Neptune Road Volume IV (6 page)

094 - A Café in Scar City

"Thanks for meeting with me," Edward says.

"No problem, always happy to help someone new in
town," the dad from the soccer game replies. He's got a thick
British accent and a pot of tea. Edward hasn't ordered anything -
he's trying to stretch his budget. They're in a tent sticking off
the side of a high-rise, a few stories up from the Scar City
mayhem. Not unlike the rigs climbers use to spend the night on the
side of a rock - except it's a whole cafÈ. It's festooned with
sports memorabilia.

"I'm afraid I only know you as Speed Demon," Edward
says. "I'm not Caution Cone, either. My name's Edward."

"Mike," the dad answers. "Nice to meet you for
real."

"Your son is your biggest fan," Edward says.

"Yeah, he uses me to run around, you know, since he's
in the wheelchair and all..." he trails off. "Sorry. I don't mean
for every conversation I have to be about my wheelchair kid, but
that's what seems to happen."

"I don't mind," Edward says. "Let me ask you
something different. You said you work in security?"

"Oh! Yeah," Mike says, relieved to change the topic.
"I look after buildings and construction sites and the like. None
of that crazy activity you hear about - vigilante stuff, arrest
services, I stay away from that. Can't risk getting bonked on the
head. I've got the kid to look after. Oh there we go, back to the
kid. Sorry."

"I really don't mind," Edward says. "Vigilante stuff,
eh? Sounds sketchy."

"Oh yeah," Mike says. "You can hire somebody to go
pick someone up on some charge you made up, it's ridiculous.
Frontier justice it is, just like the Old West. This planet, that's
what it is. The Old West. I used to love Westerns as a kid - Clint
Eastwood, Pale Rider, all that."

"Me too," Edward says. "My favorite was The Good, the
Bad, and the Ugly."

"That's a good one," Mike says, taking a sip of tea.
"You sure you don't want anything?"

"Oh, no," Edward says. "I just had lunch. You go
ahead."

"I was just wondering," Edward goes on, "and of
course you don't have to even talk to me if you don't want to, but
I've got a bit of a problem. I'm trying to find someone who doesn't
want to be found."

"Well that's the whole population, isn't it?" Mike
laughs. "Who in the heck in Scar City wants to be found? Nobody,
that's who."

"Yeah," Edward laughs along with Mike. "Yeah, you're
right. Problem is, I really ought to talk to this guy. See, I've
got information for him. He's got a - condition. And, I work for
this geneticist, and we found some things. That could help
him."

"Are you his doctor?" Mike asks.

"Not exactly," Edward says. "Actually not at all. It
was an accident, our discovery. But I think he'd want to know. It's
just that, this person's profession is not being found. He's an
Agent. EarthAdmin. So you see my problem. I was just wondering if
you could keep an eye out for him." Edward slides a pair of photos
across the table - one is Debra Millman, one is David Millman.

"That's two people," Mike says.

"Yeah, either one would suffice," Edward says.
"Again, no obligation. But I'd sure appreciate it."

"Well, I can't guarantee, but hey, if I see him, or
her, I'll drop you a line," Mike says.

"Hey, thanks," Edward says. "See you - and your
biggest fan - at a game soon."

095 - A Conference Room in Scar City

The woman at the end of the long, sleek conference
table stands. "As you all know very well," she says to her audience
of twenty or so (some present, some holographic), "our project is
fully launched and is reaching its most active stages. There is a
great deal at stake here."

She steps back and points to a diagram covering
nearly the entire wall behind her. She is petite and fierce,
wearing a dark suit and black pumps. The attendees of this
gathering, seated (or projected) at even intervals around the
table, do not make a sound. The diagram depicts in great detail the
outline of a skyscraper made up of a series of stacked sections.
The top section is lit up.

"Obviously the VTL propulsion platform will be the
final component to be completed, as it must be constructed atop the
rest of the structure. It is critical that we remain on schedule
and the we are able to access the materials and expertise required
to reach that juncture."

She approaches the table. "The success of this
project, and thus your participation in it, of course will depend
to a great extent on stability. We require materials, security, and
of course people. Our ability to make use of these resources
depends upon each of you."

She looks around the room. "Everyone here has a stake
in the success of this venture, and by extension, your own work,"
she says.

096 - Lair of the Bird People

"Miss Cass, dear, I've got a present for
youuuuu..."

"Not now. I'm tired." Cass, queen of the Bird People,
slumps in her chair next to the fire. It's been a long day of
research, most of it fruitless. And reports back from the field are
inconsistent at best. The subject is thwarting her efforts by doing
as little as possible. He doesn't even seem to be having any
thoughts.

"Now dear, this I think is worth it." A gentleman
approaches, older, with the head of an eagle. The fabric of his
waistcoat is decorated with gold thread and scroll designs. He's
holding a long box, like one might use to store an antique
sword.

"I certainly hope so, Steven," Cass says. "I need
something to distract me."

Steven lifts out a pair of long, elaborate
contraptions. On one end are sleeves, out of which protrude a
variety of moving components. "Look, dearest. Aren't they
beautiful?"

Cass takes one of the items in her gloved hands.
Hands fashioned from feathers and fabric and lace, sewn together.
Hardly the hands of a serious scientist or the ruler of a
people.

"Try it on, dear," Steven insists.

Cass slides one glove into the sleeve and the
contraption buzzes to life. Tiny mechanical components hum and
turn. She slides her binoculars over her beak to look. "It is
indeed beautiful," she says, approvingly.

"And spectacularly useful," Steven adds. "You can
perform surgery with these, Cass. You have complete control. And
look at this."

Steven puts on the other arm, and with a few gestures
makes it fold up, unfold, and take out and put away a wide array of
tools. Finally he closes the whole thing down into a casing that
resembles the sheath on a sword.

"Very beautiful," Cass says. "Thank you, Steven, for
showing me this. They shall come in handy. No pun intended. Or
maybe intended."

Steven lets out a squawk. "Of course. These shall
serve you well, I hope, in your research."

"I think so," Cass says, and thinks about
smiling.

097 - Dr. Mangrove's Workshop on the Tumbleweed

"Something has changed," Angelica's voice says to the
interior of Dr. Mangrove's head. How many days has she been riding
around inside of his brain, seeing what he sees, hearing his
thoughts? He can't remember.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Mangrove asks, out loud. He
figures he will talk like a normal person so as not to completely
lose his mind.

"I mean, the door," Angelica replies.

She is right. The doorway to Dr. Mangrove's workshop
has been altered. It is - deeper. It has more pipes and things
running around it. Dr. Mangrove has no idea why. He could guess,
but he must not. That might give something away to his
brain-parasite.

"Look, Angie," Dr. Mangrove says, "the Tumbleweed is
a hacked vessel. Everything on here is built, and rebuilt, and made
up. We take off parts and salvage things and redesign it every day.
So you will see things change. You can't get hung up on it."

"My name isn't Angie, it's Angelica," Angelica
says.

"Whatever," Dr. Mangrove says. "I'm going into my
workshop now."

----------

"Okay, he walked through!" May shrieks, and claps her
hands. "Just now!"

"Did we get a reading?" Feller asks.

Philo's screen is a jumble of characters and lines.
Soon they begin to stick together in shapes, eventually resembling
the outline of Dr. Mangrove himself. The three of them have been
waiting on the Tumbleweed bridge for what seems like hours.

May and Feller hold their breath while Philo sits for
several minutes, piecing together their first scan of Dr.
Mangrove's systems.

"Well, I see nothing unusual," Philo says. "yet."

"Nothing in his neck? No implant?" May asks.

"No, none that I can see. There's a little mark where
the Bird People put the interface into his skin, but that's
all."

Feller scratches his head. "How is that possible? We
know they implanted something. We know it! We saw!"

"We did see, but clearly the technology is different
from what we thought," May says.

"True," Philo agrees. "We will need more scans at
different frequencies."

"Well fortunately, the good Doctor will walk in and
out of his workshop several times a day," Feller says. "So let's
hope we can scan the heck out of him. There has to be something in
there."