Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) (37 page)

“Who’s in charge?” The volume was higher than Steg expected, and it took a moment or two for people to respond while their hearing recovered from the blast of sound. He turned the volume down.

“I’m the senior officer, yeah. Who are you?” The speaker was a neatly dressed police officer, his uniform spotless. He was about five feet tall and portly, although there was muscle underlying the overweight build.

“Captain Steg de Coeur. Now get your men out of here. We’ve an emergency in the park area—that’s where they’re needed. A shuttle is due to land in five minutes with sixty injured way station personnel. Clear any pedestrians and traffic away and organize your men to help move the patients to the hospital’s emergency intake.” He sent a signal to Riddell on his comlink. “Send me three of the Alliance Marines. I’ve some convincing to do.”

“You—you can’t give me orders.” The officer was red in the face; apparently he was unaccustomed to strangers telling him what to do.

Steg turned the volume of his speaker system up to its previous level. He leveled his Gauss weapon at the crowd of police officers. “I’ve given my orders. Complain to your superiors. Get out there and help. That is not a suggestion.” As he finished speaking, three Alliance Marines pushed their way through the crowd at the foyer entrance.

“Captain, do you need assistance?” the largest marine inquired. He and his two companions were heavyworlders, the largest men Steg had ever encountered. They also were armed and armored. The circular Alliance flag was embossed on the front of each man’s armor.

“Thank you, Sergeant. Please escort these police officers to the park. They’re going to provide crowd control.”

The marines stood to one side, and Steg held his weapon pointing in the general direction of the senior police officer. The message was unmistakable. The twelve or so policemen gradually increased the pace of their exit from the hospital building. The roar of a shuttle overhead added urgency. The shuttle flew past and then returned, slowly descending. The policemen ran to take up positions, followed by the Alliance Marines. The local officers quickly commenced helping Riddell and his team move pedestrians away from the landing zone. A row of gurneys was lined up, adjacent to the expected landing position of the shuttle, ready to move patients.

Steg was about to head to the park when a bald, red-faced man, dressed in a three-piece suit, stormed into the foyer from the street.

“What’s going on? Who are you?” he demanded of Steg.

They all make demands, thought Steg, with no apparent strength behind their words. He looked the man up and down. “And who the frek are you?”

“This is my hospital.” He puffed up his chest. “I’m Dr. Dalrymple, Head Surgeon.”

Steg could almost hear the capitalization of the man’s title.

“Doctor, come with me.” He grabbed the doctor by the shoulder and pulled him to the top of the stairs leading down to the street. He suspected the armor-powered grip would leave bruises.

Steg pointed towards the park. “See that shuttle? There’s sixty people on board, all in need of extensive medical care. I called you a number of times, and you were too arrogant to take my call. I messaged you yesterday requesting assistance. You did nothing.” He shook the man, the way a terrier might shake a rat.

“What—?” The man’s teeth rattled. “I’m not taking notice of some captain. I’m in charge, here.”

The doctor was displaying a surprising amount of bravado, Steg thought.

“You were—you’ve now lost the position. I retired you. One of my people is acting senior surgeon. You’re not fit to be her assistant. We’ll send on your personal belongings; leave your address with security.”

The doctor appeared to be on the verge of a fit. A stranger was holding him halfway off the ground, his shoulder felt as though it was severely damaged, and he was being insulted.

“I’ll see you hung for this, you impudent pup. Let me go.” He tried to turn towards the security guards further back in the foyer. “Help me,” he moaned. No one moved.

Steg released his grip, and the doctor collapsed halfway to the floor. Steg raised his Gauss weapon.

“See that building there? The one with the fancy decoration on top of the curved roof?” Steg couldn’t determine whether the carving was of a large ugly bird or of some mythical monster. He aimed and fired. The shock wave almost pushed the doctor all the way to the ground. The decorative marble carving on top of the building exploded into tiny shards of stone.

“If you’re not out of my sight within one minute, I’ll use this weapon on you. Do not return to this building, understand?”

The doctor paled and said, “You can’t do—”

Steg pointed the weapon at the doctor’s midriff.

“You saw what it did to that ugly carving. Get out of here. Go!” He turned away as the doctor stumbled down the stairs onto the street. Steg hoped it was the last he saw of the man. He instructed the waiting corporal. “Stark, if you see him again, tie him up. Do not let him enter this hospital. Keep watch. Call if you need help. I’m going to check the progress of the patient transfers.”

The hospital staff, at least those involved in processing the way station survivors, were moving patients into the emergency section as rapidly as they were being disembarked from the shuttle. Police were standing guard on either side of the moving lines of gurneys; one line contained empty gurneys, and the other line with gurneys and patients, and each patient was attended by a nurse. Onlookers crowded up to the police guards. Marines and mercenaries protected the two shuttles. Steg relaxed; at least the hospital was accepting the intake.

Steg keyed a comlink to Finch. “All going well?” he asked as he surveyed the park.

“Yes, boss man. I hear you manhandled the so-called senior surgeon. The nurses here were cheering when they heard. He ranked as the most disliked man on the planet, so they tell me.”

“Ask your new friend if I can contact the hospital board—I want to explore how we obtain medical supplies and whether they have medical staff who’ll volunteer to ship up to the way station to help us.”

“Let me check.” Finch was silent for a minute. “It seems they’re on their way to the hospital. Word has spread. Five board members plan to be here in about twenty minutes. Will you meet with them?”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Twenty minutes? I don’t want to wait for them in the lobby. Can Nursing Manager Bollard—someone—arrange a conference room and an introduction?”

“Her receptionist came back and seems to have recovered. I think she’d be able to help.” Finch was silent for another minute. “Yes, if you come here, to the office, the receptionist will arrange all. She and Sergeant Velez are now good friends.”

“Life is full of surprises. I’ll be there in ten.”

Steg found Sergeant Riddell amidst the turmoil of the park and told him he’d be with the hospital board, all going well, for an hour or so.

“Rather you than me, sir,” the sergeant said.

“You’re as bad as Kirby.”

“We come from the same planet, sir. It’s a pessimistic place.”

Steg shook his head. He hid his smile. “We’ve a guard in the lobby; if you want to recall her, I think that’d be okay. I dismissed the hospital’s senior surgeon. He’s the only person I want to prevent entering the hospital.”

“I heard, sir. One of the police officers described it—said it was deserved. Did you actually shoot up the President’s Palace?”

“The what? Oh. I thought it might wake them up. It was a bloody ugly statue, anyway. Call me if anything happens.”

“Yes, sir. Good luck.”

Steg was ambushed in the lobby by a local media camera crew. A female reporter and a cameraman rushed him, while a larger person, some kind of guard, flexed muscles at him.

“Sir. Captain. Captain. What do you have to say about blowing up the President’s Palace?”

Steg did not raise his face visor. He also did not reduce the volume of his speakers. “What do you have to say about the unwillingness of people in this capital to help injured victims on the way station? Why isn’t there a line of volunteers applying to assist with search and rescue? Why have your authorities ignored the needs of hundreds of injured and dying people? Where are medical supplies to replace what our starship and the Alliance destroyer have used on treating survivors? Answer me those.”

The reporter flinched and brushed a curl of blond hair back from her face. “Who are you? Who gave you authority to take over here and destroy property?”

Steg laughed. “Find answers to my questions, broadcast them, show me the tape, and then I’ll talk to you. I’m busy.” He brushed past the trio. He heard the reporter add a line to her report about how rude he was. He stopped and spoke to Corporal Stark.

“I thought I might be able to release you back to Riddell. I’m not sure now. Don’t let these media people into the hospital. Let the sergeant know if you need support. You should soon have visitors—a group of five people—they’re the hospital board. They’ll want access. Let them through.”

“Yes, sir.”

Finch, Stacia, Managing Nurse Bollard and Sergeant Velez had acquired a larger office and the receptionist, whom Velez had frightened away earlier, led Steg to their new location. The four were now the center of a major flow of activity. Finch looked up as Steg made his presence known.

“Oh, good, you’re here. Bolls, this is our boss—well, he think he is. He really is a nice man. Shall I introduce you both properly? Steg, lift your face visor—it’s difficult talking to a reflection.”

Steg did as he was instructed. He held out his hand to the woman Finch referred to as Bolls.

He said, “Ma’am, I’m pleased to meet you. Please accept my apologies for my brusque attitude earlier.”

“My dear man. Call me Bolls. I don’t blame you at all. We didn’t realize—we didn’t know—no one had released details of deaths,. We only knew there had been an alien attack on the way station. So sad, that there’s been so many people killed. We’re doing everything we can to settle patients and arrange treatment. Stacia and Finch—and the rest of your medical team—are angels.”

“Thank you. I agree with your assessment. Well, sometimes they’re angels.”

Stacia ignored his comment; she was in an intense discussion with a young doctor about suitable treatment of one of the patients. Finch smiled and silently promised revenge.

They were interrupted by the young receptionist. “Excuse me, sir. Bolls, they’re here. In Emergency. I put them in the big conference room. They’d like to meet with you and the captain, they said.”

“Stacia, Finch, can you spare me for five minutes? I’ll be back as quickly as possible.”

Both Fains nodded, and Bolls said to Steg, “Follow me.” She set a demanding pace—the woman did not stand around.

Five people were already seated in the conference room when Steg and Managing Nurse Bollard entered. Three were men—one was young and two were of middle age or more—and two were elderly women. All five wore suits and appeared business-like.

The eldest of the men raised a question before introductions and before Steg or Bollard sat at the oval table. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was sharp, his expression arrogant.

“Saving lives. You?” Steg snapped back. Bollard reached for his arm.

“We’re admitting survivors from an alien attack on the way station,” said the managing nurse.

“Who authorized you to do that?” asked the elder of the two ladies. She wore a red hat, the color jarring with her yellow business suit.

Steg was finding it difficult to hide his exasperation. Bollard released his arm; possibly she, too, was experiencing some annoyance.

He said, “First, courtesy would at least commence with an introduction, involving an exchange of names or at least a greeting. Second, I think you should allow Managing Nurse Bollard to take a seat—she’s been working hard this morning. Thirdly, I think you all should stop and ask yourselves a fundamental question: what is the purpose of a hospital? You, sir,” Steg looked at the man who had first spoken. “Is not the purpose of a hospital to care for sick and injured? You, madam, I ask you the same question.”

He waited for an answer. He turned back to the apparent spokesman for the group. “Sir? Your answer?”

The silence continued. Two of the attendees fidgeted; one was the younger man. Steg looked at him. “Yes?”

He replied, “Sir, I believe you are correct, and I apologize, if not on behalf of the board, at least personally.”

“Thank you.”

The second man said, “I agree and also apologize.”

“Thank you, too. The rest of you—you can leave now. I don’t think you should have anything to do with managing a hospital.” He used his comlink to call Riddell. “I need two Alliance Marines and two of our mercs, in the conference room near the emergency area. Velez will know where. They need to remove unwanted hospital board members.”

In the meantime, there was an eruption of protests and arguments across the conference table. He turned up his speaker volume, thumped his rifle on the table, and said, “Silence!”

The depth of the resulting silence was impressive. Steg said, “I gave you an instruction. I’ve requested an escort of four marines to assist me.” He pointed at three board members. “You will leave. You will no longer have anything to do with this hospital.”

“Sir,” protested the first speaker. “All right, we were abrupt. I’ll go so far as to say we might have been discourteous, yeah. I’ll remind you we were appointed by the president. Only he can remove us.”

“I understand he is unlikely to be sober enough to know what day it is.” He ignored the shocked expressions and intakes of breath. “We’ve been conducting search and rescue efforts on your way station. We’ve recovered hundreds of bodies. Understand, I mean dead bodies. We’ve two hundred and forty patients arriving here through the day for emergency treatment. There will be more, lots more. Your reaction was to ask who authorized the hospital to provide care. I have nothing further to say to you. Leave now, or be escorted out under restraint.”

“You wouldn’t dare—”

“Lady, I’ve killed people for less. I have no patience left.” He raised his rifle. The move was accompanied by shrieks of alarm. Steg turned to his companion. “Bolls, will you show these two gentlemen what you and our people are working on? Let them know what resources you need, and work out an action plan. I’ll wait here until the marines arrive—I want to make sure these three leave and don’t return.”