corps even after being drummed out of it.
But if that were the case – why had they let her keep that blood-and spittle-spattered uniform – and left it all otherwise intact? That didn't make sense – unless part of the plan was to track her corpse down in the desert later and retrieve the uniform then. He wouldn't put that past any of Dread's corps – and yet that scenario didn't feel right to him.
That left Hardscrabble as the only other likely possibility. The residents of that aptly named village didn't have the reputation of being the sweetest souls on the planet – and they certainly had no sympathy for Dread's forces. But they were also many miles away from any Dread outpost or recent troop activity – unless something had flown completely under his radar.
Just how long have you been wandering out there? Who are the "they" you said "all wanted me dead" – and how did you get away from them?
More questions that couldn't be answered until Jennifer recovered. If she recovered.
No, he wasn't going to let himself think like that. They'd come too far with her already – and the girl was young and strong – she had that much in her favor.
Was it just his imagination - or was that fast and shallow breathing starting to even out – just a bit?
He lifted his eyes to the monitors and saw the first little glimpse of hope there.
Just the smallest fractions, but pulse, respiration, and core body temperature had all ticked downward.
Still, she was far from out of the woods.
"What's our ETA, Hawk?"
"About twenty minutes, give or take. We really stressed our engines with our outbound maximum burn. Too risky to push them any harder than this – at least until after Tank's able to overhaul them again. "
And of course, they'd scheduled that maintenance for tomorrow.
Getting out to her was the more critical part of the trip. We should be fine with a slower ride home – if we don't run into any more trouble.
"How's our patient doing?"
"Too soon to be sure, but I think she might just make it…."
He brought his eyes back down to the hat in his hands – still not sure what he should do with it.
He finally settled on propping it against the back of the bunk. Out of the way for now – but it wouldn't get lost again.
Just as he let go of the cap, Jennifer turned her head ever-so-slightly in that direction – with a barely audible whimper. A whimper that turned into a weak little cry as she tried to jerk her head up.
"Can't… see…" Her voice was weak, but there was no mistaking the fear and anguish in it, even as her heart rate spiked on the monitor.
He brought one hand to her head, the other to her shoulder to steady her.
"I know that's scary, and I'm sorry. But that band is there for your own good. And it won't be for much longer. I promise." He did his best to match his tone to his hold on her. Gentle, but firm.
She feebly struggled against him for a couple of seconds, then either gave up or lapsed back into unconsciousness. He couldn't be sure which, but decided to keep talking as if she could still hear him.
"I told you that you were going to have to trust us, remember?"
No response.
No matter. "Just hold on. It will all get better. You'll see. See like you never have before."
Had her breath just caught a little at that?
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Hold on," he repeated as he brought his eyes back to the monitors.
Hold on…