The Forgotten Prince Read online

  John pointed at the damaged harness. “Looks like we got down just in the nick of time.”

  Tim whistled.

  Irving said, “Indeed.”

  Bella craned her head around to see. “What the hell?”

  She hopped down off the counter and squeezed her way up to the table. Her eyes widened at the sight of the harness.

  “What the hell did you do to my rig?”

  Before Michael could answer she flipped the clasps open and pulled it free.

  “You fried the entire assembly!” She said, turning the device over in her hands.

  “That’s my fault,” John said.

  She glared at him. Her stare pierced right through his skull. “Your fault?”

  He back peddled. “Well, I mean, I didn’t break it, but . . . ”

  “Ow!” Michael cried as Irving pulled his shirt over his head. “Damn, careful Doc.”

  He leaned back on his elbows. “It’s not anybody’s fault, B, there wasn’t any other way. I’m sorry.”

  “What happened?”

  “I had to get him off the refinery somehow.”

  Bella shook the damaged unit at him, “It’s not designed to carry two, Michael. If I’d wanted it to carry two, I would have designed it to carry two.” She turned away and returned to examining the device, grumbling inaudibly to herself.

  “Like I said, I’m sorry. But, hey, at least now you know it can handle it.”

  She pointed to the charring on the front panel. “Does this look like it handled anything to you?”

  “Okay, let’s have a look at his leg, shall we?” Irving said, stepping in between them. He cut away the pants with a pair of medical sheers, then grabbed another hand scanner and ran it over the plyform.

  After a few moments of studying the data screen, the doctor said, “Well, I’m sad to say, that it appears that I am going to have to take the leg.”

  The room instantly fell silent; everyone stared in disbelief at the doctor, who appeared unmoved at the revelation.

  A mixture of shock and confusion came over John, the leg really hadn’t looked that bad and even without any of this advanced technology, he didn’t think the injury had progressed to the level of amputation.

  Michael’s mouth hung open, lips working silently as he digested the diagnosis. He said, “Doc, wait, what? Come on, you’ve got to be kidding right? It’s not that bad, no way!”

  Tim, also visibly concerned, said, “Doc, there’s got to be something you can do. That seems a little extreme.”

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe it,” Bella said, her eyes wide.

  Irving remained passive and retrieved a small tool from the tray next to the head of the table and held it up. “Yeah, I’m just kidding. Let’s get this cleaned up.”

  Everyone but the doctor let out a collective sigh of relief, Michael collapsed on the table and Tim let out a low whistle. John chuckled and shook his head.

  Bella folded her arms across her chest and glared at the doctor. “That wasn’t funny.”

  Tim laughed. “It was a little funny.”

  “Holy crap, Doc,” Michael said, rubbing his forehead. “You just about gave me a heart attack.”

  Irving turned the instrument on with a click, its tip glowed bright red. “Well, I guess we wouldn’t have had to worry about the leg then, at least.”

  “Not funny,” Bella repeated, then turned and stormed out into the corridor.

  Irving briefly considered the holo-display again, moved to the leg and tapped the pressure bandage. “First, we need to get this wrap off.”

  He dragged the glowing red tip down the length of the plyform. As he did, the bandage split apart. After finishing the cut, he set the tool aside and began to peel the bandage away from the wound.

  John leaned forward as Irving tossed the plyform into a waste can. The skin had darkened around the wound and the SaniGel had lost some of its clean white appearance. Now several dark patches, sprinkled over the surface gave the gel a soiled look.

  Michael looked down and said, “Is that stuff supposed to look like that?”

  “It’s working to pull toxins out, the more it extracts from the wound the darker it will get.”

  The doctor ran a finger over the SaniGel, then glanced over John. “Just a basic sealing, self-hardening bio-nanonic compound, yes?”

  John coughed a laugh, surprised. “Uh, yeah, I think so. Not sure exactly how it works, but I’m sure that’s about right.”

  “Interesting.”

  The doctor did not elaborate, and John did not feel the need to ask what he thought was so interesting. The doctor was obviously knowledgeable, no doubt about that. But, he wondered how his knowledge would stand up to his counterparts back on Earth.

  Irving tapped a few controls on the panel above the examination table and two arms folded down from the instrument cluster. They twisted and folded into position above Michael’s wound.

  “Okay,” he said, pulling a small injector from a drawer, “just a little shot and the machine will do the rest.”

  “No,” Michael said, grabbing the Doctor’s wrist.

  “Michael, this procedure will remove this shrapnel from your leg and speed your recovery process considerably, but it is not painless. I understand your aversion to the treatment—I even sympathize—but this is a relatively small dose and—”

  “I don’t want it,” Michael said, shaking his head. He pointed at John. “He’s got some stuff that does wonders for pain, Doc. I’ll take some of that, but I’m not putting that shit in my body.”

  Irving looked over at John, who shifted uncomfortably. John thought if they’d met in a dark alley somewhere, the man’s scared face and stretched skin would have terrified him. Like some demented serial killer lurking in the shadows, ready to ravage his next victim. He stuttered as he tried to shake the image of the man choking the life out of him with deformed claw-like hands.

  “I-I’m not sure how much I have left.”

  The doctor didn’t skip a beat. “And without knowing the exact composition of the substance I couldn’t possibly, in good conscious, administer the medication. Honestly, the dosage is so low…”

  “Not going to happen.”

  The doctor signed and straightened. He looked between Michael and John for several moments without speaking, then said to John, “What is this medication he’s talking about?”

  “Yeah,” John said, already holding up the injector and remaining capsules. “There are only two doses left.”

  Michael nodded, as if he’d just been proven right in some in-depth theological discussion. “See, that’ll have to be enough then.”

  John could tell the doctor wasn’t convinced. He held out one of the capsules for him. “Just your standard-issue, survival pack, pain suppressant. Again, I’m no medical professional. I can’t tell you exactly what’s in it or how it works, I just know that it does.”

  Michael shifted on the table. “Stuff works great, Doc.”

  Irving took the capsule and turned it over in his hand. “You’ve already administered this medication?”

  John said, “Yes, right after I applied the SaniGel and wrapped his leg with the plyform.”

  “And what are your medical qualifications?” Irving asked.

  John shrugged. “Only the first-aid training the Union gives, which I’ll admit is not much, but it’s enough to at least make a person comfortable until we can get people back to the professionals. The kit itself is pretty much idiot-proof, in fact,” John unfolded the medical kit, inspected it for a moment, then said, “yeah, here it is, one capsule every four hours.”

  Irving raised an eyebrow. “I see.”

  He studied the capsule for another moment, then said, “Administering a medication without knowing anything about the chemical make-up of the medicine is not good medical practice.”

  “Come on, Doc,” Michael interrupted. “It didn’t kill me. And I’m not going to let you put that shit in my body.”

  “I sa
id it’s not good practice, Michael. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to give it to you.” He took the injector from John, inserted the capsule and pressed it against Michael’s leg.

  After several seconds, Michael sighed. “Oh, yeah…that’s nice.”

  John wasn’t entirely convinced that he’d want Irving treating him if he and Michael’s positions were reverse. But, then again, all the rest of them trusted him. Maybe he was just used to the no nonsense manner of military doctors. Not to mention, this scarred man was quite possibly the only option for medical care and when it boiled down to it, he’d rather have a halfway competent doctor than none at all.

  Without another word, the Doctor returned his attention to the instrument cluster above. He tapped in several commands, and the arms began working, cleaning and removing the SaniGel from the wound. As the greyish compound cracked and split Michael sucked in a painful breath and pounded the table with a fist.

  “Ah,” the doctor said, “good thing you took that anesthetic.”

  Michael bared his teeth muttered a curse under his breath. One of the arms carefully extracted the broken pieces of gel, tossing them into a tray at the side of the bed. Another seemed to lubricate the site with clear ooze and the fourth scanned the small piece of shrapnel still in his leg. The jagged piece of charred metal reminded John of a shark fin cutting through ocean water.

  John cleared his throat and swallowed hard, forcing his stomach to stop turning.

  Across the table, Tim made a gurgling sound and quickly covered his mouth. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  “Yes, why don’t you all wait outside?” Irving suggested, without looking up from his work. “Don’t worry about Michael, he’ll be just fine. I should have most of this patched up by tonight.”

  The prognosis surprised John. Even with the advances in medical technology they’d made on Earth over the last ten years, he still would have estimated at least a few days in the hospital.

  “Tonight?” John asked.

  Irving gave him a questioning look. “That’s right. Hard to say when he’ll be able to run ops again, but give him a few days and he’ll be right back on his feet.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve got a lot of work to do, so…”

  Taking the hint, John said, “Yeah, sure, I’ll let you get to it.”

  “Hey,” Michael held out a hand to John, “thanks.”

  John smiled and pumped the man’s hand. “I think I should be the one saying thanks, but if we’re keeping score, I’d say we’re even.”

  FOUR

  In the hall, John found Bella sitting on a short stack of crates, still working on the flight harness. Tim was trying to convince her it wasn’t as bad as it looked, and Bella was ignoring him. Tim looked up as John stepped toward them shaking his head. He rolled his eyes and jerked his head as if to say ‘this is what I have to deal with’.

  Without looking up from her work, Bella said, “I can see you.”

  John nodded at the door, “Doc says, Michael should be good to go in a few days.”

  “That’s good,” Tim said, “I was worried Doc was going to keep him in there a while. I know Michael and if he would’ve had to be in there as long as Carter had, he would’ve lost his mind.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Bella said, not looking up from her work.

  John slipped his hands into his pockets. She’d mentioned that name before. “What happened to Carter?”

  “Long story,” Tim said. “The moral of which is: don’t jump out of a skiff just before it’s going to set down. And if you are going to, don’t land and twist your ankle and get it caught under the landing struts. It’s bad for your leg bones.”

  John shivered, imagining the sick cracking of bone and scream that would have accompanied the pain. He had broken one bone before—his radius—after falling off his parent’s roof as a child. The memory was as clear now, as it was then. “I—”

  A woman’s voice echoed down the corridor, interrupting him. “What in the shit happened out there, Tim?”

  All three turned to see a woman, dressed in pastel yellow pants and a light grey sleeveless shirt. She stood in the middle of the corridor with her arms crossed, eyes burning a hole straight through them.

  Long chestnut hair hung passed her shoulders, framing a face that might have been pretty had it not been for the two pink scars that cut jagged lines down the side of her face. Both started just above her right eye and ran down diagonally across her nose and underneath her jaw on the left side of her face.

  “Wendy,” Tim said in a clipped tone, “didn’t see you there.”

  The nervousness in the man’s voice and her demeanor told John all he needed to know. This woman wasn’t the caring, motherly Wendy from the stories. This woman was battle-hardened, and anything but sweet.

  Her steeled eyes never left John’s, the rest of her face a mask of suspicion and deadly determination. The fingers on both hands wrapped around pistols, one holstered under each arm. Her jaw barely moved as she spoke.

  “What happened?”

  For a moment John thought she had been addressing him, then Tim stepped next to him and answered, “I—”

  “No,” she said. “You know what, I don’t want to hear it. Not from you. Where’s Michael?”

  Bella pointed. “Doc’s working on him.”

  John saw Wendy’s face flash from anger, to worry, then back to anger. Eyes glanced to the door, then expectantly back to Tim.

  She opened her mouth to speak but Tim answered before she could even get the question out.

  “Don’t look at me.” He held out his hands apologetically, “I just picked them up.”

  Bella said, “It’s his fault.”

  John turned to see she was pointing at him. He wanted to argue but quickly realized that for all intents and purposes, she was right. Michael had almost died saving his life and he didn’t even really know who he was. The magnitude of that choice humbled him.

  Would I have done the same?

  John said, “She’s right.”

  “And who in First Ones are you?”

  “Lieutenant John McNeal, North American Union, Ma’am. I’m from Earth.”

  Wendy looked like she’d seen a ghost. Her entire body went rigid; she didn’t breathe for what seemed like a full minute as she worked her jaw back and forth. Her eyes bored into him, and for the first time since arriving, John felt truly uncomfortable.

  Her lips barely moved. “That’s not possible.”

  John sympathized, because he too had trouble believing it himself. “Preaching to the choir,” he said.

  “How did you escape Regency confinement?”

  “That’s the thing, I didn’t. They didn’t bring me here. Though, I guess they might have if they had the chance. That Portal or rift of theirs, whatever you want to call it, opened right in front of me and there wasn’t much I could do; it sucked me through. Didn’t have much of a choice.” John jerked a thumb to the Infirmary door behind him. “Michael and Tom found me and helped me get off the station.”

  Wendy turned to Tim, seemingly for confirmation. He shook his head and said, “Like I said, I just picked them up. Grabbed them up around Sector 32, right out of the middle of a large Duster Enclave. They were pretty damn lucky, if you ask me.”

  Wendy turned back to John and considered him silently, as if trying to process the information. Had their roles been reverse, John knew he would’ve been hard-pressed to believe the same story.

  A loud bang echoed through the silent corridor, causing them to jump. John cursed and turned just in time to see Bella slam the harness against the corridor wall a second time.

  “For Dust’s sake,” she said, completely engrossed in the rig. “Why does all of my stuff have to get ruined?”

  She hadn’t even noticed she’d startled the others. John let out a breath and focused on slowing his heart rate.

  “Damn it, sis, you scared the shit out of me,” Tim sa
id. “Stop tinkering with that thing.”

  Before John could stop himself, he laughed, knowing there was no way anyone else would get the joke. Only one thing was missing from this entire experience, and he couldn’t wait to meet him.

  “Something funny?” Wendy asked.

  “No,” he coughed. “Not at all. I was just wondering when I was going to get to meet, Pan?”

  She moved so fast, John didn’t even know he’d been punched until his was flat on his back on the cold metal floor; stars dancing in his vision. He reached up and felt wet liquid trickling over his lip. A sour metallic taste hit his tongue. His nose was bleeding. Through blurry tears he made out the barrel of a pistol. His hands slipped on the metal underneath him as he struggled to push himself away, confused as to how he’d ended up in this position.

  “What did you say?” Wendy demanded, jabbing the pistol even closer.

  “Whoa, wait, wait, I—” A sharp pain stung his left leg as Wendy’s foot stomped down hard on his ankle. John couldn’t think, confused by the sudden pain, his only instinct compelled him to move away. He stammered, “I…I…”

  As his back hit the corridor wall two unfocused figures appeared on either side of Wendy. Bella’s voice came next.

  “Wendy it’s okay! Stop!”

  John rubbed his eyes, trying to make his vision clear, and cried out at the sudden flash of pain as his hand brushed against his nose. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the pain and said, “Look, I didn’t…I’m sorry…”

  Tim reached forward and strained to pull Wendy’s gun away. “Wendy, he doesn’t know.”

  Wendy shook off the two siblings, but didn’t holster the pistol. “You think that’s funny?”

  John felt his face start to swell and his nose throbbed. Pain pulsed through it with every heartbeat. One nostril already closed, and every forced breath making a wet draining sound. His voice sounded nasally. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “He doesn’t know, Wendy,” Tim repeated.

  Wendy kept her eyes locked on John, eyes filled with hatred. However, he wasn’t sure if that hatred was for him, or someone else. He reminded himself that this was not the Neverland he knew, and made a note to keep his mouth shut in the future. He had a feeling Wendy was not the sort of woman you crossed twice.