Denoument

As Delta shuffled seamlessly into the main chamber, Radcliffe considered what the scene there looked like to fresh eyes. There he stood holding a phaser beam pistol behind a chest high obstruction, while Ayres and Jeremiah lay prone on the floor below him. It looked bad.
“Let’s see your hands, Radcliffe,” Cappy said, “I don’t want to have to stun you if I don’t have to.”
Radcliffe complied without hesitation. He reached for the ceiling . One of the squaddies plucked the weapon gently from his hand. 
“Now, turn around. Do it slowly or else you’re going to find out how my stunner tastes.”
Radcliffe turned to face the person barking orders to find Cappy there. Her finger rested on the trigger of a pulse rifle.  She looked at him with some suspicion. Radcliffe remembered the first time they’d met. She was a person who did not mess around when it came to her job, but he knew that if he played it straight with her, there would be no complications.
“Creech, I want you to go see if Balmforth and Austen have their patient under control and then get them in here to see about these two.”
Creech moved as she was giving her orders. He gave a sharp salute and trotted back through the doorway. Balmforth was finishing placing bandages on Hardigan while Austen completed the paperwork. Hardigan moaned. A trace of blood dribbled from his mouth. Balmforth wiped the blood and turned to face Creech.
“How’s the patient?”
Balmforth checked the patient’s vitals on the portable bioscanner. Pulse registered normal. Blood pressure was stable. All other vitals checked out. He just worried about potential spinal trauma.
“We’ve got him immobile and ready for transport, Cap. I don’t think he’ll be walking any time soon, but he’ll live.”
“That’s good. I need you two to get in there and take a look at the Rickets and the Antag. They’re down and we don’t know why yet.”
“This is turning into a bad job, Creech. Every minute we’re here I feel like an icicle is running down my back. It’s not that cold in here, but it’s driving me crazy. I just want to get back to the ship.”
“I know how you feel, but this shouldn’t take long. I think Cappy’s already debriefing Radcliffe. We get the mirror into the containment vessel and boom, out we go. Austen, keep an eye on this guy. We’ll be out of here before you know it.”
“I hope so, Creech. Let’s go see about our other patients.”
Balmforth shrugged his rucksack back on and followed Creech into the main chamber. Cappy had lowered her weapon, and was sitting next to Radcliffe on a low stone pew. His head was lowered on to his hands as he related the events leading up to Delta’s entrance.
Balmforth set to work visually scanning his patients in order to make an assessment of their wounds. He pulled the other bioscanner from his sack and attached leads to the patients. Ayres checked out normal aside from the goose egg on the side of his head. There was nothing wrong with him except for a possible concussion.
Jeremiah’s readings, however, both shocked and alarmed him. The boy’s pulse was racing. His heart rate soared, as did his blood pressure. There was also the unsettling way that parts of the boy seemed to become insubstantial.
“What the hell happened here, Mister Radcliffe? This kid looks like he’s about to explode.”
Radcliffe ran over to the medic. What he saw there made him gasp. Jeremiah’s leg was phasing in and out of view. As the pulse spiked, the leg became less visible.
“I don’t know. He seemed to be walking with some pain earlier. Maybe something broke in his pocket.”
“Then I suggest you go looking for a cause. Maybe that will point us to a cure here.”
“Right. I am on the move. Hang on, Jeremiah. We’re going to get you through this thing.”
Radcliffe ran over to where Jeremiah’s pants lay on the ground. He snatched them up and found one of the pockets to be a little heavier. He shook the trousers and heard soft tinkling from within. He reached into them and pushed the pocket inside out so that his hand would not get cut. Glass pieces tinkled out on to the floor. Residue of a red substance clung to some of the shards. The intensity of the glow seemed to match Jeremiah’s shifts in tangibility. Radcliffe stopped pushing the pocket when he saw a small label stuck to the inner lining. The delicate lettering on the handwritten label said ‘ταχύτητα’. Radcliffe easily translated this as ‘speed’ from the Greek.
Potions were a dangerous proposition for most people. An adolescent who took potions was taking their own lives in their hands. Potions worked on what was already there and in a body wracked by hormones and emotions, it was a maelstrom. It would start slowly and then push them past the breaking point endlessly until it wore off or the victim was dead.
“I found the cause. He must have used this vial from over on the work bench to fool Ayres into thinking he had a gun. It must have broken inside his pocket when he fell. I’ll have a look at the potions over there. It could be that there’s an antidote there.”
Radcliffe ran over to the work area. It was a cacophony of glowing vials. The confusion of lights made it difficult for him to isolate the labels at first, but, very shortly, he found a vial labeled ‘ειρήνη’ or peace. It glowed a soothing blue color that pulsed softly in stark contrast to the frenetic pulsing of the red potion. Radcliffe took it over to where Jeremiah lay.
“This should do it.”
Radcliffe started to uncork the vial, but Balmforth stopped him. Radcliffe looked at the medic with incredulity. Why was this man stopping him from saving his sidekick’s life?
“Are you sure about this? All we know at this point is that this is a magical malady.”
“I’m sure. We need to counter the first potion. We’re only going to need a drop. Get his mouth open so I can pour a drop in there.”
“Okay, but only a drop at a time until he normalizes. I just hope you got the right one.”
Radcliffe nodded and removed the cork from the vial. Balmforth tilted Jeremiah’s head back and opened his mouth slightly. He tipped it gently, letting a drop fall on the boy’s tongue. It had a slight positive effect on the bioscanner. It beeped less intensively. Encouraged, he drizzled a little more. The boy’s vital signs stabilized as the potions fought for dominance.
“It looks like it’s working. He’s going to be okay. We’re lucky you know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, we were lucky. Let’s just hope we’re not too late.”
Jeremiah’s leg turned a light shade of purple and phased back into reality. His pulse beeped normally. His blood pressure came down.
Radcliffe allowed himself to breathe again. That was one part of their business in the wrapper. He turned his attention back to Cappy. The look of concern on her face quickly vanished when she noticed Radcliffe looking at her.
“Is he going to be all right, Balmforth?”
“As best as I can tell, yes. He’s going to pull through. His vitals are strong. He has no visible signs of trauma. I would recommend potion counseling once we get back to the city, but, overall, I can safely pronounce him to be healthy.”
“Good, just make sure he stays that way. Okay, let’s get Ayres in bracelets. I don’t want him trying anything if you can bring him around.”
“Surely there’s no need for potion counseling. This was clearly an accident. I’m sure once we bring him around he’ll never want a potion again.”
“We like to err on the side of safety, Mr. Radcliffe. We don’t know what sort of side effects are involved here. It could lead to addiction.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I think the way he’ll feel when he eventually wakes up is going to be an effective deterrent.”
One of Delta moved forward to where Ayres was lying prone and pulled a set of shackles from her rucksack. She set about the task of fitting them to the wrists and ankles of the man. Once this was accomplished, she stepped back into formation.
Balmforth turned his attention back to Ayres. Masked, that was usually a problem. Masked antags hated being unmasked, but he had no choice. There were only two stretchers and if Balmforth could get Ayres up and walking again he was going to do it. He pulled the mask from Ayres’ head gently, not really knowing what to expect under there. Under the mask, an unfamiliar face greeted him. Not unexpected, he’d only been in Delta a few months, but he heard a shocked gasp behind him coming from Cappy.
He pulled a vial of smelling salts from the medical bag and held them under the man’s nose. Ayres coughed. He opened his eyes again and groaned.
“My, we have company Radcliffe. Oh, and your brat wore himself out from the beating he gave me. Look at him napping. He’s like a little lamb that brutally beat up a lion.”
“That’s enough, Ayres. Had I the opportunity, I would have delivered that thrashing myself. You’re lucky he only gave you a goose egg for your trouble.”
“You. Do you remember me?”
Ayres looked at Cappy. He seemed to consider the question for a moment. He put his hand up to where the mask’s chin usually sat and found nothing. He groped for it blindly. The anger on his face was terrible.
“Where is it? Where is my face?”
“That is not important right now. What is important is that you answer my question quickly, before I lose my patience. Do you remember me?”
“Hmm, you don’t look like the type of girl with whom I usually associate myself. Can you refresh my memory?”
Cappy dragged Ayres to his feet. She smacked his face a dozen times with the flat of her hand. She pulled back as if to punch him and the remembered her troops were watching and put her hands in his greatcloak. She clutched it so tightly she didn’t think she would ever be able to let go again.
“Not your ‘type’? Is that what you say to all of the women you’ve raped?”