Lunar Complex Level Two, 20:07 Hrs.

Stephen had been busy ever since the alert was flagged that the enemy had been attacking. After the initial communication with the Kl’Deesius, there were no more updates. More waiting! Stephen could not tolerate much more waiting. He began to pace, irritating the hell out of the others working with patients, until one of them drafted Stephen into helping out. So for an hour, Stephen was rushed off of his feet, treating patients and making them comfortable. He doubted his bedside manner was the best in the world but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He had finished treating some of the patients, under Helen’s watchful gaze, and was sent to rest. As he left the central area, he was set upon by Jason Mensar, who hit Stephen in the stomach with no warning and then over the head with an elbow. Even though Jason had little strength compared to Stephen, the attack caught him off-guard, and so he had been winded by the blow to the midriff and sent reeling by the blow to the head. The point of the attack momentarily eluded him.

“You BASTARD!” the boy cursed, kicking his torso. “What did you do to her?”

“What?” Stephen asked, coughing as he tried to get air into his lungs.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Another kick aimed at the head, and Stephen was knocked senseless momentarily. “SHE’S NEVER LIKE THAT!”

“Who?” Stephen tried to ask.

The boy kicked him twice, hard, in the stomach again. “She came out of that fuckin’ room, and her face looks as if she’s been cryin’ like a kid!”

Stephen suddenly realised Janet had left after he did. It was possible that she was still upset and had simply not bothered to hide it from anyone as she left. Maybe Jason saw this?

“But you don’t know what happened?” Stephen protested.

He was kicked again in the head. That knock almost put him out cold, but he tried to maintain consciousness. “What did you DO?” The boy was about to kick again when he was sent backward into the wall by an unseen force. It took a full moment to realise that two Klankharii guards had restrained the boy, a laser rifle trained on him by a third. Others approached them and an argument broke out.

“Why’s he being restrained?” Janet’s voice rose above the others. “SILENCE!” she roared, encouraging peace and quiet. Stephen felt as if he were about to slip into unconsciousness. “What’s going-” Janet suddenly stopped. There was a small amount of time before she spoke again. “WHO DID THIS TO HIM?”

Having never recalled such cold fury from Janet in his brief association with her, Stephen forced himself to watch, adrenaline pumping through him. His head was slowly beginning to clear.

“You BASTARD!” the voice was John’s, his tone fierce. “You put him on the ground like that? WHY??”

“After what he did to you, you’re askin’ who did that to him?” Jason snapped at Janet, ignoring John.

“Don’t ignore me you little shit,” John’s snappy reply sounded like a challenge.

“I’ll handle this,” Janet snapped at him before turning the full force of her so obvious wrath on Jason. “What the hell are you talking about? He’s done nothing to me!”

“I saw you comin’ outta that room of his!”

There was a deathly silence. Stephen made as if to stand up, but his legs were a little weak. Jason made a move to attack him again but the powerful Klankharii guards weren’t giving him an inch. At least now he could see clearly. Then Helen joined him. She supported him and held him up.

“You,” she ordered one of the guards in Klankharii. “We don’t need guns in here, go fetch me something for Stephen to sit on.”

“Right away,” he replied. He then immediately hauled his weapon over his back, and left them.

Helen turned to the others. “Who did this?” she asked in a grating tone that Stephen was thankful wasn’t directed at him.

“HE did,” John said, brandishing his fist at the boy.

Stephen hoped John would get himself under control.

“I’ll deal with whoever’s responsible,” Janet replied immediately.

“Look!” Helen exclaimed angrily, gesturing with her free hand at Stephen’s face. He didn’t know what he looked like, only how uncomfortably stiff he now felt. “Blood all over his face from cuts. I bet he’s been kicked hard a few times as well!”

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” Janet snapped back. “Less, in fact.”

Helen, John, Stephen and Jason stared at her. “What do you mean?” Helen asked, glaring hard, her voice like a knife’s edge.

“I mean the last thing I would want is to have him hurt… By anyone!”

“Janet,” Stephen called out weakly.

“Don’t try to talk Stephen,” she replied more gently than to the others. “This pretence is over.” She turned to the others, just as Edward arrived. “For those of you who insist on interfering in my business, I’ll tell you that Stephen here hasn’t hurt me. None of you know me so I don’t expect you to know what has happened to me since we were rescued.”

“You call this rescue?!” Jason snapped.

“Be silent!” Edward retorted.

“Thank you Edward,” Janet continued. “No, Stephen hasn’t hurt me. He’s… been helping me.”

“Helping you?” One of the others surrounding them asked. “I don’t get it.”

Janet sighed. Stephen thought it was a sigh of relief, of finally dropping their pretence. Never mind the consequences; it probably felt like a weight was being lifted off of her mind. “Let’s just say it’s the first time I’ve had anyone to talk to beside Edward in over four years.”

John exhibited a look of intense surprise, as he turned back to Stephen, he smiled imperceptibly. Jason’s face, on the other hand, contorted into a form of disgust. “You… And him?! That’s totally fucked up!”

“You assume something Jason?” Edward asked as he stepped in front of his son, his tone was so gentle that it alarmed Stephen.

“Oh come on dad, its obvious! She and him are screw-” Jason was saying in a tone that dripped with disgust, but he was interrupted.

Edward hit out at his son, sending him forcefully out of the grip of the two guards who were not expecting that reaction, ending up with him sprawled across the floor. Stephen was surprised at such strength from such a wiry man. “What kind of a son are you to be speaking such filth?” With that, he walked away, not looking back.

Jason’s expression changed to surprise, then anxiety. Perhaps Edward’s methods were more effective punishment than anything else anyone could do. “Hey, pops!”

“Don’t call me that!” Edward snapped as he continued to walk away.

“Wait! Dad!” Jason chased after Edward, and when one of the guards made to grab him, Helen interrupted his progress, ordering him to let the boy go. The guard resumed his position.

The chair arrived, and Stephen was placed in it. This was as well because he began to feel light headed again. Janet was on the opposite side of Helen as Stephen once again, passed out.

He came to again a few minutes later, drowsy from the effects of what had happened. He was in pain and he noticed that the suddenly irritating itch in his neck was caused by an attachment that held an intravenous device to his neck. The device had a small capsule attached to it. Maybe this was to feed him medication they felt he needed, and so he tried not to think about it stuck to his neck like a bloody lump.

He was also facing the assembly point, on a stretcher that had been elevated to a sit-back position.

“How are you now?” Janet asked, startling him since he was not aware she was there.

“I think I’m okay,” Stephen replied. “I thought you weren’t gonna say anything?”

Her hand went straight to his. “And let you get hurt? No,” she told him. “I couldn’t do that.”

Stephen squeezed her hand in his, despite his weakness. “Isn’t that going to cause you problems now?”

She shook her head. “Edward can handle it. He’s said he would if it came up, which it has!” She sighed, placing a kiss on his cheek.

John suddenly came into view. “How are you Stevie?” he asked, concerned.

Stephen nodded slowly. “A little stiff but otherwise fine,” he replied.

John turned to Janet. “I know you’re not to blame for this,” he started. “But I’m still angry that someone could do this to Steve. He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Stephen preferred that he would be allowed to speak for himself.

Suddenly, several yellow glows emanated from the middle of the room. Stephen could see figures materialising from them, and noticed Janet was watching them too.

Stephen counted them, six in all. Probably there were three Klankharii guards with Miradima, Marlon and Davidson.

As the figures materialised, he realised that Marlon was not among them, and there were four Klankharii medics with their equipment among them.

What could have happened?

“Stevie, I don’t see Greenie anywhere,” John’s voice was full of concern now, most unlike John. “I’m gonna find out what’s goin’ on,” he told Stephen before he left his side and approached the group.

There was a low voiced conversation for some time; none of them seemed to be getting anywhere until Helen approached. Then they all huddled together in a group except for the medics, whom had moved to treat the survivors. When none of them had moved for some time, Stephen became concerned.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Want me to go listen?” Janet offered.

Stephen thought that it might be a good idea. He just wanted to know. “Can you sneak over there?” he asked and was answered by Janet’s quick smile. “Alright, I’ll wait here!” Not that he had much of a choice.

She darted off to the group.

Everything that happened then seemed very strange at the time to Stephen. Helen seemed to collapse, falling to the floor. Immediately, Miradima and Davidson crouched by her side. She kept pushing at them to leave her alone, and she was shaking, her head swaying from side to side as if in denial.

It hit Stephen then.

If she was so disturbed, something terrible must have happened to the Captain.

Was he injured?

Janet came staggering back to him, and she was breathing raggedly.

No, it was worse. He was dead.

Suddenly, John broke away from the others, and in a fit of rage, began kicking out at anything he was within reach of, screaming in torment. Stephen watched in horror as John began kicking at occupied stretchers. Stephen could see Helen’s gestures, hear her weak cry for help that someone restrain him. But even as the Klankharii approached him, they were knocked to the ground. John had reached a point where his rage-fuelled energy outstripped their conservative efforts.

Stephen moved then, ignoring the dizziness in his head and the pain in his ribs, and he evaded Janet’s interception. He had to get John to stop before he killed someone… or got himself killed.

He reached John quickly at that point, but was almost knocked down himself. John was almost beyond reason. Stephen took a risk and waited for John to swing out again, and then he leapt at him, taking them both down to the ground.

It worked. The shock caused John to come to his senses, at least partially. John stared hard at Stephen for a while. “Stevie?”

“Yes John,” he replied, weakness about to overcome him.

“You stopped me!” John exclaimed. “Why?”

Stephen allowed himself to collapse to the floor, raising himself up just enough so as he could turn and face John. “Don’t you think we’ve lost enough people already?”

John stared hard at Stephen for a while, then lay back and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before his breathing deteriorated into ragged sobs. It was much the same way Stephen felt right now. He noticed Janet was by his side in an instant. She was there a lot lately, he thought, as she took him in her arms and cradled him to her. With such a presence, he completely relaxed and allowed himself to let go of what little control he had left.

Miradima was coordinating with every one of her staff, trying to get them to organise some form of order in the shelter. As the only Klankharii able to speak English, she had her work cut out for her. She had to take over from Helen, as she was completely useless in her state of mind, and who could blame her? She had lost someone she was incredibly close to.

The Captain’s death had affected everyone. He was the major building block of the whole team. He was the one who had introduced his people to hers, and the one who was responsible for overseeing their trade alliance. He worked so closely with everyone. Even Miradima felt his loss keenly.

Suddenly she too, was unable to focus. It occurred to her that Walter Davidson could have been killed too, and though she was thankful he had survived, she felt guilty that she could think in those terms. She had grown so close to the man over the past two years, that she could not imagine her life without him in it.

She could fully understand how Helen felt.

Walter Davidson was running on automatic for most of the day. With everyone else falling apart around him, someone would have to keep order around here, he thought irritably. Miradima was working hard to keep all the others busy while several of her security and medical teams were making Stephen, John and Helen as comfortable as possible. Stephen had attached himself to the leader of the survivors, Davidson had noticed. He had also noticed how different she was now that this had happened.

At some point during the evening, he noticed that Mira had stopped what she was doing and looked as if she needed to get away from it all.

Dammit, he thought. Why did this have to happen at all? The Captain was a good guy; he didn’t deserve to be killed like that!

Suddenly, Mira had walked briskly away from the group and found somewhere quiet, where she leaned against the nearest wall and faced the activity. Davidson didn’t know if he should approach or not, but something compelled him to do so anyway. He felt a keen sense of loss for a Captain who he originally had antagonism toward, who had pulled him into line and made him see sense, and had helped him become more than he ever thought possible. He owed Marlon a great deal and now could never repay the debt.

The thought crossed his mind that, while the Captain may have pulled him back into line, it was Mira who made him see sense! Now he must do what he could for her. He owed everyone greatly for who he had become now, and he must start as soon as possible to repay that debt. What better place to start than with someone he felt so deeply about?

He decided resolutely to approach her.

“I’m sorry Walter,” she said quietly, so much unlike herself that Davidson felt his chest thump.

“As if you have anything to be sorry for,” he snapped back. “I hope you’re not blaming yourself,” he added in a tone softer by degrees.

“No,” she replied. “No, I don’t.”

“Good,” he told her, approaching her until they were standing directly in front of each other.

“I think we should get back to work,” she suddenly said, turning to walk away. “It’s what he would have done,” her voice broke on the last word, and she stopped where she was, head sagging.

Such a human reaction, Davidson thought. He loved her so much and it killed him to see her like this. He moved to stand right in front of her and swept her in his arms, carrying her into a quiet room off of the assembly area. She was so light in his arms, surprising since she was physically stronger than any human. Once inside, he kicked the door shut and didn’t bother to lock it. Instead, he placed her on the bunk and lay by her side.

“I’m sorry,” she began, her voice ragged, and she was unable to contain herself any longer. “Sorry…” she repeated.

Davidson could no longer contain himself. He wasn’t such a harsh faced bastard after all, and he knew he would end up like this. He let go, as Mira had taught him to do before when Adam and Caitlin had gone, but this time they both shared their pain. They both wept for their fallen comrade.

Captain Greenfield would never be forgotten.