The Price of Freedom
Logan had no idea if Jess and Trent were alive. In all honesty, he didn’t care much about Trent. But Jess was his bunkmate; he had guarded Logan’s back on more than one occasion. Logan wasn’t going to leave him if there was even a chance he was still alive.
He pulled a medium sized rock out of the way and a spray of rubble showered down on him. He jumped back as a larger rock rolled toward him. Then he saw something, a stripe of reflective tape shining ever-so-slightly through the rubble. It was part of a man’s pressure suit.
Logan gave a cry of triumph, and waved several of the others over to help him. Together they worked to free the man. Soon they had one arm loose. Following it, they dug toward his head. To Logan’s relief, the faceplate was still intact. It was Jess. He was still alive; there was a slight clouding of moisture on the clear plastic in front of his mouth with each breath. But he didn’t seem to be conscious.
The others started working to free his limbs as Logan carefully cleared the rubble from around his friend’s head. He reached around to the back of Jess’ neck, and his glove came back covered in blood.
Jess was hurt. Even worse, there was a hole in the suit. The Goddess only knew if he was getting enough air…and the odds were pretty good that even if he was, his air tanks were depleting fast. They had to get him out of there or he would slowly smother in the thin atmosphere.
Logan felt something against his shoulder. He turned at the touch; it was Bragan. The doctor had an emergency medpack slung over one shoulder and Logan gave a sigh of relief. He toggled his radio.
“His suit has a slow leak and there’s some kind of injury on the back of his neck.”
“I’ve got a pressure tent,” Bragan said. “If you get him free, we can put him in there. It should have enough oxygen for several hours. We’ll need to keep his neck braced. He might have a spinal injury. If so, he’ll be paralyzed if we move him wrong.”
“If he has a spinal injury, he’s dead anyway,” Logan said, his voice tight. “They’ll never give him enough time to recover from that. Where the hell did you get a pressure tent?”
“I have my ways,” Bragan said, turning and setting the pack down. He started rummaging through it.
Within seconds he had pulled out a long, orange tube. He laid it flat on the ground and unrolled it. Then he activated a switch and the thing started inflating.
“Pay attention to your digging” Bragan said sharply, turning back to Logan. “You do your job and I’ll do mine. Get him out of there. I’ll get things ready for him.”
Logan turned back to Jess. Holding his head carefully still, he and the others cleared more of the rubble away. Then Bragan was back, pushing one of the men aside to get to Jess. Following his lead, Logan helped the doctor lift Jess away from the rubble, keeping his body as straight and stiff as they were able.
It was a token effort, of course. If he were seriously injured he wouldn’t be given a chance to recover. It was easier for their captors to import new slaves than care for the ones they already had.
The tent was fully inflated by now. There was a little tunnel at one end serving as a primitive airlock.
“There’s not enough room for all three of us in the lock,” Bragan said. “Help me get him in. I’ll pull him into the tent, and then you can join us. The medpack is already inside.”
Logan did as he was told, trying to gage Jess’ condition from Bragan’s face. The faceplate on the man’s suit made that impossible. Then the flap was closing and the little airlock sealed itself off. The pumps kicked in and Logan was left to watch and wait. The little tent was designed to provide safety in an emergency, but it was far from efficient. A full cycle of the lock would take at least 20 minutes.
Brooding, he turned to survey the scene in front of him. About 20 slaves were there, half still digging through the rubble to find Trent and the rest shoring up the walls of the tunnel. No sign of the guards. He assumed they were too frightened of another cave-in to come down and check on their workers. It was just as well; they might have called off the rescue efforts. The tunnel, seemingly identical to any other tunnel in the mine, offered no clues as to why it had collapsed. At least he could see well for once—every man present carried a powerful lantern on his helmet. The helmet had probably saved Jess’ life, although it hadn’t extended low enough to protect his neck. A small light on the tent’s entrance turned from red to green, and he dropped to his knees. Time to go and see how Jess was faring.
Ever so slowly the lock cycled. Finally he was able to crawl into the tent. Bragan was kneeling next to Jess, examining him carefully.
“How is he?”
“The only injury I’ve found is to the back of his neck,” Bragan said. “He got lucky; his suit was punctured, but the dirt and powdered rock kept it relatively well-contained until you freed him up. His oxygen levels are good, so that’s one thing we don’t have to worry about for now.”
“So why isn’t he awake?”
“I don’t know,” Bragan said. “But it isn’t a good sign. He’s got a concussion of some kind, and since the impact seems to have hit him right on the base of his skull, in the back, it could be very bad. His brain stem could be injured, particularly if the bones in there are shattered. There’s no way of knowing, though, not without better equipment than I have here.”
“What about his spinal cord?”
"As far as I can tell it’s all right," Bragan replied. "We need to roll him over to get a better look. It will need cleaning, and probably some sutures. There’s a risk that we’ll cause further injury, but that’s a moot point by now. For all I know he’s brain dead. Can you help me?"
Logan nodded, and together they rolled Jess on to his side. Bragan turned the powerful lamp on to the wound, and Logan hissed. A sharp rock must have penetrated the man’s neck. There was a deep gash and the entire wound was filled with a mixture of blood and dust, as well as tiny scraps of fabric.
"Fortunately I have antibiotics," Bragan said softly. "Their medic synthesizes them himself. He keeps me supplied. If we can clean this out we may be able to keep it from getting infected. If he’s not brain damaged, he’ll have a chance at survival. Doesn’t look like it hit any arteries…Hold him for me."
Logan did as he was told, watching Bragan as the man muttered to himself. He pulled a small bottle of something out of the bag. Liquid of some kind…
"What is that?"