Freehold (14 page)

"That was right after he dumped a burst of fifteen millimeter into an armored vehicle bent on turning me into road pizza," Marta added. "We both are from this area, so we meet up occasionally for drinks and soshing."

"Hey," Rob put in, "Should we go down and watch the construction? It isn't every day they put up a seven-hundred-meter building." All agreed, so they wandered that way on foot. It was only a few hundred meters farther.

There was quite a crowd gathering as they approached, with several City Safety officers trying vainly to keep vehicles moving. There was a private security firm using drones and aircars to chase away those flyers who were too inquisitive. As much complaining as could be heard all around, Kendra decided it was no worse than traffic around construction sites on Earth. Most people here weren't foolish enough to get too close. The risk of getting sued and indentured for life if one interfered probably helped dissuade many of them.

The frame bumped above five-hundred meters. They graciously accepted an invitation from a parked driver to stand on his car for a better vantage point. That let Kendra see into the cleared area, where the rams were sliding four more pybraces into position. The heavily silenced machines still growled as they thrust the pieces out from the center, to be caught, connected and raised by the lifts.

While the construction process was fairly standard, it wasn't a common sight to see, as quickly as the buildings were erected. The local cafés and street vendors were doing booming business with the gawkers and it was clear that traffic was snarled for the day. Automatic controls would have prevented it, Kendra thought, but these people would scream bloody murder at the suggestion of handing vehicle control over to anyone or anything. The onboard safeties prevented only impacts and did not provide flight planning.

The security cars were chasing away the same three flyers, she decided. That red one was clearly the same one that had been run off a bare seg before. The Freehold had the same idiots as the UN, even if their numbers were fewer. Some things never changed, she thought.

High overhead, the red car tried to dodge around a security drone in a dangerous game. It didn't work. The drone's automatic responses were fast enough to interdict, not fast enough to predict what the human pilot would do. The two objects intersected.

The drone was a bare thirty-five-centimeters tall, tubular with steering vanes, strobe and transponder in a small instrument package. The collision speed was not great, but the drone's thrust blew directly down into one of the car's ducts. The vehicle bucked and recovered as the pilot tried to dodge and as it rose it bashed against the drone. The fan blades brushed the damaged housing and tore into shrapnel at 100,000 revs. The pieces punched and ripped holes through both casings and into the car's port-forward fan.

The cars loped crazily toward the building and the pilot steered sharply away. With port control almost gone and a conflict between automatic and manual control he tumbled and fell. The car twisted and spun as it dropped, whipping between buildings it was never supposed to approach. Kendra stared, frozen, and heard Rob mutter, "Oh, shit!" He grabbed her arm and yanked her off the car. They landed hard, stumbled, and he shoved her against the wall.

"Everybody Back!"
he bellowed. Other shouts could be heard and people stared upward, trying desperately to predict where the car would land. Many people and drivers were blissfully unaware of the impending crash and Kendra stared horrified as the crippled vehicle descended.

At the last moment, the pilot righted the craft through a combination of skill, panic and blind luck. Emergency override must have kicked in, because the vehicle poured power into its three operational fans and tried to level out. It was moving at too high a velocity and at too low an altitude to accomplish that, but it did slow the inevitable impact. The slamming crunch it made as it hit two vehicles was no louder than at any other accident Kendra had seen. A pedestrian had leapt away barely in time and was swearing in relief.

Marta sprinted across the street through a stunned throng. Rob said, "C'mon," and followed, not waiting to see if Kendra followed. Several others were approaching also and Kendra tagged along, terrified at what she might see.

There was very brief confusion as everyone approached. Rob started shouting orders and was instantly obeyed by everyone. "If you aren't a medic, get on traffic control. If you can't do traffic control, keep the crowds back ten meters. Everyone else please stay back. You! Call city safty again anyway and keep the band open. You, organize people for tools and find some strong volunteers" He turned back with the assumption that he would be obeyed.

Marta was reaching in the tangled mess looking for casualties. Fortunately, the material was lightweight and easy to move. The hardest part was pulling out chunks of the foam that had blown into the compartments to provide support and reduce impact. There were three injuries visible: the pilot of the red car and the two in the remains of the vehicle underneath. It had been just lifting to navigate over traffic and had somehow rolled during the accident. Probably one side had dropped on proximity warning and then been hit. It had completed its tumble as it smacked another car underneath.

City Safety vehicles were landing all around and two salvage trucks arrived. An ambulance was trying to find space to land. Rob shouted and his crowd controllers pushed back to give it room. They dragged the third vehicle out of the way to give more space.

"I'm a doctor, but I'll need help," a man said as he pushed through the crowd.

"Great! What do you need?" Marta asked as she applied pressure to a wound. She had blood up to her elbows. "Kendra, I need your shirt as a bandage. Your shirt," she repeated as Kendra hesitated. Right. Nudity was okay and this was an emergency. She slipped out of the cotton garment and handed it over, feeling self-conscious. She felt cold without it, despite the sweltering heat in the air.

The doctor replied to Marta, "Uh, a good trauma medic preferably. I'm an ophthalmologist. But I can handle it while we find one."

Marta grinned as she pulled shears and a knife out of her pouch. She clicked the blade out, handed it to Kendra and said, "Cut it into five see emm strips. You're in luck, Doc. Corporal Hernandez, Third Mobile Assault Regiment combat medic. I'll stabilize, you advise."

The doctor was sufficiently experienced with emergency medicine to exceed his concerns. Marta handed over bandages and dressings and splint material when it arrived, and the two medics did all the work while City Safety and the ambulance kept them supplied with saline carriers and tools. It was a messy procedure.

The flyer was only marginally injured, although he had a slight concussion and was in shock. He kept apologizing as Rob and a safety officer extricated him and had him lie down. Rob had to be forceful when the man wanted to apologize. His victims were not in any shape to talk, nor was he.

The two casualties in the car underneath were young women, the passenger IDed as a college student. She had a severe laceration to her right arm and was unconscious. The other one moaned, but could not be reached yet. "Get that damn crane in here!" Rob shouted. Everyone else had assumed he was in charge and simply did as he said. The salvage truck backed in, extended a boom, and the driver, Rob and two others glued shackles to all four corners of the red car. "Clear so we can lift," he told Marta.

"I have a bleeder here. Get on with it," she replied.

"It isn't safe," he argued.

"Then it can fucking be unsafe, I'm not leaving my patient!" she snapped. Her voice softened and she added, "Sorry. Do it. I'll risk it."

He nodded, realized she couldn't see and said, "Okay. Kendra, grab her arm. If I yell, drag her out of there."

The red wreck lifted with a groan and space opened up underneath. Light streamed in and it was possible to see the extent of the driver's injuries. She was in bad shape, but alive.

As soon as the vehicles separated, Marta carefully turned the passenger and began to ease her through the open window. Rob and two others taped the web-cracked windscreen with emergency tape, then cut around the edge with small, whining saws. They peeled it back to gain access to the driver.

The passenger slipped out and the ambulance crew gently strapped her to a litter. Marta squirmed in and had Kendra reach in to hand her tools. Mar's dress was shredded, she wore nothing underneath and the tight quarters made for a grotesque parody of an intimate encounter.

The doctor went around the other side and between the two of them they determined the extent of the victim's injuries. She had several seeping wounds, a minor vein bleeding and some fractures. Rob and his crew commenced chopping and cutting away the safety cage while the crane kept weight off. He briefly conferred with the rescue technician from the response team, who agreed with his proposal and directed his crew to assist. Mar and the doctor dealt with the bleeding, first with bandages and pressure, then with a pneumatic pressure pad. The victim was still supported in part by the impact foam and they reinforced that with pillows, blankets, rolled cloaks and anything else they could get from volunteers. "She's getting weak," Marta said. "Do we dare try a stimulant?"

The doctor, Devon Perkins was his name, said, "It might cause a reaction, or her to start hemorrhaging if she's hurt internally. We can use a nano for shock, but only a half dose to start with," he advised. Kendra relayed the request to the ambulance crew, who delivered the drug without questions. Marta pinched the capsule, dribbled half of it away and pressed the carrier side against the victim's neck.

She stirred shortly and Marta spoke loudly to her. "Jai, I'm a medic. You've been hurt, but you're going to be okay. If you understand, wiggle your fingers . . . good. Now, we have to cut the car away from you. If you move, it might fall. You have to stay still. Do you understand? Good. Can you feel your toes? Good. Can you feel your left arm? No? Okay. Your shoulder is hurt, but we'll get you out soon. My name is Marta. Just grip my hand if you need anything, okay? Good. I'm going to stay right here. There's a doctor here, too. We are both very experienced and you're going to be fine. Just don't move, because we don't want the car to fall."

There was no risk of that, but she might have a neck injury. There was no sense in risking complications and it wouldn't be reassuring to let her know.

"Thir . . . sty," the girl mumbled. Kendra wiggled back to get her bottle and handed it to Mar. It was stinking and sweaty in the vehicle and sharp bits of frame poked at her. She wondered how the girl had survived.

"You can have a sip only, because you're upside down," Marta advised. She didn't mention possible internal injuries. "If you want, you can spit into this towel. But don't try to swallow."

Rob tugged at Kendra's ankle. "We're ready to lift," he said.

She wiggled her ankle and said, "Okay," and turned back. "They're ready to lift, Rob says," she relayed.

"Do it. Get in here as far as you can and help support her weight," Marta instructed.

Kendra propped her arms under the girl's shoulder and hunched to press against her side. Marta and Perkins gripped her legs and Rob signaled. The crane lifted very carefully, a few centimeters at a time, the metal groaning and shrieking. They gingerly wiggled her feet from within the footwells and were showered in falling chunks of safety foam. It stuck to any bloody or sweaty surface, which was everything.

Once her feet were clear, the crane howled as it pulled the load straight up and swung it aside. Other rescuers reached in to help fasten the woman to the form-fitting splint, then lifted her out and lowered her to the ground. In moments, she was also braced in a litter, still in a sitting position, and was taken away.

"I need your name," one of the safety officers said at Kendra's elbow. He was streaked with foam and oil and reeked of spilled fuel. She gave him her name and address and he moved on. Someone handed her a towel and she wiped off dried blood and grime.

The road was clear again, Kendra had noticed while Marta peeled her dress off. It was destroyed anyway. One of the safety vehicles had a box of decontamination wipes and they used them to wipe all residue away. "There's blood in your hair," Kendra said.

"And yours," Marta agreed. On Earth they would have been hospitalized against contamination, but there were no bloodborne diseases in this system. Kendra was grateful for that fact.

Before they could leave, they and all the others nearby were herded toward a restaurant called The Green Man. Inside, Kendra was thanked by several people including the construction manager, a man from the safety office and a FreeBank representative. They were offered showers in the hotel above and dinner immediately following, and it appeared that "no thanks" was not an answer they would understand. Kendra wasn't hungry after seeing vehicles mangled and blood splashed around, although she was calmer than she would have expected. She washed down and put her work shorts back on. Marta didn't seem to notice her own utter nudity, nor did anyone mention it, other than an occasional glance and smile. They were stuffed full of salad and seafood and steaks and beer and wine. The alcohol did feel good after all the earlier stress. Her hunger returned and she plowed into the food with gusto. The Green Man was one of the city's five-star eateries and she had to admit it more than lived up to its reputation. They even had vat-grown steak.

She got into a discussion with an insurance agent who had been expressing an opinion of damages. The woman noted Kendra's surprise that unlicensed passersby had done most of the work. On Earth, few would have offered and none would have stayed after the police arrived. There was too much risk of being sued, since it could be claimed that any injuries were the result of negligence.

"How rude!" the woman had objected. "They would actually sue for helping them? And the courts would allow it?"

It was another sign of cultural dissimilarity that Kendra thought she'd never get used to.

The three left fairly late, after drinking a few generously offered rounds. Kendra sipped at hers, not wanting to get too drunk, but finally relented and drank enough to unwind. It had, after all, been a shocking afternoon. The walk back cleared her head slightly and the restaurant had found a shirt for her, with their logo on it. Marta declined clothes. Kendra still wondered how people could casually walk around naked.