Theodore

by Marcus LaGrone

  He sat in the corner of the emergency room, shaking. Shaking with rage and fear. Shaking from exhaustion, spot stasis was easier than live stasis but still took its toll on him. Live stasis! His mind lashed out as he thought back to watching his father and the Firemeadow ladies perform such excellent work. If only the locals knew how to do that! But that was all moot, he was far too tired to have held one, much less four patients in live stasis.

  The hospital staff got him a warm blanket and a large glass of water as they moved him to the family lobby. He was pretty close to just going to sleep on the floor when he caught the refreshing sight of friends from the university: the d'Evelston twins.

  “You look like hell,” grimaced Marcel. He nodded to Maurice and his brother set off for another blanket and more fluid.

  “Good to see you, too,” Theodore tried to laugh. “How'd you find me?”

  “The news, silly boy. Between camera's catching your first jump and then you and the others helping in the wreckage, you're all over the place. Crap, you look parched. Drink more!”

  Theodore had never seen either of the twins serious, but he was grateful for the friendship none-the-less. He did his best to drink more water, but it just tasted... the whole place smelled like...

  “Okay, onset of shock or just exhausted?” asked Marcel.

  “Tired.... just so tired...”

  “Good lad. Let's get you back!”

  Marcel and Maurice started a lively exchange, but Theodore was just too tired to pay attention. He was in autopilot... What he thought was mere moments later, but had to be closer to a half an hour, he found himself being half carried back to his room at the university. Sleep came soon and long. He needed it. He hurt.

  34

  “Why the hell are you taking my class?” scoffed the instructor for Theodore's emergency medicine class as he took his seat on Monday.

  “Um, because putting someone in spot stasis only prolongs the inevitable. At some point you still have to brush your fur, straighten your tail and deal with their wounds. I could keep them that way for a day, max. And the more people, the shorter the time.”

  His instructor nodded, “Okay, I did not know about any of the particulars of that. Have you been back to the hospital?”

  “No, sir. It is a media madhouse there.”

  “After this class we'll see about getting someone to fly you there that way you can skip the vultures. There are a lot of people that want to shake your hand.”

  “How many survived?”

  “All four look like they may make it. Several may need an artificial limb or two, but are alive. And that is all due to you. Had they had to wait for the ambulance and then to get back to the trauma center, none would have made it.”

  “I had help. I had a lot of good people who helped getting them out. Digging through the wreckage and the blood...”

  He laughed, “Several of those others there on the ground would like to meet you, too! You made a heck of an impression. Especially on that young family you jumped off the side with.”

  Theodore sighed, “There were so many we didn't get out...”

  “And now comes the hard part for you: the self-guilt for those you didn't save even though you went above and beyond what anyone could have expected. The hard part for the young family: survivors guilt. Keeping the family together will help a lot with that. If you ever need to talk to any of our counselors, their doors are open.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “Alright then, off to today's topic: burn victims.”

  Ugh! It was going to be a long class.

  Theodore took the offered flight and flew downtown to visit the hospital. He didn't really want to be there, but friends and family of the survivors desperately wanted to meet him. He was pleased that hospital security kept the media clear; he wasn't a rock star, he was a student just trying to get by. Crap! He forgot completely about the meeting with the Federal Police. It was a given they knew why he didn't make it. They'd just have to reschedule and try again. Hopefully someplace closer this time.

  There was absolutely no concept of personal space as the various family members descended upon Theodore, blubbering mightily. He didn't mind, he knew that they needed to blubber, get it out of their systems. He returned hugs when offered and did his best to be himself even as people tried to put him up on a pedestal.

  After two emotionally grueling hours, Theodore had met all of the families and friends of the wounded survivors and took a small break room and tried to grab a bite to eat when he was suddenly mobbed by the young family that he had taken along on that fateful plunge. With the swarm of wide eyed children around him he soon found himself on the floor at their level laughing and crying with them all.

  “Why did you save us?” asked the bright eyed human girl of about four. “You could have saved the pretty lady across from us...”

  “I saved you because you all reminded me of my little sisters. I wanted to save them all, but...” it was his turn to start blubbering.

  The young mother of the children sat with Theodore and held him tight as he finally vented his frustration of the entire fiasco. There had been more in the car. If he had herded more of them together, could he have saved more? That self-guilt his instructor had warned him about hours early washed over him like a tidal wave. But there in those cold waters of questioning and self-doubt were the bright faces of those youngsters. Wide-eyed and looking upon the world with a second chance of life, he had a hard time feeling bad about the choices he made.

  “Come on,” finally offered the young mother. “He needs to get back to his home and we need to get you home so you are still ready for school tomorrow.”

  Theodore shared one last hug with the family and they finally departed. He just sat there and was soaking it all in when a sinister voice caught up with him.

  “You are a truly remarkable young man.”

  35

  “Excuse me?” fired Theodore over his shoulder to the voice in the distance.

  “Born under a lucky star?”

  “One makes their own luck,” replied Theodore as he stood and tried to get a better view of the person in question. “My father taught me that much.”

  There was an honest laugh, “Your father taught you very well! But now it seems after all is said and done, I have a little problem.”

  Theodore could barely make the man, tall, in a dark trench coat, smoking a cigar. “Well, your first problem is you can't read. This whole building is a non-smoking area.”

  A second laugh marched down the hall, “Oh you Taiks do have sharp eyes. A human would not have picked out so well in the dark.”

  “I'd say humans have sharper eyes; we just see better in the dark. If the HVAC had been set the other direction, I would have smelled you earlier yet. But I don't think we're here to discuss comparative anatomy.”

  “No. No, indeed.” The man took a long drag on his cigar, “Dr. Barvelt had the common decency to die when he was in a car wreck. But, oh no. Not only do you survive, you had to go all noble and rescue a family and bunch of crash victims on live news.”

  “That wreck was staged?” Theodore's blood started to boil.

  “Of course it was staged! Do you know how many safeties have to be off line to get two cars aimed at each other much less with the emergency brakes disabled? That took quite a bit of setup, but Telmark was able to pull it off admirably.”

  “Agent Telmark was involved?” Theodore deflated. Surely this was some form of mind game.

  “It was a simple quid pro quo really. We ratted out a large portion of our own competition, and he arranged for you to die in a horrible accident.” There was a tense pause as the man took another long drag. “Problem is, you survived. Not only did you survive but you are now a bit of a hero, too! If something happens to people in the limelight then there are a lot of questions. Never good for subtlety. Oh well, Telmark won't have to worry about those anymore.”

  “You killed him...”

  “No
, it was a suicide!” the man laughed. “Upset that he almost got you killed, he couldn't take it anymore and jumped from his thirtieth floor flat. He didn't land nearly as well as you did...”

  “What is this even all about?” Theodore was angry, afraid, confused...

  The man just laughed, “You never did know, did you? Oh well, that little bit can gnaw on you for the rest of your short life. Kill him, boy!”

  Theodore had expected to suddenly find himself being raked with machine-gun fire again. But no, they had learned a bit at least. He cringed as he caught the sparkling blue flash out of the corner of his eye. They had brought someone along that knew how to play with Live Steel!

  A Taik in his early twenties with a spotted sandy coat moved into the open with his Live Steel long sword glinting in the artificial light. “This isn't for points, kid. It's for real. Know how to play for keeps?”

  Theodore's fur spiked as his mind raced: sword in his left hand...south-western accent... they tended to be prone to close armor work and grappling... that means... that means nothing! Don't over analyze... Theodore let out a slow breath and felt his fur start to relax. “Is this something political or purely about cash?”

  The Taik laughed, “Cash and lots of it.”

  “Aren't you afraid he'll stiff you?”

  “Nah, I'm expecting he'll want me to come back for more. I offered to kill Anna for free. Don't want her kind in the Highlands anyway!”

  “And that,” replied Theodore as his Live Steel armor burst around him. “Was a stupid thing to say.” He charged his opponent still bare handed, much to his confusion. Good, a break in his poise! Theodore lunged with his left hand invoking his weapon only at the last second.

  The Taik recoiled at the lunge but still took a nasty gash to his left shoulder for the work. He growled evilly as he raised his own armor and squared off with Theodore. The exchange was fast and furious and both quickly broke to recenter themselves. The Taik shifted his weapon to his right hand and growled defiantly at Theodore, “Good thing I'm not really a southpaw!”

  They closed for two more quick exchanges, Theodore probing and testing his speed before retreating out of range. “Ever watch old human movies?”

  “Why?”

  “I'm not left handed either!” grinned Theodore as he invoked a second blade into his right hand and closed mercilessly. The Taik was good, but Theodore was better, far better. This guy wouldn't have lasted a day in his father's advanced class! Theodore's blades effortlessly shifted length, weight and form at his whim. Long sword to glaive and then back again to a pair of narrow rapiers all in an instant flash of blue sparks.

  The Taik quickly realized he was outclassed, so he dipped into the standard emergency reserve of all Taiks: swifting. Human doctors described it as five Shukuraes’ worth of adrenaline being shoved into the body of a wee little Taik. That failed to account for the secondary chemical release in a Taik’s body that held the chemical equivalent to an oxygen reserve as well. Perfect oxygen transport to the muscles, excellent muscle activity and hyper reflexes. All good in a bar fight, but not so good here! The one fact that most Taiks forgot about swifting is it moved their brain into almost primeval simplification: higher brain functions just weren't happening!

  Theodore immediately recognized the signs of swifting and shifted his game style. He knew the man's reserves would run out in two to three minutes and the current attack, while brutal and powerful, wasn't that well placed or planned out. Theodore fought defensively, taking only small snipes to cause mild injury and further rage, as he minded his time and waited for his opponent to collapse.

  Barely two minutes in, the man collapsed to the ground as expected. Theodore desperately looked around for the cigar smoking human but he was nowhere to be found. A page on the hospital's intercom did, however, quickly bring local security to the room. They quickly bound the Taik before looking to the many shallow cuts all over his arms and torso. They were in a hospital at least.

  The head of the hospital security sat and talked with Theodore as they waited for the police to arrive. Several calls around confirmed what the mysterious man had alluded to: Agent Telmark was, in fact, dead.

  36

  Theodore sat in the office of the head of hospital security while talking on a three way link with the sheriff's office and the regional governor. The Federal Police were being left out of the conversation.

  “There ended up being over eighty arrests of various organized crime figures this last summer. And not one of them was from the Bella-Shoana,” groused Governor Bradley. “That does seem in line with the story you were handed. Years of one or two small fries, and then whoosh! A whole net full of mid to upper echelon players in two months time. With the local competition out of the way and the FPs turning a blind eye, the Bella-Shoana were probably able to move in quite nicely.”

  “Why did Telmark sell out? He seemed like a devoted guy. If he was crooked he could have sold me out last Spring.” Theodore's mind was a blur.

  “If I can offer a guess, and it is a guess only,” began the governor. “I think Agent Telmark may have been trying to cut his losses. Their office lost six people in the opening stages of the investigation. Six people he had known long and well. I'm guessing that his heart broke and he was willing to sell you out rather than attend more funerals.”

  “Instead those six died for nothing,” growled the Deputy Sheriff. “Yeah, the people you work with become like family. But family means you are also proud of each other's work. Proud what the team was able to do. To sell out short knowing that the Bella-Shoana were still going to be around, and now not held in check by their own sleazy counterparts... No, I'd rather think that Agent Telmark sold out for money than to disgrace the work of those that served beside him and fell in the line of duty.”

  The governor sighed and nodded, “All of you in law enforcement have a damn tough job... Okay, have your people start a criminal investigation into the accident. I'll invoke my authority to keep the federals out of your way for a couple weeks at least. Current cover story is the Feds knew things were being tampered with and were trying to catch the people red handed, but things got out of control and the tampered cars accidentally made it into the wild. Is that close enough to true to work for now?”

  The Deputy Sheriff nodded, “It gets the point across without letting out too much. It gives reasons to keep the FPs on the sidelines, but as a horrible accident rather than as bad cops. Bitter pill, but if we stood up and accused Telmark of orchestrating mass murder, there would be a lot of push back immediately. We're going to have to get the FPs in at some point...”

  “We can see about getting a rotation from a different province...”

  “A good place to start. That leaves us with two problems. Protecting Mr. Blackford here and furthering the investigation into the Bella-Shoana beyond the current accident.”

  “I have a meeting set for less than thirty minutes from now with the Deputy Director of the Federal Police. The question is, are there any people you trust implicitly and are comfortable to work alongside? A cooperative task force seems like the way to go.”

  “Agent Tamilton and her team are my first and only choice.”

  “Oh, heavens! Things are a disaster wherever they go!”

  “Bigger or smaller than two train cars full of dead people?”

  “Point taken. Point taken,” the governor sighed. “Okay, I'll request them by name. What about additional security?”

  “DSS? The guy at the Foreign Office came through nicely before.”

  Theodore permitted himself a small grin as he listened to the banter; the Secretary of the Foreign Office was a chair on the foundation that provided his scholarship. He was a good man to know.

  “Will ask. You don't mind DSS guys floating around while you work?” asked the governor.

  “They are creepy, but professional,” replied the Deputy Sheriff.

  “Mr. Foxdale-Blackford, my apologies for everything that has happened,” began th
e governor. “Last time we shepherded you along home, and that may have opened up our throats to be cut. This time I'm bound and determined to run these... people to the ground! Flush them out into the light and pick them off like the rats they are.”

  “Albert Francis Turpin,” remarked a stately human lady as she poked her head into Theodore's dorm room.

  “Uh, no ma'am. Theodore Foxdale of Clan Blackford.”

  She grinned as she handed Theodore a tablet with a series of images of a gnarled and sinister looking human male. Late fifties, favoring dark wool trench coats, crumpled fedora and hand rolled cigars...

  Theodore's face let up at once, “That looks an awful lot like the man I saw.”

  “Hit the boxes at the bottom. They'll play some recordings we have of his voice.”

  Theodore did as instructed and his fur immediately started to crawl.

  The lady in the door laughed sharply, “Well, the reports nailed you dead on. Avoid poker son: you have a terrible tell!”

  “I'm going to guess that you are Agent Tamilton?”

  “In one!” she grinned as she offered her hand. “Special Agent Patricia Tamilton, Federal Police. Feel free to call me Pat.”

  He shook her hand and grinned, “What division?”

  She grinned, “Hell raising. Not an official department, but the Deputy Director once used it on one of our reports. We liked it!”

  “Dare I ask how big is 'we'?”

  “Eight of us in the field, three back home on comms and the lab. Come on, let's rest a spell at the canteen. We both have questions.”

  “The governor seemed hesitant about you and your unit, but the Deputy Sheriff was quite insistent,” offered Theodore as he got up from his desk and followed the lady down the hall. “Do you have a history?”

  “Eh, Deputy Sheriff John Eccleston, yeah... he is my little brother...”