The Protectorit: The Protectorit, #1

THE PROTECTORIT

By K. L. Tharp

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 K.L. Tharp

Cover design by K.L. Tharp

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Destiny has a silent call, one follows without hearing.

From the Histories of House Ki

Chapter 1

Kathy stared at her notes on the patient with the sprained ankle that she’d treated at midnight. Her coffee was cold and the clock was ticking away at her ability to concentrate in the silence of the small Newport Oregon ER. The long secondhand hypnotically wound its way around the clock on the sterile white wall counting the forever seconds of her shift. It was three o’clock in the morning. She dropped her pen and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Why was she here? Oh, yeah, her brother. You have to come home and help mom . . . you can get a temporary job at Newport Hospital . . . mom needs you . . . you can take that job at the Center for Disease Control later. Four years later and where was she?

The outside doors to the ER swished open and closed. Kathy sighed. No siren, no panicked phone call, no matter the receptionist and nurse were on break --- it was probably another bruised body part from Surfside Bar’s Saturday night arm-wrestling contest. She slipped off of the barstool behind the nurses’ desk and headed out the ER door.

Two scraggly men dumped a third into one of the waiting room chairs. Hey, you guys, if you need a place to sleep it off, go to Bay House or the police station. This is a hospital ER, she ordered. The two men backed toward the pneumatic doors, fear in their sea worn leather faces as they glanced down at the man in the chair and then without saying a word they bolted out of the building before she was through the door to the waiting room.

Wait! Kathy ran for the pneumatic doors. But the two were racing into the dark. She looked over at the lump in the chair. Just what you need to challenge your diagnostic training, Dr. O’Donnell. She stared at the unshaven, unconscious drunk. His ragged raincoat and dilapidated daypack lay on top of him like wilted lettuce on a hot day.

She conscripted the lone nightshift phlebotomist on his way back to the lab, and a few minutes later, the drunk was lying peacefully on an exam gurney, reeking of hard liquor. Kathy took his vitals and then checked them again. The transient had an abnormally low blood pressure of 98/43, and a pulse of one hundred and twelve. A person should be near death with such screwy vitals. She cursed herself for letting the phlebotomist go, but it would be just as quick for her to get a blood sample. She needed a CBC, a chem screen for low blood sugar, an alcohol level and a drug screen. But first she needed to hook him up to the cardiac monitor and find out what was causing the man's rapid pulse. The nurse would be back soon, if she needed help before then she’d page the night supervisor.

Kathy stared at the EKG monitor. The green blip jumped across the screen in an arrhythmia she'd never seen. What kind of P-waves are those? she whispered with a look at the patient. His respiration didn't indicate any distress. Maybe the small abnormal dermal folds around his eyes and nose were indicative of a birth anomaly that also affected his cardiac rhythm. She opened a syringe pack. The needle found his vein in a normal enough spot on the radial side of his biceps tendon, but when she pulled the syringe back she stopped in mid-motion. The blood was orange. Not red-orange like some arterial blood, indicating she'd hit the wrong spot, but the orange of a California navel orange --- the fruit. Suddenly, she felt very alone. The ER was eerily quiet as her patient’s hand slowly opened and closed. Her heart rate went up along with a sense of uneasiness. She looked up from her bent-over position at his arm. He was staring at her, eyes open and alert. People didn’t wake up from an alcoholic stupor that fast.

How quaint, he said looking at the needle stuck in his arm. You actually poke holes in people's bodies to analyze their blood chemistry. His voice was perfectly clear, no slurring or drunken stutter. He took in Kathy’s bewilderment. Rather odd color isn’t it? I . . . he hesitated and glanced at the ceiling. I’m on some new uh . . . vitamins. That’s the word, yes, vitamins.

Vitamins? Kathy echoed, still holding the half-filled syringe.

I don't suppose you have any Bolgine tabs? the man asked.

Kathy slid the needle out of his arm and pressed a cotton ball with tape down over the stick site while keeping a wary gaze on him. He closed his eyes dejectedly and winced as he laid his head back down on the pillow.

No, I don't suppose you do. This is what I get for participating in the local customs. I usually have no problems metabolizing alcohol. Perhaps it was that little pickled worm in that drink those fellows gave me. What did they call it? Ah yes, tequila, he babbled on as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Perhaps I could have some of your wonderful coffee. A person can only do so much internal physiological adjusting with a Shinali meditation trance. He hesitated. Suddenly his eyes opened wide and he sat upright, his white gray flecked hair flew straight out in a static explosion. What time is it? He glanced around the room and fixed his gaze on the large ER wall clock. Oh crems, I can't remember how you organize your passage of time.

It's three twenty in the morning, Kathy said and bent his long arm up to put some pressure on the puncture site. The man jerked his arm away and pulled his opposite sleeve up to expose a large watch. As he pushed several tiny buttons, she leaned toward it. The dial was digital, but the rest? Listen, I think I’d better see some insurance information, mister . . .

He glanced at her and then back at the device. My name is Pimmnidiat, but you may call me Pimm. He finished the button-pushing with a groan. Oh, dear, I'm late . . . I'm late.

Kathy sat down on the wheeled stool behind her and finished the Alice in Wonderland quote, . . . for a very important date?

The stranger looked at her. Yes, a very important date. In fact, it is so important . . . he pointed his watch at his pack lying next to the wall and pushed a button. The pack floated up and onto his lap. . . . that I hope you will forgive me if I am driven to extremes. We know so little about you and I am so late that I mustn’t take any chances. He searched in the pack until he pulled out what looked like a toy ray gun. With a flick of his thumb, diodes on the device lit up with a hum. Do you have transportation? he asked and slowly pointed the thing at her. It appears I must commandeer you, little Healer. But, it’s official business if that helps any.

Kathy stared dumbfounded. You want me to be afraid of that? She laughed, feeling a surge of sleep-deprived hysteria, then sudden enlightenment. Oh God . . . I’ve got it! The lab techs are getting even for the snake I put in their centrifuge, right? They hired you to act like a drunk and then rigged your arm up with a packet of thickened orange juice. The question is . . . how’d they rig the EKG machine? She scratched her head looking at the device.

Your colleagues did not send me, the stranger said with a hint of seriousness.

Kathy frowned. Sure, that’s what they told you to say. Her retort was quick, though she had to give it to him; he kept a good poker face. In her mind she ticked off the facts: he held an obvious toy ray gun, yet he made his backpack float off the ground. He awoke too fast to have really been drunk, but no one could fake a cardiac rhythm that looked more like it should be a 2.5 on a seismograph than an EKG readout. She looked down at the bright orange blood in the syringe she still held in her hands. A creeping dread descended over her like a slow-crawling coastal fog. What if it wasn’t faked? She shook her head. Oh god, an alcoholic paranoid schizophrenic at 3:20 in the morning and I’m hallucinating with him.

From your reaction I assume that you might just be thinking that I am not a joke perpetrated by your friends, he said as he started picking off EKG electrodes from his chest.

I . . . uh, She refused to accept that the situation was not explainable, though this guy was a bit too strange. His brown eyebrows rose as if he knew what she was thinking.

Denial is the typical first reaction of your species. Fear is usually the next, Pimm said, as if that explained the ray gun in his hand. "If your kind could get over your xenophobia it would open the possibility that we should lift the Edict against your world. You're really not such barbaric folk," he chuckled.

Kathy’s first shot of adrenaline dissipated as a plan began to form. Listen buddy . . . ah Pimm whoever you are. Put down the toy ray gun and maybe I can help you. If she could get to the wall phone and call a code; that would bring company fast enough. But, first, she needed a distraction. Play along with him, O’Donnell, she coached herself. You’re right about how we're not such bad folk, Mr. Pimm. Kathy scooted the stool slowly toward the supply cupboard. I’m out of Bolgine tabs, but I think I can give you some relief from your hangover. Maybe a little oxygen and a shot of Vitamin B-twelve will help. She removed a fresh nasal cannula package from the shelf and opened it as she calculated the distance between her and her obviously deranged patient. Just let me hook this up. She stood cautiously and stepped up next to the gurney. Now I’ll put this over your head, and all you have to do is sit there and breathe deep. She secured the connector to the overhead oxygen line.

As she reached toward him, his brown eyes, flecked with spots of bright orange, met hers. He smiled knowingly like he fathomed what she planned. No time to hesitate, O’Donnell. Here! She threw the loop of tubing at him. He dodged left. Kathy shoved the gurney with her tall lanky patient away from her and then lunged for the phone on the wall behind her. Just as she grabbed the receiver off the hook, the wall exploded in a blinding flash of yellow light.

She staggered back, blinking away the after-image of the flash. The phone, or what was left of it, was slowly melting down the wall. The acrid smell of molten plastic stung her nostrils. She looked at the receiver in her hand, the cord dangling uselessly from the end. She prided herself for being able to keep a cool head during traumatic situations, but all she could think of was what her mother used to say to her: Marry a doctor, don't become one.

I'm sorry about the communications device. You're lucky I hit it. The man named Pimm waved the weapon in the direction of the phone. I’m not very good with these things. Now, shall we get started? I really do need that ride and I do not believe I have the appropriate training to handle one of your ground transports.

* * *

Cold wind blasted in from the Pacific Ocean, hitting Kathy with salty spray as Pimm motioned for her to get out of the car. The sound of midnight surf churning against the beach echoed off the cliffs. She was somewhere near Neptune State Park south of Yachats, a long way from anywhere. Her kidnapper had said little on the drive other than to urge her to hurry. Kathy shivered and focused into the darkness wishing she’d grabbed her coat. But who thinks of coats when they’re being kidnapped?

Where are you taking me? All you wanted was transportation . . . you’ve been transported. What else do you want? she protested loudly.

Quiet, please, little Healer. I cannot let you go quite yet. Our transaction here should be over in a short period of time. Meanwhile we cannot have you alerting your authorities. He nodded in the direction of the narrow slope down to the beach. Please, come with me.

Pimm headed her through the grassy dune toward the dark surf. In the murky gloom, she spied a group of men on the beach below standing next to two small crates. Two more dark figures stood next to a dory bobbing in the shallow surf at the inky water’s edge. One figure by the crate appeared to be a nervous type, from what she could tell in the darkness, as he kept looking up at the steep bluff behind them. One very tall and massively built figure with his back to Kathy could be the reason the dory tender was so nervous. The powerful looking silhouette was nearly a head taller than the others and something about the way he carried himself gave Kathy a sense of dread, but then her whole situation gave her cause for dread.

The nervous guys suddenly backed up to which Pimm said, It appears Tammaru may need assistance with the negotiations. We should hurry.

He prodded her with his ray gun or whatever it was. It sure wasn’t a toy, she thought, considering what the palm-sized device did to her ER phone. Kathy wrapped her arms around her for warmth and started down the escarpment at the top of the dune. Her foot slipped on a rock. It noisily rumbled down the rocky slope. A skittish figure on the beach turned toward them. Suddenly a gunshot rang out. A bullet whizzed by her left ear. What the . . . Kathy ducked.

Was that a weapon? Pimm asked staring into the darkness, unaware of the danger.

Kathy stood back up with a surge of anger. Don’t you know? You’re the kidnapper here, she snapped. Tact was never her strong point, but surviving was. Another bullet zinged past. Duck, you idiot! She grabbed Pimm’s baggy coat and started for cover in the pile of driftwood logs below. She slipped on a tuft of grass, but kept staggering towards the logs with her captor in tow. A third report sounded. Pimm buckled. They hit the sand together and rolled down the embankment to slam into a piece of driftwood the size of a tree trunk.

Are you nuts? she shouted, grabbing Pimm’s lapels and pulling him close to the log. Don’t just stand there when people are shooting at you. The man groaned and reached for his thigh. He’d been hit. Great, finally I get a challenge and I’m not even in an ER, she mumbled, hoping the bullet passed through soft tissue, missing any vital nerves or blood vessels. She pulled out the bandage scissors she always kept in her pocket and cut open Pimm’s pants. Several more gunshots went off followed by the night suddenly lighting up neon red, as if a powerful strobe light winked on then off. The flash of light let her see that Pimm's wound was mostly superficial and not life-threatening. She rummaged through Pimm’s pack and grabbed the first thing she could find that could serve as a bandage, a long scarf. Panicked shouts came from near the dory.

Something must have gone wrong, Pimm said. I cannot believe they would kill us. We followed all the protocols!

Pain was evident on his face in the shadowed darkness. Kathy looked at her inept captor’s narrow features. His odd, heavy eyebrows were knotted quizzically. She started wrapping the scarf around his thigh as she muttered, Why do I have the feeling you’re new at this? He winced when she pulled the makeshift bandage tight. Several more shots rang out, mixed with the shouting of now terrified men. Kathy turned and peered over the log. The beach lit up with the eerie red strobe light, something exploded over by the surf. What is going on out there?

Pimm strained to sit up against the driftwood. Combat is not my area of training. He looked at her with a raised bushy eyebrow of regret. Sorry about all of this. The more dangerous part of our mission was supposed to go to the Lord General. He is trained for covert operations. Pimm nodded toward the firefight. His assignment was to secure the samples. We came prepared with the appropriate currency. I did not think we would have to fight for it. He stopped when he saw her wide eyes. I have said too much. He winced when he moved his leg.

Kathy dared another peek over the driftwood. The beach lit up again and again with the eerie red flashes along with bullets zinging by overhead. Dark figures scrambled for positions of safety. Whatever this Lord General is doing, it isn’t working. Pimm didn’t move. He looked as if he was just going to let his cohort take the brunt of the attack. Well, don’t just sit there, she barked. Start shooting back.

Me, shoot someone? I would never do such a thing, Pimm replied, adamantly shaking his head. The only time I use one of these things is on a target range. He held up his small weapon as more gunfire sounded from beyond their driftwood barricade and then with a look of guilt he added, Or, when I have to conscript Healers out of their medical bays.

Kathy grabbed him by his coat. Fury boiled to the surface. You mean I’m down here getting shot at in the middle of the night because you were bluffing?

We will be quite all right, my dear. Pimm grabbed at his thigh and between clenched teeth said, Tammaru can handle the problem. Right now I need to go into a healing trance. Wake me when it’s over.

What? Kathy covered her head at the thud-thud-thud of three bullets impacting into the hard wood opposite where she and Pimm lay concealed. They were trapped, people were shooting at them and he was going to take a nap? She rolled onto her knees and peered back over the log. Muzzle flashes lit the dark. Two guns fired from behind a piece of driftwood near the dory. In the answering strobe-light flash, she saw one of the boxes had broken open. Plastic bags filled with white powder lay strewn about on the sand. There was only one kind of white powder people would kill for. Kathy looked down at her abductor and took his sleepy face in her hands. This is a drug deal gone bad, right? Pimm’s eyes fluttered as he gave her a guilty smile.

She peered over the driftwood as several more shots rang out. Why Pimm thought this General Tammaru guy could handle everything was beyond her; he was currently pinned down behind a log by gunfire. At that moment the General arched his arm over the top of the log, blindly fired off several volleys of weird laser light. The beach exploded in huge puffs of sand in front of several gunmen behind a piece of driftwood. One beam of light caught a fool standing out in the open by the boat. He didn’t even scream as the upper half of his body flew back into the boat and the bottom dropped into the water. Kathy’s eyes widened as another dark figure waded up through the shallow waves that lapped at the foam line. He was going to try and take Pimm’s General out from the side. Look out, she thought. As if he had heard her, the General fired a blast right at the man who was thrown backwards into the surf and disappeared into the dark Pacific Ocean. She gulped as she saw his head travel even farther.

Okay . . . maybe this Tammaru guy can handle himself, she whispered. Shots slammed into the log concealing the General, wood splintered into flying slivers forcing him flat on the sand to let the bullets fly past him. Then again, perhaps he could use some help, she thought. In the gray-black darkness, he looked in her direction. Then she heard it, a funny whisper as if someone was murmuring to her . . . Pimm? . . . I need shield fire.

Kathy grabbed Pimm’s weapon and looked down at her nearly-asleep abductor. Sorry about this. She kneed his injured leg. Pimm bolted upright, wide-awake with a grunt of pain. How far will this thing shoot? She asked, holding up the small firearm.

Pimm blinked his eyes at the weapon and, grabbing his leg, groaned. About two lims . . . but . . . power curve falls off at . . . half a lim, he mumbled. Let . . . the Lord General . . . handle it. His eyes started to roll upward. I have complete faith in . . .

A lim? What’s a lim? He slumped against her. His head lolled backwards onto the log. Kathy pushed him against a burl sticking out of the driftwood, and shook him hard. The big guy, the one in black you call General Tammaru, he’s on your side, right? she asked, forcing Pimm to remain conscious with deliberately induced pain. This was not proper treatment for a gunshot patient, but if she didn’t bend the Hippocratic Oath a bit they would all soon be patients --- or dead.

Yes, Pimm mumbled, and clenched his teeth in anguish.

Sorry, Kathy apologized again, peering back over the log. Let’s see if I can put down a bit of cover so your compatriot can get out of his predicament. Then maybe he can us get out of ours. She rested her forearms on the driftwood and held the small weapon in both hands to steady it. General Tammaru, just hold on a bit longer, she whispered. She’d shot small caliber weapons when she would go for hikes with her father in the deep coastal forests --- they’d collect old beer cans for targets. This gun couldn’t be too much different. She visualized beer cans in front of the drug dealers, took a deep breath of cold night air, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

A red beam of light lanced out. There was no recoil, only a flash of heat from the grip into her palms. The driftwood exploded. Her aim was off, she’d hit to the left of the gunmen. However, she did succeed in getting their attention. The gunfire shifted toward her position. Kathy pulled the trigger over and over. The beach flickered like a state police car’s lights. With each pull of the trigger, red flashes lit the dark again and again. The midnight blue waves flickered, the cliffs flickered, everything flickered with the cadence of her shots. Geysers of sand blew into unearthly figures of little devils dancing in the hell she was creating.

The General took advantage of her cover and rolled out from his concealment and onto his feet with panther-like grace. He charged toward her position, adding to her barrage with his own fire over his shoulder. Two gunmen ran for the boat. One of them lit up when a red ray hit, then the body disappeared into the dark water. The other started clambering to get in the boat as a second beam caught him at the hips, blowing him in half.

Kathy was glad the General was on their side and kept firing. One last drug dealer was hiding behind the log by the boat. She blew sand into a raining screen of dusty silica in front of him as the General pounded up the beach toward her, his powerful thighs and legs digging in at Olympic speed through the sand. In the strobe-light effect of her weapon, he looked like a black banshee coming for her. She kept shooting. The little weapon heated up in the palm of her hand. The General neared. Kathy rocked back onto her feet to get out of his way. Suddenly, machine gun fire broke the strange quietness of the laser weapons. Sand blew up in a line before her just as the General leapt over the log screaming like the devil.

His arm hit her in the chest like a baseball bat. Pain exploded through Kathy’s right side as they flew backwards together. The sandy beach slapped the wind out of her and when she opened her eyes she was nose-to-nose with a black, veil-covered face. His eyes were lit with the fury of a plan shot to hell and for a moment looked like they were burning red in the dark.

Who in the seven hells . . . he hissed.

Kathy shoved at his massive chest. Get off me, you big oaf. Bolts of pain lanced through her right side when he rolled off and began blasting away in earnest at the one lone attacker firing the machine gun.

Between rounds he turned to Pimm. Are you all right, my Lord?

I have felt better. Glad to see you, Tamm, Pimm answered groggily.

Kathy tried to sit up. Pain exploded up her side reflexively she grabbed the spot. Icy wind curled around her neck, sending a queasy shiver through her. Cold numbed the pain --- the only warmth she felt was blood seeping between her fingers. Oh, god . . . I’ve been hit. She slumped back against the dune grass. The dark billowy midnight blue and gray clouds over her head lit up with flashes of red like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She shivered. A part of her thought irrationally that she couldn’t die; she hadn’t paid off her medical school loans yet. The world in front of her wavered. She began to drift off. A deep, harsh, male voice brought her back, a voice that sent another kind of chill down her spine.

I have signaled for the ship, my Lord. It is a half a lim down but will surface in two point four decis. I should have exterminated the last of the enemy by then.

Tammaru, I think she’s injured.

Pimm’s voice sounded faint, far off, much like the dark clouds Kathy saw flowing by overhead. A South-wester was coming in. Red light flashed across the darkness once --- twice, someone screamed --- then everything went quiet. Darkness once again shrouded the beach. Kathy frowned, trying to figure out what she was doing lying on the cold ocean beach in the middle of the night. Ignoring her protesting body, she rolled over onto her right side with a groan. The doctor in her told her to position herself with the bleeding side down for she had a hemo-pneumothorax starting. She propped herself up on her elbow and pulled her hand away from her side. Dark blood dripped over the sides of her fingers. An occlusive dressing should . . . Kathy shook her head to clear the fuzziness. She had no dressings, no nurse, no ER, nothing. The cold night air brushed against her like a shroud. Oh, god, no.

She felt very far away from her small coastal hospital. Out in the dark ghostly waters she spied the remains of the dory bobbing half-submerged. Two bodies bobbed along in sync with the up-down, up-down motion. Midnight waves toyed with beaching or sinking the grisly evidence from the carnage that had just occurred. She felt a deep thrumming in the sand beneath her, like the coursing of a giant pulse. She scanned beyond the waves, squinting into the dark. A pulse of greenish light flickered under the ocean once, twice --- then the light illuminated a black hole coming up out of the water. It was a surreal jet-black nothingness against the black-gray clouds. Water poured over its sides as it lifted out of the Pacific Ocean's depths. A yellow light flickered on underneath it and panned the waves below until it hit on a white boat. The drug dealer’s high priced luxury yacht was trying to desperately turn and run. A red ray lanced out from the dark nothingness overhead, the boat exploded, sinking in heart beats. The light blinked off, but not before Kathy saw the shadowy outline of the powerfully-built General standing next to the waterline pointing something at that dark abyss as it started for the shore. A moan from her left reminded her she wasn't the only one who was injured.

You saved my life by pushing me out of the way, Pimm said. I did not mean for you to come to any harm.

We all make mistakes, Kathy muttered between stabs of pain and pushed herself over to lean against the piece of driftwood. She glanced back out over the breakers. The dark object was approach the beach. This can’t be happening, she moaned and laid her head down on the log.

Will you be able to get back to your transport? Pimm asked.

She sagged against the gnarled piece of driftwood. The sense of freezing cold was diminishing. Not a good sign. She gave Pimm a stoic look of; I’m going nowhere, thanks. He smiled an apologetic half grin. He understood and patted her shoulder sympathetically.

I am sorry, little Healer.

It was too much effort to talk, so she just nodded. Her skin was clammy, a sure sign she was in shock. This strange kidnapper had an odd trait of knowing how she felt or what she was going to say before she said it. He picked his weapon up from the sand where she’d dropped it. Less than an hour ago it had been aimed at her.

I would never have harmed you. I can't stand to sense another's pain, let alone their death. That is the problem with being an empath. Pimm placed the weapon in his small daypack and leaned his head back. I've felt too many deaths already this lights down.

Kathy's eyelids wavered on closing --- permanently. Every movement took a major effort. Deep shock would soon take over and soon after that, death. If she'd only known an hour ago that this guy had no intention of shooting her, maybe she wouldn't be here dying, in the middle of the night, on a cold wet beach. Unconsciousness beckoned. Kathy took a breath of the sea-foam air and fought against succumbing. Damn it O’Donnell, you have responsibilities. You can't die, not this way. If only she hadn't sent the nurse off on break because nothing had come in all night --- if only she'd called the police to deal with the drunk instead of trying to sober him up on her own --- if only . . .

Little Healer . . . Little Healer, wake up.

Kathy opened her eyes to cold and darkness. She lifted her chin off her chest to the smell of decaying kelp, a reminder of where she was. Pimm had his hand on the side of her face. It was warm and comforting, she wasn’t dead yet.

I'm so sorry, dear lady. You should have let Tammaru handle it. He patted her cheek.

Well, Kathy rasped out. Your Tammaru didn’t think so when he asked for backup. Pimm’s face furrowed in puzzlement. It was hard to talk, but she needed to know who these guys were if she was going to die because of them. Since when do drug dealers care about their victims . . . or, are intergalactic drug dealers different? There, she’d admitted it. She glanced out toward the breakers. The confirmation of her comment grew closer. The spaceship was settling in over the white caps, flattening them to smooth black obsidian, like a great weight was pressing them down. The man in black, the General, didn't move out of the way when the spaceship approached to within a few yards, extended a boarding ramp, and slowly opened a doorway.

Pimm released her cheek as he said, The Lord General and I are not drug dealers, little Healer. More likely we could be considered, how you would say it . . . law enforcement officers. He held his thigh and rested his head against the driftwood behind them. Actually, to be more accurate, he added, . . . we are like detectives.

She tried to focus on him. Look, Pimm, or whatever your name is. You owe me an explanation. She slid further down the side of the large driftwood log with a groan.

He adjusted his position, with a painful groan of his own. It is a long story.

Give me the abbreviated version. Kathy looked at the dark blood covering her hand. I don't think I have much time left.

We will waste no time on information that you could not understand, nor can we afford to stay here any longer, came the General’s deep powerful voice. He stuffed a handful of the white pouches in Pimm’s pack and quickly slung it over his broad shoulder. Here, my Lord, this will ease your pain until I get you aboard ship and to the med-couch. He pulled out a pencil-sized metal tube and pressed against Pimm’s throat.

Thanks, Tammaru. Now, if you would be so kind. Pimm pointed at Kathy.

My Lord, the General protested. She is of no concern. We must get you taken care of immediately. I will end her suffering. We want no witnesses anyway. He whipped his large side arm out and pointed it directly at Kathy. It will be quick.

Kathy’s eyes went wide. Horror laced her shocked body with adrenaline. She stared at the glowing end of his weapon pointed at the bridge of her nose. Her attention snapped to the General. His head and face coverings were comprised of an elaborate burnoose and veil, with intricate folds and pleats made from a material that appeared three dimensional, like looking into deep space. His scowl looked permanent, as if he had only one look and she was seeing it. He locked those menacing eyes on her in the dark shadowy night. Kathy found herself focused on them bewitched. They called to her, pulled at her soul. A wave of lightheadedness washed over her. She stared down the end of the muzzle at him and thought, what the hell, go ahead you bastard, do it. His unfeeling eyes, cold and calculating, turned puzzled. His brows furrowed like he suddenly faced some kind of internal struggle, a struggle that lasted only a heartbeat. His eyes went cold again --- his finger tensed on the trigger.

No, Tamm! Pimm shouted.

The General hesitated and then slowly lowered his weapon. As you wish, my Lord. But it will only prolong her inevitable demise. He reached for Pimm.

Tammaru, Pimm said, and reached over to grab the man’s shoulder, She saved you and me both tonight. I insist you help her. I do not want her to die. Get her to her transport, so that she can try to pilot herself back to the medical facility from which I took her.

I will give her some Troxol, General Tammaru reluctantly conceded as he put his weapon away. He reached for Kathy with the injector. But I will waste no time getting the female to her transport. She will not live long enough to go very far.

Cold metal touched the side of Kathy’s throat. She met his glare when the injector hissed like a snake at her neck. Warmth flooded into her cold body, along with a sense of strength that she shouldn’t have. She took a deep breath. Her pain receded. She took another.

Now, my Lord, I will get you safe. He picked Pimm up easily, flexing the thick, round biceps of a trained military commando, and cradled him close. I hold myself responsible for allowing you to come on this mission, my friend.

Now, Tammaru, I needed to come and you know it.

A slight euphoric buzz descended over Kathy as the unknown drug coursed through her bloodstream. A detached sense of feeling energized took hold bolstering her Irish stubbornness. She rolled over and used the driftwood log to slowly push herself up until she stood trembling in the sand. She wasn’t going to die --- not here, not like this. The General gave her a last glance and started toward the ship. Pimm stopped him and looked back at her.

I am sorry, little Healer. If I could, I would see you safe, he said apologetically.

She is a barbarian, my Lord. She will make it if she has the mettle. But most likely she will die, the General stated coldly and headed for the ship hovering over the water.

Kathy stared at the man’s broad, massively muscled back. You self-righteous son-of-a . . . The words only came out in a rasp with a resurgence of pain. Anger was the only fuel for her failing strength, but it wasn’t enough. Her knees trembled, the vision of him walking away from her wavered and she dropped to the sand. Thanks for nothing, big guy. Kathy aimed the thought like a dagger to his back. The crunch of his boots stopped. The sense of a fuzzy voice entered her mind again. It whispered one startled word --- What!

Kathy shook her head. That does it O’Donnell, you're hallucinating. She braced her hands against her knees, refusing to believe her own diagnosis, that death --- her death, was imminent. She'd make it. She'd always made it; she made it through medical school, made it through her internships. Don’t you dare give up, she heard her father’s ghost order. He never allowed her to quit. She stared at the General’s back, anger seething across the gap between them. She was too weak to yell, but not too far gone to curse his existence. This is how you repay someone for saving your sorry hide and you call me a barbarian! Well, this barbarian is not giving up just because some alien road-warrior says I’m going to croak.

Kathy sucked in a painful breath of salt air and once again pushed herself up to stand. Her vision blurring, she watched the General disappear into the ship with Pimm. She staggered a few steps forward --- her knees wobbled. She coughed up blood onto the sand at her feet. Oh, God O’Donnell, maybe you aren't going to make it. Tears slid down her cheeks. She focused her ebbing consciousness on the doorway to the ship. The dark form of the General stood silhouetted in blue light, an immobile statue of night looking out at her. Slowly her knees, ignoring her Irish stubbornness, gave out. A black hole opened in her half-conscious mind. The strange disembodied voice spoke to her again just as her knees hit the cold ground.

This cannot be.

Footsteps crunched in the sand. Two strong hands grabbed her by her upper arms and yanked her upright. Her scream was silent, she didn’t have the air. Her vision spun in circles.

You cannot be, the General swore. His dark spellbinding eyes bored into her. Then he turned his face toward the clouded heavens and yelled, This cannot happen. I do not want this . . . not now . . . not ever!

With every word he shook her, and with every shake Kathy faded a little more. The black hole in her mind swirled with red volcanic rage and yellow fear, the kind of fear that comes from the depths of a person's soul. Emotions alien to her engulfed her. She was in a living nightmare. The General stared deep into her eyes, searching for something. His own eyes betrayed a pain he could not hide. A faint siren in the distance grew louder. The incoming fog lit up with the blue flashes of a police car’s lights. One flash illuminated his veil-covered face and two brilliant red irises that weren’t cold and unfeeling, no --- they were searing with denial. Suddenly, they phosphoresced, lighting up the night. She fought to take a breath and rasped, What are you?

With painful irony he whispered, If the Gods are cruel, your future.

Then the strange voice inside her head sadly echoed --- I'm sorry . . . You cannot die. Kathy’s eyes closed and the nightmare went away with unconsciousness.

~~~

Chapter 2

Serenity pervaded every part of her. Kathy floated in womb-like warmth, no worries, and no problems, just peaceful rest. Life had been hectic lately, though she couldn't remember why. Soothing heat caressed her in a gentle embrace. She started to roll over to sleep in a little longer, enjoying the dreamy sense of peace. She shifted her shoulders, she didn’t move. She tried to bend her knees. Something pushed them straight. Strong eddies and currents rippled across her nude body, pinning her down with the strength of a boa constrictor --- nude?

Take a deep breath, O’Donnell. You’re just undergoing perfectly normal sleep paralysis. She tried to take a deep breath. Something was covering her mouth and nose --- no something was in her mouth and nose! Suffocating panic flushed through her. She was in a dense, warm, Jell-O-like substance. Suddenly, an invisible current yanked her upward. Thick goo slid off her face, out of her mouth and nose. She gasped and opened her eyes. Her body was hers again. She fought to stop hyperventilating. The gooey green substance flowed around her, seemingly alive with sparkling and undulating swirls and eddies. The whole gooey mass was contained in a tank recessed into a wall. She peered over the rim. Oh . . . my god.

The space beyond was like no hospital room she’d ever seen with its silver beds, each framed in a bank of computers. A wall of computer-like terminals sat directly across from her. Multicolored lights blinked at random. Kathy had no idea what the huge dark empty chamber on her left was for. Where am I? she whispered. A memory solidified, a black hole rising out of the ocean, no, not a black hole --- a spaceship. The drunk in ER, Pimm what’s-his-name, she never got his last name. Then she remembered the other man on the beach, the one that was going to kill her. Pimm called him the General. A deadly chill crawled over her like a thousand tiny spiders. Kathy closed her eyes. Please let me be in a coma somewhere.

Something warm and moist tapped her shoulder. She spun around in the thick goo and gasped. Staring at her were two large, green eyeballs wobbling on long flower-like stems. Kathy’s eyes widened. The goo compressed around her, preventing her from vaulting over the side of the tank in a panic. The wall behind the tank lit up with strange writing. She squinted at the Cyrillic-like lettering. It wavered inside her head and then she somehow understood them.

--- Do not panic --- You are in the City --- Medical Bay One. You have been submerged for two lights ---

She looked at the wall, then at the green orbs staring placidly at her. Who . . . what?

The wall flickered and re-lit, --- I am med tech Eknaf . . . You are well? ---

Another memory surfaced as the goo around her softened a little. I was shot. She felt her right side --- no hole, no gunshot wound, and no pain. Kathy lifted her arm up. The slime glinted and then slithered off her skin back into the tank. One green cue-ball eye moved closer.

--- Cells are replaced ---