Free Fracture Lines (The Glass Complex Book 2) by John Hindmarsh Page B

in an hour or so.”
    Steg addressed his question to all three nurses. “Do you know everything that happens on Wasp ?”
    “Captain, there are fifteen of us—Fain—on board. Individuals, independent, intelligent. A rare event for Fain to be independent, as I’m sure you’re aware. We’ve a wide variety of duties. We, not only us three, but all Fain on board, are qualified nurses. Four of us are trained up to field surgeon level. It’s our task to keep you alive if you’re injured in action. Remember also, the starship carries a lot of men. We’re free Fain. I’ll let you fill in the blanks,” said the first nurse, with a smile.
    Steg colored again, and the three nurses giggled at his discomfort. He asked, “Can you tell me your names?”
    “I’m Tessa.” She indicated the second nurse. “Allow me to introduce Sara.” She pointed to the third nurse. “The lady who was holding the scalpel is Stacia.”
    Steg nodded to each Fain in turn as she was introduced. “Would you have used it?” he asked Stacia.
    “Oh, yes, if you had harmed one of ours. Without hesitation.”
    “I’ll remember,” he replied. “I thought you had to be contracted to a man? Millie explained it to me.”
    “Not when we can support each other. As I said, there are fifteen of us, and we are trained to be free, to accept life without a Fain-master.” Her reply was matter of fact, although Steg had never heard of free Fain.
    “I suspect there are some stories—”
    “One day, when we know you better.”
    *****

Chapter 10
    “He simply appeared,” exclaimed the nurse, barely controlling her agitation. “The gurney delivered him to our ICU.”
    The Alutan Advocate-General’s Senior Representative, Ser Mason, paused his note taking and looked her in the eye. “You acted promptly, providing assistance.” It was an observation, almost praise. The small amount of warmth in his voice did not assuage the tension in the room.
    The gloomy interview room with its dull gray walls added to her discomfort. Two men—from the regional office of the Advocate-General, she had been told—occupied the chairs opposite her, across the table, which was of heavy metal, paint peeling, and bolted to the floor.
    “We are trained—we are all trained to react quickly to emergency situations with our patients.” She smiled hesitantly.
    “Yet he wasn’t a patient.”
    “He was—his details were in the ICU database. Our unit had been reserved, and we were on alert. He was injured, dying, perhaps.”
    “And he didn’t speak to you?”
    “I think he moaned with pain. He was unconscious all the time.”
    “What injuries did he have?”
    “He appeared to have been burned, blasted, somehow, on his head and shoulder. Left hand side. Some of the burns were severe. It was though he had been heavily impacted—with almost deadly force—on the side of his head. He was concussed, and the ICU diagnostic identified brain swelling.” She paused for a moment and then rushed her words. “He was carrying a sword, and I think the hilt must have partly protected his head where he had been blasted.”
    “A sword? Do you know where it is?”
    “It was with his belongings, in the unit. Dr. Yi said to store it with his uniform.”
    The questioner made another note. “She did? When was that?”
    “When we prepped him for immersion.”
    “Did you or Dr. Yi know this man?”
    The room was suddenly still. She drew a breath. “No, not at all. I told you—I told the others—those military—ImpSec—people—I had never seen him before. We treated him the same as we would any patient.”
    The Advocate-General’s Senior Representative turned to his companion, whom the nurse assumed was the junior of the two men. “Ser Brest, any questions?”
    The younger man stared at the nurse. She shuddered inwardly. His eyes were cold, his demeanor not threatening but accusing, as if he had found her guilty of some unstated and unknown serious crime.
    He spoke. “Do you