Riders of B E R K

Part 8: You really are Useless

I decided that BERK may be an astonishing project but most of the people were downright rude. I have been here for five days already and the only people who have spoken to me are the rest of the medical team in the infirmary and Gobber, who has been put in charge of my supervision and orientation.

The infirmary was amazing, I had to admit. It was equipped like a major trauma unit with every cutting edge technique, device and drug out there stocked and available. Major Gothi, the senior officer, was a tiny woman in her sixties who couldn't speak and used a device strapped to her forearm to translate her wishes in an eerie electronic voice. She had already reviewed my records from the Medical School and appraised my report and work on Hiccup with a wry smile and a single nod. I translated that as 'acceptable' and decided that I needed to work harder to impress her. She had contacted my Dean and insisted that they forward my Finals papers here so that I can take them early as I will be 'in Theatre' at the time of the actual exams. Meaning I will be incommunicado in Berk so they want my degree finished ASAP.

The nurses and paramedical staff were just as professional, all career soldiers and experienced, hand-picked for the mission with no ties or family who would miss them. I was far and away the youngest and least experienced but amazingly, Gothi took me under her wing and started to give me personal tutorials in management of every possible trauma emergency to get me up to speed. I was given access to all online resources and started putting in hours after my shift to build on my knowledge. I wanted desperately to prove I am worth keeping here.

I was not assigned to look after Hiccup. Gothi took a personal interest in him-maybe because she had saved his life before and so was very familiar with his records. I did get reports from her because she could tell I wanted to know how he was doing. Her eyes twinkled as she reported and I could tell she was thinking that I had feelings for him. Which was all very true but I had no idea now what he thought of me. And, to be honest, I was not sure what to think of him any more either. He must have poked around my personal belongings or computer to find out about my army background. And while I supposed I could understand why he did it, I was not sure I could forgive him for doing it.

I have been assigned a neat room which wasn't a patch on my apartment but which was far better than anything I have been assigned before. I made sure when I unpacked that I had all my pictures of my family on show. I wasn't sure what Mum, Dad or Gran would have made of all this, but I hoped they'd be proud. After all, I've stumbled in on something extraordinary and have already saved a life: I just need to make myself feel at home here. I visited the gym and ran around the track they had bored into the mountain but it really wasn't not the same. I missed popping out for a coffee or idly sitting by the old docks and watching the gulls squabble over a left-over kebab or pizza. I was suddenly struck how far away from the real world I was.

Everyone in the base wore uniform: usually fatigues of a pale green khaki. As Medical, my shoulder-flash was cherry-red and dark blue: almost the colours of the RAMC with my rank of lieutenant displayed. I had an ID badge with a stern looking picture of me and my clearance (standard support level). I had already had my handprint and retinal and iris scans logged. The other staff groupings had their own different identifiers: Riders were brown; IT green; domestic staff light blue; other support orange, MPs bright red and command gold.

Lunchtime found me in the mess hall, staring at my tray. The food here was pretty good, to be fair. Napoleon always said an army marches on its stomach and in BERK, no one starved. Maybe it was compensation for our isolation. I'd already realised I'd just have to hit the gym harder to make sure I didn't develop a waist like a barrel. But I was sitting alone, poking my food with a fork and carving patterns in my mash. The Riders all sat together, laughing raucously and clearly enjoying their hallowed status. Jorgensen junior (yes, there were two of them, father and son) had kept up his pursuit of me and I just as determinedly kept ignoring him. I supposed I could have just punched him out if he couldn't get the message, but that might be considered be a wee bit drastic for my first few days. Maybe I should wait until I've been here at least a week.