The Frihet Rebellion
Chapter 29: Recovery

Princess Thalor’s whole body ached, even though there was the warmth of medicinal creams and ointments smeared across it. As consciousness returned, she could feel much of her skin was covered with bandages and other dressings. Over it all she wore a light, smooth-to-the-touch smock.

With an overall sense of safety and care, she opened her eyes. It took a moment for the surroundings to merge with her memories. A battleship cabin. One word was stamped in the metal above the door.

Ameridian.

She panicked as images of Kramer flashed before her. Attacking. Hurting. Raping.

No! He’s dead. I killed him. I saw his body blasted into space.

Slowly she calmed herself. There was no longer any danger from Kramer. And yet, somehow, she was back in a cabin aboard Ameridian.

A prisoner?

She sat up in the bed. On a chair nearby were laid out clothes. No overall this time, but a full female crew member’s suit, including neatly folded underwear.

She climbed out of bed, groaning at the pain that shot through her. Her head felt fuzzy, almost certainly from strong pain medication, yet still she could barely stand up straight. How much worse would she be without that medication? It was not something she wanted to find out.

The pain brought with it memories of the prison cell, the dungeon. The President, with his wandering hands. Being shackled to the wall, naked. The other prisoner, Johnson, also naked and shackled. She remembered the jailers and the red-hot, thin metal rods. The rest lay behind a protective barrier she had no wish to breach.

A light above the door flashed, and a short high-pitched buzz whined through the cabin, as she slowly and carefully finished dressing. For a moment she was puzzled, then realized someone was at the cabin door. She smiled bitterly. Last time no one had buzzed. They just walked in.

“Yes?” she called, her voice cracking from misuse, her throat dry. She called again, stronger this time. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

From outside she heard the faint voice of a woman.

“Check the doorcam.”

The doorcam?

Looking around, she saw a small display screen on the wall alongside the door and felt embarrassed. It wasn’t that Frihet was technologically backward, she was just a little disoriented. Even so, she should have known a standard door system when she saw one.

She touched the screen. It immediately lit up with an image of the corridor outside and a woman standing there, patient, waiting. The woman wore a crew member’s uniform and was vaguely familiar to the Princess. She thought the woman had been one of those who were kind to her during her last, unpleasant visit to Ameridian.

The door slid open as she placed her finger against the Allow Access square on the screen.

Sarah Davison entered, smiling. “Princess, I see you’re dressed.”

The Princess backed away slightly, nervously.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not sure…”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Davison. “There’s bound to be some confusion, if only from the sheer volume of pain meds we pumped into you. If you haven’t already guessed it, you’re back on board Ameridian, but this time as our honored guest, and not as a prisoner.”

“I don’t remember what happened,” said the Princess. “I was in a dungeon.”

“Yes,” said Davison, the smile slipping. “And I really wish we hadn’t had anything to do with putting you there. But the past can’t be changed. It took some time to talk Captain Sumner around to our way of thinking. But now you’re rescued and we’re heading back to Frihet.”

“Frihet? But how…”

“There’s a lot more support on Earth for your rebellion than you might expect,” said Davison, the smile returning. “The group we belong to, the HLA, is the largest of several anti-government groups scattered about our world. President Deaton’s dictatorial approach to government, and the draconian measures used to enforce it, has not been popular. A lot of colonies, and a decent proportion of the population on Earth, are ripe for rebellion. Frihet is proving to be the catalyst we needed.”

Princess Thalor sat on the edge of the cabin bed, shaking her head in astonishment.

“I never thought beyond the need to free our own planet from the oppression,” she said. “At the most I hoped that, perhaps, the rest of our star system might follow suit. But for us to influence matters right the way back to Earth?”

“You led the way,” said Davison. “Others are following.”

“You rescued me,” said the Princess, her thoughts skipping back and forth from point to point, hyped by the stimulants in the pain meds. “There was another prisoner. A man.”

“Bryant Johnson,” said Davison. “We rescued him too. We’re old friends.”

“You know him?”

“Used to,” said Davison. “So did Sumner. But it’s complicated and not overly pleasant. If you care to accompany me to the bridge, I think they’d both like to see that you’re awake and okay.”

Captain Sumner rose to greet Princess Thalor as she and Davison stepped onto the bridge. To one side, Bryant Johnson did the same, albeit slower and with more pain. He, like the Princess, was covered with bandages and pumped full of pain meds.

“Princess Thalor,” said Sumner, bowing slightly. “It’s good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”

“Well, considering,” said the Princess. She turned to look at Bryant, feeling strangely nervous. She had been chained up next to this man in a dungeon, both of them naked, and yet she felt more nervous now, with them both fully clothed, than she had been back then.

I know I had other things on my mind, but still.

“How are you?” she asked, feeling it a slightly stupid question given the circumstances.

“Pretty much the same as you, I would guess,” said Bryant, his smile calming her nerves somewhat. They had shared something in that dungeon that made them unique on Ameridian. “I only hope they gave you the same meds they gave me. They’re powerful, and they need to be.”

“We’re both standing, so something’s working,” she said, returning the smile. “I’m glad they brought you along too.”

“Wasn’t my doing,” said Sumner, grumbling quietly.

“Captain Sumner here would have left me behind,” said Bryant, losing his smile. “In fact, he would have probably left me hanging in the dungeon if the choice had been his.”

“But it wasn’t,” said Sumner, glaring at Bryant.

“No, it was mine,” said Davison, her interruption stopping any further baiting from either man.

Princess Thalor could sense the animosity between the two, and it made her uneasy. She felt unsteady, and the aches in her body started to pulse stronger.

“I think, perhaps, I was too quick to get up and about,” she said, placing a hand on Davison’s arm to steady herself. “Maybe the meds are wearing off, but I don’t feel too good anymore.”

Davison, concern on her face, took hold of the Princess’s arm.

“I’ll get you back to your cabin,” she said. “You’re probably due another dose anyway. Might help you get some more rest.”

As she helped the Princess off the bridge, she turned back to Sumner and Bryant.

“You two,” she said. “It was a long time ago. Get over it.”

Bryant look embarrassed, but Sumner held the anger in his expression, unwilling to let it go.

“What’s the history with those two?” said the Princess as soon as the bridge door had closed.

“Bryant and Crawford?” Davison sighed. “Couple of things, both of which they should have got over by now.”

She paused a moment before deciding no harm could come from the Princess knowing the full situation.

“You’ve heard of Spearhead?” she said.

“Of course,” said the Princess. “The most feared ship in the Earth Navy.”

“Well, Bryant and Crawford were at the Academy together,” said Davison. “The top two students in their year, and both up for the position of co-pilot on Spearhead. Then Bryant got into trouble. He always was one for answering back, and never took orders that well, not making him ideal military material to be honest. But mostly he kept it in check, until something snapped. He ended up being threatened with expulsion. Crawford was one of the witnesses against him.”

“And Bryant’s never forgiven him?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” said Davison. “Bryant chose to resign rather than be expelled, and Crawford was convinced that left him the only candidate for co-pilot of Spearhead. You can imagine how angry he was when Bryant was selected instead.”

The Princess nodded, staying silent as a number of crew members filed past them, heading towards their disparate jobs. All nodded to Davison, and most looked with some curiosity at the Princess. They knew who she was, but only a few had actually seen her before.

Princess Thalor waited until they were out of hearing range.

“You said there were a couple of things.”

“Yes,” said Davison. ”Spearhead wasn’t the only thing they were rivals over. The other was a woman.”

It only took a moment for the Princess to pick up the inference.

“You,” she said, looking at Davison. “They were rivals over you.”

“Yes,” said Davison, a slight smile on her face. “Back in the Academy, they were both making a play for me. And I admit I encouraged them a little. Well… more than a little perhaps. I thought it was fun, back then, to have the two top students in our year fighting over me.”

“Which one won?”

“Crawford,” said Davison, a slight blush rising in her cheeks. “I always favored Crawford. I just didn’t like to let on.”

“Are you still…?”

“No,” said Davison quickly. “Not now. Just friends and colleagues. The other just… fizzled out. Nothing dramatic.”

“But it still causes some tension, this rivalry? Even though it’s long in the past? Even though neither of them are with you now?”

“Yes. Stupid isn’t it? Me and Crawford have moved on from that, and I don’t honestly think Bryant has any genuine feeling towards me that way anymore. And yet the two of them can’t forget those earlier fights.”

“Macho bullshit,” said the Princess.

Davison laughed. “Exactly Princess. Macho bullshit indeed.”

Bryant was waiting for Davison as she returned from seeing the Princess to her cabin.

“It’s been a long time,” he said, blocking her way forward.

“More than that,” said Davison. “It’s ancient history, and I’m not about to dig it up.”

“If Sumner hadn’t got me threatened with expulsion…”

“Crawford told the truth,” cut in Davison. “You’ve only yourself to blame for the rest. Not that you did too badly out of it.”

“Getting the Spearhead job was lucky,” said Bryant. “But what I really wanted was you.”

Davison tried to move past, but Bryant shifted, stopping her whichever way she moved.

“Just let me go Bryant,” said Davison. “I’ve work to do.”

“Just admit you would have chosen me,” said Bryant. “If I hadn’t got thrown out.”

“Is that what this is about? Your crazy need to beat Crawford at something?” She shook her head, frowning. “You don’t want me. You just want to prove that you’re better than Crawford.”

Bryant said nothing, but a slight clearing of the eyes, a slackening in the determination they had shown just seconds earlier, suggested that some of her words had rung true.

Am I really that pathetic? thought Bryant.Why do I feel a need to compete with Sumner in this? In anything?

“This isn’t the Academy,” said Davison, continuing in a softer voice as she saw the change in Bryant’s body language. “We’re adults now, with adult responsibilities. I like you, I really do, and I was so pleased when you got the place on Spearhead. But, to be honest, it was Crawford I was in love with, not you. So you see, you leaving the Academy really didn’t change anything where I was concerned. It was always going to be Crawford.”

Bryant forced a smile, the antagonistic tenseness of his body relaxing. With the moment passed, he felt embarrassed at his behavior. The behavior of a sulking child, not an adult.

“I guess I’ve just made a fool of myself,” he said. “Not for the first or the last time I’m sure. I’m sorry if you felt threatened.”

“Threatened?” Davison smiled. “You’re covered in cuts and bruises, wrapped like a mummy and can barely move without wincing with pain. I could take you down at the moment without any problem. So no, I didn’t feel threatened.”

Bryant laughed, cutting it short as it fired off a pain in his chest.

“Maybe if you can forgive me acting like an asshole, we can be friends?”

“I’d like that,” said Davison. “I’d like that a lot.”

"Johnson!"

The shout came from down the corridor. Sumner, finally noticing that Bryant was no longer on the bridge, and that Davison had not returned, had decided to investigate. He felt his worst fears were confirmed when he saw Bryant and Davison together.

Bryant turned as Sumner charged up the corridor towards him, his face purple with rage.

“Crawford,” shouted Davison. “No!”

Bryant met Sumner’s charge as best he could, turning him and throwing him to the ground using his own momentum. But the move cost him in pain, and he staggered back rather than following up his advantage.

Sumner clambered back to his feet and threw a punch. Bryant managed to get his arm up and block the blow, but the force of it opened barely healed cuts and shot a spasm of pain through his elbow. Another punch caught him in his side. He had seen it coming, had tried to react, but his muscles would not move fast enough. He gasped and staggered under the force of the blow. A second punch to the same area, and he suspected a rib had cracked. His legs gave way beneath him and, as he fell, Sumner’s knee rose to meet his face, breaking his nose and loosening teeth.

With Bryant huddled on the ground, gasping in pain and bleeding profusely from his nose, Sumner drew a knife from his belt.

“No!” Davison screamed as she saw the knife. “Don’t!”

Her words were lost on Sumner as the knife plunged into Bryant’s back.

Other than a brief shudder as the blade punched in, Bryant did not move, barely conscious.

Sumner pulled the knife free and prepared to stab once more into the helpless man’s back.

A small hand gripped his wrist and twisted. An arm swept over and applied pressure against the elbow. Involuntarily, he dropped the knife and heard it clatter on the corridor floor. It was the last thing he heard as his arm was released and a heel ploughed into the side of his head. He fell, unconscious.

Princess Thalor stood above the two men, gasping at the pain the kick had snapped through her. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at Bryant, blood around his face, running from the wound in his back.

“If only I’d come out sooner,” she said, standing back as Davison knelt alongside Bryant, checking his vital signs. “Will he live?”

“If we’re quick,” said Davison. “I’ll call medical right away.”

She looked up at the Princess and forced a smile.

“Don’t blame yourself, Princess. If you hadn’t come out of your cabin at all, Bryant would be lying here dead, rather than in with a fighting chance.”

The Princess did not take her eyes off Bryant as Davison called for a medical team. She studied him curiously, wondering why she had intervened when, in reality, the conflict had nothing to do with her. Advisors back on Frihet would be horrified that she had put herself in possible danger for another. Particularly an Earthman. Yet she had intervened. And now she stood, looking at the still form of the one she had, hopefully, saved, wondering at the strange feelings she had in her stomach, her chest, her mind. What was the effect looking at this man had on her? What made him different from so many others? She didn’t know. Yet she could not deny, even if she could not understand, the strange, unsettling fluttering in her stomach, or the pain she felt at seeing him injured.

She watched as the medical team tended to his injuries on scene as best they could, before lifting him onto a stretcher and hurrying with him to the medical bay. Without a word, she followed behind, never letting the injured man out of her sight.

Davison let her go, staying alongside Sumner.

She waited for him to wake up, and hoped he would have one hell of a headache.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.