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19
You Are Simply Out Of Time
Mimi
Iwokeupinsidethe Orion. I had no idea how I'd got there. I struggled to remember what had happened. My brain didn't seem to want to work for some reason. Trying to ascertain what the hell was going on, I decided to catalogue any injuries first.
I wasn't unhurt which surprised and confused me. How had I got all of these aches and pains? I had a sore elbow and arm, my spine felt like it had been bent over backwards and then kicked for good measure, the back of my head ached, and my neck felt tender. Even my butt hurt.
Well, I was either kicked up the keister or pushed down a flight of stairs on my butt.
Memory started to sluggishly come back to me. A utilitarian corridor, worn linoleum underfoot, a paint-chipped stairwell. The ground shaking. A shadow above us. Me, drawing my gun.
I'd drawn my gun.
I patted around ineffectually for my weapon, finding my holster empty. Panic started to take up residence inside my gut. I felt sick and light-headed, aching all over and now worried I'd dropped my weapon in 1966 Russia.
"She's coming to," someone said. "Mild concussion, cracked humerus and ulna, extensive bruising to the back but the spine's okay. I can reduce the swelling..."
"That won't be necessary," a smarmy voice said, cutting the first speaker off. "Can you hear me, Dr Wylde?"
I blinked back bright lights and blurry vision and found Mr Anderson peering down at me. I didn't much like the positions we were in but moving seemed counterproductive to remaining as pain-free as I could, right then.
"Don't shout," I muttered.
"Let me in there!" a hard voice demanded from somewhere behind Anderson's right shoulder. "These are my people! Let me see them!"
"Someone get ahold of him before he causes any more injuries," Anderson said calmly.
A scuffle sounded out and then I heard Jack grunt in pain as if he'd been punched in the stomach.
"Please, don't hurt him," I whispered.
"Hurt him? I don't intend to hurt him, Dr Wylde, despite the fact he's knocked out three of my guards already. I understand the two of you have been intimate in the past. I am not a heartless man. But he does not get to throw orders like that around anymore. I'm in charge of RATS. And this is a RATS issue." He stared down at me, his eyes narrowed. "Who does the body belong to?"
What body? I tried to turn my head to see what Anderson was talking about. He reached forward and gripped my chin firmly, keeping my eyes on him and not my surroundings.
"Don't worry about what's happening in the MPCV, Dr Wylde. Just answer the question. Who does the body belong to?"
"Is it Bryan?" Oh, dear God, please don't let it be Bryan. How would Sally survive losing this one, too? She'd hate me. She'd curse me. I was the one who brought him back from his universe and thrust an alternate Bryan on a grieving Sally. She'd never forgive me if I put her through all of that and then took out the next one, making her grieve the man she loved twice.
"Dr Fawkes is unconscious still, but definitely not dead."
Oh, thank God, it wasn't Bryan. Then who was it?
"Um," I said, stalling, trying to get my fuzzy head to remember what happened.
"You made an Emergency Return," Anderson prompted helpfully.
"A TCE Emergency Return," someone said off to the side. I couldn't see them and didn't recognise the voice. And I had no idea what TCE stood for.
"Yes, yes. This doesn't concern you, Medic. Stay out of it."
The medic mumbled something that sounded like 'What a tosser'.
Anderson ignored him, his focus completely on me.
"The body, Dr Wylde?"
