Salvaged Destiny (13 page)

“Don’t complain, at least they’re clean,” he advised Harata
as the other man’s eyes bulged and watered.

“Hey, Casta, is it?” Avo Kirk spoke up from his wallow on
the ground in a wheezing tone. “Just so you know, I was just doing a job out
here. The sheriff, he threatened me—”

“You be quiet or I’ll gag you with rocks,” Lazlo threatened
in a low voice. Both men stilled. “Nothing is bleeding on your back, Del, but I
know it hurts. Stay still. Keep the pressure on. I’m going to call for help.” He
pulled her shirt around her shoulders and then gave her his own shirt to add a
layer to help warm her up. Stars, this was a complete mess—two prisoners—one of
whom was the territorial sheriff—and poor Del was injured and going into shock.

Lazlo shook his head and powered up his datpad since there
was no need for stealth anymore. He sent a signal out to the new little drone
circling far overhead, got an immediate acknowledgement and relayed his
situation, location and request for backup to Major Sekar. Within moments, he
had a message waiting.

Lt. Casta

Mobilizing appropriate response. Will arrive at your
location within .75 hours. Check both assailants for recording devices.

Maj. Sekar

All of that sounded like a great resolution to his
disastrous situation. Lazlo pinged an acknowledgement, checked on Del again and
began to search Kirk and Harata more thoroughly. All he wanted now was for Del
to be helped at the medical center and for his prisoners to be safely
transported to lockup.

His own punishment would follow soon enough.

* * * * *

“Just relax,” Dr. Tradescans warned and then did something
spectacularly uncomfortable with the skin on her sternum. Del tried not to cry
or move as he quickly clipped and inspected her injury.

“Will you need to stitch it?” Del didn’t want to sound as
weak as she felt.

“No, it’s not deep enough for that. But you’re going to have
a scar and there’s a good chance of infection since I can’t seal it,” the
doctor concluded pessimistically. But it seemed he was finished with hurting
her, at least for the moment, and Del sighed with relief as he moved away. She
was lying on a bed in medical, supported by a few half-folded pillows that did
little to ease the pressure on her painful back. Every muscle felt as if it had
been crushed. It hurt to breathe and to move her arms.

“I’m going to prescribe a wide course of antifungals and
antivirals to start and if you notice any change other than healing, you need
to come in and have it tested.” Dr. Tradescans looked at her sternly and Del
nodded agreement. She was feeling a little dizzy, fluctuating from anxiety to
exhaustion.

Del was still trying to piece together what had happened
after Lazlo called for help and the sudden arrival of a flitter with several
armored security personnel rappelling down the sides of the cliffs to where
they were waiting.

She hadn’t seen much. Two security officers had hustled her
into a lift chair and she was dizzyingly drawn up and out of the canyon and
into the bright light before she could say anything to anyone. The pilot had
flown her directly to the port landing deck—the journey, which had taken an
hour and a half by cart, was over before she’d even had time to adjust to the
interior of the flitter or the assessment of the smiling medic who had been
waiting for her inside.

Del had been rushed to the medical center and she started to
feel embarrassed, not at all certain that she was hurt enough to require such
expedient treatment. Her back and chest hurt, but she knew neither was life-threatening.
It was a far cry from the hours she’d spent trying to drag her father to
medical care at the port after his fall.

“Your back is severely contused and there has been a lot of
soft-tissue damage. You’re going to need a least a week to recover and then I
will want you in post-care to make sure that there has been no damage. And I’m
going to send over a mental diagnostician tomorrow to assess you as well.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been through a traumatic event and it’s possible you
might suffer some long-term emotional injury that could take longer to heal
than your physical injuries.”

“I’ll be fine, Doctor,” Del assured him, worried about her
privacy. It was bad enough that several strangers had seen her breasts today,
but the idea of someone she didn’t know prying into her thoughts and emotions
was intimidating. And she couldn’t afford any time off.

“Those are my orders, Citizen Browen,” Dr. Tradescans
countered severely and she swallowed. “Rest, recuperate, evaluate. Not argue
and obfuscate.”

Del smiled at his rhyme and then felt another wave of
exhausted anxiety wash over her. Dr. Tradescans watched her for a moment and
called out for someone named Nino. A tall and lovely-looking man entered the
room and the doctor instructed him to bandage her wound, fill her prescriptions
and get her home safely. Closing her eyes, Del tried to not think about yet
another person seeing her half-naked, not that she was wonderfully impressive
to look at even when she wasn’t dirty, bloody and tired.

Nino proved to be impersonal and quick. She was cleaned up,
bandaged, had her medications and discarded clothing neatly in a bag and was
sitting up waiting for Dee Dee to arrive to escort her home in what seemed like
one minute.

Her beautiful sister bustled in and did a quick look-over of
Nino before she gently hugged Del, whispering in her ear that everything was
going to be all right. Del felt tears begin again and she sniffled into
something absorbent as her sister turned full-on sweetheart to the man gawping
at her.

Nino ran through Del’s medical situation and assured Dee Dee
that she would recover. Dee Dee smiled and nodded as Nino then offered to come
by and check on Del and teach her sister how to change a dressing or apply
topical ointments. The flirting was so obnoxious Del wished for a short-term
coma.

“Let’s get you home, Del.” Dee Dee finally remembered her
reason for being there and helped her walk to the door and exit the medical
center, followed by a helpful and attentive Nino. Her sister had brought a cart
and Del carefully sat on the seat, anxious not to put any pressure on her
bruised back or aching chest. All she wanted to do was get to her apartment,
get to bed and pile up enough pillows so that she could sleep on her side. Maybe
take a shower first.

“So tell me what happened!” Dee Dee ordered as she drove the
cart quickly along the Boulevard heading for the port gates in the quickest and
most direct fashion, cutting close to pedestrians and vehicles as she sped
along.

Del recapped the day, leaving out the whole recovering of
long-lost weapons side of things, and modified the confrontation with Harata
and Kirk into a dispute over jurisdiction. Dee Dee nodded and shivered,
exclaiming at all the exciting parts.

“Did you tell Ma and Pa?”

“Surely did. They’ll be after you when we get back. So
before we get there,” Dee Dee said as she turned a corner with a deafening
squeal of the tire’s axle, “what did Lazlo Casta have to say?”

“Not much. They lifted me out of there while he was busy
with the prisoners. I didn’t really talk with him after everything.” Del felt
sad at the thought. She doubted she’d see him again, since her job was done. Unless
her pay didn’t come through her account, that is. Then
she’d
be calling.

“I’m sure he’ll be by tonight,” Dee Dee assured her with
easy confidence. Of course, if Dee Dee had been in that situation, Kirk never
would have laid a hand on her and Casta and Harata would duel over her. Del, on
the other hand, was mauled and forgotten.

“No, he’ll be busy.” Lazlo and the other security personnel
would probably be out all night retrieving the weapons from the obstructed
cache. And once everything was safely back under codelock at the port, the
whole episode would be done. And that was good. She was very tired and starting
to stiffen up.

“Good work,” Major Sekar said quietly as he watched two port
engineers inflate a hydraulic bladder to move an enormous slab of fallen rock a
few meters out of the way. It had proved too difficult to remove the packed
cases with the opening to the cavern blocked as it was, so the major had calmly
ordered the entire area cleared. It was late in the evening and the canyon was
shadowy and forbidding.

There were at least twenty people milling about in the ravine
he and Del had discovered. Temporary lights blazed and power equipment grumbled
and thudded. Lazlo tried to look and feel alert but he was exhausted. Between
the morning spent hiking, the confrontation and bureaucratic requirements of
the arrests, and his return to the site of the weapons cache, he had been on
his feet for nearly twenty hours.

His commander glanced at him. “Have you heard how Citizen
Browen is?”

“Yes sir, I checked a few hours ago and she had been
dismissed from the medical center. Her sister picked her up and took her home.”
Lazlo wanted to see her but there hadn’t been an opportunity to get away from
his responsibilities.

Major Sekar nodded and kept watching the engineers inflate
the bluish-green bladder between the cliff and the fallen stone. Little puffs
of dust rained down and everyone backed up even farther as the slab started to
move.

The engineers looked at each other and took three steps back
and Lazlo smiled weakly. If he’d been standing that close, he would have
started running to get away from several hundred tons of slowly moving rock.

With a sighing hiss, the slab shifted, leaned and then
slowly fell on its side. A dust cloud rose in the canyon and people coughed
despite their respirators, but the debris settled, leaving people and equipment
pale pink in the harsh artificial light.

The major nodded at a cluster of personnel and they headed
into the newly cleared opening.

“Sir, do we have any idea how the sheriff knew about the
weapons?”

“Not yet, but it’s clear that I need to do some
investigating. People talk, so someone will let something slip.” The major
looked grim and determined and Lazlo was glad he was clearly not a suspect. Then
again, had he spoken about this with anyone he shouldn’t have? Trixie?
Detective Chin?

“Who knew you were out here?” Major Sekar asked as if he had
read Lazlo’s mind.

“Trixie Rupti. She calibrated some equipment for us, so she
knew we were out here. And Detective Chin loaned me some supplies. Both thought
I was testing new monitoring equipment,” Lazlo answered truthfully.

“Understood. Lieutenant Casta, it seems as if we’re well on
our way. You’ve been out here long enough. Head back with the first group of
cases and go home. Take the morning off tomorrow and check on Citizen Browen. Report
to me after lunch, wherever I happen to be.”

“Yes sir. Thank you, sir.”

Lazlo walked over to the small stack of old cases waiting to
be lifted out of the ravine and loaded onto carts. When he attached himself to
one of the lines, one of the officers up top laughed and teased him that he was
worth a lot less than one of the old weapons and he should walk out.

Lazlo felt bad enough about how the day had concluded that
he didn’t even fight back. Reaching the surface, he walked to a cart and sat
silently as some cases were loaded onto the back and a young security officer
started the engine.

“Ready, Lieutenant?” she asked, bright and cheerful. It was a
remarkable attitude for someone out in the middle of the night in the middle of
nothing. Lazlo simply felt blank and exhausted.

“Yes, let’s get back.”

* * * * *

It was a misery to wake up, but Del realized the alternative
would be worse. Less painful but worse. She felt sore from her scalp to the
soles of her feet and every shallow breath she took ached awfully.

Not really wanting to move from her nest in the bed, she
slowly moved her arms and legs, wincing and gasping, but realized she could
possibly sit up. So she did and screeched a little bit. Disturbing half-dreams
had bothered her all night, either due to the enormous variety of medications
she’d ingested or stress from the attack. She was too exhausted to care which.

A long, painful interval of shuffling got her to the
bathroom and using the facilities was taxing. Del did not look at her injuries
as she disrobed slowly. She cried as the hot water in the shower hit her skin. But
the water seemed to loosen her muscles and she felt less tense as she awkwardly
toweled off and dressed in soft clothing.

By the time she arrived in her kitchen, however, she was
shaking with pain and breathing shallowly. All of her material from the medical
clinic was scattered on her small counter—bloodstained shirts, packages of
medications, spare dressings. Del reviewed the medication schedule Nino had
loaded on her datpad and was happy to note she could have some Ardan.

She also noticed a lot of missed messages, which she would
review later. Before she could attempt opening the pain relief container, her
datpad squawked and howled as if it had exploded. Thanking the stars above that
it was only a few inches from her hand, Del activated it to see her father’s
worried face.

“Pet, how are you?”

“Sore, Pa, but up and dressed.”

“Shall I come up?”

“No, Pa, I want to sit down.”

“All right then. I’ll tell this Casta that and have him
leave.”

“What?” Del gave up struggling with the Ardan package and
tried to concentrate. “Did you say Casta is out there?”

“Yes he is and I have no intention of letting him bother
you. But he did say he would wait out front until you could see him. Maybe
tomorrow you’ll be up to it? He could go away until then.”

“No, Pa, let him up.” Del envisioned her slight father
shoving the very large and fit Lazlo out of the gate and firmly shutting it in
the man’s face.

“No, he can wait.” Nige panted as if he were starting to
push at Lazlo already.

“No, Pa, I want to see him.”

“I can help you, pet, or your ma will be happy to help.”

Del took as deep a breath as she dared and didn’t really
think about why she wanted to see Lazlo. Her brain was mush anyway. “No, Pa, I
want to see him. Don’t try to keep him out. Remember our agreement.”

Her father frowned on the datpad’s small display, clearly
not pleased that he and her mother had sworn years ago to allow any visitor she
wanted onto the property and to stay out of her apartment unless invited, or
else she would move somewhere else.

“Of course, pet. I’ll tell your ma you’re awake. She’ll
bring you something to eat.”

He turned away from the screen and ended the message. Del
took a few more deep breaths and got the Ardan out. The little pills skittered
around the counter because her hand was shaking so much.

“Shitballs,” Del cursed and then jumped when there was a
knock at the door. If that was Casta, he’d run up the steps. Abandoning the
pills for the moment, Del walked slowly to the door and checked the hazy
monitor.

It was Casta, looking big and well groomed. And probably
carrying coffee. Despairing over her own disgusting, battered appearance, wet
hair and untidy apartment, she reconsidered seeing him for a moment, but when
he knocked again, she opened the door.

Then he was looking at her with a concerned frown and one of
his big hands was on her arm and she slumped, tired and overcome with simply
standing. He carefully guided her to the sofa, not touching her injuries or
spilling the coffee he held in his other hand. Del sat down with Lazlo at her
side, his brown eyes sympathetic enough that she wanted to cry.

“Del, do you want me to get you to medical?” He placed the
coffee cup on her table and looked her over.

“No, they don’t want to see me unless I get an infection.”

“Do you have one? Let me see,” he offered, hands paused near
her robe opening. Del raised her arms to ward him off, beyond embarrassed that
he might touch her. He scowled. “If you won’t let me check, you need to do it. Did
you check already?”

“Superficially, when I showered. It’s all right, I think. It’s
ugly.”

He sighed and looked her in the eye. “It will get better. How
bad does it hurt?”

“I want some Ardan.”

“I’ll get it, where is it?”

“In my kitchen.”

When he was up and moving she felt as if he were too big to
be in her apartment, in her kitchen. It was strange to see him in a room. He
should be outside under the sky. She needed to be outside. She needed to not be
hurt and still feeling as if Avo Kirk were on top of her and that the sheriff
was going to shoot her. Or shoot Lazlo.

He returned with two pink pills and a glass of water,
seating himself cautiously on her one chair, his long legs bent awkwardly to
avoid her table. He watched her as she swallowed the pills down.

“How is your back?”

“Ugly as well, at least what I glimpsed in my mirror.”

“Do you want me to look at it?”

“No. Why are you trying to look under my clothes?”

Lazlo laughed, unoffended by her grumpiness. “I’m only
checking on your injuries. And I have current emergency medic certification, so
I’ll be completely impersonal.”

“Of course you have a certification.” Del sighed loudly,
already relaxing as the Ardan miraculously lessened her pain. If he wanted to
look, it would relieve her mind since she couldn’t see her back in her tiny
bathroom mirror and there was no possibility she could hold a hand mirror and
contort enough to get a better view. And of course she hadn’t been able to
apply her daily antifungals properly, so there was probably already something
starting to grow and spore all over her.

“Thank you for the medicine,” Del said formally and Lazlo
tried not to show how bad he felt for her. She sat so stiffly on her little gray
sofa, clearly holding her body still because of the pain. She looked small and
adrift, not at all sure and competent like the Del he knew from before. That
was his fault.
As usual.
Lazlo knew he needed to make amends in some way
and the best start would be to help her heal.

“Let me look.” He tried to coax her and she took a deep
breath and relaxed her arms enough that she could shift her robe open very
slowly, keeping it in place over her chest. Lazlo shifted in his chair and
leaned forward to look over her back. It was awful—deep-purple, almost black
bruises covered most of it, the treads of Avo Kirk’s boots clearly visible on
her golden skin. Fighting down another swell of anger, he looked closely for
signs of infection.

“Did you put on your antifungals today?”

“No, not very well. It hurt to bend my arms.”

“You need to have them daily to avoid being infected.”

“I know, Lazlo. I was born here,” Del replied testily,
shifting her shoulders as if she wanted to push at something. At her direction,
he went into her tiny bathroom—which was a shocking shade of yellow—washed his
hands and retrieved the medicated mist. Taking a seat next to her on the small
sofa, he tried not to bump her with his thighs as he spritzed her with the
antifungal. She flinched as the cool liquid landed on her skin. When he was
certain that she’d been dosed properly, Lazlo moved to look at the wound on her
chest. Del looked stricken.

“No, I don’t want you to see.”

“Come on. I’m only going to look at the wound.”

“No, I’m embarrassed.” She shifted the dull-tan robe around
to cover herself even more and he sighed.

“Right. I will close my eyes while you get yourself covered
properly and then take a look.” Lazlo closed his eyes and waited, listening to
her move fabric around, her soft breathing, the tick of something turning on in
her apartment. She stopped moving and he waited, eyes virtuously closed, for
what seemed like several minutes.

“I’m ready,” Del finally said and he looked at her and tried
not to wince. When he’d seen her back, he could react as he wished since she
hadn’t been able to see his expression, but now her gray eyes were watching him
intently and he struggled to remain impassive. She had shifted her robe to
cover her breasts, leaving her shoulders and upper chest bare. A terrible
bruise covered the middle of her chest, spreading out from underneath a large
dressing centered on her sternum. The dressing was precariously attached and he
reached to remove it. Underneath, a large red contusion the size of his palm
scarred her. It looked hideously painful. Pushing back his feelings, he went
clinical.

“Did you wash it?”

“Some, in the shower.”

“Apply your medications?”

“Yes, it hurt.”

“I’m sure it did.” Lazlo inspected it more closely—no
obvious signs of an opportunistic fungus burrowing in. He had a recollection of
the training interactive he attended before arriving on Sayre and the revolting
images of some of the native fungus infesting wounds and skin. Nodules and
threads and scales of blue and green and gray, pushing out of inflamed skin.
Horrifying.
He’d resolved to never miss an antifungal treatment for the whole time he was
on this planet.

“I want to apply a new dressing.” Lazlo went back to her
kitchen and retrieved a bandage from the mess of bloody clothes and medical
supplies littering her small counter. He tore open the packaging as he sat. He
held it for a moment to warm the adhesive, then he slowly pressed it to her
chest. Del shook and shivered.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Lazlo tried to reassure her as
she shook her head.

“It’s awful. The doctor said I was going to have a scar.” She
looked up at him with such sadness, he knew she wasn’t just talking about her
injury. She’d had a terrible experience because of him. Guilt washed over him
in a miserable wave.

“Right now it’s inflamed. It will heal and look better than
you think.” Lazlo reached out and patted her knee. It was the only available
part of her that seemed uninjured. “Put your robe back on. I’ll go see what you
have to eat.”