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dochermes7/10/2024
I.
At this time of year, Seven PM was still light enough outside to easily read a newspaper. As they rolled over the Mid-Hudson Bridge, Timothy took a glimpse down at the river far below. "Looks like two speedboats are playing tag. Are the people drunk or what? They're going to sink each other."
Next to him in the front passenger seat, Lauren Sable Reilly gazed down and drew on her gift. Her senses could be enhanced by gralic force far beyond what flesh and blood organs could logically do. "Hmm. An open cooler full of beer cans on that boat with blue trim. Two girls arguing with their faces inches away from each other. I hope they don't cause an accident, they shouldn't be on the water in that condition."
Reaching the opposite shore from Poughkeepsie, Timothy swung down a curving ramp and merged with traffic heading north on Rt 9W. He laughed out loud. "If Jin was with us, she'd probably want to dive off the bridge into the river and haul those boaters ashore. She could do it, too."
From the back seat, Jocelyn Garimara said, "I have to face it. What's going to happen to my membership? None of you have mentioned whether I should step down or resign."
"What?" Timothy made a confused sound. "Joss, of course you're still part of the team. Why would you think otherwise?"
"Because I lost my Red Spectre! I don't have any special abilities now. I'm just a skinny little Abo woman. Maybe I'll get a job working in a dollar store."
"None of that," Tim scoffed. "Come on, Jocelyn. We've worked so closely together for all these years. We know we can trust you to have our backs. You won't panic and you know how to make quick decisions in crisis situations. How important do you think that is?"
"Well...I suppose..."
Sable said, "I wasn't even thinking of you stepping down from the team. You're a Tel Shai knight. You know Kumundu and you know all about the Midnight War. Jocelyn, even if your Spectre doesn't remanifest, you're our friend. Don't give it another thought."
"Okay," Jocelyn agreed. "It's nice to be appreciated. I didn't really want to go into retail."
They were entering the town of Highland. On either side of the highway, various business were stretched out with long spaces between them. Many residential houses could be seen on side streets. Spending so much of their time in Manhattan with its skyscrapers, the three KDF members felt a sort of relief at so much open sky around them. Dramatic white cumulus clouds were drifting by slowly overhead.
"Did Sulak and Valera go back to Androval?" asked Tim.
"No. I don't think they're too eager to go home after getting thrashed so thoroughly by Sirion," Sable answered. "There's the pool place."
She turned on to the side road next to the SwimDream Pool Contractors, where a short man with a cigar stub idly watched them roll past. He was talking into his phone with some agitation, next to a children's plastic pool with a SOLD sign on it.
Further down the road was a three story house which, one hundred years ago, had been home to a lkarge extended family and their live-in servants. Those gilded days were long gone. As Sable slowed while going past, the KDF members could see a vertical row of call buttons and name tags. The building had been divided up into five apartments.
"And there's the Accord," she said. "Matches Frank's description exactly, including the license plate."
"Man, he does a lot of work on research," Timothy said. "We described the car we saw Sirion get into. Frank got clear shots of it from red light cameras in the area. Then he compared it to every Accord in this county, found a match and tracked it down. How long would that take?"
"Well, he IS a Trom," Jocelyn put in from the back. "Who does it belong to?"
"He said it's registered to someone named Vincent Massarani, 58, address down in White Plains. The driver's license photo doesn't look anything like the old fellow with the beard we saw."
Sable went back up to normal speed and headed further down the road, then turned aaround and ent back. "That was the only car parked near the house. I think now is when we should check the scene out."
"Funny to be acting in daylight," Timothy observed. "We usually attack in the middle of the night."
Pulling into the parking lot of the boarding house, Sable tapped her Link. "Frank can you get us the floor plan of this house?"
"I'm sending it to your Links now," the Trom's steady voice answered. "It is from when renovations were made in 2021, so there may have been some changes since then."
"Thank you. Stand by. If they run for it, you might be needed to track them."
"I am monitoring business security cameras and home front door cameras surrounding the target," he said. "There is sufficient input to work with."
"Good to know. Carry on." As Sable broke off, she raised one eyebrow at her teammates. "It'd be reassuring to have Frank on the scene, of course, but I think he serves our purposes better this way. For this case, at least."
In the rear, Jocelyn Garimara tapped the three leather satchels on the seat next to her. "In my opinion, we've come up with a better approach than force. When the three strongest living beings all get the snot punched out of them, you can scratch 'strength' off the options."
"Time for your friendly ghosts," Sable said.
"On their way." Timothy held out his upturned hands. Two of the faintly visible whirlwinds formed, five inches high and spinning quickly. They shot out through the partly opened car window and whooshed toward the boarding house.
Watching, Jocelyn Garimara bit back a remark about how lucky Tim was to still have his power. She was determined not to be a bitter drag of a person. She would get up after being knocked down, dust herself off and keep moving. She simply said, "This Sirion didn't pull a robbery last night. I guess the right barney with our Melgarin gave him plenty to think about."
"One death so far," Sable said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "That woman who was jogging. We can't wait for Unicorn to get back. I want this threat ended."
Leaning back, Tim had an unfocussed, faraway look in his eyes. "Only one person in the house right now. Up on the top floor, room in the North corner. There's a man lying on a ratty couch, reading a newspaper. He doesn't have white hair or a beard, though."
"Any evidence in sight?"
"Absolutely," Tim said. "A couple expensive cameras on the dresser, lots of jewelry lying out in the open. There's a small paper bag next to the couch, my caspers are poking into it.. Yep, it's bundles of twenty dollar bills..."
"Good enough," Jocelyn snorted, "If we were cops, we'd have probable cause."
Sable unbuckled her seat belt. "Everyone get their satchels strapped on and ready. Jocelyn, you're coming in with me. Tim, I want you behind the wheel and watching the area with your caspers. If you see Sirion, hit the silent alert on the Links."
They all got out, Timothy moving around the car to get in the driver's seat. Walking close by her captain, Jocelyn realized she had seldom seem Sable so grim.
II.
One side of the boarding house had a Z-shaped staircase running up the outside wall to the second and third stories. Deciding they would be too visible to the suspect inside, Sable went to the ground level door. She took a Trom device from her jacket and pressed it up to the keyhole. Thin metal tendrils extended into the lock, stiffened and rotated until a click was heard. The two KDF members entered and closed the door behind them.
Silent even with their heavy boots on bare wood, they went up narrow stairs to the third floor. Jocelyn held back as she saw Sable pause in front of a door with a metal tag 3A. She knew her captain's enhanced hearing could count the heartbeats of anyone inside that room.
Dipping a hand into her satchel, Sable drew out a thick aluminum tube and knelt to press its nozzle into the gap at the bottom of the door. The faintest hissing could be heard as she triggered its contents. Straightening back up and replacing the aerosol tube to her bag, she glanced back at her teammate. Jocelyn held up her wrist and displayed her watch, tapping it to indicate one minute had passed.
Sable tilted her head listening, then nodded with satisfaction. "Breathing deep and slow, heartbeat steady. He's out." She found the door was locked, used the Trom device again and they entered. The gas she had sprayed into the room was a variant of the anesthetic used on their darts, fast-acting but dissipating in a little under a minute. It put a normal Human under for about fifteen or twenty minutes.
Snoring on a well-worn couch was the middle-aged man with a considerable paunch. He was barefoot, wearing dark slacks and a plain white T-shirt. The newspaper had fallen to the floor next to him when the gas had knocked him out. The man's doughy face had a few day's worth of stubble on it and his greying hair was not much thicker. Sable promptly bound his wrists behind him with unusually thick handcuffs, then hobbled his ankles with restraint straps. Only then did she relax slightly.
Jocelyn had checked the bathroom, which smelled of mildew, then poked around in the closet to be sure no one else was present. She trusted her captain's senses but double checking was their policy. "All clear."
"Smooth so far," Sable said. In the all-black field suit, she looked more ominous than usual. Holstered at her right hip was the needle-barreled anesthetic dart gun, which the short jacket concealed. A dozen weapons and miniature gadgets were concealed in hidden pockets and slits. "He's fighting the gas. I think he'll wake up sooner than usual."
Moving around the seedy room, Jocelyn was taking in all the loot on open display. "You'd think these bogans would at least hide everything they stole. That's just common sense."
"Here's his wallet," Sable said, "Expired driver's license. Vincent Massarani, all right. I wonder what his connection to the Vidimars might be?"
"His connection to the WHAT now?"
"Leopold and Warren Vidimar, the father and son who founded the Preincarnators," Sable told her. "The sect hasn't been heard from in twenty years. I'd hoped they were extinct and the Preincarnation spell was lost. Wait. He's coming around."
For a minute, Massarani stirred and muttered dazedly, blinking and trying to focus his eyes. When he seemed fully conscious, there was no fear in his eyes.. only anger.
"Don't change to your Malberon form," Sable snapped. "Your restraints are designed to hold Melgarin. You're not going anywhere."
"You're the police? Some SWAT team in those outfits?"
"No. We are knights of Tel Shai. I see you've heard the name. So, Vincent Massarani, how did you learn about Preincarnation?"
"What? You're crazy. I don't know what you're talking about. Am I under arrest or what?!"
Sable kept her voice calm and controlled. "Leopold Vidimar created a spell almost forty years ago that changed a modern person into the physical likeness of an ancestor. His son Warren later refined and expanded the effects. But it's been twenty years since Warren was killed and no Preincarnators have been heard from since. What's your connection?"
"Let me go! Get these things off me, you're violating my rights...!"
"You found a way to change yourself into the simulacrum of Malberon," Sable said. "And as Malberon, you can change that boy into the likeness of Sirion. Obviously, he can't do it himself or he wouldn't need you. And you're using him to pull these robberies. That's all ending now."
Massarani had managed to swing his legs around and sit up on the couch. "Idiots! You're idiots, both of you. Do you WANT to die? Sirion will pull your arms and legs off."
"He can try," Sable said, but stopped as the Link on her belt vibrated. Instantly, she whipped up her air-powered pistol and sent a needle-thin dart into the prisoner's neck. Massarani twitched and sagged back unconscious to the couch. "Go ahead, Tim," Sable said.
"The boy is coming up the street," came Tim's voice. "He's in Human form, still got that bad limp. It's going to take him a few minutes to get up to the third floor."
"Thanks, we're ready for him. Stand by." Sable gestured at the bathroom. "Joss, I want you in there with your device ready. I'll get him so his back is to you."
Sable heard the distinctive uneven footsteps in the hall outside, then the rattle of the door knob turning as the boy found it was unlocked. He entered uncertainly, leaning on his cane, frowning as he saw Massarani out cold on the couch. "Hey, old man, you drunk again? What's your problem?"
As he closed the door and went toward the couch, he spotted Sable standing on the other side of the room. She had her arm extended and was aiming the sinister-looking dart gun right at him. "Whoa, what's all this? Who are you?"
"He won't be transforming you into Sirion right now," she said. "Stay calm. This doesn't have to go down hard."
Surprisingly, the boy smirked. "I get it. I get it. You got something to do with those three Melgar toughs I thrashed last night. Is that it?"
"Yes. What's your name, son?"
"None of your business! What did you do to the old man? Is he going to be okay?" Despite his reliance on the cane and his unimposing build, the boy shook a fist at her. "You better not have hurt him."
Sable said. "He's fine. You're both going to have to come with us..."
The boy laughed out loud and straightened up. "Like Hell! Don't you get it? I look the same in both bodies. Why would I change back to a gimp with a bad knee?"
The air pistol coughed twice and two of the thin darts jabbed into the youth, but dropped harmlessly to the floor. Sirion ripped his shirt and jacket away as if they were sodden paper towels to reveal the blue arena suit. "Try a taser next!" he taunted. "Or a gun, I don't care."
Sidestepping to the Melgar's left, Sable lowered her weapon and swayed back to let a whistling roundhouse blow swipe the air where her head had been a split-second earlier. He lunged forward, swinging wildly with fists that would shatter and ruin any flesh and bone they hit. Sable faded back, barely keeping out of range.
"Hold still!" he yelled.
From behind Sirion, a cold voice said, "What a goddam brat."
The Melgar whirled and, with a dull thump, a spray of thick brown goo gushed out right in his face. He fell clumsily to the floor with a crash and pawed at his face, making muted strangling sounds. He couldn't get a good grip on the rubbery membrane that had hardened over his face, although he tried desperately.
Lowering the pistol grip nozzle of the hose which led back to her satchel, Jocelyn Garimara made a satisfied sound. "Well, I'll say that worked well enough, captain."
Sable caught her breath and dug in her jacket for the anesthetic spray. "That.. was a little too close. Thanks, Jocelyn." She crouched over the flailing Melgar youth. "We can't let him suffocate."
"He did kill that woman, remember?"
"I know. Joss, use your knife to get his mouth open but don't let him grab you."
"No worries," Jocelyn said, drawing a combat knife with a seven inch serrated blade from its sheath on her thigh. Quickly and deftly as if she had practiced it hundreds of times, she gripped the rubber-coated head and sliced open a gap where the boy's mouth would be. Sirion gasped desperately for breath, sitting up, and Sable sprayed the tranquilizing gas directly into the opening as the boy drew deeply. A second later, the Melgar went limp but kept breathing through his open mouth.
"That did it," Sable announced. "We'll have to give him a massive dose. No restraints will hold him." She saw a chair nearby and dropped into it. "Whew. Let me catch my breath. Tell Tim we're okay, will you?"
As Jocelyn reported through the Link to Timothy, Sable regained her composure. Finally, she said, "We're going to have to wait until dark. Then we can haul these two down to the car. There won't be enough room. One of us will have to stay behind."
"I'll do it," Jocelyn said. "I'll take a taxi to the train station in Poughkeepsie. It'll be a nice quiet ride back to Manhattan. Captain? Why do you have that look on your face?"
Sable glanced up and shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't spot that he was in his Preincarnated body. With my enhanced senses... I'm the one person who shouldn't have been fooled. I'm mortified."
12/28/2024
I.
At this time of year, Seven PM was still light enough outside to easily read a newspaper. As they rolled over the Mid-Hudson Bridge, Timothy took a glimpse down at the river far below. "Looks like two speedboats are playing tag. Are the people drunk or what? They're going to sink each other."
Next to him in the front passenger seat, Lauren Sable Reilly gazed down and drew on her gift. Her senses could be enhanced by gralic force far beyond what flesh and blood organs could logically do. "Hmm. An open cooler full of beer cans on that boat with blue trim. Two girls arguing with their faces inches away from each other. I hope they don't cause an accident, they shouldn't be on the water in that condition."
Reaching the opposite shore from Poughkeepsie, Timothy swung down a curving ramp and merged with traffic heading north on Rt 9W. He laughed out loud. "If Jin was with us, she'd probably want to dive off the bridge into the river and haul those boaters ashore. She could do it, too."
From the back seat, Jocelyn Garimara said, "I have to face it. What's going to happen to my membership? None of you have mentioned whether I should step down or resign."
"What?" Timothy made a confused sound. "Joss, of course you're still part of the team. Why would you think otherwise?"
"Because I lost my Red Spectre! I don't have any special abilities now. I'm just a skinny little Abo woman. Maybe I'll get a job working in a dollar store."
"None of that," Tim scoffed. "Come on, Jocelyn. We've worked so closely together for all these years. We know we can trust you to have our backs. You won't panic and you know how to make quick decisions in crisis situations. How important do you think that is?"
"Well...I suppose..."
Sable said, "I wasn't even thinking of you stepping down from the team. You're a Tel Shai knight. You know Kumundu and you know all about the Midnight War. Jocelyn, even if your Spectre doesn't remanifest, you're our friend. Don't give it another thought."
"Okay," Jocelyn agreed. "It's nice to be appreciated. I didn't really want to go into retail."
They were entering the town of Highland. On either side of the highway, various business were stretched out with long spaces between them. Many residential houses could be seen on side streets. Spending so much of their time in Manhattan with its skyscrapers, the three KDF members felt a sort of relief at so much open sky around them. Dramatic white cumulus clouds were drifting by slowly overhead.
"Did Sulak and Valera go back to Androval?" asked Tim.
"No. I don't think they're too eager to go home after getting thrashed so thoroughly by Sirion," Sable answered. "There's the pool place."
She turned on to the side road next to the SwimDream Pool Contractors, where a short man with a cigar stub idly watched them roll past. He was talking into his phone with some agitation, next to a children's plastic pool with a SOLD sign on it.
Further down the road was a three story house which, one hundred years ago, had been home to a lkarge extended family and their live-in servants. Those gilded days were long gone. As Sable slowed while going past, the KDF members could see a vertical row of call buttons and name tags. The building had been divided up into five apartments.
"And there's the Accord," she said. "Matches Frank's description exactly, including the license plate."
"Man, he does a lot of work on research," Timothy said. "We described the car we saw Sirion get into. Frank got clear shots of it from red light cameras in the area. Then he compared it to every Accord in this county, found a match and tracked it down. How long would that take?"
"Well, he IS a Trom," Jocelyn put in from the back. "Who does it belong to?"
"He said it's registered to someone named Vincent Massarani, 58, address down in White Plains. The driver's license photo doesn't look anything like the old fellow with the beard we saw."
Sable went back up to normal speed and headed further down the road, then turned aaround and ent back. "That was the only car parked near the house. I think now is when we should check the scene out."
"Funny to be acting in daylight," Timothy observed. "We usually attack in the middle of the night."
Pulling into the parking lot of the boarding house, Sable tapped her Link. "Frank can you get us the floor plan of this house?"
"I'm sending it to your Links now," the Trom's steady voice answered. "It is from when renovations were made in 2021, so there may have been some changes since then."
"Thank you. Stand by. If they run for it, you might be needed to track them."
"I am monitoring business security cameras and home front door cameras surrounding the target," he said. "There is sufficient input to work with."
"Good to know. Carry on." As Sable broke off, she raised one eyebrow at her teammates. "It'd be reassuring to have Frank on the scene, of course, but I think he serves our purposes better this way. For this case, at least."
In the rear, Jocelyn Garimara tapped the three leather satchels on the seat next to her. "In my opinion, we've come up with a better approach than force. When the three strongest living beings all get the snot punched out of them, you can scratch 'strength' off the options."
"Time for your friendly ghosts," Sable said.
"On their way." Timothy held out his upturned hands. Two of the faintly visible whirlwinds formed, five inches high and spinning quickly. They shot out through the partly opened car window and whooshed toward the boarding house.
Watching, Jocelyn Garimara bit back a remark about how lucky Tim was to still have his power. She was determined not to be a bitter drag of a person. She would get up after being knocked down, dust herself off and keep moving. She simply said, "This Sirion didn't pull a robbery last night. I guess the right barney with our Melgarin gave him plenty to think about."
"One death so far," Sable said, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. "That woman who was jogging. We can't wait for Unicorn to get back. I want this threat ended."
Leaning back, Tim had an unfocussed, faraway look in his eyes. "Only one person in the house right now. Up on the top floor, room in the North corner. There's a man lying on a ratty couch, reading a newspaper. He doesn't have white hair or a beard, though."
"Any evidence in sight?"
"Absolutely," Tim said. "A couple expensive cameras on the dresser, lots of jewelry lying out in the open. There's a small paper bag next to the couch, my caspers are poking into it.. Yep, it's bundles of twenty dollar bills..."
"Good enough," Jocelyn snorted, "If we were cops, we'd have probable cause."
Sable unbuckled her seat belt. "Everyone get their satchels strapped on and ready. Jocelyn, you're coming in with me. Tim, I want you behind the wheel and watching the area with your caspers. If you see Sirion, hit the silent alert on the Links."
They all got out, Timothy moving around the car to get in the driver's seat. Walking close by her captain, Jocelyn realized she had seldom seem Sable so grim.
II.
One side of the boarding house had a Z-shaped staircase running up the outside wall to the second and third stories. Deciding they would be too visible to the suspect inside, Sable went to the ground level door. She took a Trom device from her jacket and pressed it up to the keyhole. Thin metal tendrils extended into the lock, stiffened and rotated until a click was heard. The two KDF members entered and closed the door behind them.
Silent even with their heavy boots on bare wood, they went up narrow stairs to the third floor. Jocelyn held back as she saw Sable pause in front of a door with a metal tag 3A. She knew her captain's enhanced hearing could count the heartbeats of anyone inside that room.
Dipping a hand into her satchel, Sable drew out a thick aluminum tube and knelt to press its nozzle into the gap at the bottom of the door. The faintest hissing could be heard as she triggered its contents. Straightening back up and replacing the aerosol tube to her bag, she glanced back at her teammate. Jocelyn held up her wrist and displayed her watch, tapping it to indicate one minute had passed.
Sable tilted her head listening, then nodded with satisfaction. "Breathing deep and slow, heartbeat steady. He's out." She found the door was locked, used the Trom device again and they entered. The gas she had sprayed into the room was a variant of the anesthetic used on their darts, fast-acting but dissipating in a little under a minute. It put a normal Human under for about fifteen or twenty minutes.
Snoring on a well-worn couch was the middle-aged man with a considerable paunch. He was barefoot, wearing dark slacks and a plain white T-shirt. The newspaper had fallen to the floor next to him when the gas had knocked him out. The man's doughy face had a few day's worth of stubble on it and his greying hair was not much thicker. Sable promptly bound his wrists behind him with unusually thick handcuffs, then hobbled his ankles with restraint straps. Only then did she relax slightly.
Jocelyn had checked the bathroom, which smelled of mildew, then poked around in the closet to be sure no one else was present. She trusted her captain's senses but double checking was their policy. "All clear."
"Smooth so far," Sable said. In the all-black field suit, she looked more ominous than usual. Holstered at her right hip was the needle-barreled anesthetic dart gun, which the short jacket concealed. A dozen weapons and miniature gadgets were concealed in hidden pockets and slits. "He's fighting the gas. I think he'll wake up sooner than usual."
Moving around the seedy room, Jocelyn was taking in all the loot on open display. "You'd think these bogans would at least hide everything they stole. That's just common sense."
"Here's his wallet," Sable said, "Expired driver's license. Vincent Massarani, all right. I wonder what his connection to the Vidimars might be?"
"His connection to the WHAT now?"
"Leopold and Warren Vidimar, the father and son who founded the Preincarnators," Sable told her. "The sect hasn't been heard from in twenty years. I'd hoped they were extinct and the Preincarnation spell was lost. Wait. He's coming around."
For a minute, Massarani stirred and muttered dazedly, blinking and trying to focus his eyes. When he seemed fully conscious, there was no fear in his eyes.. only anger.
"Don't change to your Malberon form," Sable snapped. "Your restraints are designed to hold Melgarin. You're not going anywhere."
"You're the police? Some SWAT team in those outfits?"
"No. We are knights of Tel Shai. I see you've heard the name. So, Vincent Massarani, how did you learn about Preincarnation?"
"What? You're crazy. I don't know what you're talking about. Am I under arrest or what?!"
Sable kept her voice calm and controlled. "Leopold Vidimar created a spell almost forty years ago that changed a modern person into the physical likeness of an ancestor. His son Warren later refined and expanded the effects. But it's been twenty years since Warren was killed and no Preincarnators have been heard from since. What's your connection?"
"Let me go! Get these things off me, you're violating my rights...!"
"You found a way to change yourself into the simulacrum of Malberon," Sable said. "And as Malberon, you can change that boy into the likeness of Sirion. Obviously, he can't do it himself or he wouldn't need you. And you're using him to pull these robberies. That's all ending now."
Massarani had managed to swing his legs around and sit up on the couch. "Idiots! You're idiots, both of you. Do you WANT to die? Sirion will pull your arms and legs off."
"He can try," Sable said, but stopped as the Link on her belt vibrated. Instantly, she whipped up her air-powered pistol and sent a needle-thin dart into the prisoner's neck. Massarani twitched and sagged back unconscious to the couch. "Go ahead, Tim," Sable said.
"The boy is coming up the street," came Tim's voice. "He's in Human form, still got that bad limp. It's going to take him a few minutes to get up to the third floor."
"Thanks, we're ready for him. Stand by." Sable gestured at the bathroom. "Joss, I want you in there with your device ready. I'll get him so his back is to you."
Sable heard the distinctive uneven footsteps in the hall outside, then the rattle of the door knob turning as the boy found it was unlocked. He entered uncertainly, leaning on his cane, frowning as he saw Massarani out cold on the couch. "Hey, old man, you drunk again? What's your problem?"
As he closed the door and went toward the couch, he spotted Sable standing on the other side of the room. She had her arm extended and was aiming the sinister-looking dart gun right at him. "Whoa, what's all this? Who are you?"
"He won't be transforming you into Sirion right now," she said. "Stay calm. This doesn't have to go down hard."
Surprisingly, the boy smirked. "I get it. I get it. You got something to do with those three Melgar toughs I thrashed last night. Is that it?"
"Yes. What's your name, son?"
"None of your business! What did you do to the old man? Is he going to be okay?" Despite his reliance on the cane and his unimposing build, the boy shook a fist at her. "You better not have hurt him."
Sable said. "He's fine. You're both going to have to come with us..."
The boy laughed out loud and straightened up. "Like Hell! Don't you get it? I look the same in both bodies. Why would I change back to a gimp with a bad knee?"
The air pistol coughed twice and two of the thin darts jabbed into the youth, but dropped harmlessly to the floor. Sirion ripped his shirt and jacket away as if they were sodden paper towels to reveal the blue arena suit. "Try a taser next!" he taunted. "Or a gun, I don't care."
Sidestepping to the Melgar's left, Sable lowered her weapon and swayed back to let a whistling roundhouse blow swipe the air where her head had been a split-second earlier. He lunged forward, swinging wildly with fists that would shatter and ruin any flesh and bone they hit. Sable faded back, barely keeping out of range.
"Hold still!" he yelled.
From behind Sirion, a cold voice said, "What a goddam brat."
The Melgar whirled and, with a dull thump, a spray of thick brown goo gushed out right in his face. He fell clumsily to the floor with a crash and pawed at his face, making muted strangling sounds. He couldn't get a good grip on the rubbery membrane that had hardened over his face, although he tried desperately.
Lowering the pistol grip nozzle of the hose which led back to her satchel, Jocelyn Garimara made a satisfied sound. "Well, I'll say that worked well enough, captain."
Sable caught her breath and dug in her jacket for the anesthetic spray. "That.. was a little too close. Thanks, Jocelyn." She crouched over the flailing Melgar youth. "We can't let him suffocate."
"He did kill that woman, remember?"
"I know. Joss, use your knife to get his mouth open but don't let him grab you."
"No worries," Jocelyn said, drawing a combat knife with a seven inch serrated blade from its sheath on her thigh. Quickly and deftly as if she had practiced it hundreds of times, she gripped the rubber-coated head and sliced open a gap where the boy's mouth would be. Sirion gasped desperately for breath, sitting up, and Sable sprayed the tranquilizing gas directly into the opening as the boy drew deeply. A second later, the Melgar went limp but kept breathing through his open mouth.
"That did it," Sable announced. "We'll have to give him a massive dose. No restraints will hold him." She saw a chair nearby and dropped into it. "Whew. Let me catch my breath. Tell Tim we're okay, will you?"
As Jocelyn reported through the Link to Timothy, Sable regained her composure. Finally, she said, "We're going to have to wait until dark. Then we can haul these two down to the car. There won't be enough room. One of us will have to stay behind."
"I'll do it," Jocelyn said. "I'll take a taxi to the train station in Poughkeepsie. It'll be a nice quiet ride back to Manhattan. Captain? Why do you have that look on your face?"
Sable glanced up and shook her head. "I can't believe I didn't spot that he was in his Preincarnated body. With my enhanced senses... I'm the one person who shouldn't have been fooled. I'm mortified."
12/28/2024
no subject
Date: 2024-12-29 04:57 pm (UTC)I'm not sure exactly what our heroes did with these Preincarnators. Once Unicorn shows up, she can revert Sirion to a normal Human. But turning them over to the Mandate or 21 Black might not be a good idea, since one of the suspects is a minor. Keeping Malberon separated might prevent him from turning the kid into Sirion but the KDF isn't set up to hold prisoners indefinitely, nor are they morally justified in doing so. I guess they brought the two into Androval, since the Melgarin had an interest in restraining two of their own Race. The King would simply order them kept prisoner in widely separated dungeons without any date for release.