Hostage: A Terran Empire story

slowly, aware at first only that he was laying on somethinghard and that he hurt all over. He shifted, trying to get comfortable,but a hand on his shoulder restrained him. He opened his eyes, to seea young man--not much more than a boy, really--bending over him."What--"

  "We're in a cave in the Webster Mountains, sir," Dave told him. "I'mDave Scanlon. I was a prisoner too, but when they brought you in, myguard let me go so I wouldn't be involved." He went on to describetheir escape and present circumstances. "I'm afraid it was the best Icould think of," he finished apologetically.

  "There's nothing to be sorry for," Tarlac assured him. The youngsterhad probably saved his life; he wasn't in any mood to quibble aboutdetails. "You might not believe how much I hate to ask this--but justhow bad is it?"

  "Uh . . ." Dave hesitated.

  "That bad?"

  "Well--not good, so far, and I've only checked your front. I haven'teven cleaned that yet, since the water's still cold." Dave swallowed."I'm no corpsman, obviously, and you need qualified medical attention,but I'll do the best I can for you."

  "I'm sure you will." Tarlac tried to sit up, unsuccessfully; Davecaught him as he fell back, groaning. "Is there any painkiller in whatyou brought along?"

  "I think so." Dave rummaged through the medical supplies, brought outan injector of quidine. "Uh, what's your mass?"

  "Call it seventy kilos, that's close enough."

  "Yes, sir." Dave read the instructions, set the injector for theweight he'd been told, and triggered it into the side of the Ranger'sneck. "I hope that's right--there's only enough here for anothercouple of doses."

  After a few minutes, Tarlac sighed in relief. "That's fine, Dave--alot better. Would you help me sit up?"

  "Of course, sir." Dave piled up some of the blankets he'd collected,helped the Ranger to sit up, and shoved the blankets into position toserve as a backrest. "I'm not really sure you should be putting weighton your back--but I don't really think you should be putting it on yourfront, either, and you have to rest somehow." He hesitated, then wenton. "I ought to check your back now, if you don't mind."

  "Whether I mind or not doesn't matter very much," Tarlac said. "Itneeds to be done, and at the moment you're the closest to a doctor I'vegot. Plus if I'm in as bad shape as it feels like I am, there's a goodchance that I'll be unconscious a lot of the time--and when I am awake,I won't know what's been going on, and I could very well not be in anyshape to make good decisions. Which puts you in charge, until we'rerescued. What do you want me to do?"

  Dave stared at the Ranger in bewilderment. "But--I can't give a Rangerorders!" he finally managed to get out. Granted that almost everythinghe knew about Rangers came from the holo, news and dramas, he waspositive that they gave orders, they didn't take them . . . well,except from the Sovereign, of course.

  Tarlac grinned, reasonably sure what the youngster was thinking. "Wedo take advice, suggestions, and sometimes orders, from anyone whoknows more about a given situation than we do, or who's in a positionto handle it better. Right now, that's you--and you had the initiativeand resourcefulness to pull me out of the middle of a rebel camp; I'msatisfied to have you go on with the job."

  "The kids at school will never believe this," Dave said, as much tohimself as to the Ranger. "But okay, if that's what you want. Uh . . .I can ask you for advice, can't I?"

  "Sure, but you'll have to decide if it's worth taking or not."

  "I promise." Dave shook his head, still not quite believing what he'dgotten himself into. He knelt beside his patient, spreading out moreblankets and grateful that he'd been able to find so many. "If you'llroll over, then, I should check your back."

  "Okay." It took effort--he was weak from the combination of pain,shock, and loss of blood--but he made it.

  Dave cut away the rest of the Ranger's uniform shirt, then checked thewater he'd put on the lamp. It was warm enough now, so he used it toclean the caked blood away from the whip-inflicted wounds. He didn'twant to believe what he saw as he worked--you didn't use stingweed forany reason!--but the yellowish edges of the wounds were proof thatcouldn't be denied, and he used a swear-word he'd seen embarrass hismother once.

  Tarlac wasn't sure whether he should get worried or laugh at the boy'svirulent language, but on the whole it didn't sound promising. "What'swrong, Dave?"

  "The blankers soaked the whip in stingweed sap," Dave told him, tryingto control his anger. "It can't have taken full effect yet, or noteven quidine could kill the pain--and it carries something like a crossbetween a fungus and a bacterium that nothing in a standard medikitwill touch. How long till your rescue party arrives?"

  Tarlac frowned; this sounded serious. "Is this Tuesday, or was Iunconscious longer than I think?"

  Dave checked his chrono, then nodded. "2243, Tuesday night."

  "They should be landing in about two and a half days, then; ColonelKorda had orders to give me three days, then come looking for me."

  "But we're not at the camp any more, and I don't dare use anything muchmore obvious than the fusion lamp, or the rebels will find us first."Dave brightened. "Unless they blew up the car I used, when they foundout it was missing; then they'd think we were dead."

  "True, but we can't count on that; it'd be best to assume they landedit, and are looking for us."

  "Yeah, I guess so." Dave hid his disappointment; the Ranger wascounting on him! "We've got to be awfully careful, then. They wereholding you hostage, weren't they?"

  "Yes--to get His Majesty to give Lord Robert a Sector" Tarlacchuckled. "The last I heard, anyway; by now, his Lordship may havedecided he wants to be Sovereign."

  "He won't be," Dave said positively. "No one who'd take a Rangerprisoner could possibly be qualified as Sovereign--even if PrinceForrest hadn't been elected Successor."

  "True, but that doesn't keep some people from trying." Tarlac shifted,bit back a groan. "I think the quidine's wearing off, Dave. Do youhave anything stronger?"

  "No--and I wouldn't give it to you if I did." Dave braced himselfagainst the objection he anticipated from the Ranger. "Quidine'salmost too much of a risk itself, for someone who's been hit withstingweed."

  Tarlac sighed. "You know more about it than I do; I won't ask again."

  "Yes, sir." Dave echoed his patient's sigh. Tarlac's acquiescencehelped--but this was not going to be fun!

  And the next couple of hours were hard, for both of them. As thequidine wore off and the stingweed poison grew stronger, Dave wishedhis patient would pass out--for both their sakes. Eventually, Tarlacdid; Dave made sure he was covered snugly, then turned down the lampand arranged the remaining blankets into a nestlike bed for himself.

  He didn't really think he could rest, with all the excitement andproblems going on, so he decided he might as well make what plans hecould. They had two days before they could expect rescue, and theRanger thought the rebels would know they'd escaped, rather than beingblown up. That meant he should try to make their cave defensible--hesnorted at the implausibility of one boy with a disruptor holding offwell-armed rebels, but he'd have to do his best--plus play doctor andnurse to a man who had about as much chance of living through hiswounds and poisoning as the two of them did of holding off the rebels.

  He opened his eyes to more light in the cave than the lamp had beengiving off. Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the disruptor and movedcautiously toward the entrance--then dropped it to his side as herealized the light was morning sun, not rebel field-illuminants. Good,that would give them a break!

  He took advantage of the safety to relieve himself, then he went backinto the cave to check on his patient. Tarlac didn't seem to havemoved, which Dave thought was probably just as well; at least that wayhe wouldn't irritate his injuries. But he swallowed hard when hepulled the blanket away from Tarlac's back, then had to run outsidebefore he threw up all over their refuge. He'd read about stingweedpoisoning in his first aid and survival courses, even seen holos in hisfather's medical texts--but they hadn't
prepared him for the sight andsmell of it in someone's living flesh.

  He wiped his mouth when he finished, the bitter taste in his mouth anecho of his bitter thoughts as he re-entered the cave. He'd have to dobetter than this, if he wanted to keep the two of them