Horor flicked three switches. With a quick glance at Ranon, he shoved a rod on the wall over the control panel. Nothing happened for a few seconds. An indicator needle on a great dial swung from right to left. The lights in the room went out.
“Did it work?”
Horor answered, “I think, My Lord, that it is safe to say that it did. Let us light our handlights and rejoin our colleagues.”
O’Neill had to be supported on the way back. His injuries were not serious, nothing more than cuts, bruises, and a rather painful and disabling pulled muscle in his arm. But, for some strange reason, he could hardly walk.
Concussion, he supposed. One bang on the head too many. Like a hurley player who has been hit by the stick too often.
The chilly waters of the underground stream did nothing to dissipate his daze from the explosion. When they reached the hovercraft, he was in a state of incipient shock. The City was now completely black, the battered vehicle’s single headlight shone dimly through the streets. As they approached the street-corner defense perimeter that the Young Ones had set up, Horor flicked the light on and off several times to signal their arrival.
Yens was at the door of the hovercraft to greet them. “We were attacked by many Hooded Ones,” he began excitedly. “They came down the tunnel from the jail.”
“What happened?” O’Neill managed as they were helping him out.
“We defeated them and destroyed them—though the tunnel to the jail is now blocked by the rubble from their explosion.” He sounded exultant, as only the young warrior successful in his first battle can.
O’Neill thought, Poor Sammy. No way to get to her now. Aloud, he said, “What casualties?”
“Only three, Lord O’Neill, two of them not serious.”
“Who is serious?”
The young officer’s voice faltered. “I fear that Captain Marjetta has a broken leg.… All our medical equipment was destroyed in the blast. We cannot move her.”
Seamus elbowed his way through the dark to where his mate lay on the hard tunnel floor, her leg twisted and her face drawn with pain.
“How does it feel, my love?” he asked awkwardly, wishing he could drive the pain from her face.
“It hurts, you amadon,” she snapped. “How do you think it feels? It took you long enough to get back.” She reached out to touch his battered face. “Oh, darling, what happened to you? Are you all right?”
He was about to shout for someone—anyone—to come and help her when he remembered that he had taken the Taran medical kit along with the tranquillity pills when he left the Dev. As soon as the pain medication was in Margie’s bloodstream, he set her leg in the line the indicator on the portable template said it should be set and applied the thick plastic and metal strips. Then he injected rapid bone-mending serum. With any luck at all, she would be able to walk on it shortly—though it would be a painful effort for many days.
“The holy saints protect me,” he murmured ruefully, “if it has to be reset.… How’s the brat doing?”
“He’s not in my leg, you idjit,” she said through clenched teeth.
“She.”
“Really?”
“She’ll look like her mother, but she’ll have her father’s personality.”
“Poor child,” she sighed, a perfect imitation of his own sigh.
“Damn lucky thing for you, woman, that her mother has such a brilliant wonder-worker around.” He was busying himself putting supplies back into the medical kit.
“I keep asking myself, Seamus, where I would be now if it weren’t for you. I know I would not be here like this.” She nodded in the direction of her bound-up and useless leg. She grasped at the kit Seamus was filling. “Give me that medicine kit. I’m going to give you a dose of your own medicine.”
Seamus enjoyed the affectionate attention. As he was relaxing under her tender ministrations, Retha joined them. “I have just returned from a patrol at the City level, Lord O’Neill … er … Geemie. There is nothing left of the center of the City except fires.”
“Could you hear explosions from other parts of the City?”
“None. I think the Hooded Ones are gone.”
“All right. Tell Captain Yens to maintain the defense perimeter for the present. We will move on to the next phase shortly.”
“Yes, Lord O’Neill.” She hastened away.
Sure, we will move on to the next phase—as soon as I can figure out what it is.
His mate echoed his thoughts. “You’ll have to figure out what the next phase will be, won’t you, Geemie?”
“I will, woman. If you would stop disturbing me with your blather, I’ll do that very thing.”