chapter 20
ACCEPTABLE ALTERNATIVE
In a small exam room in the New Timbuktu prison, Pavel gathered items from the limited medical stock in the room, muttering under
his breath as he cobbled together a desperate plan to save Harpreet’s life.
Nearby, Ethan’s fingers flew across the holoscreen of the powerful computer on his hoverchair.
Brian Wallace was engaged in flattering or calming the scientist from the satellite facility—it wasn’t clear which to Pavel.
“Doctor Kazuko Zaifa?” asked Wallace, consulting his handheld wafer. “The same Doctor Kazuko who organized the symposium
three years ago entitled ‘Ancient Code: Toward a More Beneficial Understanding’?”
Kazuko nodded, adding a layer of “puzzled” to her agitated appearance.
“I regret I was unable to attend,” said Wallace. “However, your paper upon the late twenty-second century use of non-chronological
elisions looks to be most instructive.”
“I guess that will be my legacy,” Kazuko said quietly. She turned to Pavel. “Doctor, I require no treatment for my arrhythmia. Red
Squadron are on their way, and I don’t have to tell you what that means for someone in my position.”
“We have something better to offer you,” said Wallace. “I wonder if you would consider accepting employment from my partners at
MCC. They share my interest in non-chronological elisions and their applications.”
Kazuko looked confused. “I’m supposed to be here for my heart.”
“Lass,” interrupted Brian Wallace, “It comes down to this: would ye prefer to go off with Red Squadron or with us?”
“I don’t understand,” said Kazuko. “You’re offering me a choice?”
“Aye,” replied Brian Wallace. “And that’s more than ye’ll get from anyone in red armor.”
“We propose absconding with you,” said Ethan, his hand flying across his wafer. “Would that be an acceptable alternative to
interrogation and probable un-bodying?”
“You’re serious?” Kazuko stared at each of the three men in turn. “That would be more than acceptable.”
“I am ready when you are,” Ethan said to Pavel. “Everyone will please activate their earpieces now.”
The three men snapped their heads once to the right, causing Kazuko Zaifa’s eyebrows to raise in bafflement.
“Wallace,” said Pavel, “You wait here until Ethan gets back aboard the ship. When Ethan gives you the signal, take Kazuko Zaifa to
the ship.”
“M’self and the prisoner, we’re to simply waltz out the door?” asked Brian Wallace.
“I am endeavoring to turn that figure of speech into a possibility,” said Ethan, his hands skipping across the controls. “But I must
return to the ship to disguise the origin of the rotating algorithmic—”
“Never mind, lad,” said Brian Wallace, cutting Ethan off. “What about Harpreet?”
“I’ll take care of her,” said Pavel. “You three, get ready to leave as soon as I get rid of the guard.”
With that, Pavel wrenched the door open, shouting, “Why wasn’t I notified of detainee Mombasu’s allergy to xenthophils?”
The guard at the door turned around, looking puzzled.
“She’s got a level six allergy to xenthophils!” Pavel shouted.
“Is that dangerous?” asked the guard.
“It’s life-threatening!” replied Pavel.
The guard blanched. “She’s being held for transfer to Budapest. I can’t have her dying on my watch.”
“Then you’d better get her back here, immediately,” said Pavel. “No. That could be too late. Take me to her.” Over his shoulder, he
called. “I want the room cleared out and set up for a full blood transfer protocol.” He turned back to the guard. “Let’s go.”
As the two dashed along the hall, Pavel quizzed the guard. “You are set up for FBTPs here, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know, doctor,” replied the guard, his face still a pasty color. “Our facilities are minimal. What you saw in the exam room—that
’s it.”
“That is your only medical facility? What century are you living in?” demanded Pavel. “Never mind. We can do the transfer on my
ship.” Pavel tapped a wrist communicator that could be overheard safely by the guard. “Nurse Brian? Instruct Nurse Ethan to set up
an FBTP aboard the ship at once.”
“Aye, doctor,” came the answering voice. “I’ve treated and released the heart patient.”
“Good,” said Pavel. “And I want a hoverstretcher in case the patient goes into xenthophilic shock.”
“Doctor,” said the guard, “A detainee transfer will require the warden’s permission. Even if it’s just to your ship.”
“I suggest you obtain such immediately,” said Pavel as the guard scanned the holding cell door open.
Pavel fumbled around in his pocket. “Five cc’s of retriverol should stabilize her,” he said, removing the casing from a med-patch.
Harpreet rose to greet the pair. “Doctor, how lovely—”
The guard interrupted, very distressed. “I’m sorry Harpreet. We didn’t know you were allergic to …” The guard turned to Pavel,
unable to recall the name.
“Xenthophils,” interjected Pavel. “Pull her sleeve up for me,” he ordered the guard.
While the guard fussed with Harpreet’s clothing, Pavel stepped close to apply a med-patch to an exposed part of the guard’s neck.
But before Pavel could act, a harsh voice shouted at him from outside the cell.
“Freeze! Hands up in the air!”
The three in the cell did as the shouting man ordered.
“Now turn around where I can see your faces,” he demanded.
Pavel and the guard turned slowly. All color drained from Pavel’s face when he saw the red armor worn by the newcomer.
The prison guard spoke quickly. “Officer, with all due respect, the detainee is facing a life-threatening allergic reaction. The doctor is
only trying—”
“Silence,” barked the officer, eyes narrowing.
Pavel swelled with determination. “I’m a doctor,” he said. “The detainee requires immediate emergency intervention.” He waved the
med-patch in the air.
“Guard,” said the officer, “Retrieve the packaging from that med-patch and hand it to me. Very slowly.”
Pavel felt his stomach wrench as the guard bent to pick up the wrapper. The med-patch was one used to knock patients out, not
treat them for allergic reactions. Would Red Squadron personnel have received training in such matters?
From behind the officer’s clear face-shield, Pavel saw understanding and knew he was caught.
“You’re no doctor,” said the man in red to Pavel. He ordered the prison guard to take Pavel out of the cell. The officer followed the
pair out, training his weapon upon Pavel.
Pavel made one last attempt. “The patient’s condition can only be stabilized if she is rendered unconscious, hence the med-patch.”
“I’m no fool, boy,” sneered the red-armored officer.
But as the officer stared Pavel down, recognition dawned upon his face. “Shizer!” he said, his eyes wide. “I’ve just found the
Chancellor’s missing nephew.”
The secure turned to the prison guard. “Cuff this man,” he said, indicating Pavel. The officer in red then relayed the information of
Pavel Brezhnaya-Bouchard’s apprehension on a comm line, nodding when instructions came back.
As the cuffs bit into his wrists, Pavel murmured a code phrase. “Without me,” he said. It was the instruction to Ethan, listening via the
earpiece, to continue without him.
“What’s that?” demanded the Red Squadron officer.
“Without me …” Pavel hesitated, looking for something to make the phrase seem unimportant. “Without me, detainee Mombasu—”
But he was interrupted by the noise of Harpreet’s cell door, sliding suddenly shut. All three turned to look at the closed door.
“Get the detainee out of that cell,” ordered the officer in red. “Now!”
The guard tried, but he seemed to be having trouble scanning in. The door would not open. Ethan chose this moment to speak
remotely in Pavel’s earpiece.
“Do you see a door at the opposite end of the building?” asked Ethan’s remote voice. “If you can see it, please focus your gaze in
that direction, toward the surveillance camera.”
Pavel did so.
“You said ‘without me’,” said Ethan’s voice. “Am I to understand that you wish for us to depart without you? Please raise your
eyebrows if the answer is yes.”
Pavel raised both brows.
“Harpreet remains in the cell, does she not?” asked Ethan’s voice.
Pavel raised his eyebrows again.
“I am providing a distraction for the guard,” said Ethan’s voice. “Get the officer out of view of Harpreet’s cell and I may be able to
save her.”
This time, Pavel nodded his acknowledgment. It was too late for him. But Harpreet deserved a chance.