Chapter 2

 

The clatter of dishes woke me. Sunlight streamed through the window. I tried to sit by myself. I didn't make it. Every muscle screamed in protest. I lay back on the bed, cursing my weakness and the pain.

The hulking medic of the day before came smiling into my room. "Breakfast," he announced, pushing a straw at my face.

I turned my head away. "Not if it's drugged."

"It's got a mild relaxant in it. To keep you from locking up. Most patients who don't take their pain meds have muscle spasms that get worse and worse."

"Until what? They tie themselves into knots? I've had enough. I have to get them out of my system or I'll just keep getting worse."

He stirred the straw in the cup. "It's just a mild relaxant, nothing more."

I gave in. He was big enough to force feed me if I resisted. It didn't look like I was going to get anything else for breakfast. I drank it.

I dozed for a while. I almost didn't hurt when I woke up.

The medic came back and made me get up and move. I cursed him the whole time. He kept after me, making me walk. I don't know if he was really doing his job or making me suffer for the fun of it. I was glad when night came and he went off shift.

Three days of his bullying and the thick drinks went by. I gradually got better. I still hurt, horribly, but I could walk by myself, as long as it wasn't far. The night medic was a lot nicer, but she still made me get up whenever she caught me awake.

I was starting to wonder about my situation. I hadn't had any visitors. None. Not even Lowell. I saw my two medics and no one else.

I watched the other patients ambling past my door. It was too frustrating. Most of them went home within a day or two. I didn't know where my home was. I wanted my cabin on the Phoenix. I wanted out, of the hospital and the Patrol. I had to talk to Lowell to do that. My medics kept telling me to concentrate on getting well. I wanted to throw things, except I hurt too much to even try.

Movement out the door caught my eye. Someone had just walked past, someone in a silver uniform, not the blue the medics wore. Someone's visitor, not mine, I thought. I was deep in a pity party for myself. The someone stopped just past my door and came back. He stuck his head in the door and stared at me in surprise.

"Dace? What are you doing here?"

"Having the time of my life, Vance. What are you doing here?"

He grinned and came into my room, taking my question as an invitation. "Just some paperwork I had to finish up. Medical records are on the other side of this floor. This was a shortcut." His grin vanished, replaced by concern. "What happened to you?"

Vance Shiropi wasn't the person I wanted to see but I was hungry for any familiar face.

He pulled a chair next to the bed and straddled it. "You don't look so great."

"I hope I look better than I feel."

It was the most natural thing when he took my hand. His felt warm, strong, and comforting. He squeezed gently. "I got back from that mess on Trythia and spent a while in the hospital. When I tried to track you down, no one knew what had happened to you." His dark eyes were full of concern.

"Lowell sent me to Tivor. I don't know how I ended up in here. I think I was shot, but I can't remember."

His face pinched in outrage. "Lowell should have never made you enlist. Admiral or not, you should have gotten a discharge after Trythia. Most of us did."

"I wasn't thinking," I admitted. "I was past caring. Tayvis died in the last fight."

"I'm so sorry," he said and squeezed my hand again. "I know what he meant to you."

I looked out the window. I wasn't going to cry, not now. I'd cried enough tears over the last year to fill a tanker. It was a struggle not to, Vance was so sympathetic. His hand on mine warmed my whole body.

"So when is your discharge coming through?" he asked, pretending he didn't see the tear that managed to escape.

"What discharge?" I asked, surprised out of my pity.

"Medical discharge. You're obviously in bad shape. A medical discharge is almost automatic in cases like yours."

"I don't know anything about it."

"Don't tell me Lowell is trying to keep you in the Patrol." His protectiveness felt good.

"I haven't seen him since he sent me to Tivor."

"He hasn't left you messages or anything?"

"I couldn't tell you. I feel like a prisoner here. They won't tell me anything," I added in a quiet voice as my daytime hulk of a medic entered the room.

"This room is posted no visitors," the hulk informed Vance. "You'll have to leave."

"What if I don't want him to?" I said.

The medic ignored me. He folded his beefy arms and glared.

Vance stood, squeezing my hand. "Be ready," he whispered as he leaned close over me. He winked as he sauntered past the medic.

The medic turned to watch him all the way down the hall. His fierce glare hadn't changed when he turned back to me.

"Why is my room posted no visitors?"

"For your privacy," the medic said, his scowl relaxing into his usual toothy smile. "Time for you to get up again." He had a clean hospital robe over his arm.

"Lowell had something to do with it, didn't he." The medic ignored my flat statement.

I spent a whole second debating whether to argue with him before giving in. I made it out of bed with only a little help. I shuffled into the bathroom and the shower.

I was settled back in the bed again for only a few moments when Vance appeared in my doorway. My medic rumbled his way over to the door. Vance held his ground. He produced a paper from his pocket.

"Medical discharge," he informed the medic. "She's coming with me."

The medic folded his arms and glared at the paper. He finally shrugged. "I'll have to clear it."

"You do that," Vance told him. He watched the medic leave then pushed the door mostly shut before he came over to the bed. He reminded me of a little kid with a secret. He grinned and held up a silver uniform. "We have to hurry."

"You didn't really get me a discharge," I said, disappointed.

"It takes weeks to get one of those finalized. Mine just came through this morning. That's why I was here, to pick up the papers. Put this on." He shoved the uniform at me and retreated to the door. He opened it far enough to look down the hall. "Hurry," he added.

I made my decision in a split second. Stay here, cut off from everyone, or go with Vance, wherever he was headed. It wasn't much of a decision. I'd face the music later, when Lowell caught up with me.

The pain was horrible. I struggled my way into the uniform, biting my lip to keep from groaning. He'd brought me an Admiral's dress uniform. It even fit. The boots were a little large, but close enough that I wasn't going to complain. The lack of underwear was a bit disconcerting. I managed to get it fastened before I collapsed onto the bed. Vance heard my sigh of relief and turned around.

"He's coming back," he said. "We've got to go now. But you can't go barefoot."

He was by the bed, slipping a pair of boots over my feet, before I could blink.

"Ready?" he asked with a grin.

I was already having second thoughts. "Vance, I can't go far."

"Then I'll carry you if I have to, although it will look less suspicious if you can walk. It's only to the elevators. I've got a car waiting downstairs."

"To go where?"

His look made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. What would it matter where we went? It was out of the hospital. He slid his arm around me and helped me off the bed. It felt good to be standing on my own feet and wearing boots again.

He helped me over to the door. "Ready?" he asked as he risked a peek out the door. "We're clear."

He waited until I nodded before he moved his arm. I couldn't lean on him too obviously or it would give our subterfuge away. I felt a bubble of excitement and nerves ripple through my gut along with a stab of pain. I pushed the pain away and concentrated on walking normally.

We stepped into the empty hallway. A quiet murmur of voices came from other rooms.

"This way," Vance whispered. He led me down the hall, out of the patient rooms and into a busier section of the building. People in uniforms, silver and black and blue, hustled past us in all directions .

Vance and I walked to the elevators. I let him push the buttons. I concentrated on not showing how much pain I was in. It took most of my willpower not to keep looking behind us. I expected my medic to come roaring after me at any second.

We got an elevator to ourselves. My uniform and Vance's haughty stare scared the others into waiting. The door shut and I sagged. Vance caught me and held me while the elevator slid silently down to the lobby floor. I braced myself back up as the door opened.

There were uniforms everywhere. Big men in black carrying big guns stared at everyone. Vance led me right past a pair of them guarding the entrance. They didn't give us more than a glance.

We stepped out into sunshine. Vance went to a groundcar parked near the entrance and opened the door. He helped me in, making it look as if he were my aide. He hurried around to the driver's side and got in. I sagged back in the seat as soon as he closed his door.

"How are you doing?" he asked as he started the car. We rolled smoothly into traffic. "Dace?" he asked when I didn't answer.

"I'll survive," I managed through gritted teeth. My side was on fire. I wondered if I'd ripped anything open. I was beginning to think running away with Vance was a mistake. I could always blame it on the drugs. I wasn't thinking clearly.

"Just hang on. We'll be there soon and then you can rest all you want."

"We'll be where?"

I looked out the window. Ships rose not far away. We were headed for the landing field.

Vance steered the groundcar into the port, pausing only long enough at the gate to swipe a card through an automated scanner. It opened the gate and let us onto the field. The groundcar rolled to a stop. He turned to me with a grin. It faded when he saw my face. "You don't look good. Let's get you inside."

"Inside where, Vance?" I was tired and I hurt.

"My friend borrowed his father's yacht. Come on. I think you'll like Bud."

"His name is Bud?"

"Nickname. He prefers it to Flash. That was the name he earned at the Academy."

Vance opened my door and helped me out. He had his arm around me, more than half carrying me up the ramp into a small yacht. It was as big as the Phoenix, if you didn't count the cargo bays. The engine was bigger. Even through the haze of pain, I noted that. I couldn't help noticing. I missed my ship and being in space.

Vance shut the hatch. We were immediately surrounded by soft noises and softer carpet. The air smelled fresh, not recycled. The layout was customized, which by itself told me how expensive the ship had to be. There was a fairly large lounge area with a small cockpit at the front. The main feature of the lounge was a half circle of couch upholstered in a white fabric that was warm and soft to the touch. It faced the front of the ship where a big viewscreen hung, silver and opaque at the moment. Vance took me to the couch and settled me at one end of the curve.

"Just lay down and take it easy," he told me.

I lay back, biting my lip at the pain. The couch was incredibly soft. I relaxed into it, feeling the slightest vibration as a massaging unit activated. Warmth spread through me.

"Be right back," Vance said.

I watched him hurry across the lounge towards the back of the ship. Wide steps led up to a second level. Two doors opened off the level. Vance disappeared into one. Cabins, I assumed. I wondered if there was a crew aboard and where they lived. The lounge took up most of the space on the ship.

There was an automatic galley located between the two cabin doors, the ultra deluxe version. I wondered how it compared to Jasyn's cooking. I closed my eyes on a sudden wave of homesickness and drifted into a doze.

"Dace?" Vance was leaning over me. I blinked myself out of a dream involving blankets that transformed into furry snakes.

"Doesn't look like any Admiral I've ever seen," an unfamiliar voice said above me. I had to crane my neck to see the speaker. He was tall and heavyset. His hair was medium brown, cut in a long style that didn't flatter him. His features didn't need flattering. He had a chiseled profile and piercing green eyes. He smiled easily. "I hope you're worth it."

"She is," Vance assured him. "But right now, we need to get her away. Before they realize she isn't in her bed at the hospital."

"You kidnapped her from the hospital?" the stranger demanded of Vance. "What kind of idiot are you?" He turned his eyes back to me. They were kind, full of sympathy. "Are you sure you don't need a medic?"

"I'll be fine," I murmured, "with a bit of rest. Do you want me to call you Bud or Flash?"

"Call me Max," he said. "And this fleabitten toad should be called—"

"You wouldn't," Vance interrupted.

"Oh, I will," Max said with a vengeful grin. "Call him Mister Magnificent."

Vance groaned.

"And if he doesn't mind his manners better, I'll tell you how he got that name."

I smiled at Max. He was nice, I thought fuzzily, as I slid back asleep. Maybe nice enough that I could convince him to take me home. But only if I knew where Jasyn was with the ship.

"I've got a liftoff window in half an hour," Vance said.

"Where are we going?" Max asked.

I didn't hear the answer. I was asleep.