Lieutenant (Junior-Grade) James Lambert awoke from thirteen hours of perfect, dreamless slumber. He rolled over, luxuriating in the warm and indescribably comfortable sensation the bed provided. He rolled onto his back, slowly opening eyes that were still clouded by sleep.
He wasn't still aboard the Arleigh Burke, he knew that much. It was a different medical bay, one that was much larger and felt somehow familiar to him. A number of patients were in identical beds, and a few doctors and nurses walked around. He was trying to remember what it was that was so familiar to him when a doctor walked up to the side of his bed.
'Mr. Lambert, it's good to see you awake. We went ahead and moved you here to the medical bay of the Missouri in New York.'
'Ah,' Lambert said, realizing that he was back aboard the ship that passed for his home, these days.
'Yes, the people aboard the Burke and at Richmond performed most of your diagnosis while you were out, but we transferred you back here an hour or so ago since you're just about ready to be discharged.'
'So good news then?' Lambert asked.
'For the most part, yes. You had sprained a couple of your fingers, but that was about the extent of your external injuries. However, we have determined that your DNA structure has changed slightly. I'm afraid to say that you're now irreversibly highly addicted to the drug known as cardamine.'
Lambert blanched momentarily. Obviously he'd been aware of the addiction, but he'd hoped that he would have been able to hide it from the Navy. He wasn't sure there were any rules or regulations pertaining to his situation specifically, but drug use of any kind was strictly prohibited by the Navy. It seemed possible, probable even, that he would wind up losing his commission once High Command found out about it from the medical staff.
He sighed. It was out of his hands now, either way. But without the protection the Navy offered him'¦ they would be throwing him to the wolves.
The doctor continued, oblivious to his internal consternation. 'We nearly lost you at first, when your body began to crash from the cardamine withdrawal. But luckily one of my assistants recognized what was happening and Richmond happened to have a small supply of the drug on hand. I'm afraid, though, that we here in the medical corps cannot provide you with any more of the drug, but perhaps your direct superiors in the Navy could assist you. We'll be sure to make a note of it in our report.'
Lambert gave the doctor a brief nod of thanks. This was another problem he hadn't considered. Cardamine itself was highly illegal, highly expensive, and very rare within Liberty. He had an idea of where to look, but it was likely he'd need another hit within a few hours, so he'd have to act fast.
'As far is medical is concerned, we feel you are ready for discharge. However, standard protocol for a Navy pilot who's been a POW is to receive both a debriefing and a psychological evaluation and clearance before resuming active duty. When you return to your quarters, I'm sure there will be messages waiting on your terminal regarding those.'
Lambert nodded, and slowly pulled himself out of the bed. He shook the doctor's hand, signed his release papers, and a nurse brought a small bag containing everything that had been on his person when he'd been admitted. Bag in hand, Lambert departed the medical bay. He was quickly able to determine his location within the massive ship, and made his way down several decks to the flight officer's living wing.
Three doors down on the right, and he was facing his own door. His fingerprint still opened it up, and things inside seemed to be still in order ' still just as small and spartan as ever. He tossed the bag onto his bed and sat down at the terminal, logging in.
If the Navy's massive central server system would've allowed such a thing, Lambert's mail account would be overflowing with new messages. There were still a few remaining from prior to his disappearance, and then a number that had been re-routed when he had been officially MIA and now routed back to him since he had returned to active status.
He sifted through them quickly. A few pertained to old business, and many of the new ones were well wishes from friends and acquaintances dated within the last day. Copies of Clark's report on his rescue and Fleet Admiral Hale's response had also been forwarded to him. There was also a strange message from a man he'd never met with an odd name ' Daler Mehndi ' inviting all Primary Fleet officers to some kind of party on Manhattan. The party was starting that very evening, but Lambert filed it away for future consideration. Finally, he found the message he was looking for:
---
COMM ID:CAPTAIN Polstari, Alan TARGET ID:LIEUTENANT (JG) Lambert, James SUBJECT:Debrief ENCRYPTION:High PRIORITY:High
Lambert,
Welcome back to the land of the living.
Vice Admiral Baker asked me to take the lead on your debriefing process. Due to the nature of your captivity and escape, there are a few somewhat abnormal procedures involved with this process. Please adhere to the following guidelines unless otherwise stated by myself or a member of the High Command.
1. Until your debrief is complete, you may not speak to anyone about what happened to you as a POW aside from the Primary Fleet High Command and myself and any others involved with the debrief process during our official sessions.
2. The media seems to have connected the dots regarding your capture, and likely is chomping at the bit to get an interview out of you. Obviously we don't want this to happen. We aren't specifically restricting you to base but we ask that you keep any necessary visits off the Missouri to a minimum for the time being.
3. For the time being, I have set your official status to Reserve duty as a noncombatant. What this means is you'll still receive full pay as dictated by your rank, but will be restricted from any active duty patrols and any combat action aside from a Class 1 Emergency aboard the Missouri.
4. I've taken the liberty of requisitioning you a brand-new Guardian. You'll find it in your personal slip downstairs. You are cleared to fly it for personal use but keep your status in mind ' don't go getting yourself shot at.
Please contact me via neural net at your earliest convenience to set up a time to hold our first debriefing session. I've cleared my schedule for the rest of the afternoon, so I'll expect to hear from you soon assuming the doctors have let you go. The sooner we complete the debriefing process the sooner we can get you back in space on active duty.
Looking forward to hearing from you soon.
Captain Alan Polstari
Liberty Navy Primary Fleet Mid-Command
Quartermaster
---
Lambert closed the message and immediately put in a call to Polstari's neural net, setting up a meeting time that would leave him one hour to complete a small personal task.
He logged off and headed down to the hanger bay, finding his new ship in pristine condition waiting for him. He set off on a very quick mission to the Pennsylvania system that ought to get him back in time to meet with Polstari.
Polstari brushed his hair back and took a drink of his beverage, a carbonated caffeine beverage that was popular amongst flight jocks, and took a look at his wall clock. The time indicated that he had about five minutes until Lambert returned from his jaunt to Pennsylvania. Taking a moment to shutdown and password lock the terminal, Polstari stood up and straightened out his uniform, finished off his drink, and took the path to Flight Deck B where Lambert's Guardian was expected to return.
Returning a few salutes, an odd thing still to the young Captain, he made his way briskly to the deck where Lambert's fighter was just touching down. Waiting for the pilot to finish his post flight status report, he strode over to the ship as Lambert finished putting his feet on the deck.
"Mr. Lambert," Polstari said. "Glad to see that you're punctual."
"Sir!" Lambert said, snapping off a crisp salute that was returned quickly.
"I believe you and I have a little talk to attend to. I've set aside the debriefing room adjacent to this hanger. Change out of that flight suit and meet me there in five minutes. Understood?"
"Sir, yes sir! I'll be right there, sir," Lambert said quickly.
"Dismissed, Mr. Lambert," Polstari said, turning around and heading for the debriefing room. The sound of footsteps behind him told him that Lambert was already moving with haste to change out his attire.
"I hope we get this sorted out quickly," he thought to himself. "Probably not, though." With a bit of a frown he entered the briefing room and took a seat, waiting for the young Junior Lieutenant to tell him his tale.
James Lambert walked into the debriefing room aboard the Missouri at a brisk pace. It was not, after all, a good idea to keep a captain waiting. He had changed from his flight suit to a set of service dress blues, which was a surprising comfort to him. The familiarity of wearing his formal uniform again was a reminder that he was back in the Navy once again.
He saluted Polstari, and then took his seat across the table from the captain.
'Good, I'm glad you're here, Mr. Lambert. I have been assigned by High Command to take the lead on your debriefing, as I indicated in my message to you. At this point, the Navy knows relatively little about your ordeal, aside from the initial report of your loss from Lt. Commander Richardson and Commander Clark's report on your rescue. What we hope to accomplish here is to fill in the blanks on the intervening time.'
Lambert nodded slowly as he looked across at the captain. The man was so damned young! If he recalled correctly, Polstari was a full seven years younger than Lambert. So something more like ten years in reality, then. Yet that didn't matter, for Polstari was widely regarded as the rising star within the Primary Fleet of the Navy. Originally a noncom, Polstari had never been to the academy and still retained the iron-edged discipline and work ethic that was the hallmark of any outstanding non-commissioned officer. His meteoric rise in rank through the Primary Fleet was clear to anyone familiar with his record, and the pair of silver eagles at his collar meant he was merely one step from an admiral's billet. Lambert knew this man well, having served directly under his command on several occasions. Polstari displayed a level of personability and calm confidence that he deeply respected and he was deeply grateful that Captain Polstari, of all the officers of the mid command, had been chosen for his debriefing.
The captain spoke again. 'Good. Hopefully things will go smoothly and we'll be able to get through everything quickly. Regardless, once we're finished, I'll draft a report to High Command and they will decide on any further actions, if necessary.'
Polstari smiled slightly, but it took everything in Lambert's power not to wince.
Further actions. Perhaps a medical discharge? Or, if they decide to take too close of a look at things, even a court martial. Either way a death sentence. Best be convincing here.
'Well, without further ado, let's get started. How about just taking it from the beginning, Mr. Lambert?'
Lambert took a breath, and then launched into the story. 'Well, after leaving the Missouri on patrol, I ran across a trader carrying a load of cardamine near West Point. I pursued him as he ran into the Badlands, but lost him after hitting an asteroid. I was trying to get myself back out of the field when a group of four Rogues jumped me...'
He continued the tale, stopping to answer questions or clarify points when Polstari asked. He told about getting shot down, ejecting, getting picked up by the Rogues. He told about his first several meetings with Pita, and about her strange behavior. He tried to paint the girl in a fairly positive light, emphasizing that she had been brainwashed heavily by the Rogues and seemed to be slowly losing her grip on reality.
He was about to begin telling about his time in Banshee's tender care when he noticed the clock on the wall. He had been going on for over two hours and it was long past time to go off-duty. He realized he was quite hungry, and the now-familiar itching sensation at the back of his head indicated it would soon be time to re-dose on cardamine.
'Captain, I just noticed the time. If I may, I'd like to request that we reconvene tomorrow at your convenience.'
Polstari looked up, just noticing the time as well. 'I believe that would be a good idea. Dismissed, Mr. Lambert.'
Lambert stood and walked out of the room and headed to the officer's mess. After that, he was considering heading to that party on Manhattan for a bit.
The next day, Captain Polstari again summoned Lambert to the debriefing room aboard the Missouri, this time right after the lunch hour.
'Ah, Mr. Lambert. Welcome back.' Polstari smiled as Lambert took the seat across from him once again.
'Why don't you pick it back up from where we left off last time? You were telling me about this 'Banshee' individual.'
Lambert was eminently glad he'd just eaten lunch and taken a dose of cardamine, for this would be the most challenging part of the interview.
'Yes, sir. Well I was dragged out of my cell at around the usual time. I was expecting to be taken to Pita again for another 'tea party...' both men grimaced, recalling the details from Lambert's testimony on the subject, 'but they instead took me way down into the bowels of the base. We wound up in some old docking bay, and there was a Hacker gunboat parked in it. That was where I met 'Banshee'.'
'You mentioned previously that you had a previous encounter with her. Could you go through that?'
'Yes, my previous encounter with her occurred years ago, during my last year as a Bounty Hunter and after my... reassignment to the Tau sector. I was tracking down a few Outcasts up in this tiny, nearly worthless system called Tau-23 along with a handful of other Bounty Hunters. I ran across what looked to be a small convoy consisting of a group of Outcast fighters escorting a Border Worlds Transport. We figured we could take 'em, so our wing took on the fighters.
'I took my Bottlenose in close to this transport after we disabled the engines, and I armored up and took several men with me aboard this transport. It was eerily quiet, and the cargo holds we ran by were all empty. We blasted a few Outcasts; most of them were armed but didn't have any armor on.
'We took the bridge, and I managed to get the captain of the vessel to talk. They weren't hauling cargo, just taking a very important person to Malta. A young woman they'd captured, who apparently knew some valuable information. The captain didn't know much about her beyond that.
'So I went to go find this woman, and found her in a small cargo hold on the ship's side. She was a striking young woman, and she begged for my help. But then some Outcast came on the intercom and managed to compel her to attack me, with her bare hands. It bewildered me at the time, but now I realize it must've been the cardamine they'd used to indoctrinate her. So I... um... blasted her out the side of the ship, into space.'
'Seems like a bit of an overreaction to me,' Polstari said.
'It may have been, but it was one of those combat reaction things,' Lambert replied. 'I've regretted that decision ever since,' he lied.
'I suppose that makes sense. So, what's the connection to Banshee?'
'Well, Banshee made it clear to me that she was that woman. I recall that the Outcast escorts retreated soon after I blasted that hole in the side of the transport, so it's possible she was tractored in by one of them. Theoretically she could have survived a short unprotected EVA, if they'd gotten her quickly enough. That could also explain her... appearance.'
'Yes, you mentioned something about that.'
'Well, Banshee was a cyborg obviously, although I'm not sure to how much of an extent. She was a... monstrosity, Captain. Mostly machine, although her head seemed mostly intact. She wore a huge mask, though, which I assume provided her with cardamine and other essentials. She radiated malice and hate, but remained calm and calculating at the same time. She hated me, blaming me for whatever horrible things had happened to her after I sent her into space, and she wanted to punish me by putting me through much of the same.
'So she threw me in this big tank after injecting me with this drug that she claimed was a failed experiment by Cryer."
"A drug? What kind of drug was this?"
"She said it was part of Cryer's research on Cardamine, and it would enhance all of the drug's effects. Make the highs higher, the crashes more dramatic, and generally shorten the entire time frame. That's all I know, other than the fact that it seemed to work exactly as she said, and the effects had worn off by the next day."
Polstari nodded, and Lambert continued.
"In the tank, she had me immersed in cardamine gasses. At first it was... incredible. I inhaled so much that I passed out for a time. When I woke, the withdrawl had already set in. I could literally feel parts of my body shutting down. Excruciating pain, as the freight train of death roared directly at me.
'But I was dosed again at the last minute, and the cycle continued. It went on for an eternity, Captain. At first I believe she was doing it simply for the enjoyment, but then she started demanding information.'
'What kind of information?'
'The classified kind. Information about our High Command, the Virginia system, Naval installations. Also some seemingly random pieces of information about Liberty itself that should be public knowledge,' Lambert lied.
'And what did you tell her, Junior Lieutenant?' Polstari had straightened in his chair, and was staring at Lambert intently.
'Lies, or nothing. I figured I had nothing to lose, since she would kill me anyways. The interrogation didn't last very long though, sir. I lost consciousness after a while, and next thing I knew I was in some kind of infirmary.'
'I see,' Polstari said, looking a bit skeptical. 'Did she give any indication of why she was asking about all this?'
Lambert felt a bead of sweat start to develop on his forehead. He fought off the urge to wipe it and pressed on with the lie. "I'm not entirely sure, sir. It seems unlikely that she would have been gathering information as a proxy for the Rogues or some other party, but perhaps she wanted to gather classified information that she could sell off later on. Or perhaps she had, or has, further plans against Liberty."
Polstari frowned, and nodded. "That's... troubling. Especially if she was planning some kind of direct action against us. But please, continue."
Lambert went on, described the escape as best he could, including the gunfight with Banshee and Pita's recapture of him.
''... and that's about it, sir. Commander Clark was in a better position to report on my rescue, and his report covered everything on that end.'
'Well Mr. Lambert, that's quite the harrowing tale. You've been through an astonishing amount ' in fact a great deal more than I was personally expecting. So... my last question is this: how are you holding up?'
Lambert swallowed and looked up at the captain. 'It hasn't been easy, sir, not by a long shot. Haven't slept much, and when I have there are nightmares. But all in all I'm coping pretty well.'
'It's not possible to go through something like that and not be affected by it, Mr. Lambert. Fortunately your next stop is a Navy psychologist for a psych re-evaluation. I believe the psychologist will be able to assist you with your post-traumatic stress and hopefully nip any further issues in the bud.'
'Yes, sir.'
'The psychologist will evaluate you and that, combined with my report, will be what High Command looks at in order to determine how to move forward.'
Lambert managed a slight nod.
'Good, you're dismissed. The psychologist will contact you to arrange a session.'
'Thank you, sir,' Lambert replied as he stood and stepped out of the room.