Deja Ortega: Oddsbreaker Read online

  If he was, he wouldn’t be for long. The gunmen were moving in closer. Deja looked at the man’s chest, waiting to see if it would rise and fall. Yes. There. He is still breathing!

  Preparing to do something that was most likely stupid, she shouted to Kanicha, “You stay here and cover me. I’ve got some hero stuff to do!”

  “No problem,” Kanicha agreed.

  Deja sped out to the unconscious man. A bullet whizzed by, lodging in the pushcart just left of the injured fellow. With a leap, Deja tackled the prone figure and pushed him to the ground out of the line of fire. A spray of bullets hit the cart where the man had just been.

  She spun off of him, whipping her blaster up. Without letting herself think, she aimed at the shooter and fired off two shots, hitting the Be’Voyan in the chest, and he went down. Her first kill; at that thought, her stomach reeled. But she shook her head—she couldn’t let the horror of that fact stop her now. She fired two more blasts at the other insurgent, who staggered but didn’t drop. Just as Deja was about to fire again, two shots rang out—one from an unseen person in the rubble to her left and one from Kanicha to her right. The last gunman fell dead. Deja whipped to her left, looking for the source of that other shot. It was a kneeling Be’Voyan police officer—and she knew him. Maizie’s brother.

  “Officer Sef Doljang,” she called out, “are you okay?”

  “Yeah, one second. Who’s there?”

  “I’m Deja, a friend of your sister’s.”

  “Maizie?” he asked with urgency, standing up with a wobble. “Do you know where she is?”

  “Yeah, over in this shop. And she’s fine, don’t worry,” Deja added. “But this guy isn’t. Can you help?” Deja knelt beside the huge man and started examining his wounds. He’s in really bad shape, she thought, looking at a large gash on his torso, a head wound, and what looked like a broken left tibia. Plus, he had a bullet wound in his right forearm. Lucky for him, he was still unconscious.

  She took off her backpack and opened it, digging for her med kit. Sef arrived at her side.

  “Hey, I know this guy,” he said.

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Geoff Thorne. He was in a fight earlier today. Defended an Orinkk’s honor.”

  Deja spared Sef a glance. “What, really? I don’t know him, but I saw him giving a street kid some food earlier.”

  “Oh,” Sef replied, “and for that you risked your life to save his? Impressive.”

  Deja shook her head. “Nah, just doing what any decent person would do, you know?” She pulled out a pouch of medications from her backpack and selected a pain killer plus a bone booster serum that would help his leg heal. She administered the meds and then looked over at Sef, who was also bloodied.

  “How are you? Any broken bones? Gunshot wounds?”

  “Don’t think so. Just had a building fall on me is all. Whoa, Thorne looks really bad off.”

  “Yeah, it’s not good,” she said. “Help me set the bone in his leg?”

  “Of course,” the officer said, kneeling down.

  With his help, Deja carefully but expertly set the bone, silently thanking her papá for letting her shadow the troupe’s doctor so often.

  Deja took some scissors out of her kit and started cutting Thorne’s shirt so she could get to the injury on his stomach. “I’ve gotta stop the bleeding.”

  “Right,” Sef replied. “I’ll call for help.” He grabbed the small radio at his waist, pressed a button, and spoke into it, “Precinct One-Three, this is Officer Doljang reporting. Multiple casualties and wounded at the downtown market. Requesting assistance. Over.”

  As he spoke, Deja looked around, trying to determine if any other survivors were in need of help. Dang it. Most everyone else looks dead, she thought.

  Sef released the button, waiting for a response on the radio. All they heard was static. The Be’Voyan looked at her with sad, gold eyes, and Deja sighed.

  “Nothing,” Sef announced. “I don’t think we can expect help. I’m guessing these fanatics hit multiple targets at once. We’ve been tracking some chatter about a possible attack, but couldn’t pin down a location. I’m guessing that all the locations were targets—including my precinct.”

  “Slag it all,” Deja cursed. “Can you help me roll Thorne? I need to look for wounds on his other side.”

  Sef gripped Geoff’s right shoulder and upper arm while she put her hands on his right hip. “One, two, three, roll.” They both pulled, rolling Thorne onto his left side. “OK, no other wounds. And the GSW in his arm is a through-and-through,” Deja said, relieved. “OK, let’s roll him back.” She counted again, and they eased him down.

  “All right. You want to handle Thorne?” Sef asked.

  “Yeah. Why don’t you go find Maizie and Kanicha? Do you know Kanicha?” He nodded. “Good. They’re over there,” she added, pointing.

  “OK,” said Sef, standing up with a groan. “I’ll be back.” His blue skin looked a bit ashen.

  “Thanks, but take it easy,” Deja called as he walked away. “You definitely look like a building clobbered you.” She turned her attention back to the handsome stranger, grabbing some gauze from her med pack. “Hang in there, Geoff Thorne. You’re not dying on my watch.” She pressed some gauze over the wound in his side and on his forearm, pushing down hard.

  With a jerk, Thorne’s blue eyes flew open. “Ohhh. What’s…where am I?”

  “You’re in the marketplace. You’ve been hurt. Just lie still, OK? I’ve got you.”

  “Who…wait, I’ve…s-seen you b-before,” mumbled Thorne, his eyes focusing on her face.

  “Yeah. Over at The Red Claw. Don’t talk, just conserve your energy, got it?”

  “Yes, m-ma’am. But who are y-you?”

  Deja paused, deciding if she should give her real name. She didn’t know who this guy was. And in all likelihood, they were both in a war zone now. “Just call me ‘nurse,’ okay?” she proposed, still putting pressure on the wounds he had sustained.

  “O-okay, Nurse. Ouch!”

  “Sorry. Hang in there, friend.” She had saved his life; now she just had to keep him alive.

  “Damage report?” Thorne asked, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain.

  Deja paused, wondering what to say. She decided to be honest. It seemed like he could handle it. “It’s bad,” she confirmed. “But you’re gonna be fine. Just breathe for me, OK?”

  The man blew out a shuddering breath. “Right. I c-can do th-that.”

  Deja heard some noise to her right and turned to see the officer leading Maizie and Kanicha over, picking their way across the rubble. The two Be’Voyans looked battered, but Maizie, who came to Deja’s side, seemed unhurt.

  “Hey,” Sef said, “Kanicha and I will start looking for other survivors.”

  Deja voiced her agreement, while Maizie just licked her lips and looked down nervously at Geoff. Tears had made little tracks on her dirty face from her eyes to her chin. “Is…is he gonna be okay?”

  Deja looked back at her patient. She had killed to save this man. So she hoped he was worth it. Thorne had passed out again. Well, she couldn’t blame the dude. It was preferable that way. They just had to find some way to get him and any other survivors the hell out of there to someplace safe, wherever that was. Then she’d have to patch him up, find food, and so on.

  “Gravgummit,” Deja said. “I need a slagging drink.”

  Geoff struggled to open his eyes. His body felt light and numb but also sticky from humidity. He couldn’t really move. Worry ignited in his mind like a flame, burning through his consciousness. He opened his eyes at last and found himself looking up at a yellowed, plaster ceiling with a naked light bulb hanging from it.

  Where am I? What happened?

  “There you are. Welcome back,” said a pleasant female voice.

  Geoff managed to turn his head toward the voice and saw a young, human female with short, dark curls and green eyes. She seemed…familiar. But his brain was
too scrambled to remember where he had seen her.

  “Hello,” he croaked. “Who are you? Where am I?”

  “Easy, easy,” she said. “Uh…call me ‘nurse.’ And you are in my room at a hostel on Be’Voya. You kinda got in the way of a bomb and a bullet. Not so smart of you, I might add.”

  “Oh,” Geoff said, absorbing that information. Now that she mentioned a bomb, he had a vague recollection of an explosion throwing him against something hard. But he didn’t remember anything after that. “How bad is it? What happened?” He looked around, taking in a small room with a porcelain sink and toilet. He appeared to be resting on a cot. None too comfortable, but he was used to such things. He tried to move and groaned instead.

  “Whoa. No moving around, Mr. Thorne. You’re in bad shape. You have a deep laceration in your side, a bullet wound in your right arm, and a broken bone in your left leg. Plus, you’re bruised all over. So just be still.”

  “How,” he coughed, “do you know my name?” He laid still, realizing he must be on some powerful pain meds what with the loopy, numb feeling.

  “Well, I ran into a friend of yours: Officer Sef Doljang. He helped me get you back here where we are holed up. The marketplace was attacked as was the local precinct and some other places, including the local hospital. There’s a rebel force terrorizing the whole city in coordinated attacks. Something about not wanting their religion ‘polluted’ by infidel outsiders, namely, the Coalition. Yeah, the Coats can be super meddlesome. Still, I don’t think blowing up innocents in the name of a cause is a good way to win the people’s hearts and minds.”

  Ah, so she doesn’t trust the GJC, Geoff noted. And we’re caught up in the middle of a holy war. Crap. “I see. Well none of that sounds especially good. Can I, uh, get some water?” he asked.

  “Oh, of course. I’m not being very nurse-like, am I?” The woman picked up a metal water bottle and positioned the straw near his mouth. “There you go. But don’t drink too much at once.”

  He took a few sips and sighed. “Tastes good,” he acknowledged. He raised his head a little and looked down at himself. He was swaddled in a dark-green blanket. “What meds do you have me on?”

  “Just some pain meds and a bone-healing serum. Still, your leg is gonna need the splint I put on it for a while. And I had to stitch up your wounds. I’m afraid it’s not too pretty, Mr. Thorne.”

  “But you got the job done,” he said, not caring. “And call me Geoff. No need for formalities, Nurse. You’ve earned that and much more.”

  “Okay then, Geoff. Do you feel up to eating anything?”

  “I…no, not right now. My stomach feels off,” Geoff confessed.

  “Well, then I am prescribing some sleep, and don’t argue with me,” she replied.

  Geoff cleared his throat, then smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” He took another look at his rescuer and closed his tired eyes, wondering how he could’ve gotten so unlucky and lucky at the same time.

  Deja took another drink from her flask. It had been a day and night of nursing the sick man, and she was running low on spirit and spirits. She’d had to use some of her alcohol to clean Geoff’s wounds when her disinfectant ran out. She knew she shouldn’t be obsessing about alcohol right now. The oddsbreaker ought to be checking on Geoff again. Going over to the cot, she put her hand on his forehead.

  Gravgummit! He has a fever.

  She went to her med kit and pulled out a gizmo that could test BP, temp, and so on. She turned it on and held it over his forehead. It beeped, then read: 104°. That was so not good. With careful motions, Deja untucked the blanket around her patient. She and Sef had stripped him down to his boxers because of his wounds. With care, Deja peeled back the dressing on the gash in Geoff’s side, hoping it wouldn’t be inflamed and red. Her hopes were futile. It didn’t look good. At all. Then she checked the bullet wound. It looked pink, but not puffy or gooey. Still, his gut wound must be infected.

  Deja went back to her med kit and rummaged around, looking for the antibiotics. She came up empty and cursed her stupidity. She’d forgotten to restock those! She grabbed her PalmStar and typed up a message to Officer Doljang.

  Deja: Geoff has a fever and infection. Need antibiotics, stat. Could also use some more food, a bedpan, and disinfectant.

  She waited for an hour before she got a reply.

  Sef: Sorry to hear it. Both hospitals are in the hands of the rebels. But we just reacquired control of my precinct and a few other areas. I’ll see if I can get you some antibiotics and food. Not sure about the other items. Be in touch.

  While she waited for a reply, Deja paced. Her limbs felt shaky. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid. What if the rebels attacked the hostel? What if Geoff died on her watch? She’d never been responsible for another life before. And she had never killed another person before.

  Where was her flask again? Oh, right. On the sink. She grabbed it and unscrewed the lid. But a weak voice made her come up short.

  “Sir, reporting for duty, sir.”

  She whirled around. Geoff was awake, staring off into space, and, apparently, talking to himself.

  She kneeled down by the cot. “Geoff. I’m here. You’re safe.”

  “Sir,” he said, “Lieutenant Colonel Geoff Thorne reporting for duty.”

  Holy crap! He’s military! The blood leeched from her face. She cleared her throat, determined to see if she could get more information from him without jeopardizing his health.

  “Lieutenant Colonel Geoff Thorne,” she said, “what is your serial number and outfit?”

  “I am officer 234APW50 of the Galactic Justice Coalition.”

  What? She had rescued a slagging Coat! And he might die if she didn’t get him the right meds. Worse, he might find out about her, uh, colorful line of work and turn her in. Deja chewed her lip, then bent closer to Geoff.

  “Shh, you’re okay, Geoff. You’re safe. Nurse is here. Come back to me.”

  His eyes wandered and then turned in her direction, finding her face at last. “Nurse?” he ventured.

  “Yes. I’m your nurse. What do you need?”

  “Th-thirsty,” he whispered.

  “Here,” she raised the water with a straw to his lips, “take a drink.” He sucked down a bunch of the liquid. “Hey, hey, not so fast,” she coaxed.

  “Sorry, Nurse.”

  “It’s okay. How do you feel?”

  “Really…cold,” Geoff mumbled.

  “I’m sure you are. You’re running a fever, but I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” Just then, her PalmStar pinged. She pulled it out of her vest pocket.

  Sef: OK, I scored some antibiotics and other supplies. I’ve given them to Kanicha. But you’ll have to meet her over by the courthouse. It’s too risky for her to pass through the disputed territory.

  Deja: Right. Got it. I’ll meet her in three hours. Thanks a bunch. Oh, by the way, I just found out that Geoff is a COALITION officer!

  Sef: Really? Well, I knew there was something more to him. He said he was on holiday. So he must not be here in an official capacity.

  Deja: I know. But it makes me wonder what to do. I probably should’ve let you take him to the field hospital. But I thought he’d be more comfortable here. And the field clinic was already strained. Anyway, do you want to contact the GJC about him? Maybe they can do an exfil?

  Sef: I’ll speak with my superior about it.

  Deja: OK, great.

  Deja tucked away her PalmStar and looked at her patient. Geoff’s breathing was ragged. She hoped she could get the antibiotics plus some other supplies and get back before he got worse. She hated to leave him, though.

  “Just rest, Geoff,” she told him. “I have to go out for a while. Don’t try to move.”

  “You’re leaving?” he muttered, eyes focusing and un-focusing on her face.

  “Yes, but I will be back, OK?” she soothed. “Be a good soldier for me.”

  “OK, Nurse,” he said, closing his eyes.

  Going to th
e sink, she splashed water on her face and dried it with a worn-out towel. Her flask beckoned, and she caved, taking another sip. She could use all the liquid courage she could get.

  The sun had gone down about twenty minutes ago. The cool air was still moist. The planet’s two moons shed some pale light over the city, which was dense with palm trees and other tropical foliage but empty due to the rebellion. Deja squeezed the grip of her blaster again, reassuring herself, as she crept down the street close to the walls of the buildings on the right side. So far, she hadn’t spotted any rebels. But they were bound to show up somewhere before she made it to the rendezvous location.

  She was passing a deserted shoe shop when she heard a low rattling. The sound of a vehicle of some type. She had just made it to a street that ended in a T-shaped intersection. She peered around the corner and glimpsed a truck loaded with five or six figures, and they weren’t police. Crap!

  The courthouse was in the direction they were going. She’d have to try following them while staying out of sight. Good thing she was excellent at sneaking around. She waited for the truck to move far enough away so the shadows of the evening would hide her. Then she stalked forward, blaster ready just in case.

  “Pssst,” said a voice from somewhere to her left. She stopped, seeking out the source. There, in a doorway, stood a small figure with bluish skin. The personage motioned for her to come closer. Cautiously, she advanced until she could see better. It was a young, Be’Voyan boy.

  “Rip?” she asked in a hushed voice. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Yep, that’s me. I’m just tryin’ to find more water and stuff. What are you doing, Missus?”

  Deja saw no reason not to trust the little fella. “I’m heading to the courthouse to meet someone. I need medicine and food. Wanna come along?”

  “Nah. I have other kids I need to get back to once I find some water.” He pointed down to an empty plastic water jug.

  “OK, well, if you want more creds or if you wanna trade for something I’ve got, you can always look me up later. I’m at the hostel on Fifth and Seventy.”