Becki's face paled visibly as she watched Raymond work. The Frenchman was bending over Kristy, the forceps he was holding slowly teasing a fragment of shrapnel from her shoulder. Kristy, mercifully, was unconscious. Raymond clucked something in French, and Zee hobbled off. She returned a few seconds later, carrying a tray with a scalpel and a bag of plasma on it. As Raymond took the scalpel, Zee began to hook up an IV line. Becki chose that moment to look away, back at the remnants of Terra Sancta group.
The two Joshes stood together, Cochran fixing a field splint to Nolan's arm. The Australian grimaced, scowling down at his wrist as though it had betrayed him.
"Just a minor fracture. I'm amazed we weren't hit worse," Cochran was saying.
"We were lucky," Brad said, leaning wearily against a wall of the Red Home's medical bay. "When that soldier pulled a grenade . . ." his voice trailed off. Lenka took the opportunity to approach him with a first aid kit, and try and staunch the blood flowing from his scalp, but he shooed her away.
"This one used the Force, I guess," Josh Nolan said, gesturing at his namesake.
"Yeah, I was able to Push the explosion back away from us, mostly," the American agreed. "Kristy was farther from me than the rest, so she got hit some."
"Anyone able to work out who the grenade thrower was?" Becki asked, quietly.
"He was wearing the uniform of a Colonel in the Romanian army. Nick thinks he was a fake," Mike said. "I won't disagree. Whoever he is, he created enough of a diversion that the shield is gone."
"How do you know?" Cochran asked, looking up in surprise.
"I could be wrong, but the explosion was followed by three vaguely military trucks exiting the area, in formation, at high speed. It was a case of follow the trucks or get you guys," Mike said. Cochran looked as though he wanted to say something, but held his peace.
"Any idea where they were headed?" Vickie asked. Mike shook his head.
"In the time I was watching, they changed direction several times, switched positions, even split up at one point and got back together further out. It was like the Italian Job. In trucks."
"Anyone got any ideas who they might have been?" Becki asked, looking around.
"I did a surface scan of the people in the room," Cochran said, shaking his head. "No good. Too much general deceit and bad feeling to pick up one person feeling particularly evil."
"Well, in the absence of clues, evidence, or anyone to interview, what now?" Brad asked.
"Did anyone hear anything?" Vickie asked.
"Lots of foreign language mutterings about various things," Josh Nolan replied, still scowling.
"Zee's running the feeds through her translation matrices," Mike said. "Nick's doing the same back at base, but we don't have a decent guide to most of the languages. There's some French, a little German, but the mics weren't the best. Omnidirectional, and a lot of what we get is rustling off you guys' clothes."
"So we don't know anything?" Becki asked, in disbelief.
"Not much, it seems," Cochran replied.
The group stared unseeingly for several seconds as they contemplated the possibility of failure in their mission. The meditative silence was broken by a chirping from the Red Home's comm unit. Mike tapped at a panel on the medbay wall, and the holo-projector in the centre of the room flickered to life, barely.
The image was intermittent and staticky. No details could be made out in the hissing, crackling image. Josh Cochran cursed under his breath and walked over to the projector unit. Lashing out, his boot impacted hard on the outer casing. The image disappeared briefly, before flickering back to life, still bedevilled by static, but at least now visible.
It was Scifantasy, looking weary beyond words. The Major looked intently down upon the huddled masses of Terra Sancta Group, many of whom felt the desire to stare at the floor and shuffle their feet.
"Rep . . . t," Sci said, the static obscuring him.
"We tracked the shield to an auction in Jerusalem," Josh Nolan said. "But we got jumped."
"We've taken some hits, but we're functional," Josh Cochran said.
"Hits?" Sci asked. "How b . . ? No, don't . . . . r that, either of you. Becki, t . . . me."
Becki looked at the two Joshes sorrowfully, but replied.
"Crispy has a broken arm, PK is unconscious. She got hit by shrapnel."
". . . live?"
"Yes."
"Well, that's something, at . . . . . . . the shield now?"
"Gone," Vickie replied dully. "Someone detonated a grenade as a distraction. It's been taken away."
"By who?" Sci asked. Silence was his reply.
"I see. So, you've l . . . the shield, you've got no leads, and . . . ly injured."
This indictment was met with more silence. Sci heaved a great sigh, and glared down at them, the static obscuring none of the irritation in his expression.
". . . Be back in Mendellia soon. Stand d . . . n for now. I'll be in touch when I get . . . . ck. We'll see if this m . . . s recover . . . le. Scifantasy out."
The image winked off. The group exchanged glances across the room, their expressions ranging from inscrutable to furious to anxious.
"Merde," Raymond muttered under his breath, as he worked on Kristy's arm.