It was a position of privilege, and a small part of him felt superior for having this intimate knowledge of so many people.
With that arrogance keeping the guilt at bay, he could justify what he was doing. His need was greater than some stranger’s. At least from his perspective.
Besides, no one was ever going to notice in a hick little town like this.
The trauma team had already left the operating theater, and the clean-up crew was starting to arrive. Within half an hour, what had happened here would be nothing more than a footnote on a patient’s record.
He closed the case and carried it out into the corridor. He had the hospital’s instructions to take the organ to the side entrance reception area, where an escort team of doctors would meet him to take the organ to the patient.
He also had his other instructions. So, instead of turning left down the corridor, he turned right, walking as normally as anyone who had been doing the same job for the last thirty years would.
Two doors down, he entered the cold-storage unit where drugs and other temperature-sensitive materials like organic skin grafts were stored. Walking past the rows of lit cabinets to the farthest aisle, he turned in and then stopped mid-way down to locate an identical case on a rack. He replaced it with the one he had just removed from the operating theater.
He stood up again and listened to make sure no one else had come into the room. Hearing only the hum of the refrigeration units, he left the unit and headed back down the corridor. This time he took a left and made his way back past the operating theater and beyond to the side entrance reception area, per his original instructions.
Striding confidently through the double doors, he found the security guard, Dennis, sitting at his post, whiling away his shift. Dennis was a Secoran, a race who was a rare sight in the main cities of Estaria. But out here in the sticks? Not so much.
“Greetings of the day, Dennis,” he said casually, announcing his arrival.
Dennis turned to him and got to his feet. “Greetings, Clarence! How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain,” Clarence responded. He paused for effect. “Bosses won’t let me,” he added dryly.
Dennis grinned, leaning over and resting his arms on the counter. “What you got happening today?” he asked, eyeing the carrying case.
Clarence gestured at the carrier. “Organ transplant. I was told the pick-up would happen here.”
Dennis looked out toward the doors. “Hmm, I haven’t seen anyone come in yet, though I noticed some folks hanging around outside.”
Clarence left the carrying case on the counter and walked across the foyer to get a better look out the doors. He noticed some trucks and various persons gathering. “That’s probably them. I’m sure they’ll be in any minute,” he confirmed, checking his holo.
He headed back over to the counter. “So what’s new with the Jets?” he asked. He rested his arms on the counter next to the case.
Dennis shook his head with the disappointment reserved only for Game fans. “Not much. They’re still going ahead with that jogeumdo (Secoran trans: damn) transfer. You know, I saw an interview the other night with that chap, what was his name—”
The foyer doors slid open with a whoosh and Dennis looked up at the entrance.
Clarence stood up and turned to see who was coming in. Two Estarians in medical jackets approached the desk, followed by two Estarian priests in full ceremonial dress. The long cloaks appeared to ripple in a way that seemed to defy the laws of both fluid dynamics and gravity.
One of the doctors spoke first. “Greetings of the day be upon you,” he said politely. “We’re here to collect an organ for transfer.”
Clarence stood to attention and gestured grandly with his right hand. “That would be this one here” he responded, patting the carrying case on the counter. He pulled up the transfer approval on his holo. “If I might see some identification?”
Clarence pulled up the retinal scan app on his holo and indicated to the doctor what he needed to do. The first doctor nodded and allowed him to scan his eye. The holo beeped.
“Great,” he said. “That worked. And the second?” He paused, then smirked. “The second doctor. Not eye.”
The first doctor’s expression went blank and he blinked, not understanding the humor. The second doctor looked a fraction flustered as he stepped forward earnestly to allow Clarence to scan his eye too.
“You know. Coz you have two eyes…” Clarence attempted to explain, now aware that he’d perhaps misread his audience.
The two priests who had entered with the doctors exchanged glances, then returned to observing the proceedings.
The holo beeped for the second doctor’s eye as well. “Ok, you’re all set. Sign here,” he instructed, pushing the little screen out to the first doctor.
The doctor waved his index finger into the holo form to confirm receipt of the organ while the second carefully picked up the carrying case.
The first doctor bowed slightly. “Thank you,” he said, and the whole party turned and walked back out of the reception area.
The doors swept closed behind them.
Clarence turned back to Dennis, whose eyes, he realized, had been fixed on the priests for probably the entire encounter. “Job done,” Clarence concluded, waiting for his buddy to mentally come back into the room.
Dennis, however, was still watching the entourage through the front windows. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day!” He whistled to himself.
Clarence double-tapped the counter with the flat of his hand. “Tell me about it.” He started to leave, then turned and paused for another moment, watching them go. Then, he seemed to remember himself. “Ok, Den. Must dash. Catch you later.”
“Yeah, see you later,” Dennis called after him.
Clarence continued through the interior doors without turning around. “Not if I see you first!”
Dennis shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself as he sat back down.
Clarence made his way back to the storage room where he’d stowed the real organ. Time was of the essence in these matters, and he suspected the courier would be here to collect the asset very soon. Once it was handed off, he’d be done and could relax a little. Though, he admitted to himself, this wasn’t exactly as stressful as he had thought it would be.
He opened the door to the temperature-controlled room and entered. As the door swooshed closed behind him, he felt a cold metal object press on his right temple, and heard the charging of a weapon getting ready to fire.
A gruff human voice spoke. “Clarence Agel, I presume?”
Clarence swallowed hard and nodded.
The human spoke again. “We need to talk.”
Edgewater Hospital, Dvergasteinn, Storage Room #056, Ground Floor
Clarence Agel stood frozen in the temperature-controlled storage room, awaiting demands from the human with a gun to his head. When no immediate instructions came, he started to turn to look at his captor.
Immediately the metal against his temple was shoved harder into the side of his head.
“Eyes front, eistnaseggur,” the voice ordered. (trans: ball sack)
Clarence faced forward again as he heard footsteps walk past the door.
“Right,” the voice began again as soon as the footsteps had disappeared. “There is only one way this is going to go.” The man paused. “You’re going to tell me exactly what your little setup is, and who the organ is going to and why.”
Clarence gulped.
The gruff voice kept talking. “Then you’re going to keep working as if we hadn’t had this conversation, and deliver the package. The only thing you have any control over is how much force I need to use in order to make this happen. Understand?”
The Estarian nodded.
The voice paused, and the pressure of the metal against his head was reduced a little. “Oh, and I’ll be taking the real organ first, so you’d better show me where it is.”
Only two people on
the planet know what happened in the next ten minutes. Clarence Agel was found a few hours later, rocking in a corner of the storage unit. He was suffering from shock, and was unable to talk about his afternoon. Other than that, he was relatively unharmed.
Unreviewed security cameras would have shown a large human male on a motorbike peeling out of the hospital parking lot a few minutes after the encounter.
The footage was never seen by any entity in the Sark System, because, well. There were reasons.
Edgewater Hospital, Dvergasteinn
Sean tore out of the hospital parking lot on a fully vamped bike, efficiently requisitioned by Oz and supplied by Framan.
Careful to remain a safe distance from the mundane-looking navy blue car that had pulled away a minute before, he looked down at his holo to make sure the tracker was functioning correctly.
Satisfied, he decided he should take the opportunity to check in.
He spoke into the microphone in his helmet. “Call Crash,” he instructed. His holo connected a call with Crash, who was waiting upstairs in a Pod.
Crash answered, his tone cool and collected. “You have reached mission control. How may I connect your call?”
Sean spoke in his radio voice, which was just as cool and collected as his teammate’s. “Crash, tailing the pick-up. Have you got eyes?”
There was a slight pause and the line hummed a little. “That’s a negative. One moment,” he said over the comm.
Crash muted the line. “Oz, can you take me closer?”
“Yes. We have more freedom here. In these less populated areas there is very little radar monitoring the skies,” Oz replied.
A few moments later, Crash was hovering above Sean and the target. He unmuted his connection with Sean. “Ok, I have a twenty on you and your tango.”
Sean changed gears to stay well out of the car’s view. “Ok. Stay on my six. Might need a fast extraction. Agel confirmed warehouse is well guarded.”
Crash responded. “Roger that. Let me know when you want that call placed to Detective Lato.”
Sean grunted, remembering that part. He was so used to operating on his own. No back up, no local authorities. He huffed a little, enough for Crash to detect over the line even with all the background noise. “You can probably do that right now. It’ll take him some time to get a unit briefed and on scene.”
There was a pause.
“I don’t need long once I get there,” he added.
Crash smiled to himself, noticing a subtle little facet of Sean’s personality in that very telling statement. He pulled up the number on his holo. “On it now. Leaving the line open, but muting myself to make the call.”
“Understood,” Sean acknowledged.
Sean tailed the car through a couple of villages and farther out into the countryside. Dust was starting to build up on his visor— the force field was doing a shit job of keeping it off. He made a mental note to request better gear on these kinds of ops in the future. It’s not like Framan was deliberately setting them up to fail, but a few tweaks here and there would make their operations run more smoothly for sure. At least they had managed to get him the bike. Much easier to blend in on it in these parts, rather than using technology from the somewhat mythical Etheric Empire.
He watched the car take a right through a hedge into what looked like a dirt track off the red dusty road. He slowed to approach the gap in the hedge with caution so he could see what he was heading into. He hoped the ground was solid enough for the bike. The tires on this machine were designed for the road; anything too sandy and he’d be screwed.
He mentally prepared a Plan B in case he needed to make the rest of the transit in a Pod.
He reached the hedge opening and killed the engine, which switched him automatically into electric only. As he crept forward, he saw that the track the car was following led through a field of tall brittle grasses.
He opened his comm. “Looks like we’ve got the venue,” he told Crash. He heard a click on the line indicating that Crash was receiving, but he was presumably on the call with the police departments still.
Sean followed the car, remaining far enough behind that he was unlikely to be spotted. Thankfully the road wasn’t completely straight, so his presence could be concealed for the most part.
Just as the sand was getting too soft for his wheels, the track terminated in front of a huge building. It seemed to be disused and in desperate need of repair. He knew better, though. This was the central hub for the organ-stealing operation. He had seen operations like this before. He shook his head. A bunch of star systems and umpteen different civilizations, but the shit that people pulled on each other…
He pulled his thoughts back to the mission. It wasn’t in his best interests to be distracted by rhetoric or social philosophy right now.
The car pulled up right in front of it and an athletic-looking male Ogg in his late twenties got out. He went around to the passenger side and retrieved the package, then locked up the car and walked around to the side of the building.
Sean, still on electric only, parked his bike in the grasses before reaching the opening. No point in being rumbled by his ride, he reasoned.
Crash came on the intercom again. “Be advised, Lato is sending a team. We’ll be in contact with them as soon as they are on final approach.”
“Received,” Sean acknowledged. “I’m following the package in. Switching to infrared visuals.”
Crash muted again. “How the hell can he view the place in infrared? Is that a cyborg thing?” he asked Oz.
“I believe so. I can’t get into his systems because the security is too complex for the processing I have available right now. But the fact that he has systems would suggest he is running more than just your average holosystem and implants,” Oz responded.
Crash shook his head, his face expressionless. “Son of a bitch!”
“Yes, I’d agree with that.” Oz went quiet.
Sean visually scanned the building from top to bottom. “I have three readings on the upper floor, in one corner. Probably an office or a meeting room.” He paused. “Then another eight, no, nine, plus our transporter, on the ground floor.”
Crash clicked his acknowledgment.
He heard some scuffling and the arming of a weapon on the line, then Sean’s voice. “I’m going in.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ascender-Grace Hospital, Spire
Molly strode down the corridor.
Now where?
Second left, and then straight ahead. You’re looking for the Intensive Care Unit.
Molly’s footsteps pounded on the bacteria-resistant flooring. She spotted a sign marked “ICU” and followed it through a set of double doors.
The color of the decor changed, and it felt more clinical. Molly stopped walking and looked around a little.
Did I just go through a securifield?
You did.
Will it damage the organ?
Unlikely. There is no radiation in those fields, else they’d have all kinds of trouble transporting patients between wards.
Ok. Let’s hope. Now where?
Next door on your right.
Molly stopped outside a private suite. There was no name on the door, just the designation, “Patient Dvergasteinn.”
That’s the location where the convoy started out.
Yes. There is an eighty-nine percent probability it’s the right place.
Molly waved her hand in front of the door and it slid open quietly. She entered a small dark room with a large observation window, which overlooked a brightly lit hospital room with a little boy and his mother in it.
The observation room wasn’t empty.
Molly jumped a little as she detected movement to her left. “Er. Greetings,” she fumbled. “I’m here to deliver an organ for transplant. I’m from Framan.”
Two Estarians dressed in regal looking robes turned to face her. They glanced at each other, relief in their eyes. Molly guessed they must be th
e clergy she’d read about in her research.
“Greetings.” The priestess stepped forward and made a gesture with her hand. Molly wanted to step back a little, but resisted the urge.
“I need to hand this over to a medic,” she said switching into ops mode. She peered into the room, looking for someone to take the carrier from her.
The other cleric bowed a little, then hit the intercom and announced the organ’s arrival, presumably to the relevant party.
“Someone will be here in a moment,” he relayed to her.
The female started talking to Molly. “You have no idea how grateful we are.”
Molly’s right shoulder raised a little in an awkward shrug. “It’s ok,” she said. “Just doing our job.”
The female priest leaned in a bit, her voice hushed but excited. “Yes, but the implications! You don’t know who this is, do you?”
Molly surreptitiously straightened her back and glanced at the door she’d just entered through. “No,” she said quietly. “We’ve been deliberately kept in the dark as to the identity of the family, I assume for their safety.”
The two robed Estarians looked at each other like they knew a secret but were astounded that Molly didn’t.
Molly finally took her half-step backwards, and now that she felt a little more comfortable she was able to make small talk. “There weren’t any priests on the transport here, I’m afraid.” She looked at the carrying case. “I don’t know if that is going to be a problem. There were issues with the convoy that had been arranged.”
Neither priest seemed to be fazed by the information. They continued smiling.
Molly kept talking, awkwardly. “Well, fingers crossed it still works. I mean, I have no idea what kind of organ this even is. My familiarity with Estarian physiology is well, limited to secondary school.”
The priestess held up a hand as if to calm Molly. Or hush her politely. Molly couldn’t tell which. The priestess spoke in a very definite tone now. “It is foretold that the Savior of the Messenger will be the one to bring understanding to this world.”
Molly took a moment to try and parse what she had just heard. She was confused, so she shrugged. “Er, messenger. Yeah. I’m just dropping off the organ for the transplant.”
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