The Hodkin Chronicles Part 12: Recovery and Reminisces
28 Jan 2017S. Hodkin
29th June 3301 - Swigert Port, Chowei SystemNow that Jem and I are in a personal relationship, it’s certainly making the trip to Sol a lot more gratifying to say the least. That isn’t to say we’re conjoined at the hip, free spirits as we were and remain to an extent. Having the slightly superior FSD and with Jem wanting to explore, I decided to head straight for Chowei, having heard that bounties were plentiful around the system at the time, pirates seeming to have it as a hotbed of choice for questionable activities.
No sooner had I gained a sizeable amount of credits than I decided to head back to Swigert Port, a standard refinery and industrial station that catered to many a taste. Not the most aesthetically pleasing station, but with hard graft going on, the basics are often enough to satisfy the weary worker or bloody knackered bounty hunter. I wasn’t in a state such that I couldn’t fly, although the reaction times were a little slower admittedly.
Then something went wrong with one of the propulsion systems as I began to power down in preparation for landing, an unprecedented surge of thrust as opposed to the opposite - I was diving headlong into the pad. While within station speed limits, the impact threw me hard against one of the control panels, groaning with pain as I mercifully passed out.
By the time I came around, it became apparent that at least 6 hours had passed, judging by the explanation from the nurse who was checking my vitals at the time. It seemed that I’d suffered a few broken ribs that required surgical realignment, but other than that, everything else was in reasonable condition, and the cybernetic arm had held its own amazingly well considering it had hit the panel with similar force to my torso - not surprising with military grade titanium.
After gathering my thoughts, I instinctively called Jem as I knew that several hours without comms contact would increase her concern for my welfare - to no surprise to me she arrived within the hour, although I was sore from surgery once she embrace me, gently I might add. I came clean about the arm and it was reassuring to find that she couldn’t care less, picking out the right arm without even thinking. Women’s intuition she claimed, I still say a lucky guess.
As soon as the arm issue was covered, Jem’s interest turned more to my four years in the Navy full time, and began to recall one day that had remained etched into my memory from the first few months after I chose to stay on for a further tour after compulsory service..
May 3298, Conflict Zone Charlie, Kremainn System
We didn’t know how in Gaia’s name the separatists had acquired such advanced energy weapons, but I could only assume it was down to outside forces, whether it was fellow separatists in other systems or Imperial influences. The whole town seemed like it had been bombed numerous times, that or it had been razed by these bastards to prove a point for sticking by their Federation allegiances.
I was a Field Medic at the time after taking specialist training during my second year of compulsory service, one of the Medical Corps instructors took a shine to me and recommended me without question, and without blowing a trumpet, I was damn good at it. Anyway, it was the midst of a firefight, our rifles struggling to withstand the pulse semi-autos they were using at the time, and in the midst of the noise I could hear a cry for help maybe 150 metres away - young, female and audibly frightened.
My CO had given strict orders to make no attempt at civilian rescue in case they had tendencies to attack. To hell with orders, I could never make an assumption about an unarmed civilian if they were hurt. Reloading and readying my favoured 3215 Glock pulse pistol [which while out of production I seemed to be most accurate with], I sprinted for the building where I could hear the cry for help, managing to avoid the rifle fire such was my speed.
As soon as I reached the badly damaged but structurally stable house, I located the source of the cry. A young girl no more than 8 or 9 years old, black hair and piercing green eyes soaked with tears. The bodies I assumed were of her parents were nearby, numerous gunshot wounds and too late to save, she was unhurt at least physically. Instinctively I put the safety on the pistol, pointed it towards the ground and to the side away from me - standard gesture for “I’m on your side, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Sensing she didn’t speak English from her cries for help, I knew immediately that her mother tongue was some sort of Russian dialect, but attempted English nonetheless.
“I’m a Federation soldier, I’m here to help, are you hurt?”
“Nyet, but my Mama and Papa..”
“Gone, but I came for you, I won’t let them hurt you if you just stay with me. My name’s Sam, yours?”
“Natalya, and you heard me?”
“I never ignore cries for help, no matter who they are.”
Within seconds she had thrown herself into my open arms, crying bitter tears and gripping in a way indicative that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Once the battle died down, I made arrangements via Command to have her taken into the care of nearby settlements that were outside of the conflict zones. She must be a teenager by now, but no contact for a while. In the interests of both of us I suggested to contact only in emergencies.
Present
Jem seemed almost moved by my kindness from the past, the kiss to the cheek seemed to confirm that..