The Honour of the Knights (First Edition) (4 page)

There
was a clatter and then a heavy crash, followed by cursing from his
mother.

“
That man is going to die unless he gets to a
hospital.”

Simon
forced himself to filter out the rest. He was intent on discovering
what had happened to Dean and how he had come to be there. The
wounded pilot reached out and placed a limp hand on his
shoulder.

“
A… T.. AF… operation…” the man tried again.

“
You ejected from your TAF?” Simon asked,
trying to make sense of what Dean was saying. If he’d ejected from
his TAF how did he get all those bullet wounds? Had someone managed
to shoot him while he sat in the cockpit? That
didn
’
t
make any sense. Bullets would have a hard time getting through the
toughened canopy, let alone the energy shields surrounding the
fighter. “Where did you come down?”

The man
started coughing and took another deep breath. “Imperial war…
wrong…” was all he could manage.

Simon
didn’t know what he was talking about. The Imperial civil war was
wrong? Of course it was, lots of people had lost their lives in
that unending conflict. Dean was making very little
sense.

“
Right, Simon, give me a hand here.” Gregory reappeared in the
living room, carrying a small red first-aid box and a much larger
medical kit. He dumped them both on the floor at the foot of the
couch and together the pair did their best to bandage the man, but
they both knew that he would die without proper medical
attention.

As Simon bandaged the bullet wounds in the
man
’
s chest, in a
futile attempt to stem the flow of blood, he noticed his mother in
the doorway. She was still distressed and he could make out the
tears sliding down her face. He was well aware of what she must
have been thinking: one day it might be her son in the same
position, being patched up by friends, or strangers, as they did
their best to prolong his life for what might well prove to be only
a few minutes. He smiled back at her, to let her know it would be
okay. Following naval protocol or not, he now regretted the way he
had spoken to her. Dean could not have been much older than
himself, something which had likely compounded her
anguish.

The
wounded pilot never took his eyes off Simon as he and his father
tried to make him comfortable and stable.

“
Sudarberg
,” Dean said all of a sudden, still staring at
Simon.

“
What did he say?” Gregory asked, the two men ceasing their
messy bandaging to listen.

“
Sudarberg
?” Simon asked, leaning closer to Dean.

“
Y… yes. Stay… a.. aw.. way.”

“
Where
’
s
Sudarberg
?” Gregory
asked.

“
I don
’
t know, I
’
ve never heard of it.
Where
’
s
Sudarberg
? Why should I
stay away from it?” Dean didn’t answer, but panted, struggling to
swallow.

“
This guy is going to die unless we can get
him to a hospital soon,” his father remarked.
Simon looked over their attempts to preserve the
man
’
s life, their
efforts far poorer than what he had originally envisioned. Whilst
the medical kits contained a number of dressings, bandages and
solutions designed to stimulate rapid coagulation, they were not
enough to contend with Dean
’
s kinds of injuries, nor his
sustained blood loss. They persevered for a while longer until
Gregory threw in the towel.

“
Right, Simon, call your friends at the
Navy,” Gregory said. “We’ve been at this for ages now and that
ambulance could still take quite a while to get here. The Navy
might be able to get here quicker. Whatever this guy is worried
about, I
’
m
sure its not worth dying over.”

Simon
conceded to what his father was saying and, pushing protocol aside,
he made the call. He then sat with Dean, attempting to get a little
more information out of him whilst they waited for help to arrive.
But Dean was done talking and less than twenty minutes later he was
dead.

* * *

“
Where exactly did you find him?” a representative of the
Naval Investigation Services was asking the Dodds family. It was
quite late in the morning and several men and women were carrying
out final investigations of the perimeter of the family home. The
ambulance that had been called had never arrived. Instead, a
military medical transport had showed up, a number of heavily armed
personnel accompanying the medical team into the house. In
addition, a large area around the house and orchards had been
sealed off, the workers arriving at the orchard being turned
away.

“
He was lying there, face down on the
ground,” Gregory said, pointing at the spot where they had found
Dean. “How much longer is this going to take?
You
’
ve
been here for bloody hours. I
’
ve got pickers and harvesters
waiting to get to work.”

“
I just need to ensure I have all the details down, Mr Dodds,”
the rep said, tapping away at a hand held device with a stylus.
“After you found him, what did you do next?”

“
For the love of God, are you deaf?”
Simon
’
s
father glowered.

“
Dad, don
’
t worry, I
’
ll deal with this,” Simon said,
seeing his father’s last thread of patience about to snap. “Go and
check that they
’
re not destroying the house.” His mother and father departed
and Simon turned back to the representative. “We brought him inside
and called for an ambulance. The medical services told us it would
be over half an hour before they could get to us, so we attempted
to patch him up ourselves.”

The man nodded. “According to your call records, you waited a
good twenty-five minutes before placing the call to the nearest
military hospital, regarding Lieutenant Commander
Dean
’
s condition.
Why did you wait so long?” He kept the device in his hand held up.
Simon suspected it was recording everything that was being
said.

“
I considered that he may have been taking
part in a classified mission and I needed to be sure I
wouldn
’
t
be putting the operation or other participants at risk by drawing
attention to his presence.” Simon stopped short of telling him
about Dean
’
s
objection to the call for an ambulance or other medical
assistance.

The rep, however, seemed satisfied. “Okay,
that
’
s fine. I
can appreciate that it was a difficult position you found yourself
in, but you made the right decision. I believe you’re currently in
the service of the Confederation Stellar Navy yourself?”

“
That’s right.”

“
Could you please state your full name and rank?”

“
Second Lieutenant Simon Dodds,” Simon said.

The man
tapped away at the digital assistant in his hand and waited for it
to retrieve the information he was after. “Hmmmm. Says here that
you’ve been a pilot for several years and that you are currently on
suspension from active service; reinstatement not due for at least
another six to seven weeks, pending the outcome of further
hearings.” He tapped at the device and then whistled.
“Court-martialed back at the beginning of December on two counts of
involuntary manslaughter, as well as disobeying orders
during…”

“
Yeah, yeah, we get the picture,” Simon
interrupted.

“
So, that’s all correct?”

“
Yes,” Simon said, trying not to glare.

“
May I ask where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing for
the last four and a half months?”

“
I
’
ve been working here.”

“
Doing what, exactly?”

Simon
looked around, then back at the man in disdain. “What the hell do
you think? I’ve been picking apples!”

“
Cool it, Lieutenant.” More tapping.
“You
’
ve
not been anywhere else? Not left the country or the
planet?”

“
No.”

“
Fine,” the representative said. “Did Dean speak much before
his death?”

“
Only to tell me that he had ejected from
his Tactical Assault Fighter, though I never heard it come down.
It
’
s
pretty quiet around here, so I
’
m sure it would have woken me up.
He didn
’
t manage
to tell me how he got all those bullet wounds either.”

“
The TAF has been taken care of,” the man stated, eyes focused
on the digital assistant.

“
Where did it come down?” Simon asked,
looking around a little confused. He half expected to see a plume
of smoke rising from somewhere in the distance. “Not in one of the
orchards?” If the TAF had come down, then wouldn’t there be some
sign of its crash? And come to think of it, where
was
Dean
’
s
parachute?

“
No, don’t worry. There’s no need to be
concerned about that. Like I said, it
’
s been taken care of.” The man
raised his eyes from his PDA. “You’re sure he didn’t say anything
else?”

Simon
felt as though the man was trying to suggest that he might be
trying to hide something. “No.”

“
Okay. Thank you for your co-operation, Lieutenant. You can
let your family know that we will be departing shortly,” the man
said before powering down the PDA and slipping it back into his
jacket. He pressed a button on a device in his ear and spoke to
confirm he was finished.

Simon
started off to re-join his mother and father, who were hovering by
the porch and trying to see inside the house.

“
Excuse me, Lieutenant,” the NIS representative called out to
him, before jogging over to join the three. “Just one thing before
we go…”

The
three listened as he made one last point clear: no-one had come to
the house that night and none of them had ever heard of a man by
the name of Patrick Dean. Once they understood and agreed with what
he was telling them, he then informed them, in rather pleasant
tones, that they would have their couch replaced later that day, or
early the next. Their living room had also been thoroughly cleaned,
leaving no trace of the incident.

* * *

“
Bloody pain in the arse,” Gregory grumbled
as he and Simon tried to locate and organise any orchard workers
who may have decided to return to work that afternoon, following
the Navy’s departure. Simon did not comment, the whole experience
seeming a little surreal to him at this point.
“Let
’
s
hope that it
’
ll
be another ten years before we see that lot again.”

The CSN
returned just two weeks later.

II

—
An Unwelcome Visitor
—

A
lthough the CSN
’
s reappearance at the Dodds
household was by no means discreet, the first Simon knew about it
was due to the sound of his father cursing at the top of his voice
and striding with great displeasure towards the Confederation
transport craft that had landed close to the house. It had touched
down in one of the orchards belonging to the family, damaging the
valuable crop and sending his father into a rage.

Simon had been sitting in the study at the time, pushing a
pen around various pieces of paper. At the sound of his
father
’
s cursing
he left the house, seeing the CSN representative that was making
his way up the track; the man removing a white envelope from within
his jacket. Simon
’
s father strode past him, caring little for what he had to
say and only about what was happening to his field.

“
Second Lieutenant Simon Dodds?” the man in full naval dress
and sporting a pair of dark glasses asked, as Simon hurried after
his father.

“
Yeah?” Simon answered, both men now following Gregory down
the track in the direction of the transport.

“
This request came in from CSN HQ for you
today. I should advise you that it is urgent.” Simon took the
envelope from the man and removed the single piece of folded paper
within. Though the letter was brief, the message was clear: it
called for his immediate return to duty. His suspension was over,
even though he had only served five months of the six he had been
handed. Odd. Suspensions often ran far longer, whilst the
Confederation Stellar Navy considered reinstatement of personnel.
Stranger still was that the request had been made in the form of a
personal letter. A video call was far more usual. The
Navy
’
s
presence at the family home, to hand deliver said letter, further
compounded the supposed urgent nature of the request.