Wings of Steele- The Series, page 193
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
“What?” asked Steele, looking up at him.
The Doctor pulled a thin panel with a hand impression on it from a small bag he carried, wiping the surface with a sterile wipe. Taking Jack's hand, he placed it into the indentation and held it there. “Just keep it there, you're going to feel a few pinpricks, nothing too uncomfortable.”
“Ow...”
“Jax, do you know what that image means?”
“I don't remember.”
“Do you have anything else like it?”
Steele held up his wobbly left hand with the ring on it, “Like this?”
With his free hand Freedrich examined the ring, holding Jack's hand still, the symbols clear to him. “How long have you had this ring?”
“I don't know...”
Prompted by the unit, the doctor released Steele's hand, flipping the device over, examining the data on the screen, “He's very toxic yet. He needs to be treated before there's permanent damage. You should have called me earlier Patti.”
What does it mean?” asked Pattiwillow.
Kleer creates severe dehydration and can affect the Myelin Sheath of the nerves causing them to shrink and deteriorate. He can't remember anything and the tremors are because his nerves are having a difficult time transmitting - he needs immediate medical attention...” He shined a small light in Jack's eyes looking for pupillary light reflex. “He has a CABL eye...” he noted, staring in. “I wonder how extensive his CABL system is... it may be what's keeping him alive...
“The symbols, Freedrich,” reminded Pattiwillow, “what do they mean?”
“That I can't take him to the hospital for treatment, too many questions. I need to call a friend for help - he'll know where to take him. He needs fluids and detox if he's going to survive.”
“I wanted to call his people for help, but I can't activate his MOBIUS...”
“That's because he's so toxic his body chemistry doesn't match the profile on his MOBIUS, it simply doesn't recognize him...”
“Save him...” whispered a voice in his ear.
“I will do everything I can...” replied Freedrich turning to the sensation of a hand on his shoulder.
“Save him...” whispered the voice in his other ear.
He spun his head around, Pattiwillow staring oddly at him. “What...?” she asked slowly.
“Take him to the Architect's Temple,” said the whisper.
“Get us a ride!” Freedrich pointed at her. “Quickly! I know where to take him!”
She ran to the glass wall and tapped a yellow button on a frame between the windows, lighting a call signal around the window outside. Within moments a car service pulled up to the fourth-floor apartment, hovering outside, the vehicle's door opening over his roof as he edged up to the building. The apartment's glass door opened inward allowing Pattiwillow, and Jack Steele, with the assistance of Dr. Freedrich, to step from her living room into the waiting vehicle together.
“Medical emergency,” announced Freedrich, flashing his hospital ID to the driver as the car door sealed shut.
“Amanpoor Med Center?” asked the driver reaching for his emergency lights switch.
“The Architect's Temple,” he corrected, catching Steele as he collapsed in the seat next to him.
“Permission to go code three, Doc?”
“Yes, permission granted. Please - make it fast.”
“You got it Doc,” replied the driver, accelerating hard. “You picked the right driver, they called me Flash back when I was Canyon racing in Drifters...” The graphene photovoltaic paint on the vehicle alternately flashed red and white, the radio's emergency transponder broadcasting a siren signal on all vehicle frequencies in the immediate vicinity, directing traffic to other lanes away from the temporary ambulance screaming past them, weaving between the buildings, the red and white halo of color reflecting off their surfaces. “Used to race all the time with my friend Dar until he went into the military...”
An enclosed glass walking bridge between buildings zipped past over the top of the car, “Yeah, Redline, he was a real phenom. But like everybody else on the circuit, he got burned out. Me too, it's exhausting...” He weaved between lanes. “But days like today bring it back a bit...” he grinned. “Can't say that I don't miss it sometimes. Hold on...” He leaned instinctively as they rocketed around a corner, sweeping past towering buildings of glass. “Any excuse to go fast - part of the job I love.”
Freedrich had his earpiece in, moving the disk around Jack's chest, his skin pale and clammy, “I think we're going to lose him...” He patted Jack's shoulder, “Stay with us, Jax.”
The city suddenly dropped away behind them, the buildings shorter and more spread out, dwindling to almost nothing, giving way to farms and rolling fields with surrounding forests. A large pinnacled structure on the horizon reached out of the canopy of trees. “Not while I'm driving, you won't,” countered Flash, shoving the throttle to the far stop, the car jetting across the traffic-less sky. “We're touching down in sixty seconds...”
■ ■ ■
Not having been exposed to the outside world firsthand with his initial visit to Amanpoor's Trade Exchange, Chase Holt instinctively ducked when the red and white flashing car zoomed past them overhead, sounding like a giant bumblebee. “Flying cars,” he said disdainfully, “that is not something I'm going to get used to...”
“Well how do your cars drive?” asked Torn Dado, reaching for the door to The Black Hole Bar & Grille.
Chase shrugged like it should be obvious, “On the ground like they're supposed to.”
Torn Dado shook his head, such antiquity. “What's the plan, Ms. Mercedes?”
“Money talks and bullshit walks. And I got a shit-ton of credits for anyone willing to talk...”
■ ■ ■
When Pattiwillow and Dr. Freedrich returned to the waiting car, Flash was leaning against the fender paging through his MOBIUS, “Back so soon? I thought...”
“They wouldn't let us in to stay with him,” interrupted Pattiwillow.
“You think he'll be alright?” asked Flash, closing his MOBIUS screen.
Freedrich, rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, “I honestly don't know, he was barely breathing... If I had him in the ER... maybe. Here...” he shook his head, “I just don't know what they can do for him here. But this is where the voice told me to bring him...”
“Voice?” hissed Pattiwillow. “What voice? You didn't say anything about a voice.”
“There was no time. And it was as clear as you speaking to me right now...” He ran it in his mind again. “Yes. And something tells me I did the right thing - they were waiting at the door with a hover-gurney like they were expecting us.”
Flash looked surprised. “What did they say?”
“Nothing. They checked his medallion and ring, took him in and closed the door on us.”
“Medallion?”
“The mark of the Grand Architects of the Universe. And his ring had Knights markings on it...”
“Mmm,” nodded Flash, waving them into the vehicle. “That makes sense then, that's who these people are...”
“They were dressed in hooded robes,” interrupted Pattiwillow, “like monks.”
Flash climbed in through the driver's door, “Yep, I've seen them. It is said they created the Heavens, the planets, the stars, the gates... Everything that has lived, draws a breath... everything there is, or ever was.”
“Have you ever been inside?”
“No. I don't think anyone gets in without being part of the order. I've dropped people off here, but I've never picked anyone up,” he lied. “No one from my company has ever picked anyone up from here,” he lied again. “I have a feeling once you go in, you don't come back out...”
“So I won't ever see him again?” asked Pattiwillow.
“I seriously doubt it, young lady,” replied Flash, easing the car up into an air-lane.
Freedrich cleared his throat, taking Pattiwillow's hand, “As fast as he crashed, I believe his organs were shutting down. I don't expect he will ever regain consciousness. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm sure they will make him comfortable in his final moments...”
“No, that doesn't make me feel any better,” she snipped.
Freedrick slumped back in his seat, taking a deep breath, “I wish they would have talked to us...”
Flash smirked, “Sounds like they already talked to you,” he wiggled his fingers near his ear, “whispered in your ear. They can do that you know.”
Freedrich didn't move, his eyes closed, “Felt a hand on my shoulder too... strange sensation; warmth, trust...”
“That happened to me once, back when I was still racing.” Flash tossed it off with a casual wave of his hand, “Turned out to be my mechanic playing a joke on me.” He shrugged, “Nearly pissed myself just the same...”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
G'NAROTH SARAT, AMANPOOR : ABANDONMENT ISSUES
Always open; the music, food, alcohol and party never stopped at The Black Hole Bar & Grille. Mercedes Huang turned away from the bartender, scanning the patrons and staff in the muted light. “Dammit, she's not here.”
“What did he say her name was?” asked Torn Dado, unable to hear over the music.
“Pattiwillow. Patti for short.”
“When's her next shift?” asked Chase, leading the trio through the crowd toward the front door.
“She was in earlier for a few hours and went home to tend to a friend - his words. She's due back at about nine tonight.”
Chase glanced at his MOBIUS, “Almost three hours... Y'think this friend she was tending to,” he added air quotes, “could be Jack?”
Mercedes shrugged her shoulders, “You know him better than I do, would he shack up with a barmaid?”
“That's not what I meant. And no, I don't think so...”
“Well, you're the one who added air quotes,” she countered, adding her own air quotes.
“I don't know what that means,” interrupted Torn Dado, imitating the air quotes, “but it's really annoying, please stop. And, no - the officer I know, would not do that.”
“By your own admission,” said Chase pushing the door of the club open, “he was mixing with FreeRanger officers...” The trio paused outside on the sidewalk. “Could they have known who he was somehow? Maybe drugged him?”
“I didn't get any sense of that...”
“Could he have drunk too much? Gotten ill?” offered Torn Dado.
Mercedes looked down at the sidewalk, playing the images of the night in her mind, “He seemed fine. It all looked very friendly. I didn't see any body language or attitude that would indicate anything abnormal...”
“And you were...”
“Dancing mostly,” replied Mercedes looking back up at Chase. “That way I could keep an eye on him. There were only a few instances where we were out of sight of each other; like bathroom breaks.”
“What was the plan if you got separated?” asked Torn Dado.
“Meet back here at the club the following day. Just stay here until we both showed up.”
“And?”
“We got separated somehow... I don't even remember at what point. But I searched the club, he wasn't here. The guy I was dancing with was on the same crew so I went back to his hotel hoping I'd run into Jack at the hotel if he did the same thing.”
Chase frowned, “So you shacked up with this guy...?”
“No,” she waved, “I ditched him and slept in the lobby. They must have called the police; I was arrested and detained until late that afternoon. They were looking to arrest Jack too. I didn't want to lead them to him so I went back to the ship, hoping he'd reported in... I even ditched my MOBIUS because they confiscated it and returned it before releasing me.”
“Probably bugged,” nodded Chase. “Why did they want to arrest him?”
“The Inspector kept asking about a place called Rikovik's Reef...”
“That's a planetoid in what used to be the frontier...” volunteered Torn Dado.
“I don't know if it's the same person, but apparently, a Jax Mercury was involved in some kind of bru-ha-ha there...”
“If bru-ha-ha means big trouble - yes there was,” admitted the pilot. “And yes, he is.”
“Just great,” sighed Mercedes. “Then of course he was asking about Nelson's Point...”
Chase looked concerned, “What did you tell him?”
Mercedes rolled her eyes, “Nothing. God, I'm not a freaking amateur. He let me go hoping to track me to Jack.”
“Message coming in...” Torn Dado pulled up the screen of his MOBIUS, his expression darkening, “Terrific...”
“What's going on?”
“We're on our own... The Perseus took off.”
“Whaaat? Dammit,” Chase punched the air. “That blows. They didn't even bother calling us to give us a chance to get back! That's not cool.”
“So what do we do now?”
Mercedes stepped between them, grabbing each one by an elbow, guiding them up the street, “Change of plans.”
■ ■ ■
“Welcome to the Grand Tower Hotel, how can I help you?”
Mercedes slid her ITC card, Interstellar Trade Credit, across the front desk counter at the hotel clerk. “We need a room.”
“How long will you be staying with us?” asked the clerk, picking up the card with pale spindly fingers.
Mercedes tried not to notice the clerk had a rather arachnid appearance, “Not entirely sure, let's start off with several nights.” She tried to figure out if it was a man or woman without staring.
“We'll set you up for five days for now. Will that work for you?”
“Yes... thank you.”
The clerk slid three disks about the size of a quarter across the counter with her ITC card, “Here are your keys. If you keep your key in your pocket, your MOBIUS device will direct you to your room, as well as alert you to the dining schedule, menus and room service. Will there be anything else?”
Mercedes pulled up the screen on her MOBIUS and turned it toward the clerk, “We're looking for a friend we're supposed to be meeting, have you seen him? His name is Jax Mercury...”
“I have not,” replied the clerk, checking the photo with one eye, checking the database on her own screen with another. “No mention of him in any of our guest stays.” She looked up, “I will add a notation to your account to notify you if he checks in.”
“Thank you...”
Chase grabbed her by the elbow as she turned away from the desk, steering her attention toward a man walking out the hotel entrance toward the street. “Am I seeing things,” he whispered, “or does that look exactly like the that traitorous horse-faced ass, Secretary of State?”
“It does... Where's your little pog-thing that had the list on it?”
“The e-RIP?” electronic - Report In Progress. “I transferred the info to my TESS,” he whispered.
“Look on your MOBIUS” she directed, following the man out the door. “Any files you had on your TESS may have been transferred over...”
■ ■ ■
“Maybe you'd prefer to drive, lady?” complained the driver.
“If you don't mind, yes,” replied Mercedes.
“Pssch,” snorted the driver, “then get your own car.”
“Let the man drive,” urged Chase pulling her back into her seat as the cab whistled through traffic.
“He's going to lose him...”
“No he's not,” countered Torn Dado, pointing ahead, “look, he's actually catching up.”
“He's heading out of the city,” announced the driver. “Once we clear the traffic he'll be an easy target.”
“You'll have to fall back then so we're not so obvious...”
“Yeah, you may not believe this lady, but this isn't my first time...” countered the driver gruffly.
Not unlike someone turning on a bathroom shower, the seven o'clock rain washed across the car prompting Chase to check the time on his MOBIUS, “We need to be back in less than two hours if we want to catch the barmaid before she gets to work.”
“We're going to need a vehicle,” whispered Torn Dado. “It would be best if we had our own...”
Mercedes scooted forward in her seat again, “Where can we rent a car later?”
“Back at your hotel,” replied the driver, passing between trucks.
Within a few minutes the city dropped away behind them giving way to sprawling suburbs, which in turn gave way to ranches and rolling hills. Dropping out of the air-lane the driver followed the other vehicle off the highway exit, falling back. “He's headed to the Cork & Cleaver,” he pointed, “top of the hill. It's a vineyard and restaurant - pretty pricey. Want me to follow him up?”
■ ■ ■
“The driver was right,” whispered Torn Dado, “we're really not dressed for this place.” The simple name, Cork & Cleaver, lied about its elegance. And the aromas, well, Torn Dado couldn't remember anything smelling this good since before he was deployed on the Conquest - his parents taking him to one of the finest restaurants back home, for a sendoff. “I want to live here...”
“On this planet?” asked Mercedes.
He flashed her a grin, “In this restaurant.”
The maitre d' glanced at them with a disapproving eye, but escorted them through the restaurant and seated them nonetheless. Toward the back, near the kitchen. Mercedes snagged the maitre d' by his sleeve, eyeing the table where the Secretary of State was sitting alone. “Listen,” she said in her best seductive kitten voice, “I realize we're not entirely dressed for the occasion, but we only have one night here and we were told that this was absolutely the finest restaurant with the finest service...” she rubbed his arm. “I would be sooo grateful if you could sit us over there,” she nodded at a more desirable table. “I promise we will take very good care of you...” She smiled coyly.
