Night Traveller (Gay Romantic Sci-Fi)

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen 

Lieutenant Oliver sat transfixed, watching the live news feed direct from Burra. Someone had bombed the Victory hotel in Kapunda. The TriVid reporter was recording from a hovercar, looking down at the front of the hotel. From what he could see, the building was still intact, at least on the outside, but people were milling around the entrance, spectators trying to see what was happening and terrified guests still trying to get out.  

He identified at least four police officers attempting to control the crowd, and as he watched, two senior officers climbed out of a groundcar and strode into the building. Two medics came out with someone on a stretcher. A man staggered out behind them, supporting another who had blood running down his face. The recorder zoomed in on the injured man for a second and Oliver froze. He had dark purple hair. Was that Callan? What the fuck was he doing down there, in the middle of all that? His heart seemed to lodge in his throat.  

Callan appeared to be unconscious, his head was lolling, his feet were dragging behind him. He had to be unconscious, he couldn't be dead, no-one would carry out a dead man like that, would they? The TriVid recorder pulled back to show a wider shot, but the Lieutenant kept his eyes on Callan, unable to tear his gaze away. Instead of following the medics, the other man was dragging him over to a hover car. Why wasn't he going in the ambulance with the other injured man? Something wasn't right. He didn't recognise the man with Callan, he certainly wasn't one of the AISS staff.  

Dane. He swallowed. Where was Dane? Was he down there too? Had anything happened to him? His fingers fumbled for the code on his wristcom. He had to get a grip, he told himself as he waited anxiously for Dane to answer. 

"Mike, is that you?" Dane's voice sounded panicky, pushing his own heart rate even higher. Dane in a panic? Mr Cool himself? 

"Are you alright?" They were the first words that came out of his mouth. 

"Me? I'm fine. It's Ryan, someone tried to blow him up!" There was a choked sound as if Dane was fighting to get his voice under control, before he continued. "And now I can't get hold of him! He's not answering his wristcom!" 

"Calm down, I saw him a second ago on the news. It looks like he's been injured, he's unconscious but he's alive." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I'm sure." 

"Thank god!" There was another odd sound, rather as if Dane was blowing his nose. 

"What about Talyor? Any sign of him?" 

"Not so far. What happened?" Oliver asked, looking back at the news broadcast. He couldn't see Callan any more, or the man who had been carrying him. Damn. 

"He had a meeting in the hotel, well technically it was Ser Keating who had the meeting, Callan was along to protect him, Talyor, Vinh and Muller were there too. Anyway someone put a bomb through the ceiling of the room they were in, Callan only just got everyone out in time. He sent Keating back to the ship with Muller and Vinh, and last I heard, he and Talyor were going upstairs to check out the room above." 

"Where are you now?" Oliver asked, still searching the screen fruitlessly for any sign of Callan. 

"I'm in the ship, at the port." There was a pause. "Just a moment, I think that's Keating and the others now. I'll get back to you." 

"Don't go anywhere, wait there for me, I'm coming down," Oliver decided. His friends needed him. And just when had he decided that Callan and Trenwith were his friends he wondered? No matter, he wanted to be there, where the action was, not stuck up here on Asra. "I'll call you as soon as I find out anything else." 

Minutes later he had a seat booked on the shuttle, departing in half an hour. Another couple of calls confirmed what he already half suspected. Ryan Callan had not been admitted to either of the medical clinics in Kapunda, nor even, unlikely as the possibility seemed, was he at the police station. Oliver brought up the TriVid image of the man carrying Callan again, and saved a copy through to his wrist com. He'd see what else he could discover on the way down to Burra. Now there was just time to grab his weapon and an overnight bag before he caught the shuttle. 

XXX 

Callan regained consciousness suddenly and opened his eyes. What had happened? Where was he? God his ears hurt. He didn't recognise the small room but he was lying on a bed, in his AISS uniform. A dark man wearing a clean pale blue shirt and grey trousers came into view and bent down to peer closely at him. His mouth moved but no sound came out. What was going on? Callan frowned and tried to sit up. A wave of pain followed and he quickly lay back down, even before the stranger put out a restraining hand. The stranger spoke again, this time moving his lips with exaggerated slowness. 

"Lie still. You have been injured." He paused to check that Callan had understood him. "Can you hear me?" 

Callan started to shake his head and winced. That was a very bad idea. "No," he mouthed back.  

"Your ears were damaged in the explosion. It will take a few weeks for them to heal." 

"Am I deaf?" Callan asked, fighting down panic. 

"I don't think so, but it may be a day or two before you can hear again. Can you remember what happened?" 

"Who are you?" Callan finally got his wits together. "Are you a medic?" 

The stranger shook his head. "I've picked up a bit over the years, but I'm not a medic. I'm Tate, I work for Chang."  

Callan's eyes clouded over. "I'm sorry," he offered. "He's dead, isn't he? The bomb went off more or less as soon as he touched the handle. Have you any idea yet who set the trap for us?"  

Tate studied him for a moment without speaking, then threw a quick glance across at another man standing near the door. Callan hadn't even noticed his presence until then. It was the messenger in the red singlesuit who had been with them in the hotel. His arms were folded tightly against his chest and his face was grim.  

"Trap?" Tate asked cautiously.