Blue Skye

11 September 3050

Visinur, Ridderkerk

Wolf Clan Occupation Zone

The following day Domask visited her for the first time. Margaidh thought he looked in a remarkably good mood, considering the position she was in, but she said nothing. He did not even thank her for saving his ass.

“How long does the doctor think you will be here?” he asked, scrutinising the machinery beside the bed, and turning up his nose at it. “Are you really hooked up to all this junk?”

“They’re monitoring my life signs,” Margaidh said. “And that one administers a regulated dosage of painkillers whenever the other machines tell it I need some.”

“It looks like the dark ages,” Domask muttered. “How long before you can leave here?” he asked again.

Margaidh shrugged as much as the piles of pillows would allow. “Months, probably,” she replied. “Not that it matters, I will not be trying out to be a warrior after all.”

Domask frowned. “What has that stravag fool of a freebirthed doctor told you?”

“My back is broken, Domask. And I have as much metal holding my right leg together as your Timber Wolf has. That might have mattered, if there was ever a chance I could walk again.” Margaidh’s voice was full of bitterness.

Domask slammed his fists against the wall, his face contorted with fury. “This is preposterous!” he raged. “Where is he?” Then he went out into the corridor, bellowing for the doctor.

Doctor Collins came hurrying in, his white coat flying, to find out what the fuss was about. “Can’t you keep your voice down?” he hissed at Domask. “There are sick people here. Just who do you think you are?”

Domask grabbed the doctor by the collar, and lifted him two inches off the floor. “I am Star Commander Domask Lewis of the 328th Assault Cluster, Alpha Galaxy, of the Clan Wolf.” He let go, and Doctor Collins dropped heavily to his feet.

The doctor brushed his coat down, more a nervous habit than a need to neaten its appearance. “What’s your problem, Mr Lewis?”

Domask pointed at Margaidh. “She is my problem. I want her out of here and moved to our own facilities before the end of the day.”

Doctor Collins shook his head. “That’s out of the question. She has a severe spinal injury, she…”

“Her severe spinal injury will stay severe if you do not allow our own medical staff to treat her in our own facilities.” Margaidh had never seen Domask in such a rage. “I will not accept a refusal.”

Doctor Collins was flustered, his face red. “It is impossible, I cannot authorise…”

“This gives you all the authority you need,” Domask hissed, drawing a laser pistol and holding the business end of it just centimetres from the doctor’s sweating head. “If you continue to obstruct me I shall bring a larger laser, with a seventy-five ton Battlemech attached to it.”

By this time, a knot of hospital security guards had gathered, to find out what all the noise was about. They paled when they saw Domask pointing a gun at the doctor, and drew their own weapons. Domask was not deterred. “Put those away, and make yourselves useful,” he shouted at them. “I want an ambulance ready and waiting at the nearest available exit in half an hour.”

Doctor Collins, in a last attempt to ease the tension and get all those laser pistols put away, raised his hands in submission. “Alright, Mr Lewis. I will see what I can do.” And with that, he hurried away, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his coat. The security men shrugged in confusion and followed him.