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"Alternative Directions: Options "Written By: Karina Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the lovely
boys and their girls in the series. Wish I did. Please don't sue me.
I haven't even got a brass razoo to give you. Rating: Deffinately PG in Australia, at the moment,
but probably safer to say R for later chapters. Not sure about international
ratings Warnings: It will be 6x2, even though it does
not start out that way. After all, Zechs and Duo never met in Gundam
Wing and only spoke briefly over a com line in Endless Waltz. I've
tried to keep them in character as I saw them in the series. A bit
of language creeping in under stressful conditions. Pairings: eventual 6x2, past 2xH, 2+H,6x9, 1+R
Summary: Directions is set post Endless Waltz
and roughly 2 years have passed. Zechs and Noin are on Mars and Duo,
after spending some time with Hilde in a relationship leaves L2 to
join Preventers. Hilde was not happy about his decision. I guess enough
said. Here t'is, and I hope you like it. This is also AU for the standard
setting, as well as the series and Endless Waltz. Spoilers: Gundam Wing Series and Endless Waltz Many thanks to Dulin for volunteering to beta this. //... // thoughts
"Alternative Directions: Options"
Mars Colony Base Dome 2nd March AC 198 Time: 01: 49 [approx Sanc time 23:39] Broadham He had thought he was a dead man. A shudder rippled through him, his nerves reacting to the terror, to the horror, to the supposition of death … and to finding himself still alive. He had already been in a world strangely askew from reality once today, not so long ago and now the unreality of it was back but subtly altered. It did not feel quite the same as that other time when reality was something other than normal. He had honestly thought that he was a dead man when he had heard that whispered foot fall behind him in the darkness. That whispered sound that heralded death creeping up on him. He did not understand it. He had searched the room … No, Simpson had searched the room in front of him and they had both seen that the nursery was empty. Safe. How could they have missed anywhere big enough for the killer to hide? Where the killer had come from to attack him he had no idea but he was honest with himself when he admitted that he had thought everything was over when he had heard that whispered movement. At that subtle sound he had thought that he would never see the light of day again. Surgeons and field medics in the Alliance forces were generally not trained to be killers. It was an accepted view in any armed force that to train a Healer to kill was to compromise their calling to save others. The men and women who dedicated their lives to healing within a military setting were taught to defend their own lives should the need arise but they were never taught to be cold calculated fighters. There were fighters trained to keep the medics safe in heavy combat situations. While he was not a trained killer his past did grant him sufficient knowledge to hold his own perhaps for as long as a minute against the psychopath out for his blood. He had turned in the darkness at that whispered sound and he had prepared to sell his life dearly hoping that Simpson might hear the commotion and keep those women and their children safe. At best he had hoped that Simpson would arrive before he went down and at worst he prayed he might delay the killer long enough that the Blue Squad Commander might catch him before he could escape the ward and begin the killing cycle all over again. He had honestly not expected to survive the fight. Light had spilled into the nursery from the reception room of the ward and given him more than enough illumination to see the men who danced with death. The blades they wielded gave off a continuous ringing as they had fought, a coldly metallic sound that chilled his blood. It seemed surreal to watch them, both fast on their feet, both emotionless, both focused exclusively on the other fighter. He was focused and aware enough to recognize when one had begun to fall apart emotionally and make the end inevitable. When it came to that end it was a coldly efficient kill that was perfectly predictable considering the identity of the victor. Simpson was efficient in most things that he tackled. It had taken so little time for a man to die. Life was such a delicate and transient thing. Death awaited everyone. //Shit. Oh shit.// The world seemed to settle to cold hard reality and with it came more than the sound of metal striking metal and the odd sound, part gasp, part gurgle, part sigh that was a man breathing his last. In cold reality babies wailed around him and he was listening to the death rattle of the man Simpson knelt over. It took him precious seconds to realize that it was over, that the blow had been hard and directed at the ribs. The blade was positioned with exacting precision to slide neatly between rib bones and up to pierced the heart. Efficient. It was a textbook kill. Cold, calculated and perfectly executed. He could admire the man’s training even as he knew that soon enough it might be him or his people on the receiving end of just such a blow from this man. He would thank Simpson for his life just as soon as he could get the world to finally settle down around him into some semblance of normality. //God. This day has to end soon.// He realized that he was shaking in reaction to the adrenaline firing his body and to the very real fear that he was a dead man. The tremble in body and hands while understandable was also far from acceptable in a surgeon. His profession demanded steady hands and nerves of steel. It was not an easy thing to face slicing into a person’s body, not to kill but to cure. It took its own particular brand of courage and he was no coward but he had really thought he was going to die. Done was done, he was alive and he could not afford to become a quivering wreck. With all that was going on in the base he had a fair idea that his surgical skills might well be needed before the night was over and looking at the tremble in his hands now he knew that at this time he was not fit to hold a dinner knife let alone a scalpel. If he was going to be of use to anyone in any capacity this night he needed to get a grip on himself. //Shit. I can’t make myself move. It’s like that other time with Merquise. I couldn’t move then and I can’t move now. I’m not a craven coward but I will be so glad when this night is over.// The unreality of this moment was almost on a par with the strangeness that had surrounded him so recently in the hallway when Merquise had taken out the killer. The first killer. //God. Two of them in the medical center. More? Are there more killing my people?// The sick churning in his gut was not so dissimilar if not quite as bad as it had been on that other occasion. He had not been the target of the killer then but he had been witness to the incident and he had felt that detached unreality that had churned his gut and made his entire body ache. It was strange but surely he should have felt worse this time around? Surely being the killer’s target would bring it all into terrible focus and send him heaving on the floor in reaction … but no. Oddly he had felt worse in the hallway. //Perhaps with constant exposure to this kind of stress you develop a kind of immunity? You just don’t react the same the second time around. // That was bullshit and he knew it. He had faced enough life and death situations in his past to know that it never became mundane. At least, it had not for him. Not ever. He was a healer, not a killer but he had worked with both and witnessed some shocking things. He had to move. He needed to move, to function again and sort out this mess. He needed to function as a professional and not cower here against the first of the bassinets and tell himself repeatedly that he was alive. Simpson had arrived and taken the killer down and that was the end of the story. Or at least this particular chapter of it and whimpering in a corner was no way of solving anything. Such irony. He owed his life to the man who was going to kill him. Surely the cosmic order was laughing hysterically at the irony of it all. Like some great dark beast Simpson stirred, rising and turning to check his kill. Broadham watched with held breath as the man sought a pulse but he knew that glazed staring look in the eyes and he had heard that death rattle too often in his line of work to mistake it. The man was quite dead. Where had the bastard come from? God, he was like a stuck recording but he could not seem to break himself out of the rapture of the horror that enfolded him. They had searched the nursery and found nothing. He and Simpson, not he alone and he could not believe that Simpson would have missed any possible hiding place. None of the cupboards in the nursery were large enough to hide a man of this size and Broadham was not for an instant inclined to entertain the notion that the man was capable of making himself invisible. Simpson snapping up to his full height from his crouch over the body startled him into backing a half step. That half step and the feel of the babies cot in the small of his back served to bring the world crashing down around him into frightening reality. The strangeness that had surrounded him settled and time seemed to move once more permitting him to realize that seconds had passed since he had heard that shuffled footstep. Seconds not minutes. Seconds. He raised a trembling hand to rub at his forehead, for a moment resting his head in his hands. He wished he could be spared the headache pounding behind his eyes. How long had he fought to stay alive? Ten seconds? Fifteen? More? Less? He dragged his hands over his face, squeezed the bridge of his nose and scratched at the stubble on his jaw. His head ached. His face ached. Hell, his entire body ached. How long had it taken Simpson to take the Sleeper down? It did not matter. He was alive and now that he had his awareness back he had to act. "Thanks." His voice sounded strange to his own ears and he winced at the huskiness of it. He cleared his throat and stepped away from the cot, running a hand through his hair impatient with a few strands that would not remain in place before he realized that Simpson was moving again. There had been no response to his whispered word of thanks nor was there a query as to his condition. The agent was moving past him and glaring up over his head. Afraid that the killer was not alone he turned as Simpson swept past and followed his line of sight upward to the open ceiling vent and he swore as he realized what had happened. He and Simpson had not erred in their search of the cabinets. "Exactly." Simpson growled and glanced his way scowling. "You had better do something about your face before you see those women. He had started working on your nurse but I think not too badly as yet. The others seem to be in one piece." His face? His eyes flicked down to his hands and he noted the blood on one in an oddly remote fashion. The thought that blood might explain why his face ached was remote and before he realized his actions he found himself moving, stepping over the corpse to the small sink and basin. A mirror showed a gory reflection, blood smeared over his face from the gash on his cheek and he was quick to run water to clean up the cut and then wash his hands. If he could lessen the blood flow he could find someone else to tend to the wound if need be but he needed now to find himself again. He was needed as a physician and basic to that need to tend to his patients was the need to have clean hands. With the washing off of the blood from his hands the trembling subsided in his fingers and his gut settled. Judging from the past evidence of this sick bastards handiwork he might well need to go into surgery. He could not so much as examine his patient with less than clean hands. He was aware of Simpson moving around the room, taking up a position under the vent and then turning to watch him before looking again up into the darkness of the vent. Undoubtedly the man was thinking that he would need to enter the vents in search of more of the killers. They needed to do a full sweep of the medical center and he was not going to be fool enough to think that they might have taken all of them down. He had thought one madman was loose and now he had witnessed the elimination of two of them. They needed to be certain there were not more of the killers running loose but he was a surgeon and his place was with his patients, not running around playing second fiddle to a professional killer who at least at the moment was working for the safety of the base. In a situation as tense and dangerous as this one Simpson needed someone he could rely on. His technician was the one who should be here, backing the man up not a surgeon who had left his soldiering days long behind him. "I’ll check in the vent for signs of any more of them but I think this one was on his own. I’ll come out in the mothers ward and I would appreciate it if you would not shoot me." Broadham glanced over his shoulder, his hands and forearms now heavily lathered with soap and he flicked a glance up at the vent before he nodded. "Be careful." //I need to get to those women. I can’t back him up and he knows it but I feel that I should be in both places. We are going to need to work something out.// He watched as Simpson flexed his knees and then sprang straight up, strong fingers hooked onto the edge of the vent and Simpson pulled himself up, displaying considerable upper body strength in the process. Broadham glanced down at the corpse and he noted that Simpson had retrieved his knife and at some point had wiped the blade on the man’s shirt. He had missed that in his daze and he forced himself to take a few deep calming breaths. He needed to attend to his people’s needs and staring at a corpse was not going to help them or Simpson. He needed to be the surgeon not a soldier and with quick efficiency he gathered a few supplies and placed them in the first of the cots. It was basic equipment but it was enough for him to do an examination of the women’s wounds and with a low grunt of satisfaction he transferred the second child into the cot beside the first. Bending he dragged the corpse out of the way of the cot and wheeled it out of the nursery. It took only seconds to enter the mothers ward and find himself being descended on by an anxious mother who went straight for the bassinet to examine both children. "Mr. Broadham! Oh thank God." "Tend to the children, if you would please Joan while I see to Karen." He was no longer shaking in reaction but calm and professional. This he knew, this he was good at. This was where he belonged. "Mary, I will need your help." He brushed past the first woman who ignored him to gather a sobbing infant into her arms and he had to take it on trust that she would attend to both children. The bed on which his nurse lay was slowly soaking through with blood and he had the uncomfortable feeling that she might be worse than Simpson had assumed. With a deep breath and a nod to the second woman who anxiously peered at the cot but who held a towel to a wound over his patient’s abdomen he bent to his task, reaching to smooth a hand over the nurses tasseled hair. "It’s alright, Karen. We will soon have you comfortable again." "Is the bastard dead?" The demand came from Mary who moved aside to give him better access to the nurse and he caught the fire in her eyes. She was a dynamic woman, a professional and senior staff member in the geology department who had become pregnant from a casual encounter and who had welcomed her unexpected condition with a casual ‘Well damn, that I didn‘t expect to happen.’ If anyone could weather this nightmare and come from it spitting fire it was Mary. "Very dead. Commander Simpson is in the vents now checking to see that he was alone. He should be along shortly." He inclined his head toward the vent above and behind him. "You’re hurt." The whisper came from the nurse who was panting softly. "It’s nothing serious. What is of more concern is you, Karen. Now lie still and let me examine you." He flicked an eye up toward the vent at the first clang that drew a startled exclamation from Joan and reflected that Simpson was going to find it next to impossible to sneak up on anybody if he could not move in the vent with a little more care. The killer had been silent in the vents and he had not heard him at all until that fateful moment just before he had struck. He was fortunate indeed to be alive. Again the sound came from the vent and he scowled, casting a quick glance up at the grate in the ceiling. The noise sounded like metal on metal and he wondered if the man had chosen to draw a weapon after gaining the ventilation shaft and reflected that if it had been he in the vent then he certainly would be armed. A third clang drew a worried sound from Joan and he noted that both mothers were eyeing the vent warily and he offered a smile. "It’s alright. That would be Commander Simpson. Keep an eye on the vent and let me know when you see him. Joan, you may have to nurse the baby to get him to settle. You too, Mary, but if you would could you wait a few minutes and give me a hand? Thank you." ——————————————————- Time: 01: 51 [approx Sanc time 23:41] Simpson //Sadistic bastard may as well have bathed in the blood of his victims.// The trail of the killer was unmistakable. His black uniform had hidden much of the evidence but it must have been soaked in the blood of his victims to have left so clear a trail as he crawled through the vent. A body wide crimson smear had been left in his wake that had not seemed to lessen as he progressed through the vent. It seemed as thick at the nursery as it did trailing back toward the mothers ward. From what he could see in the dim light of the small torch he was using there was sufficient evidence to suggest that there had been only the one man using the vent as his private highway and for that he was thankful. Thankful but not stupid enough to think that this was the only Sleeper running around on a psychopathic killing spree. He could only hope that he had sufficient time to get himself back to Frazier and together the pair of them could start the hunt for more of them. Them. The psychopaths. Sleepers. Abandoned psyche conditioned individuals on a killing rampage. He supposed that he should feel sorry for them but there was no room in him for cold blooded killing. He knew that within days he was going to be killing these people but he still could not liken himself to the Sleepers he was now hunting. They were insane and killing for the thrill of the kill. For pleasure. For enjoyment. He was not certain that he would trust any of them to remember that they were supposed to take Merquise and the infants alive. He had to get them before they made that fatal mistake. For such a hunt he was going to need Frazier. The rest of his team were not available to him and he did not have time to wait around for them to recover from what ever they had been dosed with. He had no time to wait for his team to come up from the Alpha Dome even if they would respond to a radio summons. No, it was just him and Frazier the only one he would trust his back to. The knife in his hand clanged against the metal of the vent and he winced at the resounding echoes within the confined vent system. It was going to be next to impossible for both himself and Frazier to take this way and keep silent. How were the killers doing it if there were others using the vents to get around the base? It made sense that they would utilize the system to unobtrusively move around the sub base but unseen needed to be unheard as well to be effective. He could not even crawl from the nursery to the mothers ward without making a noise that surely must be heard by those in the rooms below him. The Sleepers had to tackle this way in silence for it to be effective and that meant that they must not be wearing magnetic soled boots or moving with drawn weapons. To catch the Sleepers he was going to need to use the same method of movement and much as it went against his instinct he was going to need to move through the vents without drawn and ready weapons. Frazier was going to like that about as much as he did but what other choice was there? He was not going to take the chance that the Sleepers would not target himself and his team mate in their madness. To make a noise in the vent would alert anyone in the vents and also alert anyone in the rooms the vents opened into of company and the only way to be silent was to move slowly and wear or carry nothing that would make a noise if it contacted the metal shell surrounding them. Nor were Sleepers using the vents as a highway his only concern. There was still the outstanding matter of Merquise to deal with. The man had to be somewhere and if he had Noin he must be looking for medical attention for her. If she was not dead already. She should be dead, he mused, considering her condition when last he had been with her and the stresses being moved would cause. Her hyper aware nervous system should be enough to induce a heart attack. Merquise needed to be rounded up and then his children secured. Within two days the Wellington would arrive in orbit over Mars and the terra formers would be so many corpses scattered about the base but that was then and this was now and he had always been expedient. At the present time he had to side with the citizens of Mars against the madness of a few of their number. Citizens of Mars indeed. Mars was an outpost that was needed and the base would be near destroyed in a few days. They would be causing a huge amount of damage when the Wellington came to give the appearance of a Raider foray. Damage that would need to be repaired and would come close to making the future of the colony unviable. Still the repair cost was not his concern nor was it his concern that certain people in high places who had been opposing the development of the Mars sited stations had their fingers into very select pies that were involved with the construction of space orbiting habitats. Personally he felt the need for something closely resembling gravity and a blue sky. Neither the terrestrial bound Base Dome or Alpha Dome fitted his need and a space colony was even worse to his mind. He wanted to go back to Earth where his body felt at home and where there was an honest to god wind that would caress his face and blow the milk out of his tea in a storm and let him know that he was alive. Earth was very tactile in her caresses to her children. //Woolgathering, you stupid bastard. What the hell do you think you are doing? You will get yourself killed the way you are going. // He was never going to get to return to Earth if he did not pull himself together and get on with the job at hand. He had killers to hunt down and he had the few professional soldiers who existed here to wipe out before they could assemble some sort of organized resistance. Which reminded him. The Emergency Response Team was another matter he needed to deal with and soon. The threat they represented was very real and close enough to be dealt with but it was also true that they could be useful. //Damn it all, everything is crowding together. I need more time to deal with the individual elements.// He was going to need to get his thoughts into perspective. First of all he needed to sort out his priorities and at the moment that involved hunting down the killers before they took a shot at taking himself or Frazier down. There was also the fact that running loose in the base where an unknown number of ex service men and women who might be able to take some sort of effective action that could impact on his take over of the base. Delay, not stop his take over he mused. He could not see them taking himself or Frazier out of the picture if they did not have the leadership and expertise of someone like Merquise. He also needed to consider that they might be of use to himself in controlling the situation until he could eliminate the Sleepers. Making use of them was sound tactics and it would lull them into a false sense of security and give him the chance he needed to prepare a little surprise for them. At one stage it was his preferred option to gather all of those with military experience together and quietly wipe them out leaving the more benign citizenry exposed and vulnerable. In light of the current situation however it would make more sense to use them than take them out and spread himself and his limited resources so thin that he must make stupid but unavoidable compromises. Make use of them and then when he had their confidence gather them into one place and wipe them out in one mercy killing. He just had to make certain that his timing was exemplary and not to leave eliminating them until after they realized they had been played and he had no doubt that they would realize it. It was unfortunate and went against his personal preferences but he had his instructions and those instructions made it necessary for him to eliminate everyone within the Alpha and Base domes. It really was a matter of timing as to who lived and who died in the next few days. If those men and women who were out on survey work at this time should chance to return to the base early then they too would have to become victims of the raiders who attacked the base. He could only hope that they did not return until after the Wellington had done its job. It was unfortunate but necessary to the success of his mission that witnesses be eliminated. If the geologists and mining teams should abandon or conclude their missions before the projected three days duration then they would likely walk right into the middle of the Wellington’s cover up and their fates would be sealed. Their geographical survey mission was at a point far enough from both of the domes that they would not see anything suspicious and thus save their lives and give the concerned citizens of the ESUN more faces of survivors to sensationalize and more realism to the staged production. Raiders always hit hard and fast, took what they wanted and ran like hell before help could arrive. It would only help the cover up if the survey teams survived and he personally did not like unnecessary killing. At this point in time the only members of the Mars colony slated to survive the attack were the two infants who no doubt were even now being calmed and soothed by their mothers in that room just ahead of his present position. The comforting seemed less than effective however if the wailing echoing within the vent was any indication. The sound only firmed his resolve however. //I will not kill children. I refuse to kill children and if They don’t like that… Well … Too bad.// There was no need to kill children who were too young to tell what went on in this adult world of politics and deception. The knife in his hand hit the vent floor with a resounding clang and he winced. He was going to have to go unarmed in his search for the killers but he would need to keep a weapon close to his reach so that at the slightest sign of trouble coming he could be prepared. These vents were not the appropriate place for a hand to hand struggle nor were they really his preferred terrain for a fire fight. Some of the vents in the sub base were huge, easily large enough for him to walk upright within. Originally his team had entered the base through those larger vents but they were a fair distance from this smaller vent system that he now moved within and anyone using these narrower ways would have to do so on hands and knees. An impediment to movement and a massive problem should they need to fight. That did not make for swift nor for silent travel and he lowered himself carefully in the vent and controlled his breathing, listening intently. Sound echoed so well in these vents that it was possible that he might hear someone moving around even though he could not see them. It was just going to be a problem determining how far away that movement might be. Beneath the babies wailing he could hear the low murmur of voices and he could make out Broadham’s masculine rumble issuing instructions. To his relief the wailing of the babies petered down first to sobbing and then, finally blessed silence. Within that silence he strained his hearing to detect any sound that might suggest he was not alone within the vents but there was nothing within the vent except the gentle flow of air on his face that told him the ducted system was operating. //Time to take a minute or two to make a few plans.// He stretched out in the vent, wincing at the clang as a booted foot connected with the wall of the vent, the magnetic plate sending a resounding ring throughout the system. He swore softly wondering where he might be able to find another pair of boots preferably with rubber soles before he tackled the search of the vents Taking a deeper breath he calmed himself and gave his attention over to focusing on the needs that must be met to bring this mission to a successful conclusion. // I need to find Merquise but while I am doing that I need to do a run of the base and determine how many more of these psychos there might be running around. If they have lost all semblance of humanity and the ability to reason then I cannot take the chance that they might have forgotten their orders and may target Merquise or those children. As far as I am concerned the Sleepers are dead men walking. No quarter will be given to them.// The memory of the ward where the female members of the squad had been butchered swam before his eyes in vivid clarity. // Not even animals kill like this.// Elements within the ESUN government had set these ghouls in place and had for some reason failed see to the necessary maintenance required by the deep conditioning to maintain the programming. Basically decent people had been turned into psychotic killers. From what he knew of psyche conditioning he suspected that none of the Sleepers would be deemed recoverable should they somehow survive this mission. They were hopelessly lost to insanity and forever a danger to anyone unfortunate enough to be around them. No, as he saw it he would be doing everyone a service by eliminating them and that included the agents themselves. //It was my intention to take out the military trained individuals capable of putting up a resistance but I think I need to rethink that. At this stage I can make use of them for the hunt for the Sleepers if for no other purpose and I think I have a number of uses they could fill. Using them will permit me greater freedom to search the base and no matter how good the Sleepers are they can not take down more than two men before a third would be able to take them out. There should be enough ex military personnel to permit me to field two and possible up to four groups of three to four personnel for this job. Now do I dare leave them to the hunt and myself continue to hunt down Merquise? I can not afford for an instant to lose sight of the primary purpose of my presence here. Capture Merquise, get him under control and in suitable restraints and get him and those brats of his safely off Mars.// So much to do and the impression that there was so little time in which to do it grew exponentially and that disturbed him. He should have days in which to accomplish his mission but there was a rising sense of urgency he could not ignore. Events felt out of control and he needed to regain that control to bring the mission to a satisfactory conclusion. He was not and had never claimed to be superman nor was he a miracle worker and that necessitated that things were going to have to be delegated a set order in which to be accomplished. He could not be everywhere at once and he would need to make use of every resource he had at his disposal which meant that the ER team had gained a reprieve. Primary on his ‘to do’ list was to find the renegade Prince of Sanc and his offspring and place them all nicely under lock and key. A secondary task required that he wipe out everyone on the base including his supposed allies the Sleepers and sit tight until the Wellington had arrived. Ah, what a thought that was. He could not wait for his lift off this dusty hell to arrive. //Guess I will have to wait to take out the military personnel. They are simply too useful to me in this situation to waste the resource that they are. They can gather the base personnel and protect them until it comes time for me to eliminate them all. With my own team unavailable I must use the next best thing.// "Commander Simpson? Can you hear me?" Broadham’s voice floated up through the grate ahead of him and he sighed as he dragged his attention back to the here and now. "Commander?" //Damn. Looks like I need to move. I suppose it is time to start the final phase of this. // He crawled to the access cover and with a well aimed blow sent it crashing into the room, producing a startled feminine scream from below and thrust his head and shoulders into the opening. He hung upside down over the surgeon who had quickly side stepped the vent cover. "Problem?" He barely resisted the urge to smile at the look on the man’s face. ‘Ah … Yes. Yes … I need to get Karen into surgery a.s.a.p. The damage is more serious than it at first looked." He frowned, glancing to where the woman lay on the bed, now under a covering of bandages that were steadily staining crimson. It appeared that he was going to be fortunate enough to be free of Broadham for a while. The potential for organizing the staff to his whim while the man was occupied had near limitless possibilities. This would work in his favor. "What do you need?" "I need to gather a surgical team together and that is going to take most of the people who have been cleaning up the rooms." // Hmmm. Most of the staff … but not all of them and not the ER team. Good. I can work with this.// "Not a problem. That emergency response team of yours can continue the clean up and we may as well make use of them as guards until we are assured we have all of the killers." Broadham was nodding, glancing over to where both women were nursing blessedly silent infants. "I was hoping one or two of them might be used to guard the women and children." "Of course. I will see that everyone is gathered in one central location, to keep as many together as possible. That will make it easier to guard those susceptible to anyone else who may be inclined to turn killer. Move over, I’m coming down. There is no indication in the vent that he was not alone but I am not willing to presume that there was only the one." Simpson withdrew back into the vent and crawled forward, positioning himself to drop feet first through the vent access into the ward. //One location for as many people as possible. Yes, that will work in well when I have to do the dirty on your people, Broadham. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is.// Broadham grunted softly as Simpson let himself carefully down through the vent access and noted the Commander eyeing off the two women with babies feeding at their breast. The big man swept his gaze around the ward and focused on the bleeding nurse for a moment before meeting the surgeons gaze. "What do you need to get things started here?" "Could you get to the orderlies working on your men and have them gather together my surgical team and prep the theatre? I dare not leave Karen at the moment." "Not a problem." // In fact it’s perfect for what I need.// He would set the base personnel to guarding their own and even hunting the killers while Broadham was safely out of his hair in surgery. He and Frazier could then quietly continue their hunt for Merquise. Once he found the man it might be that he could even manage to implicate Merquise in the killing spree and actually have the fools guard him until he had the time and opportunity to take them out. That scenario had potential if he could work out the details but for now he had work to do. Frazier was a much needed commodity and courtesy of this surgery on a woman who would be dead within two days regardless of Broadham’s efforts he was going to have the chance to see what was in that emergency room without Broadham making a nuisance of himself. //Something in there has Broadham spooked and I want to know what it is. //
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