Starline

by Imogene Nix

  Quick steps sounded outside the door, and a voice from outside called, “Jemma, are you okay? Do I need to call the police?”

  Feinstein took advantage of the momentary distraction. With one almighty heave, he wrenched free of Chowd and Duvall and headed for the door. He ran out before they could grab him again. Chowd made to give chase, but Duvall stopped him.

  “No. Did you fit the tracker?” he asked. Chowd shook his head. Duvall scowled. “Damn, then we need the information from Jemma about how to find him, his address, and place of work.” He turned and looked at Mellissa.

  “Mellissa, what in God’s name are you doing? How could you let that happen?” Jem screeched.

  “Jemma, do I need to call the cops?” the voice outside asked.

  Mellissa called out, “No, Jem’s fine. She just got a fright. Thanks, Mr. Stelling.” She looked at Jem as if daring her to contradict her. “Come on, I’ll fill you in on what I can, but you need to sit down and listen.” She pulled the young woman toward the seat, but Jem twisted in Mellissa’s arms.

  As Duvall started to step forward, Chowd grabbed his arm. “Let her do this.”

  Mellissa tried to talk to Jem, but she wouldn’t listen. “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

  Mellissa looked at her friend and with a grimace said, “Promise to hear me out? It’s going to sound… It’ll sound weird, so listen all the way through.”

  She settled down onto a seat, and Duvall watched, as always fascinated with Mellissa’s thought processes. It was clear she was deciding how to tell as much of the truth as she possibly could. She sucked in a deep breath, and he wondered exactly how much she would tell. Anxiety chewed at him, and he saw the twin emotion on Mellissa’s face as well.

  “Well, you see, Duvall and Stuart are really rather more than just security experts. Their job is to track Andurs. They have been for some time. He has information about a…well, a major terrorist-type threat.”

  She glanced at Duvall, and he let the tension wash off. He listened intently but continued watching Chowd, who prowled. His friend wanted to go after Andurs, but waited because it was their best option.

  “Anyway,” Mellissa continued, “they believe that Andurs has been in contact with some really dangerous people and have to track them down before it can go too much further.”

  Jem looked disbelievingly at her. “Girl, if you believe that, you have read far too many romances. Real life isn’t like that. You know it. I know it. F-A-C-T. Fact!” A cynical look spread over her face. “You’re always so quick to believe, but you need to come into the real world.”

  Duvall stood up, ready to protect Mellissa. He purposely made his movements menacing. Mellissa held up her hand, stopping him and looking Jem in the face.

  “No, Jem. He’s exactly what he has told me. We need to track down Andurs, and quickly. That is what Stuart—dammit, I’m not going to use that stupid name. That’s what Chowd is doing right now. Using the information we have to find him. I know this seems really far-fetched, but there is still so much left to do and very little time.”

  Duvall watched Mellissa’s face; she looked at her friend with pity in her eyes.

  “I know this sounds unbelievable. Really, I do. But I wouldn’t put you in this position if it wasn’t for a good reason.” She bit her lip. “Jem, I need his home and work addresses.”

  Jem laughed and stood up. “Yeah, right, Liss.” She looked brave, but underneath the bravado, there was hurt in her eyes. Moving slowly, she grabbed her bag, taking out a slim, black diary and turning to the last pages. She flicked through, obviously searching for an entry, then headed for the notepad and pen beside the phone, writing down two addresses. She thrust them to Mellissa. “There, now you have it. So go. Oh, and you know what? Don’t bother coming back.” She turned and pointed to the door.

  * * * *

  Tears welled up in Mellissa’s throat. She reached for Jem, but she turned away from the outstretched hand. Mellissa looked at Jem, her hand hanging for what felt like moments, then her shoulders slumped and she spun away, Jem’s cold dismissal bringing tears to her eyes.

  She knew Duvall watched what happened, but she tried to turn away, and he cursed. Duvall gave Chowd a pointed look then, with a nod, placed a small device on Jem. Chowd pressed the button on the little black box in his hands, and Jemma disappeared from sight.

  Mellissa started forward, glanced to Duvall then Chowd. “What did you do?” she demanded hoarsely. “Where is she?” Her hands fisted, eyes narrowed.

  “On the Elector. I had Elara on standby, ready for her. I planned to bring her back with us after what you found, but… There hasn’t been time. You said she has no family, except you. She’ll be fine,” Duvall soothed. He reached for Mellissa and ran his hands up and down her arms. “Come on, we have to get going.”

  She was ready to rip through him, but time ticked away. They had only hours to find Feinstein and his contact. “Hang on then, before we go anywhere, I am guessing she won’t have a chance to come back, will she?”

  “No, Mellissa, she can’t,” he said, his tone gentle, and she felt her heart squeeze.

  “Well, you can’t take her without at least allowing her to have something. It’s cruel. I can tell you, there is nothing worse than having nothing of your own. Being totally reliant on what is given to you. You said even Elara said the same thing with me. Jemma needs the same courtesy. Please? I just need a couple of minutes to grab her clothes and her important items.”

  Duvall looked at Chowd. “Do we have a couple of minutes?”

  “Captain, I believe time is of the essence. However, perhaps ten minutes is acceptable,” Chowd concluded with a sigh.

  Duvall stared at Mellissa. “Ten minutes is all I can give you. Tell me what you want and I will start on her clothes.”

  With a quick, tight smile, Mellissa instructed him where to find bags, having helped Jem move in. She sent him in the direction of the bedroom. Chowd started emptying the shelves of photos. For herself, she headed to the single cabinet where she knew Jem kept the mementos from her childhood, the small battered box that contained the blanket, photo, and letter that she had from her parents. Within minutes, a small bundle of bags and boxes sat at their feet.

  “Thank you,” whispered Mellissa.

  Duvall turned to her and simply asked, “Done?”

  She nodded, and Chowd tagged the bags and box with the small tracking bugs, then clicked the button to transport them, just like they’d done with her things.

  “Thank you.” She reached up and placed a soft kiss on his mouth, then settled back on her feet, her eyes shining with love while her chest swelled once more. “Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  They barreled down the stairs of the flats, the sound of their boots tapping on the steps as they went in a staccato pattern. Mellissa felt pleased she had changed into her running shoes before they headed to the Coffee Pop. The slippers would have been worn thin by now, and their day still had hours of running before them. Her emotions turbulent after the scene in Jem’s apartment, her head spun, and her stomach tightened. It could be hunger or nerves, she supposed, but she’d lay a bet on the latter. The thought occurred without any humor. She would need to explain what had happened to Jem once this mission was done, but she didn’t look forward to the task.

  They piled into her little blue car. Funny, the day she had bought it, it seemed so snug for just her, but now, she felt no pleasure in ownership as they squeezed into the tight seats. She turned the key, and the engine sparked, the motor purred, and she smoothly pulled out from the curb.

  Chowd held the palm unit she had received from the comm officer in his hands, cursing at it when it did not cooperate. Having a vague idea of the location of the address Jem had given them, she drove across the bridge and in the general direction, looking for somewhere to pull over as Chowd continued to growl at the small machine in his hands. Spying a spot, she pulled off the road.

  Duvall looked at
her, but she held her hand out to Chowd wordlessly, who placed the unit in her palm. She entered her information and with a beep the unit started giving audible directions. Looking carefully at the road, she pulled back into the traffic, following the instructions to a nondescript building in a run-down area.

  The building was quiet and creepy. Three stories high, dirty brown stucco, chipped with broken windows, it ominously blocked out the sun. A shiver ran through Mellissa as she undid her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. She clicked the car alarm, watching as once more Chowd placed himself in front of her, Duvall behind, then they made their way up the rickety stairs toward the door of the unit. They knocked, but the echo from within told them that it was probably too late.

  Chowd took a small pen-like item from his pocket, laid it against the door, and hit the button. Nothing happened. He tried again. Mellissa reached a hand forward and tried the handle of the door, rattling and pushing it. It gave under the pressure of her push. Before she could enter, Chowd had pushed himself once more in front of her, his gaze darting back and forth, laser pistol in hand. Duvall kept watch from the rear, one hand around Mellissa, the other on the laser she knew he had secreted in his pocket, ensuring no surprises from below or the doors either side.

  “Clear,” came Chowd’s voice. They moved in, but the patterns of dust on the floor told them the apartment had sat empty for a long time. The elaborate phone system that sat on an empty bench gave them pause. Chowd pointed to the unit. “That was how they relayed the phone calls from Jemma to Andurs, I believe.”

  Duvall let out a long sigh. “Another dead end.”

  He shook his head and indicated that Chowd should at least take a look around in case something else would give them further clues.

  “Barsha!” erupted from Duvall, and Mellissa watched him run fingers through his hair in frustration. “Just when we think we’re getting closer, something else seems to slip away.”

  The sound of Chowd’s footsteps echoed as he moved from room to room. “Captain, you need to see this.” Chowd popped his head around the corner of a doorway.

  Duvall, holding Mellissa’s hand, stepped quickly in the direction, and they entered the room. In the corner stood an elaborate machine with lights winking and flashing in the gloom of the dusty room. She looked at Duvall. His face looked even more grim.

  “It’s a transmission system. Crude but effective,” he said, letting go of her and inspecting it without touching. “It also has a holographic facility,” he murmured to Chowd.

  “I think it has long-range capability though,” Chowd muttered, crouching down to inspect something on the unit. “See the way this is rigged?” He indicated a setting to Duvall, who bent down to look. “I would hazard a guess that it was built here and is the main point of transmission out of here to wherever they have a ship hiding, but if I were them, there would be a secondary unit somewhere nearby to act as backup in case it failed or was located.”

  “Can you get a fix on it?”

  “Yeah, just give me a minute and I’ll run a diagnostic on it.” Chowd held up his small handheld palm screen and tapped in a command. It flashed for a minute or two, then a low beep told them he had downloaded the information they required. “Okay. Got it.” Chowd looked at Duvall. “Do you want me to disable it?”

  “I think that would be best, and maybe set a self-destruct on it so that there will be nothing left afterward, perhaps something remote,” said Duvall. “But initially we need to disable it so it no longer works. That’ll only slow them down though. We need to find the other unit in order to stop them.”

  Chowd nodded and pulled the device from his pocket again. Putting it to parts of the machine, he pressed the button. A series of pops and a puff of smoke later, the lights stopped whirring.

  “I have set a self-destruct tag on it. Once I give the code the unit will effectively destroy any working systems and chips.” He looked at Duvall, who nodded.

  “We need to get out of here now,” Duvall said, pulling Mellissa forward. “If they get wind, we’re sitting ducks.”

  Mellissa watched as Chowd quickly checked the area, once more pushing to the front, checking around before ushering them out the door, down the stairs that quivered under their weight, and into the vehicle.

  Time now running short, they still had to find Feinstein, work out the specifics of Crick Sur Banden’s plan, and get out of there before detection. In her heart, Mellissa knew their chances of successfully completing the mission had just got more remote.

  “If you had a plant in the past, at this particular time, Chowd, what would you think is the main reason?” Mellissa could almost hear his mind turning over the known facts.

  “I would say it has something to do with the agreement that will be signed in the next few weeks by the varied governments of Earth. They agree to focus their military budgets to interstellar travel and colonization at the foreign leader’s convention.” Chowd’s voice was thoughtful.

  “I think that could be what this is all about. The timing, the location. It all points to that. They’ll possibly have a mole close to the delegates.” Duvall spoke quietly. “How else would they get in, but through their ability to supply goods to the various delegates? Swap the staff and they have access to the people they need to influence and replace.” Duvall sat back with his eyes closed, head resting on the seat. “We have to succeed, or the past, present, and future will be changed.” He turned to look out the window as they sped along toward the location of Roo Edan Industries.

  * * * *

  The small blue car sat outside an old warehouse, hidden in shadows as the sun started to dip in the sky.

  “Why can’t we just contact the leaders? It’s not like you don’t have the ability to do so.” Mellissa huddled down in her seat.

  “If we made contact, they probably wouldn’t believe us, and it would mean making a material change to the timeline. It would also give them access to technology they don’t have and shouldn’t have for another couple of hundred years. When we do that, it causes a ripple in the future. We have to avoid that at all costs,” Duvall said, his voice quiet in the growing gloom.

  “But what about Jem? Aren’t you going to change the timeline by removing her?” She watched as he closed his eyes in discomfort.

  “Sometimes, when we make decisions that affect the timeline, because they are minor players in the big picture, we can minimize the damage. In Jemma’s case, she is really more of a…minor casualty of the skirmish.”

  Minor casualty? Jem was a minor casualty? Then what am I? “What about me then? Am I a minor casualty too?” She felt horrified at the description of their lives. He reached for her, and she pulled away in disgust.

  “That isn’t quite what I meant. What I meant is that Jem will be dead within days, so the effect to the continuum is minor. It won’t cause a ripple in the future, like your death would. We already know that you belong there, your books become important in our timeline. Besides which, I did it because you need each other.” He looked her in the eyes. “As it is, I’ll have to make a report on why I moved her and that’s going to be problematical for everyone. I’m doing this because of you, of how it will affect you if we leave her behind. Nothing about you, Mellissa, could ever be minor to me.”

  Mellissa nodded.

  He dipped his head forward and placed a brief kiss on her lips. “Not much longer now,” he whispered in assurance, putting both hands on her shoulders.

  They’d been here for well over an hour and detected no movement, even though an older white van stood at the end of the alleyway, its rusted appearance making it fit in with the old buildings in similar states of disrepair.

  “You stay here, out of sight,” whispered Duvall. “Chowd and I are going to investigate. See what we can find out.” Duvall cracked the car door open and climbed out, then both men silently melted into the night.

  Chowd had been watching the front of the warehouse, hidden in the deepening shadows, and as Duvall moved close
r Chowd nodded an all clear.

  Exhaustion pulled at her, making her eyes seem heavy and gritty. She changed positions in the seat. “Duvall needs my help, because the infiltrator could be anyone.”

  Mellissa slunk down low in the seat, head against the open window, waiting for them to come back, waiting to see the door open. Waiting for something. Anything.

  * * * *

  A rattling truck slowly pulled up, and Andurs Feinstein jumped out. He headed directly to a doorway, which shut quickly with a thud behind him, then he came back out and motioned the driver in. They watched his furtive movements, waiting for the sounds of voices and feet to die away.

  In the shadows, Duvall motioned to Chowd and watched as he moved to the left. He always took the right. For a second he looked back, over his shoulder, checking the location of the car. He didn’t like leaving Mellissa alone; she was out of sight, he told himself.

  They reached the door, listened carefully, and scanned the area. Everything was quiet.

  They chanced an entry, slipping through the well-oiled door into what looked like a corridor, dimly lit with no doorways. He looked for spots where they could hide should they require it, but he found little to give them cover.

  They inched forward, brushing against the surprisingly clean walls, stepping quietly as they listened to the creak and groan of the building. Raised voices came from the door at the end of the corridor.

  “What do you mean they found you? Fuck! It was your job to pump the bitch for information—where the stories came from, how she knew so much. But no,” the voice mocked, “she won’t have anything to do with me, but the young assistant will do just as well.” The voice rose, the pitch of anger evident. “Now you’re telling me there are two men with the woman, but you don’t know who they are? And they grabbed you?” Frustration bled from the raised voice. “How do you know they didn’t track you?”

  “They tried, but I fought when they had me on the floor, and they couldn’t attach a tracker, besides which I stopped and checking my clothing before I came here.” The note of self-congratulation in the answer nearly choked Duvall. Self-congratulation always indicated a sloppy operator. He waited for an opening or the information they needed.