Lost Cargo (6 page)

“And I can see lights,” he told her. “I see streetlights.”

More lights shone through the branches. The lights grew larger, longer, and changed in front of their eyes to dozens of windows. They ran over the top of the hill and down the last leg of the path behind the sprawling stone walls of Buchanan House. Lamplight from the lower windows streamed over the dark grass.

“We made it,” Lexie cried, but he caught her arm and pulled her behind a shaggy fir tree. Despite the cold, someone stood on one of the balconies two floors down from the roof. Soft light from the open door cast the figure in shadow, but it was impossible to mistake her huge silhouette.

“It’s her,” Lexie whispered.

“That has to be her place,” he said, fascinated. He could see paintings, too distant to make out, a lamp with a black shade, the back of a contemporary sofa, and a distinctive oriental wall hanging with three elephants.

“What’s she doing?” Lexie said.

“I don’t know. Watching the woods, I think. We have to go another way.”

They crept through the trees, over a small wrought-iron fence, and onto the lawn of the condominium next door, where they kept to the wall. Wisps of fog were beginning to creep over the ground. Once they reached the public sidewalk, they were back on Connecticut Avenue with its streetlights and traffic.

“A phone,” he said.

She stared at him. “The pub has one.”

They ran toward Sullivan’s, which was packed with people, and squeezed into the old-fashioned, dark wood phone booth by the bar. Travis leaned in to listen. Lexie called 911 and was transferred to fire and rescue.

“My brother’s trapped in Rock Creek Park,” she began. “He fell in some rocks and he hurt himself… his foot... no, it’s not life-threatening… what do you mean, you can’t send somebody right now?” She twisted around. “Look, just listen to me. He’s trapped inside this…
aircraft
that crashed in the woods.” Her words rushed out as she broke down. “I know I said rocks, but it’s an aircraft… because I didn’t know how to explain it.”

She was blowing everything. Travis reached for the phone, but she turned away.

“I’m near the Cleveland Park Metro, so I can meet you here. I have to go with you because you won’t be able to find it… because it’s camouflaged… because sometimes you can see it and sometimes you can’t... no, I’m not saying it’s invisible, if you would just listen… that’s right, camouflaged.” Her voice rose. “No, this is
not
a Halloween joke.” Silence again. “I’m here with my friend. We both went in it. He’s right here. He’ll tell you.”

She turned to Travis. “They want to talk to you.”

He stared at her and hung up the phone.

“What did you do that for?” she said in outrage.

“Why didn’t you just come out and say it’s a
UFO
?”

“Because they would think I’m crazy! You hung up on them! My brother is injured and trapped down there and you
hung up
on them! What’s with you?”

“What’s with you? They thought it was a prank. You were just supposed to say he fell in the rocks!”

“They weren’t going to send anybody right now. I had to tell them.”

“Well, I have a news flash for you. Nobody is going to believe there’s a guy stuck in Rock Creek Park in an aircraft that you can’t see. Nobody.”

“I said it was camouflaged!”

Travis looked around the pub, trying to think fast to keep everything from falling apart. “Let’s sit down and have coffee and we’ll figure out what to do.”

“No, thanks. I’m not going to sit around some stupid bar all night. I’m going home for a flashlight and some rope, and I’m going back there now.”

“We should wait for daylight.”

She wouldn’t look at him. “I’ll go back by myself then. I’m not a coward.”

“Whoa, I never said I wouldn’t go back with you. We’ll take flashlights. We’ll go back right now. Hey, I’m on your side, all the way.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, still refusing to meet his eyes.

“You have a mark on your throat,” he said. “Those things must have caused it.”

“It hurts. I don’t care.”

“Sure you’re okay?”

“It’s nothing compared to my brother.”

“Look, I’ve got to call my sister and get out of dinner.”

“Thanks, Travis.” She finally looked at him. “Thanks for coming with me.”

Tech 29 clung with his footpads above the engine room door in case the intruders came back. Their shrill voices still rang in his ears.

His exhausted, worried face gazed back at him from the reflection wall. Bruises blackened three of his six eyes, ran in splotches across the intricate folds of his pale blue skin, and covered his left shoulder where the crash had hurled him across the ship. The medical scan he’d taken earlier said he had a concussion and was dehydrated, which explained his terrible headache.

Strange croaks and shrieks came out of the woods. The Elemental must have found a place to hide by now. If it reached the sprawling city he’d careened over before the crash, it could be anywhere among thousands of buildings and alleys.

The night wore on. A cold wind blew through the ruptured hull.

He waited until it felt safe to come out of the engine room, crawled down the wall, and picked up the luminous manual that he’d dropped on the floor.

Radiation Control Systems (4-5), Anti-Gravity Breaking System (5-8)
.

Not there. He kept going.

When Your Ship Is Towed By Tractor Beam (8-1), Hatch: Lockout, Jams, Damage: Meteoroids, Solar Wind, Space Trash (12-5), Encounters with Space Pirates and Intergalactic Gangs (13-3)
.

Not there, either.

In the Event of a Crash (14-5)
.

Here it was, the section he’d been reading when the manual fell out of his fingers. He’d studied the ominous paragraphs when he went through training, but that was ages ago. Beyond ages. The dry language on the page seemed out of touch with his frightening situation.

Escape from an Exploding Ship
.

No need to read about that.

Notify Galactic Animal Control (GAC)
.

He’d tried that. The message wouldn’t go through. The crash had damaged the communication system.

Set Controls to Regeneration
.

He’d just finished this step when the locals broke into the ship. The black walls and floor thrummed under his feet. The ship’s living skin would reform the hull, the doors, the lights, and most of the damaged equipment, but he knew the process would move at its own pace over days, maybe weeks. The ship could be as finicky as one of the creatures he hauled for a living.

Camouflage: Travel at all times with camouflage. If you crash on assignment, deactivate the camouflage so the locals can find you. If you crash on an unfamiliar planet going to or coming from an assignment, activate your camouflage. Assume the locals are hostile until you know otherwise
.

The force field was at sixty percent and shutting off at unpredictable times, which had allowed the intruders and a group of curious brown animals with hooves and antlers to approach the ship.

Inspection: Activate camouflage and inspect the ship for damage
.

The ship was a mess. A boulder had pierced the hull, destroyed the main cage, and wrecked the food supply doors.

Lost Cargo: In the event the cargo escapes, make every effort to capture it alive. If the crash damages the cage, put the cargo in suspended animation (see sub-section 14-6b) until regeneration repairs the cage. If the cargo reaches a populated area, determine if it is a threat to the locals. The technician has the authority to destroy the cargo if capture is impossible
.

The techs called the Lost Cargo paragraph the Stew Clause. If the techs had to do away with the cargo, they would usually store it and turn it into stew, as long as it wasn’t poison or covered in horn or especially nasty. Stewed cargo was a welcome change from the usual tasteless nutrition wafers.

Right now Tech 29 felt he would give anything for a tasteless wafer. With the ship’s food supply doors jammed, he had no food at all, and that wasn’t in the manual. He would be in desperate shape if the first intruder hadn’t dropped the bottled drink.

He stared at his bruised reflection and wished he had a hot cup of gribble. Tonight’s unwelcome guests weren’t coming back right away. The woods were too dark. They would wait until daylight, if they came back at all.

Time to find out if they’d wrecked the ship.

Tech 29 opened the door and almost stumbled over a large local trapped in the floor. Blue light shone across the local’s horrified face as he pulled his jacket together in a hopeless attempt to hide himself.

“What the hell are you?” the local shouted.

L
isa Mitchell put the phone down and walked past the baby grand piano and crystal lamps to the couch, where she sat beside her husband Ian. Her mother was going to love this one.

“That was Travis,” she said, smoothed out her black cashmere sweater dress, and crossed her legs. “He took a girl to the emergency room.”

Her mother hooted. “Oh, really? Which hospital?”

“He didn’t say. The girl had an asthma attack.”

“When does he expect to be here?” Ian asked. He looked like a thoughtful sheep in jeans and tweed. With his curly gray hair and placid expression, all he needed was some grass to chew.

“He doesn’t know,” Lisa said. “As soon as he can. We’ll see him this week anyway. I told him about the condo.”

“Unbelievable.” Her mother shook her blonde head and fixed a smile on her face. “So the condo’s on Connecticut Avenue. That’s a great location.”

Ian nodded. “On the top floor, facing Rock Creek Park.”

“Which is nice,” Lisa said. “Really nice. We’ll have the woods.”

“That’s a plus,” her mother said.

Ian reached for the Brie and crackers on the glass coffee table. “Buchanan House was a prestigious apartment building for over a hundred years until it went condo in the 1980s. The Wyatt Corporation owns most of the units on our floor, and they’re relocating to Virginia, so they’re upgrading everything before they sell.”

Lisa emptied her wine glass. “So we get a beautiful new kitchen.”

“Terrific cheese,” Ian said. “This is what God would have if he wanted a snack.”

The logs in the fireplace snapped as the flames leaped up.

Lisa’s grandmother finished her cheese and crackers and brushed the crumbs off her enormous bosom. “The paper said an animal attacked a jogger in Rock Creek Park.”

“What are you talking about, Gram?” Lisa said. “Where did that come from?”

“The animal attack,” her grandmother repeated. “It was in the
Post
. Your mother and I were just talking about it. They found the body near the library.”

Lisa’s mother waved her hand. “And that was probably a one-time thing. I’m sure they’re on top of it. More drinks, anybody? Lisa?”

“Not me,” Lisa said. “My diabetes.”

“Oh, of course,” her mother said. “When do you start at the magazine?”

“In a month. Gives me time to breathe,” Lisa said. “You want to come with me to look at towels tomorrow? The bathrooms have these canary yellow tiles with a thin black border. Retro. We don’t have anything that matches.”

From the corner of her eye she saw her grandmother frown and settle back in her chair.

Travis stood around in Burke’s huge kitchen, waiting for Lexie while she changed clothes and found flashlights. The kitchen had endless black granite. Whatever Burke was doing on Capitol Hill, he was making money at it, more than he ever made as a measly photographer mucking around for the Associated Press. Travis stared at the moon’s cratered face outside the window and his thoughts about Burke trailed off as hollow chatter. The consultant might never see his house again.

“No, we’re going to get him out of there,” he said aloud. Famished, he raided the refrigerator and wolfed down a beef sandwich and a chocolate pudding, eating as fast as he could so Lexie wouldn’t see him mowing through their food.

No coffee, the one thing he wanted.

Wiping his mouth, he went into the hall, listened for any signs of her emerging with the flashlights, and caught himself in the mirror. He ran his hand along his jaw. He looked like a Neanderthal and could use a shave.

Her footsteps moved across the upstairs floor and stopped.

In the quiet he took out the mysterious silver device he’d stolen from the black triangle. The night already seemed like a half dream, but here was this strange thing, bringing it all back. The heaviness suggested something was inside it, but there were no openings. And why did it have a hook? Was the hook supposed to attach to something?

Lexie’s footsteps crossed the upstairs hall again. He slipped the alien device in his pocket just as she hurried downstairs with her blonde hair falling over the collar of her black coat. She’d slung a black canvas bag over one shoulder and carried a large Canon around her neck.

He straightened the strap on her shoulder. “What’s with the camera?”

She gave him a disarming smile. “To take pictures of the black triangle. We have to take pictures of it. I’ll leave the camera in the woods so the ship won’t damage it.”

“Good idea. I didn’t think about that.”

She opened the canvas bag. “And I have flashlights and a knife and some rope. Maybe we can pull him out.”

“I’ll carry that for you.”

“Oh, I don’t need any help.”

“Come on.” He grinned and took the bag. “You’re going to be hauling that camera around all night. Do you have another cell phone?”

“No, we’ll just have to go without one.”

“I have one at my house,” he said.

“Where’s that?”

“Porter Street. Half an hour.”

“Cell phones don’t work in the woods,” she said.

“Sometimes they do. Depends on the carrier and where you are.”

“I don’t know what to do. I just want to go now.”

“Then let’s go.” He put his hand on her back, followed her down the hall, and looked with dismay through the narrow panes beside the front door. The carriage light on the lawn shone into heavy fog. It had been raining all week and the fog had come back with a vengeance.