Alpha and Delta wings, converge at coordinates 5-E-231-1. We're done here.
A chorus of "Roger that" and "Acknowledged" rose, and Robert D'Souza nodded. Being a Fleet Admiral stuck him behind a desk most of the time, but he liked to fly. He wanted to fly. Increasing powers to engines was second nature to him on his trusty Bastet.
He had Beta wing in formation around him, Order fighters scouring zoner space for any potential nomad activity. It was a safe enough region that the rest of the High command wouldn't get apoplexy by him flying there.
Admiral, we're picking up readings. It was Delta leader, flying near the Zoner planet, Gran Canaria.
Go on, D'Souza replied tersely.
Seems like a distress signal, off the plane. Looks like a zoner transport.
Investigate. Alpha, head to the location. Beta, on me!
A zoner distress signal in the heart of zoner space was strange. Strange is not good. So D'Souza thought. He mentally prepared himself, then issued out commands.
Be on your guard. Assume hostiles. If I go down, Porter has command. Test everything before going in. Understood? Good.
Space passed rapidly behind them. Delta would be near the source of the signal by now. D'Souza was about to ask for a sitrep, but he was cut short by a panicky delta lead.
It was a trap! Das wilde fighters, at least twenty and two scorpions! We can't hold them! We can-
Abruptly cut off. This was not good. Alpha, behind them, confirmed it.
Sir, we have contacts, Rhienland ships, at least ten wraiths inbound to us.
D'Souza suddenly felt very cold. It was a neatly laid trap, that meant that the wilde had exact information. The complications were immense, but they would never be solved if they died. He barked orders.
Alpha, avoid those ships, head to Delta! Beta, on me, fire at will! Hold on Delta! he practically shouted. Battle heat was getting to him. Adrenaline flowed freely.
They closed the distance between them and Delta rapidly. It was not a good sight. Delta wing had six fighters. Four had been destroyed. Two were hanging on. Delta lead was silent.
Take out the Scorpion I am marking! Concentrate fire!" he barked.
The probabilities were against them. If Beta joined in time...
Sir!. It was Beta. The military has caught us and opened fire! Possible wilde ships, engaging!
A marvelously laid plan indeed. All they could do now was to survive. D'Souza issued final orders.
Alert Gran Canaria. Evasive maneuvers, try to get as close to the Planet as you can. Good luck!
The odds were against. Even if zoner defenses got to the area in time, the small Wilde squadron could do a heavy death toll on them.
Around him, Beta 2 and 3 went silent. He collected pods, grimacing. They were losing fighters like flies, but slowly the Planet came near. Maybe they could make it.
We're down...For the ord-. Static came after. Alpha wing had been obliterated. Those forces would now converge. D'Souza could do nothing. He weaved and dodged, as stray shots took bits out of his hull. His shields had long since given way.
This is Zoner patrol Lambda, we recieved your call, we'll be there in 15.
D'Souza snorted. They would be dead in fifteen. But they had to try. The hardened pilots continued to try to evade, as slowly, the superior Wilde forces whittled them down.
And suddenly, the limited amount of cursing and shouting died. He was alone, dodging fire of at least a full squadron. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
You shall never have me! Shouting defiance, he put his everything. The planet was close now, occupying all his screen. Just a little more, and planetary defenses would kick in...
Hull breach Imminent! The Computer droned.
F*** you! D'Souza shouted. Just a final few clicks...
The dreaded siren sounded. His bastet was going to go. He murmured.
Gods protect me.
And ejected. His pod would have been easy as a toy to shoot for the Wild pilots, but he had managed it. The planetary defenses roared. Fighters went down, One Scorpion was destroyed, and the others turned and ran to save themselves.
D'Souza, in his pod, plummeted into Gran Canaria's atmosphere.
The Zoner forces arrived to see chaos. Fighter wrecks littered space. The entire Order squadron had been obliterated. They took their toll. Wild fighters dotted the mess. And near the planet, a ghastly construct floated. The scorpion was non-functional, and ready to fall apart, as it did before their very eyes.
Commodore Golanski was at High Command headquarters onboard Lisbon station. Checking through reports he received top priority call from one of Order operatives based on Gran Canaria.
...Fleet admiral D'Souza is missing, propably dead.
He was angry. Just yesterday they had a drink at one of bars at Toledo. Another one known to him lost, and he could not do anything about it. This was end of D'Souza, propably they will never find body or at least remnants to release to his brother on Crete for proper burial. After momenth of concetration he ordered to sent message to other members of high command. He decided to notify vice admiral himself.
Acting fleet admiral Robert D'Souza is reported missing in a Das Wilde ambush in Omega-49 system. Only few bodies were recovered by Zoners and we lost three Order wings in area. Unfortunately chances of his survival are slim and our recovery teams so far had found no sight of him. You as next in chain of command have responsibility to take lead of Order now. Good luck admiral Benford. Commodore Golanski out.
Fleet admiral lost, that had to make an serious impact on morale of the fleet. He was done here and went towards docking bays for his fighter.
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Planet Gran Canaria Crash Site
The Zoner rescue team arrived at the farm site where the pod had landed to scour the area. They were efficient with wreck recovery but their knowledge of Nomads was very limited.
"Base, this is Rescue team Oscar. The pilot's body is at a nearby farm. This pod is standard Order issue with nothing special about it. The damage to it was from impact, no gunfire marks on it," reported the leader.
"Roger, Oscar leader, give us a report on the patient," was the reply.
Several minutes later
The rescue team began to look at the badly beat up Order pilot. He was bloodied and unconscious. The team medic could only shake his head, "This man needs to get to Canaria Medical right away. Initial scans show broken ribs, heavy blood loss, internal injuries and a possible skull fracture. I don't have the equipment to diagnose him here," he explained. "I just hope he doesn't die on the way."
The team requested a transport for the unknown pilot who was taken to Canaria Medical where a surgical team met them. Being that there would be political implications as well, John Holliday was called to the room to work with the team.
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Canaria Medical, Port Canaria
The Order pilot was brought into an emergency room where a waiting John Holliday stood by.
"Bring him here," he instructed as his hover gurney was set on a solid landing. Doc then looked over the pilot and just shook his head.
"Should I cut his uniform?" asked a nurse.
"Not yet," he replied, "for all I know, it may well be all that's holding him together."
There was the obvious. The blood loss was heavy as his uniform was soiled with it. A heavy gash in his head was present and one of his right leg was turned in a direction it shouldn't be in. Doc began his scan.
As he scanned, he found many broken ribs, one of which pierced his left lung while another rib lay dangerously close to his heart. Just about every organ was damaged and would need immediate surgery.
He also noticed something strange about him, his left arm was mechanical. He then transferred all the scan data and images and got his team into action.
"Nurse, cut his uniform off," he instructed, "but before you do..." Doc took what appeared to be an ID from a blood soaked pocket.
"I need as many units of AB negative blood," he then ordered, "If anyone has that type, they can donate. Let's act quick as this man shouldn't even be alive as is."
With no time to send a transmission to Order command, Doc got ready for emergency surgery.
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Surgery Room, Canaria Medical
Three hours into surgery, Doc found himself just about re-educating himself on anatomy. He had already pulled the broken ribs from the man's lung and fused the ribs with a laser stitcher and set the remaining ribs as well. He had also removed what was left of his spleen. He looked up at the vital's monitor. All was good.
"Nurse, what's the status of our blood supply?" he asked.
"We will be fine, Doctor," she answered, "we have more than we need."
"Excellent!" replied Doc. He then began examining the man's liver and raised his eyebrows a bit.
"Heavy drinker it seems," he commented as he examined before turning to another doctor on his team, "do we have a liver for someone AB negative?"
"I'll go look," he answered and casually left the room. Playing the assuming there isn't one available mentality, he stitched a puncture on the liver. Shortly after he finished, the doctor returned and announced they did have one. He would return yet a short time later with it.
"Scalpel," he asked of his nurse to which she handed him one.
"Clamps," he asked. He quickly was handed those.
"OK, when I cut, apply the suction," he instructed. Doc cut and right on cue, the assistant dealt with the blood and Doc clamped off the organ. After some more well placed cuts, the liver was removed. Taking the new one from ice, he began the process of putting it in place.
"Stitcher," he asked as he held his hand out. His demand was met. As carefully as he cut out the old one, he sutured the new one into place. Once satisfied, he removed the clamps. He then put some anti-rejection drugs into the IV flowing into the man's body.
"Well done, team," he stated, "let us continue."
They would work for another three hours, fixing a man who by all rights should be dead. Once his internals were fixed, he was closed up. The laser stitcher as usual, left no sign that anything had ever happened.
He then briefly looked at the arm of the man. He was curious to the nature of it. He was sure that his robotics team would want to see it.
Another team worked on the twisted leg. They found the femur dislocated at the hip and the knee totally wrecked. Something had hit him hard forcing a sharp turn in direction he didn't want. For now, they fixed the dislocated joint but knew the knee was a whole nother day's work and most likely in need of replacement. Having been in surgery and fatigued, satisfied that the man would survive, the team broke for the day. Instructions were left to keep him under heavy anesthesia for the next 48 hours. As Doc and his assistant cleaned up, they spoke.
"What's your plan, Doc?" he asked.
"I'll need to call Order command but I'll do so after I can get a better report on him. Before that, I'll probably head home for some food and a rest," he answered.
"Ah. Good plan. How is that wife of yours anyway?" he asked.
"Jeff, she's pregnant with twins....but keep it quiet," he explained, "we don't want the bother."
"Congrats," answered the assistant, "and I'll keep your wishes."
With that, Doc headed home while DeSouza recovered from his first round of surgery.
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It was 48 hours after DeSouza's surgery. He was still under anesthesia and guarded. John Holliday came in to check on him running another bio scan. As he did, he chatted with the attending nurse.
"How's he been, Stacy?" he asked.
"Stable," she answered.
"Good," replied Doc smiling, "So how's that new baby of yours?"
She smiled, "He's doing well, Doctor. Growing quick. Thanks for asking."
Doc just smiled in response as he scanned.
Everything was healing nicely and no rejection of the new liver was detected. He then went to leave the room, "Stacy, keep him under. He'll heal better that way. I have a transmission to make."
"Yes, Doctor," she answered as he left.
In the comm center, he sat before a view screen as he locked in a secure transmission to the Order aboard Battleship Isis and Planet Toledo. He wasn't sure exactly who would respond but he figured someone needed to know.
*Incoming Secure transmission*
Comm ID: Dr. John Henry Holliday
Location: Canaria Medical, Planet Gran Canaria, Omega 49 system
To: Order Command
Location: Battleship Isis; Planet Toldedo
Encryption: For Your Eyes Only
Greetings, Gentlemen,
For those of you who don't know me, I am Dr. John Henry Holliday, chief medical officer and owner of Med.Force medicine and a surgeon here at Canaria Medical. Recently, one of your own was found crash landed on the surface of the planet, rescued by a Zoner recovery team and brought here for treatment. By all rights, this man should be dead but for whatever reason, I have him stabilized after many hours of work. He is currently under anesthesia to allow healing for the many wounds that he has received.
Many internal injuries have been closed as has a nasty head wound that he had and we were fortunate enough to have adequate blood supplies on hand along with some Zoners who were compatible and donated. He's not out-of-the-woods yet, however. He's got a pretty nasty leg twist. I found his right leg dislocated at the hip which was taken care of but that same knee will need replacement as the whole thing is pretty well shreaded. I'm going to wait until he's healed some before I do though.
We also found an ID with him, Robert D'Souza. He'll be safe here. Please, contact me to acknowledge receipt of this message. I can send you specifics and updates on Mr. D'Souza later.
He saw light at the end of the tunnel. Realizing his eyes were closed, he opened them to face whatever was coming...and was surprised. The world slid in and out of focus, vision blurred. But he was alive. And hurting all over, covered with bandages and tubes and gods know what. He blinked a few times. That worked. He could see a blurred room now, with the bland color scheme used in Hospitals everywhere.
He was aching all over he realised, and turning his head was an effort. It looked like it would take a while yet before he could get up, so he did what most people forget to do. He thought.
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Doc stood at D'Souza's side, checking on his patient, running scans, inspecting the healing wounds and changing dressings as needed. For now, there was little else he could do except to attend to the need of his patient. The Order had been notified and a transmission sent to his brother.
He noticed Robert doing a gentle stir as his eyes blinked. Doc said nothing to see if he could recognize him. But, his eyes closed and he returned to his rest to heal.
He made no change on his fluids, keeping them at the levels they were at.
It took Robert a few days to gain the strength to do more than just blink and look around for a few moments. Slightly adjusting his position, bringing a jolt of pain, he opened his eyes and looked around.
A man, in standard doctor's uniform, stood nearby. He looked middle aged, and his face was lined with worry. He was leaning over some of the medical equipment, checking the readings. It took him a moment to reconcile that face with one he had seen often in news and reports.
Doc Holiday. One of the most influential members in the Zoner community. Robert wondered why he was here, of all places looking after him. Only one way to find out.
After working his mouth for a few moments, he felt ready. His voice sounded weak in his own ears, but at least he still had it.
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Doc heard the weak voice speak. He put down the datapad in which he was taking notes on D'Souza and gave him his attention.
"Easy," he said, "don't push yourself. You are at Canaria Medical Center on planet Gran Canaria. A group of Zoners found your escape pod crashed not far from here."
He took a seat next to him, "I am Dr. John Holliday. Myself and my team put you back together." He then gave a re-assuring smile that only a doctor could give, "we didn't think we would save you."
His face went to one of concern, "do you remember what happened?"
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