Jonal and Tonas were standing in the emergency room some thirty mots later. Transport worked quickly and efficiently. Twelve patients had been moved from the upper floors though the ER and into the waiting vehicles. The transports were sent to a place called Central Park where General Morgan and his troops had set up a city of canvas material they called a camp. As each truck entered the park, it was stopped and everyone locked down for collection by the ion beam transporter. At the other end, on the Brightstar, medics and BondMates waited anxiously.
Jonal paced the ER, checking each female patient as she was brought to the doors. “By the Warrior Moon, Tonas, I am tired of waiting. Where is she? I know she is here. Mark said she was here. What is the delay?”
“Mark!” Jonal shouted before Tonas had the opportunity to say a word, “Where is Dr. Forrest? She was on the critical list and should have been down in the first transports.”
Mark looked at his new boss and thought, not for the first time, that there was more than met the eye here. “Anya is a doctor. She is no longer on a respirator. Even sedated, she insisted that the others be taken before her. In a language you would understand, sir—it’s a matter of honor and medical protocol. According to the orderly I sent to get her cat, she was much more relaxed once she knew it had care. She will be down soon. Is Anya’s case special to you in some way, sir?” Where did that come from? Marc had barely used that salutation in the Army.
“You could say that, doctor.” Mark turned, surprised that Tonas answered his question before Jonal had a chance to speak.
Tonas continued smoothly, “Dr. Stern, Dr. Bane will take you to transport. You will both be needed at the other end. I’m sure with your very well-trained staff and General Morgan’s men, our business here will soon be concluded.”
As Mark walked out to the transport with Bane, the last thing he heard was Tonas’s call to Bane’s shadow, “Flagen, a word before you go.”
“Yes, Admiral!”
Admiral? I wonder where that came from?