Dangerous Love (ONC 2019 - LGBTQ)

5. A Fight

☆ Dedicated to SallyMason1 and her story "Ripple Effect" - a head spinning time travel story for the ONC 2019 ☆

Avalain - Two weeks earlier

Harlan drained his second cup of kafi and put the cup down firmly on the table. He glanced at his wristcom, again. Two minutes had passed since the previous time he'd checked, and twenty minutes since the appointment time. There was no use waiting any longer; it was clear the man he'd come to meet had changed his mind, despite confirming the appointment an hour ago. Seemed like no-one was willing to hire an ex-Patroller, highly skilled though he might be. Harlan gave an infinitesimal shrug and stood up. If he didn't get a legitimate job soon, he might have to consider some other options.

Harlan closed the door of the small cafe behind him and pulled the collar of his coat up around his neck. A cold wind blew down the narrow street, scattering leaves and dust before it, so different from the sterilised metal corridors he was used to.

A door opened from the tavern further along the street and a group of men stumbled out, laughing a little too loudly. They began to walk in his direction, rather unsteadily, and Harlan moved politely to one side to let them pass.

"Hey! Quinn? Is that you?"

Harlan stopped, startled to hear his name. The men were in civvies, rugged up against the cold, and for a second he didn't recognise them. Then he did, and his heart sank.

Carter, Huyn, and, worst of all, Diaz—Juan Diaz, all men from his last ship, the Lamar. Possibly the very last people he wanted to meet on all of Belus.

"Guys," Harlan nodded in their direction and began walking away. But a hand reached out and grabbed his arm, swinging him around.

"Don't you want to stop and talk to your old friends, Quinn? You left so fast, we never got a chance to say good-bye," hissed Diaz, then punched him in the stomach, as hard as he could.

Harlan doubled over in agony and Carter and Huyn stepped back, watching with foolish grins on their faces, as Diaz hit him again. Harlan dropped to the ground, curling up to protect his stomach as Diaz kicked him. Diaz drew back his foot for another blow but this time, Harlan grabbed his foot with both hands and jerked it up hard into the air. Diaz lost his balance and fell backwards, arms flailing uselessly. He landed on his back and lay still.

Diaz wasn't moving but Harlan scrambled quickly to his feet, ready to defend himself. He drew in great gulps of air while the other two men stood staring down at Diaz, grins wiped from their faces, as if they couldn't believe what had just happened. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. Then Harlan saw the blood, oozing out from under Juan's head, pooling on the dusty street.

"For the gods' sake, don't just stand there! Call a medic!" gasped Harlan.

"You've killed him!" accused Huyn, eyes wide with shock. Neither Huyn nor Carter was making any sign of calling for assistance.

Realising both men were drunker that he'd thought, Harlan called the emergency medic himself, then bent down to see what he could do for Diaz.

"Get away from him! Haven't you done enough harm?" cried Carter, wrenching at Harlan's shoulder.

"I'm trying to help him, you drunken idiot!" answered Harlan, exasperated, pushing Carter away. "Stand back and give me some room."

Harlan bent back over Diaz to check his vital signs. Despite Huyn's anguished cry, he wasn't dead. To Harlan's huge relief, Diaz was still breathing, and his pulse, though slow, was still present. He sat back on his heels. There wasn't much he felt qualified to do for a head wound. What if Diaz had cracked his skull? Trying to stop the bleeding might only do more damage.

Although it seemed like forever to the waiting men, it was only a couple of minutes before the medic's hovercar appeared at the end of the street. It hovered next to them while two women climbed out and knelt down beside Diaz. Together, they scanned him briefly for broken bones, then quickly and carefully lifted him onto a pallet.

"Is he going to be all right?" asked Carter.

"Well, nothing's broken, that's the good news," answered one of the medics, "but you can never tell for certain with head injuries. We'll have to wait until we get him to the Clinic and run some tests before we know what we're dealing with."

The two women transferred Diaz efficiently into the waiting hovercar.

Carter followed, ready to accompany his shipmate, until one of the medics put out a restraining arm.

"I'm afraid there's no room for anyone else in the 'car. But the Clinic's only a few streets away if you want to walk there," she added. "We should have some news for you in an hour or so."

This last thing Harlan wanted to do was hang around the Clinic waiting room with his two ex-shipmates, but he needed to know what was happening with Diaz. The medic said nothing was broken, so surely he'd be all right in a day or two.

He strode off without waiting for Carter or Huyn.

"A medic will see you shortly, ser, if you'd like to take a seat?" Harlan blinked at the woman on duty at the triage console. He hadn't said anything yet. How had she known why he was here?

"Ribs, is it?" she asked with professional sympathy, and Harlan realised she thought he was here on his own behalf. He must have been moving more stiffly than he thought.

He hastened to correct her. "No, I'm fine. I'm here to enquire about Lieutenant Diaz. He was admitted a short while ago with a head injury."

"Oh, right. Let me check. Are you a relative?"

"No. I'm his superior officer. First Lieutenant Quinn, of the Patrolship Lamar." Well, at least he had been, before he was dishonourably discharged.

"Oh right," she repeated, glancing up briefly from her console unit. "Ah here we are. Scalp wound with concussion. The prognosis is good, but I'm afraid he won't be back at work for at least a week. Possibly two. He'll need a lot of rest." She smiled at Harlan.

"Thank you, that's good to hear. I'll be in touch again later." He turned to go.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to see a medic? To check out your ribs?" she called after him.

Harlan shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm fine."

Looking back, that was probably a mistake, and not his first.