I smiled to myself as the helicopter came in to land. The UN’s senior officers had regarded competence as a threat to them personally and a competent officer, far from being rewarded, was likely to be exiled to some garrison in the middle of nowhere — like Botany — or be sent out on various suicide missions. I thought differently and had given Ed his head, knowing that if the fort were to be attacked, he’d be the one in the front line. He’d taken everything I’d given him and worked it into defences that would be formidable, if the farmers ever chose to do more than sniping from a distance, and costly to any attacker.
But at the same time, in a way, they were also useless. Back in the days of the UN, the UN had controlled the low orbitals and could call down fire on any enemy base, forcing them to resort to insurgency right from the start. Fort Galloway was only useful in a low-intensity war; in a high-intensity war, with the enemy controlling the low orbitals, it would be wiped off the face of the planet without ever being able to strike back at the enemy. Svergie didn’t have any defences that could be used against any enemy starship; if Fleet were to fall apart, as the Freedom League wanted, the result would be absolute chaos. If I had had any doubts about my role, meeting the Freedom League representative had cured them; whatever she wanted, it wasn’t good for Svergie.
The helicopter touched ground and the hatches opened, allowing a trio of medics to climb inside and help Muna and I out onto the ground. I shrugged off the helping hand and staggered out myself, refusing to show weakness in front of the troops, and accepted the salutes from the handful gathered by the helicopter pad. I returned the salutes as best as I could and allowed one of the medics to lead me to the sickbay, where I gratefully collapsed on a bed. It felt so soft and warm that I almost fell asleep right there and then.
“Never mind me at the moment,” I said, as the medics gathered around me. “See to Muna.”
“We’ve got people seeing to her now, sir,” the lead medic said. I hated it when they used their oh-so-reasonable tone on me. “We can treat you at the same time.”
I’d prefer to draw a veil over the next hour, as it involved a lot of poking and prodding, blood-sampling and other tests that weren’t generally found outside of a military or intelligence hospital unit. They sent for a dentist, who examined my jaw and muttered a lot, before freezing it and doing some basic repair work. I’d never liked going to the dentist either, when I was a kid; the UN’s policy that everyone should have access to free healthcare had lowered standards so much that you were taking your life in your hands every time you went. Their accidental death rates were shockingly high, but what was more shocking was that I had accepted them as normal until I saw some of the Colonies. Their Doctors were far better trained.
“It shouldn’t take too long for everything to set,” the dentist assured me, finally. “They jarred a few teeth pretty badly, but they didn’t actually start pulling them out for torture, not yet anyway.”
“Thanks,” I slurred. I hate having my mouth frozen. It makes talking very tricky, somehow. I barely knew what I was saying. “I’ll be sure to recommend you to them when we capture them.”
“I can’t torture them for you,” the dentist said, quickly. I couldn’t really blame him for that. He probably thought I wanted revenge. “I won’t heal them so you can keep hurting them either.”
“Good for you,” I said, coldly. “Now go away and let me sleep.”
I blanked out for the next few hours and recovered, finally, to discover that I’d slept through an entire day. I still felt weak and exhausted, but at least I didn’t feel as if I were going to throw up everything I swallowed within seconds. I called for one of the nurses — the Legion’s nurses are all female, because it’s good for morale — and ordered her to bring me something solid to eat, even a UN-issue MRE. She brought me a bowl of Carrot Soup and informed me that the doctors would want to speak to me before I ate anything solid. My protests didn’t convince her to bring me anything else, but water and some dry biscuits.
“Ah, Captain-General,” the Doctor said, coming in before I could say anything unfortunate. Doctor Awad was a vaguely Arabic-looking man, a political refugee from New Damascus, who had joined the Legion because it gave him a proper home. I don’t know why he’d left his homeworld in the first place, but I could guess; after the end of the UN’s occupation, the planet had plunged right into a bitter civil war over religion, of all things. “You’ll be pleased to know that you’ll be back to normal before too long.”
I glowered at him, silently promising everything from a year’s KP to an actual flogging, but he refused to speak any faster. “They injected you with a fairly standard truth drug from the UN’s Security Directorate,” he continued. “There’s little room for doubt, sir; we picked up enough traces from your bloodstream to confirm just what they hit you with. It reacted badly with the immunisations you took last year and your body violently rejected it; luckily, you coped better than many others with the effects. It was quite possible that you would have died from the reaction, had you been weaker or if they had tried to give you additional doses.
“Overall, we injected you with cleansing drugs ourselves and that should flush the remainder of the truth drug out of your system,” he continued. I already knew most of what he’d just told me. “If you drink loads of fluids — not alcohol; water or milk — it should speed up the process considerably. You should also recover most of your strength over the next two days, although we’re still concerned about possible damage to your liver or kidneys or both. The UN created the immunisation drugs with mixed motives and the results… well, let’s just say that you’re lucky to be alive.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, in hopes of cutting off the endless stream of words. “And the rest of me?”
“The dentist assures me that your jaw will be fully healed soon enough,” the Doctor said. “Naturally, I checked the bone structure myself and confirmed that there was only minor damage, all of which was handled while you were dead to the world. You’re also suffering from dehydration and a handful of other problems, but overall you survived the experience remarkably well. Given a few days rest, sir, you should be completely back to normal.”
I nodded, tiredly. “We’ll want to check you out again at the spaceport,” the Doctor concluded, “but I think we can give you a clean bill of health, once you flush the remainder of the truth drug out of your system.”
“Thanks,” I said, waving for the nurse to bring me water to drink. “And Muna?”
The Doctor frowned. I recognised his concern. He wasn’t used to the idea of discussing a patient’s condition with anyone, but their relatives, even though I was her commanding officer. As far as anyone knew, Muna had no relatives left, just like me. They’d probably died somewhere back on Old Earth during the early stages of the civil war.
“She wasn’t injected with anything, thankfully, which will make her recovery easier,” the Doctor confirmed, finally. “She was slapped twice as well, but otherwise they generally left her alone, so all she’s really suffering from is dehydration and slight injuries on her wrists from the handcuffs. I’d prefer to keep her in for observation, but overall… she’s capable of going back to work now, although I would not advise it.”
“No,” I agreed. “Tell her, from me, that she can take a week’s extra leave if she wants.” I met his eyes. “And ask Captain Stalker to report to me at once.”
“After you’ve had some sleep,” the Doctor said firmly, reaching for a injector patch. “You’re in no fit state to issue any orders at the moment.”