This went on for about ten minutes but even once they’d finished, the sounds they’d made still seemed to resonate. It had been dizzying just to witness it.

  “What happens now,” Webster said.

  Nash grinned wolfishly and without humour. “Shoot the damn thing so we can get out of here.”

  “I’m not going to shoot it.”

  “Why not? It’ll be dead anyway once that mine detonates.”

  “I’m not shooting it.”

  “You wouldn’t care so much if you’d heard what it said.”

  “What did it say?”

  Nash tapped the shell at his ear. “I didn’t get it all but, basically, they’re here to destroy the gate.”

  Webster angled his head slightly as if he’d misheard.

  “The Henrietta Gate? Can they even do that?”

  “They think they can.”

  It was inconceivable. Each gate had taken upwards of thirty years to stabilise. The thought of one being destroyed deliberately was inconceivable.

  “We’ll have to let Markham know.”

  Nash hoisted his rucksack over his shoulder and started towards the shuttle.

  “Markham’s going to have to wait.”

  “What do you mean? We can’t just leave him.”

  “No, but he’s not our priority right now,” he took out the little box and deposited the mouthpiece back inside. Then he held up the earpiece. It obviously doubled as some kind of recording device. “We have to get this thing back to Lincoln.”

  “What? You’re talking about sending a drone? Where you going to find one of those?”

  “Camp Colditz has one.”

  “Okay. But do I need to remind you that the Da’al still have their ship in orbit. What’s to stop them from shooting it down?”

  Nash stopped abruptly, taking Webster by the shoulders.

  “We’ll think of something.”

  They held eye contact for longer than either of them was comfortable with but, by the end of it, the two men had a fresh insight into each other’s psyches.

  “Alright,” Webster said. “I get it. We go back to Colditz.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And I’m the one flying the shuttle, I suppose?”

  “For a naval officer, you catch on real quick.”

  In the background, the pilot was singing what sounded like a last lament.

  DAY OF WAR

  BOOK 4

  R.L. GIDDINGS

  © R.L. Giddings

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  The doctor was waiting for Ardent when she arrived.

  He was a lot younger than she’d imagined and that made her hesitate. To question what it was that she was contemplating.

  His surgery was a reassuring mix of ascetic white and gleaming chrome. He stood as she entered, hands by his sides, anxious to get the etiquette right. He managed to seem both impressed and wildly curious.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d done their homework. The doctor even managed a passable bow. No doubt, he’d been practising.

  She held out her hand, inviting him to take it but this seemed to confuse rather than reassure him. A gesture she normally reserved for senior diplomats but she felt that it was warranted here. He brushed the end of her fingertips with his own, while assiduously avoiding all eye contact.

  Then the doctor stood there while she studied him, his arms held slightly away from his sides.

  “I hope I’m not taking you away from anything too urgent, Dr Sands.”

  “Not at all, Madam Governor. Only too happy to be of assistance.”

  “Excellent. ‘Governor’ will do just fine. Do you know why you’re here?”

  He relaxed a little at that, taking his right wrist in his left hand and twisting.

  “Not entirely sure, no. If I’m honest.”

  He looked to be in his mid-thirties, having retained a mop of fine blonde hair which was now starting to recede. He wore surgical whites and, like a lot of young medics, favoured a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. These succeeded in making him look studious while at the same time incorporating a lot of useful optics not dissimilar to a HUD. They were ridiculously expensive, suggesting either a set of overly indulgent parents or the fact that he was heavily investing in his own future.

  “You’re currently working with one of the retrieval teams, is that right?”

  “Yes, I was one of the first medics to be assigned. As soon as we arrived they gave me my own team. It’s settled down a lot now – only one or two retrievals a day - but it was hellishly busy to start off with.”

  She moved to take in his central utility column prompting him to stiffen slightly, although to his credit he kept his eyes fixed squarely on the wall ahead. She was a powerful woman and she enjoyed seeing the unease her presence often engendered in others, especially someone as cool and controlled as Dr Sands. It was something she’d actively sought to cultivate in her time back on Blackthorn and it came in useful now.

  “Is this because the number of escape pods being recovered has fallen?”

  “Precisely so, governor.”

  While his eyes were fixed ahead she took the opportunity to check him over. An intriguing combination of youthful energy matched with very real technical skill. It was certainly an attractive mix if your tastes lay in that direction.

  “I believe that you were personally involved in the resuscitation of several Mantis crew members.”

  “That’s right. Although not always successfully.”

  She’d seen the reports. Of the six he’d worked on he’d been unable to revive just one. A woman in her forties whose records suggested a range of underlying health issues. But then, the pods did come with a long list of medical alerts.

  “But you were directly involved?”

  “Yes, but as I said…”

  Before he could say anything else, she raised a hand, sure of her man.

  She stood behind him trying to make up her mind. He was certainly capable enough, the question was: could she trust him?

  “I used to work on a Resus. Ward while I was training,” he explained. “So, it was a natural fit for me.”

  She’d read about that in his file, of course. He’d made a good impression even then. But still, there was a question about where his true loyalties lay. Was he military through and through or was he using his time here simply to enhance his own prospects?

  The horn-rimmed spectacles suggested the latter.

  She wavered on the edge of making a decision.

  But as she came around the other side, she worried that he might be too young. That he’d struggle to reconcile himself to the whole ethical component. His file contained nothing about any religious affiliations.

  “Julian, is it?”

  He looked over at her then. “That’s right.”

  “Well, Julian, I’ve got a proposal for you. Please,” she indicated his consulting chair. “Sit down.”

  “Thank you,” he said, forgetting entirely that this was his office. “I was wondering why you might be interested in me.”

  “You know, of course, that, technically, I have no power on this ship.”

  He took off his glasses and pinched his nose. “I don’t think that in the least bit. Not after everything that’s happened.”

  “Regardless. I need you to look at someone for me.”

  He sat down before almost immediately looking back at her.

  “Not you then?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m not the one in need of your skills. It’s another resus patient.”

  “One I haven’t seen before?”

  “Yes. But there’s a reason for that. I’ll need you to be discrete.”

  This appealed to his ironic sense of humor. “I can be as discrete as you like, governor.”

  *

  Unlike the Mantis, the Renheim had various med-bays spread out over several floors. Some were simple consulting spaces but the one they were approaching was different. For one thing, very few people even knew it existed.

  As Ardent palmed her way through door security, Sands gave her a searching look.

  No power, indeed!

  Inside, there was a spacious reception area with all new fixtures and fittings, a far cry from some of the ship’s care-worn facilities. They entered a small ward equipped with four beds, only one of which was currently occupied.

  The only sound in the room was the sound of the life support equipment over in one corner.

  Sands rubbed his hands together, as he took in his surroundings.

  “I didn’t know this was even here.”

  “Which is, kind of the idea.”

  She’d had to do a lot of searching through the ship’s admin files but the effort had paid off. As a result of some administrative error, the room had never been formally handed over to the medical care team. She’d discovered it almost by accident. It seemed that the maintenance staff had claimed it for their own and had been using it to store their cleaning supplies.

  The level of secrecy endemic within the ship’s day-to-day practises said a lot about the way Meyer handled things. In an atmosphere in which everyone had to constantly fight to justify their own position, departments were too concerned with maintaining their own viability to consider helping others. It was an extremely inefficient way of running things.

  Sands took some time reviewing some of the equipment in the room. It was all state-of-the-art and he made small appreciative noises as he studied them with a child-like curiosity. Finally, he turned his attention to the ward’s solitary patient, pushing back the curtain which had so far shielded him from view.

  Sands regarded him for several seconds.

  “I’m taking it he’s a member of the Mantis crew?”

  “That’s right.”

  He searched around the bed. “I don’t see any notes.”

  She lowered her voice. “There are no notes.”

  “Okay!” Sands didn’t sound okay. He jerked a thumb back towards the door. “Would it be possible to contact his doctor? Or whoever it was who admitted him?”

  “He doesn’t appear on the system. He can’t appear on the system. Not just yet, anyway.”

  Sands turned to view the tower of machines which were currently keeping the man alive.

  He checked that they were all correctly set up, spending most time on the ventilator.

  Then he checked the readings on the ECG unit.

  “So, you’re going to have to explain this to me,” he had a doctor’s skill of sounding both accusatory and conciliatory at the same time. “Who was it who decided to open the evac pod in the first place? Are we covering up for one of the nurses, because if that’s the case…”

  “He wasn’t in an evac pod,” she went over to the end curtain and pulled it back. “He was in this.”

  “Really! An auto-doc! Haven’t seen one of these in years. Does it even work?”

  “It must do. It kept him alive.”

  She thought he might be suspicious of her but he simply looked puzzled, turning from her to the man on the bed. His brow crinkled in thought. “I’m going to need some nurses. We need to monitor his bloods.”

  “No nurses,” she said, firmly. “It’s me or nobody.”

  Sands looked as though he was starting to regret coming down here in the first place.

  “Alright, governor. I get it. Okay, if you could just bring that machine over here – we’re going to have to monitor him.”

  While Ardent was doing that, Sands checked the man’s pulse and was surprised by the result. Then he took a pen light and examined the man’s eyes, each in turn.

  “Not so good. Do you know whether the patient has had access to a constant flow of oxygen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Sands reached across and took the various monitors from Ardent while she moved the Blood Analyser closer.

  “Governor, I understand that there’s a good deal that you’re choosing to keep from me but a few things – well - they just don’t add up.”

  “I’ll tell you as much as I can, alright?”

  “We’re assuming that he was transferred from the evac pod into the autodoc?”

  “I guess.”

  “Then could you tell me how long passed between him leaving the one and arriving at the other?”

  “Honestly? I have no idea.”

  Sands looked down in an attempt to mask his growing frustration.

  “And, you say that he’s a member of the Mantis’ crew.”

  “Correct.”

  “But, surely, he’s too old?”

  “He’s officially not considered to be an actual crew member.”

  Sands ignored this piece of nonsense and indicated for her to roll up the man’s sleeve while he prepared to take a blood sample.

  When he’d finished, he passed her the phial of blood which she placed in the machine.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “I want to review his blood gases but with such a long break in the continuity of his care, I’m more concerned about his organ function.”

  It took less than a minute for the results to come through. At first, Sands seemed pleased with what he saw but then something caught his attention which he clearly didn’t like.

  “I need to check his blood pressure. Could you pass me that cuff?”

  Sands rolled the man’s shirt sleeve higher up his arm while Ardent withdrew the cuff from the machine. There wasn’t enough room for them to work side by side but somehow they managed.

  Once the cuff was in place, Sands reached over to check the patient’s pulse and that was when he saw the tattoo.

  Oderint dum metuant.

  He turned the man’s wrist so he could examine it in more detail, his fancy glasses all but forgotten. He even rubbed at a part of the tattoo in an attempt to check if it were real.

  He straightened up, the blood pressure test all but forgotten.

  “This can’t be happening.”

  “I’m afraid it is. Are you alright?”

  All the blood had drained from Sands’ face.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said impatiently. “But how did you know - to come to me, I mean?”

  “Are you talking about your mother?”

  It took a beat for him to process what she’d just said.

  “Took a little digging – obviously she served on the Mantis long before meeting your father and becoming Mrs Sands, so it wasn’t easy. But it was essential that whoever came down here could be counted on to be totally reliable.”

  Sands’ mouth opened wordlessly. He put the patient’s arm back on the bed then turned reflexively to check the read-outs again.

  “He saved them all, you know.”

  “Sorry? What?”

  He regarded the man on the bed. “He saved them all. My mother wasn’t big on discussing her wartime experiences but she was very clear on that. She was horrified about the way the government seemed to abandon him once he was captured. Horrified.”

  “A lot of people were.”

  “She was one of the original founders of the whole ‘Dinner Without Faulkner’ thing. To raise awareness by commemorating the date of his capture. Ensure he wasn’t forgotten.”

  “I know,” Ardent felt suddenly guilty about the way she’d gone about things. “That’s how I made the connection. In the media coverage, they used your mother’s married name, so that helped.”

  “Thank you,” he said, reaching across to squeeze her hand. “I’m glad it was me you came to. Really I am.”

  As he made to pull away, she snatched hold of his wrist.

  “No one must know. You do understand?”

  Sands tilted his head as though looking right up to the deck of the bridge.

  “Oh, yes. I understand.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  Meyer stood at his lectern, surveying the bridge.

  He could have been the conductor of a small orchestra except everyone else was facing the wrong way.

  Ardent felt like an intruder. She was there under sufferance and so had no permanent station she could call her own. It was a move calculated to undermine her status with the rest of the bridge crew. Wherever she stood she was invariably going to get in someone’s way.

  Farnese stood over to her left, his hands clasped behind his back. He’d turned slightly when she’d first entered but had done nothing else to acknowledge her. That didn’t come as a surprise but, for some reason, it had annoyed her more than she’d care to admit. They hadn’t slept together for some time now but she didn’t think that was a good enough reason for him to simply disregard her.

  But no matter how hard she tried to ignore the slight – it was she, after all, who had called time on the relationship – she found that it still rankled.

  Although it could have been worse, she reflected. What if Farnese had been the captain rather than the XO? Then, he’d have been able to bar her from the bridge entirely and that would have been difficult.