[color=#FFFF00][font=Courier New]Charisma's Coffee
Somewhere on Planet Manhattan
The lifts' door slid open quietly, and as Esperanza Ortega stepped into the room, she
was nearly overwhelmed by the aroma of the establishment, quite obviously that of freshly prepared coffee, mixed with that of.... Lavender? She thought briefly. The business was located atop an office building,with a veranda outside the shop, the customers treated to views of both the city, and of the mountain ranges to the north. The veranda was decorated with a startling array of flora, the wide spectrum of colors and scents further enforcing the natural setting of the quiet refuge.
She stood outside the lift for a moment, until she belatedly realized that a growing number of the shops' patrons were staring at her. She maintained an outward calm as she slowly walked into the shop, heading towards the veranda. Right She supposed she might have made an attempt to purchase some new clothes before she came here. A woman in her late twenties, she appeared several years older, the result of a rough and unsheltered life. The window reflected her appearance as she passed; an athletic "pear" frame, prominent hips, uncommonly strong legs, with a modest bust and delicate shoulders. Ortega was short, about 162 centimeters tall,somewhat disguised by the slightly thicker soles of her boots. She wore a dull, worn flightsuit, originally a shiny black, cut perhaps a bit too tight; though she had lost some amount of weight in the last months.the back of the suit had been patched, poorly, an odd scattering of holes near her left shoulder. Her boots, apparently some dated military issue, were faintly covered in a curious bluish grey dust that seemed to persistently cling to them, as it did to her flightsuit. Her long black hair was presently in a tight and long braid that rested between her shoulders, the way it usually was when she was offplanet. There was an unbandaged cut on her cheekbone, and another on her lower lip, both quite apparent, but clearly not recent. A dark smudge of grease ran across the upper half of her forehead, trailing down along the lower left side of her face.
She noted that the reputation of the shop was apparently confirmed. Most of the patrons where dressed in professional middle class faire, but she picked out a few labcoats sitting in the crowd. Popular with the Intellectuals,labcoats,mushroom heads What was the word Altura had used? Intelligentsia The shop was arranged with a mix of secluded booths, and strudy circular tables, at which both business and pleasure were discussed, several lone individuals off reading in corners, and quiet debates over some hypothesis or other. The tables, the chairs, and most of the structure was of a rich, dark wood; or at least appeared to be.
Ortega stepped though the door out onto the veranda, free from most of the stares, though she still felt eyes on her through the window. The sun was setting, painting the mountains to the north. She paused to enjoy the view as she took a deep breath, and remembered a world without a sun.
"Miss Ortega?"
The speaker was a lithe young woman seated at the table next to the doorway. The hair was different, a dark auburn colour, but Ortega recognized her as someone whose life she'd saved once, or at least changed for the better. "Hello Allie." Ortega said. She slid into a seat at the table. The young woman stared at Ortega for a moment before quietly asking; "What happened?"
"Why don't you go first?" Esperanza replied. "Where is everyone? What happened to the Institute? I went to Wilshire* and some other firm is in the building. Wouldn't let me inside.I searched every directory I could find, and didn't find any reference to Pryce at all." Esperanza frowned, noticing the shadow that had fallen over the table. A middle aged woman, wearing a blue apron, looked at Ortega and asked; "May I get you something?"
Ortega considered and replied; "Coffee, black please." The server frowned slightly in confusion, and began to press for more details when Ortega repeated, somewhat stronger; "Coffee...Black." The server nodded, a bit curtly, and wandered off.
Allie watched the retreating figure before saying; "Haagenti Research and Development." She spoke in a low whisper, as if she had mentioned the name of a forbidden deity. "I don't know a bunch about what happened. The big ship, the N102, with Doctor Pryce and most of the senior staff on it, left one day along with Captain Wells' ship, and they didn't come back. Professor Morris took over the Institute, and then he dismissed me along with much of the remaining staff. Then he started operating under the new name. One of my friends is still there, she told me that they closed most of the departments, and opened others." She paused a moment, taking a sip from the cup resting on the table in front of her, before she continued; "They research...bad stuff, she told me.Weapons, and something about weapons in relation to genetics. They were acquiring databases of genetic mapping, organized by racial groups."
Ortega narrowed her eyes. A biological weapon?.....most likely. Targeting individual genetic markers common to certain enemies had been tried before. That sort of thing seemed a perfect killer if it worked as advertised, but in practice, usually turned out...inefficient. Design something to kill anyone from race "X", and miss the side effect of also killing everyone who shares the same bloodtype.Or the same hair color. The type of testing that led up to the release of such a weapon was also never very pretty. Clearly a lot had happened while she had been gone, and Esperanza wondered if she had the endurance for another gauntlet that this day was leading her into. People to see, promises to keep, kilometers to go before I sleep. "So why isn't the government getting all over them. I can't see that happening on Libertys' watch." Even with everything else they miss
Allie slouched in the chair slightly. "They have a government grant. The research is supposed to be completely theoretical; and it's supposed to be completely defensive in nature." She met Ortegas' gaze. "But my friend, she said that's not what's happening, that it's not like that at all."
"Can she prove it?" Ortega asked.
"That's the problem. The labs are sealed, and they can't remove anything about the project from it. They search her when she leaves, and she doesn't have access to the really bad stuff anyway."
The server returned with Ortegas coffee, setting it on the table, and retreated wordlessly. The thick liquid was about the same colour as Ortegas' flightsuit. Only when the cup was in her hands did she realize how much she had missed it. Esperanza closed her eyes and hazarded a careful sip. Fresh.Hot.Strong.Delicious. It had been awhile, and she savoured the first swallow, as she felt it's heat and flavor affect her entire body. It was almost a sexual experience. She spoke;
"Wasn't there a second location in Bretonia? Doctor...was it Cook?"
"There was. I don't know about now." Allie replied.
What the hell was going on? That Pryce, Morris , or Cook remembered she existed, she truly doubted, but it was damn strange that Rene or Denise would leave California without leaving some indication of intent. Denise especially. Esperanza had been out in the black for a good while, and at great cost, had come back with a great variety of disturbing news, with no one to tell it to.
"What's your friends' name?" Ortega asked.
"Vanessa." Allie replied. "You met her the day you met me."
Ortega asked a few additional questions, paid for her coffee, and left the shop, heading back to her ship.
*Wilshire -Medium density city located on Planet Los Angeles
[font=Courier New][color=#FFFF00]Erik T. Demoses Public Park
Wilshire, Planet Los Angeles.
1320 Local Time.
Esperanza had briefly considered borrowing some good citizens' pet to complete her look, later deciding it might cause greater problems then it was worth. She frowned. She had never had a pet, even as a child, until a few years back when Rafa had brought home a furry little demon they had named Astarte. They had settled on a pet while they considered children, and..
The quiet rolling of an A.I. lasertrimmer behind her brought an end to her idle thoughts.
She turned slightly and glanced over over her right shoulder, and tensed ever so slightly at the tenderness still in her left side. It was getting better though, and soon enough would be only another set of scars added to those she had already possessed. The trimmer rolled lazily along, trimming the low hedge with perfect mathematical precision, each branch extending to exactly the same length as the one beside it. Another unit trailed behind, leaving the area completely clear of any debris. The hedge might as well been popped out of a mold.
"You missed a spot." She said out loud. The trimmer didn't heed, and continued on. It hadn't missed anything, of course.
The sun beat down on her;sixty meters or so ahead of her, lay the perimeter of what was once the Los Angeles branch of the Pryce Institute. It wasn't a military installation; there wasn't so much as a fence surrounding the facility, the design apparently to coincide with the open, natural feel of the neighborhood; Not far to the south, began neat rows of private apartments as far as she could see. The Institute rested at the line between a gathering of similar academic buildings and middle class residential dwellings. A sleepy-looking woman holding a small child passed Ortega on the walk. As the figure passed, the child eyed Ortega curiously.
Ortega wondered if maybe Allie had exaggerated what was going on here. If so, what Ortega was thinking of doing would only make a mess. Actually, it was bound to make a mess regardless. The portable scanner, presently resting within a small handbag, chirped quietly, indicating that its scan was completed. Ortega resisted the urge to review the results at once, and looked back down at the book she had been pretending to read. She'd lifted it from a careless traveler just before leaving Manhattan, along with two others like it. One book she had fenced upon arriving on Los Angeles; the proceeds had purchased several days stay in a middle class hotel, a few items of clothing, along with a few other needed items.
The book she held now was an English translation of Il Principe, by a Niccolò Machiavelli. A glance through its pages told her the man she'd stolen it from was apparently a minor executive with illusions of grandeur.A true collector would not have been so careless with it. This one would fence for a good price, and she was saving it for when the need was great. She would probably take the time to read it before she unloaded it. It would have to be soon. The ship was in desperate need of repairs, that would only worsen until she was left stranded. Which wouldn't do.
Ortega stood from the bench, took a last look around the park, and headed back to the hotel.
The Riverside Inn
Room #437
Rexford, Los Angeles
1641 local time
Esperanza Ortega entered her room, locking the door behind her.
She walked to a far corner, if the word far could be used in the description of the room. She knelt, picking up a small device about half the size of her thumbnail, and deactivated it, noting that it had not been triggered prior to her return. The room had not been disturbed; Nor had she expected it to be, but this was a time to be extra alert to such things.
As it always is, I suppose. She thought.
She slid off the straps of the floral print sundress she was wearing, and wriggled out of it as it fell to the carpet. As she stooped to pick it up, she removed her shoes, a rather drab pair of grey pumps. Setting those down on the bed, along with her handbag, she looked into the mirror.
There had often been times she had suddenly become quite wealthy, most often after pulling some job or another; but so much of that wealth always seemed to go right back into prepping the next job, and lately, the returns had been getting smaller and smaller, credits spent more often on needs, and less on wants. That said, her private (or sometimes not so private) joy was her proclivity towards designer lingerie. Though the men that had her likely thought otherwise, she had never worn it for them. She liked the secret and expensive underthings against her, a small, hidden reservoir of womanhood in places stark and savage. She also realized she was perhaps a little bent. She hadn't wasted credits on such extras since she had been back to the core. The credits were too few between, so at least she was practical enough to adjust for that; but still. Bleh. The mirror reflected her rather boring set of white bra and panties.
Turning, she looked over her shoulder with slight difficulty, and frowned as she saw the ugly scars that peppered the left side of her shoulder and somewhat less down her ribs. Her hair, now dyed a rich golden blond, was unhampered by her traditional braid, a hopeful effort to help conceal or otherwise change her known features.
After a shower, she wrapped herself in a hotel robe and lay down on the bed. Resting on her good side, she began to review the scan she'd taken while in the park. She was glad she had taken the trouble, as she immediately saw that this "Haagenti" R&D had made a few improvements to security since Pryce had left.Several things had been added since she made her visits to the Institute last year. The scan revealed sensors beneath the soil, all along the perimeter of the site, and a similar grid along the rooftops of the actual building, and the adjoining parking structure.
She noted with a chill that the sensors were of a sort to be aways on an active scan, meaning that her own scan had probably been detected. Several shielded "boxes" lay beneath the ground around the main building, a possible indication of an automated defence of some sort; Also troubling, though she now admitted she ought to have expected it, was the fact that the interior of the building itself was completely impervious to the scan. The only new knowledge was that the facility apparently extended a healthy five stories underground, fully doubling the amount of space she was expecting to have to cover. The floors themselves, like the above ground portion, also shielded from scans.
What was the mission here?
She had to complete her contract to The Pryce Institute, as prepared by its representative, Doctor Rene Altura. That contract had been to locate and if possible, retreive, any survivors of downed Pryce Research Vessel 201; failing that, she was to ascertain their final fate, and provide evidence of same. She had done what she could, and now needed to find her employer, who seemed to have disappeared.
What might or might not be going on at the employers former address was not her concern.That there was something illegal, something perhaps deeply wrong going on here seemed likely, but she couldn't get sidetracked with this. That said, there seemed to be some indication that the majority of the Pryce teams' departure was not entirely consensual, and the impression that this facility, orchestrated by one Doctor Ulysses Morris, had obtained his new position with other than honourable means.
So what. Ortega had spent most of her life using other than honourable means just to survive.Why deny others the same?
Dammit.
Ortega turned off the scan review, extinguished the lights, and lay back on the pillow. She wished there was someone to share the bed with. Very often, if there was someone to keep her....occupied, the dreams wouldn't come. Or the thoughts she was begining to have now. Finding the remaining crew of the Pryce ship had really got to her, and she had finally started to admit it. She thought about one Denise Ellis, the Captains wife, and remembered the presence of the womans sadness when Ortega had spoken to her. Ortega had visited a few of the families prior to beginning her search, and it was those visits that had given her the drive to continue the course. The result of that course had changed her, and she still wasn't sure what that meant. Regardless, she needed to finish this, she had to find Altura. Proceeding here didn't look to help her with that. Maybe she would come back here later, and deal with Morris on her own time.
But how to find Altura? It seemed as though only a percentage of the Institute had left with Pryce, the remainder being either dismissed or kept on at the new organization. Ortega wasn't sure however, of the percentages of each group. Surely one of these stay-ons would know where their former employer went. If that failed, Ortega might have to travel to Bretonia, and try to locate the seperate facility that had been directed by Doctor Matthew Cook. It was not a prospect she looked forward to. She was known by some in Bretonia, and her stay there would be difficult if she was noticed.
She was thinking of these things when she fell asleep.
Winterberry Grove Residential Complex
Rexford, Los Angeles
0620 local time
Esperanza tended to hate any vehicle that drove exclusively by A.I.
Though generally, she was open to trying any tech if she thought it might give her an edge, that openess did not extend to the piloting of vehicles she was in. The lack of independence, of that personal control, never seemed to sit right with her.Even when she rode with a crew, someone else at the controls just irritated. She did suppose AI pilot had a place. There had been a certain building on New Tokyo, one of limitless others she guessed, that was periodically pockmarked with the last remnants of overconfident Kusari racers. Of course, she had made a goodly amount of credits from some of those races, so who was she to judge?
She paid the fare, then stepped from the sheltered passenger compartment of the taxi. Once she was clear, the taxi elevated and headed off to its next fare. An A.I., a somewhat worn looking humanoid model with a missing optical lens, noticed her and began to bob its way over to her. It eyed her with the single remaining lens, apparently having adapted to the damage, and spoke, its inhuman drone prehaps abit disjointed, as if it was having difficulty choosing words.
"Greetings and good..morning guest. Welcome to Winterberry Grove.How may I be....of service?"
Ortega cringed noticably at the name of the place, as she had when she'd found it in the listing. She replied; "I am here to visit my friend, Vanessa Donnovan. Can you tell me where I may find her?"
The A.I. paused, longer than it ought, as if it was trying to remember. It replied; "[font=Fixedsys]Certainly guest. The Kingston..Carban...Donnovan Residence,is located in... neighborhood three, number three one six. I can show you there, as you wish."
"I can find it on my own, thanks" Ortega started towards the lift. "Very...well.Have a pleasant day." The A.I matched her pace before turning off to where it had been waiting when she arrived. A crude expletive was etched across its back.
Arriving at the lift, she was greeted by another automated voice, projected from the panel beside the lift door; "Greetings, Welcome to Winterberry Grove. Please present your card."
Ortega complied and there was a brief tension as she hoped this gatekeeper wasn't tied into a law enforcement database. The ID she was using had been used three times before, and she used it here only because her stock of alternates was getting abnormally low. She would have to pay Casper a visit soon and correct that. Underland Raiders are Alpha 1 was laser-carved, roughly,into the wall next to the entryway.
"Welcome Ms Kelly Mason, this is your first visit; are you interested in applying for a lease? We presently have multiple opportunities available, with discounted rates for Ageira Technologies Employees, for students, for law enforcement professionals, and for those with no criminal convictions."
Nice neighborhood Ortega thought, although she had certainly lived in far worse. Far worse.
"No thank you, I'm only here to visit."
"Very well. Please be advised you will be scanned upon entering this structure. The possession of illegal drugs, of weapons,or of stolen property, shall result in a filed report to the Liberty Police. Maximum visit duration is for twenty four hours, commencing at zero six two three hundred hours. Violation of this duration shall result in eviction of tenant.." The door slid open. As she entered, a small blue vehicle pulled into the pad behind her.
After a few minutes Ortega located apartment 316, and keyed the chime. There was a long pause then the door opened.
Kingston/Carban/Donnovan Residence
Rexford, Los Angeles
0631 Local time
As the door opened a young woman stepped through quickly, nearly crashing into Ortega; she started in
surprise, lightly spilling coffee from the cup she clutched tightly. "Oh, excuse me!" she said quickly. Taking a second to notice Ortega, there was a flash of recognition and she asked; "Esperanza?"
"Hello, Vanessa." Ortega replied. She remembered her now. Vanessa Donnovan had been, only a year before, "employed" in a brothel run by a thoroughly unpleasant pirate syndicate; employed, of course, meaning she was a forced sex slave who had been treated quite harshly since she was taken during a hijacking several years before. Ortega had rescued her, and several like her, as the quite unintended result of a visit to the station where the brothel operated. Looking at her now, there was very little trace of the jaded whore Ortega had first met.
At initial glance a rather cute brunette, Vanessa stood several centimetres taller than Ortega, a well proportioned figure with a full bust and curvy hips, unblemished creamy white skin, and a pair of startlingly deep green eyes. Her hair was cut rather short, perhaps done for work rather than cosmetic reasons, and she was dressed rather conservatively, a dark brown dress that traveled down to her ankles ,a pair of equally brown flats, and finished by a snugly fitted, and starkly white labcoat. She looked quite the part of a young intern of a research firm; but there was a certain cold look in those eyes, a look that betrayed a hint of her former life, of a woman who had seen and done far more than her young age and appearance would suggest. It was a look similar to that which Ortega normally wore, albeit for different reasons.
"Listen, " Vanessa said, "Can we meet later? I'm awful late for work! Sorry!" She frowned and stepped pass Ortega, starting down the hallway. Ortega actually felt a little hurt by the abrupt reception. Ortega kept pace, and replied; "It's kind of important Vanessa, how about I ride with you?" Vanessa nodded without comment as they reached the nearest lift.
As they walked out of the lift, Ortega was relating the substance of her meeting with Allie, back on Manhattan earlier in the week."Do you have any idea where they went? Or why they went?" Ortega asked.
Vanessa shook her head. "Not at all. Doctor Morris went into the conference room with Doctor Pryce, Rene, and Denise, and the day after they did, two of the ships left and never came back. They didn't say anything to the assistants or the interns." Vanessa frowned, and Ortega could see she felt betrayed by the departure. "They were so kind to us, helping us get off the drugs, and finding each of us a way to start fresh.I couldn't believe that they could just leave....leave us like that." She glanced at Ortega as they neared her car.
The doors opened on the Dartanyan 220VE Hovercar, an economical single engine, low atmo four passenger vehicle. This one was a fairly appealing shade of dark red,and it was clean, though that was the about the nicest things that could be said about it. This was about a '12 model year, right before the safety recall of another of its models, and the resulting lawsuits, that had eventually bankrupted the company. The car had a reputation of being dirt cheap, energy efficient, and easy to maintain; but also that of needing frequent maintainance, and a certainty of fatalities if it was in a crash.
"Allie was pretty worried about you Vanessa. Tell me about your work." Ortega got into the car with Vanessa.
Vanessa started the vehicle and avoided Ortegas' eyes "I can't talk about that." As the car warmed up a holoscreen appeared in front of them, showing a panoramic view of the garage outside the now enclosed shell of the car.A slightly thinner image ran across each side of them, showing outside the vehicle from each direction. After a moment they lifted off and headed slowly out of the the garage, Vanessa drumming her fingers on the console all the while. "Come on, come on!" She muttered.
"Sure you can." Ortega said gently."Tell me about what you're ...."
"You don't understand!" Vanessa interrupted; "I got a warning okay? For talking about confidential research to people outside. They knew, they knew everything. I can't talk about it. If I get dismissed, without a reference, all of this, everything I've worked so hard for, it won't last... I'll lose it and I won't have anything!" Her face had changed, the mask faded, and a very real fear permeated the car. She wiped her eyes and whispered; "I don't want to go back to what I was." The car reached the exit to the garage and awaited instructions. Ortega noticed that they were right outside the pad where she had initially arrived. The small blue vehicle remained parked where it had landed, probably another visitor.
Ortega considered her next approach carefully, her words coming out quietly as they sat in the unmoving car.
"Vanessa. I can tell you from experience, that keeping quiet while something wrong is happening is often just as bad as the thing itself. If you don't speak out when you can, they'll just keep doing what they're doing, and people could die." Ortega caught Vanessas' eye."Trust me, you will never forgive yourself if that happens and you could have stopped it."
Vanessa nodded silently.
A movement caught Ortegas' attention and she looked forward. An automated delivery lorry, nearly four times larger then the Dartanyan, was already halfway across the pad, and was picking up speed as it rushed towards them. A collision alert beeped in the car, and it veered to the right, striking the side of the entranceway, then ricocheted at an angle, now laying across the entrance to the garage. The oncoming missile adjusted course to match them as Vanessa sat in shock, staring to her right as the thing bore down on them. Ortega shouted the command to turn off the autonav, but the car of course would only respond to Vanessa herself. Ortega yelled "Vanessa, drive us back inside!"
There was an endless instant when Ortega saw Vanessa move to do exactly that, and the side view composed entirely of the lorry, when the lorry hit them at its maximum possible speed.
Winterberry Grove Residential Complex
Resident Vehicle Parking
Rexford, Los Angeles
0649 Local time
There was a moment when she didn't know where she was, or even who.
There was a strong smell in what was left of the car. It wasn't the smell of smoke that Ortega picked out, though that was also present, nor the smell of blood, which was also strong in the confined cabin. It was a sweet, pungent odour, one that she had smelled many times before. There was a light across her eyelids, and they fluttered open. She was staring through a massive hole that had been torn open starting from the side and continuing on across the roof of the car. The ceiling of the garage was overhead.
She became aware of a pressure and gently looked downward, seeing the strange hand resting on her leg, its grip relaxing as she watched. She glanced to her right and flinched, seeing what was left of that seats occupant; Ortega quickly looked away. It was too late; she knew she'd have dreams about it later.
She tried to move and yelped, discovering that her left arm was most likely broken. She coughed, partly from the smoke, and partly to hear it, but heard nothing but a hollow ringing. Carefully, Ortega undid the restraints with her right arm, pausing to push the dead womans arm towards its owner. The roof and right front side of the car was simply an opening of jagged metal, there wasn't much to grab onto. She rose in the seat, pulling her feet under her, gingerly due to her arm, and slowly worked a path out of the jagged hole, the cars doors now quite useless.
As she peaked the opening, she felt a wave of dizzyness and slipped, and a bent blade of shredded alloy tore easily through her thin dress and sunk deep into her upper left thigh. She screamed and flailed for a handhold, slicing her hand open on a section of roof, but stopping her from being impaled through the ribcage. She hung precariously for a moment, and missed her flightsuit, which would have withstood the metal. With great difficulty, she pulled her leg off the sharp point, which began to bleed much more than she liked, and half lowered herself, half fell out of the car and onto the paved surface of the garage.
She lay on her back for what seemed a long time. Bleeding. Have to take care of that. It was here that she realized that a part of her didn't want to. She was getting tired, very tired of this life. She could see how easy it would be, just to choose to fall asleep, right here, to choose to let go.
The woman sitting in that car hadn't had that choice.
With a cry, equal parts anger and dispair, Ortega raised herself on her good arm, and dragged herself to the closest wall, turning to lie against it. She fumbled with the lower part of her dress, trying to tear off a portion, but finding the operation impossible with the use of only one hand. Instead, she rested her back against the wall and rolled onto her right hip, drawing her injured left leg closer, she used her right hand to bunch up the lower portion of the dress, and pressed it as firmly as she could against the painful wound. The pressure wasn't very hard. Waited too long. She grimaced as she saw the noticable blood trail leading from the wreck. She was starting to feel abit faint. She deliberately moved her left arm abit, and the resulting jab of pain brought her back a little. That trick wouldn't work much longer.
Now in a position to view the wreck in better detail, Ortega realized that she'd been carried quite aways back into the interior of the garage. The exit to the outside pad was perhaps twelve meters to her left, the morning sun shining through into the smoky haze of the garage interior. The lorry had hit the stopped car very hard; the car had been launched into the interior like a billiard ball, until it stuck an interior wall, crushing the left side of the car along with Ortegas' left arm in the process. What was left of the lorry had just missed the same wall, continuing along a lane leading deeper into the structure, hitting enough parked vehicles to finally bring it to a stop. There was a scattered trail of twisted metal and parts that followed all the way to the rear of the lorry. There remained a great deal of smoke, though Ortega didn't see any fire.
A man wandered in from the haze and walked close to the wreck.Noting the blood trail, she watched as his eyes followed the ground until they met hers. They held each others gaze for a moment when he realized she was still alive. The man turned, and walked briskly back into the haze.
She wondered if the medics would be able to get to her in time.
Watterson Memorial Hospital
Critical Care Unit
Bed #11
She could see the smoke long before she arrived home, a hatefully black plume that trailed deep into the otherwise clear Cambridge sky. At first she thought that perhaps the house on the neighboring farm had caught fire, but as she neared her throat began to tighten as she realized it was her own. She dropped the bag she was carrying, and broke into a run, hampered by the long violet sundress she wore. Grabbing hold of the dress at each side, she ran along the dirt path, her heart beating faster and faster. An aged wooden fence ran parallel to the path, behind which stretched seemingly endless fields of tall green grass. The warm sun was just beginning to set, casting a glow on the fields and on the hills in the distance.
As she neared the house, she saw that it had been completely gutted, the fire brigade having just extinguished the last of the flames. Even the car hadn't been spared, its blackened shell sitting in its normal place. Where was Rafa and the baby? A member of the fire brigade, wearing the helmet of a watch manager, noticed her standing at the start of the path, and began to walk towards her. His face was grim.
Esperanza opened her eyes, and felt her heart racing within her chest. She lay in the sterile room of what could only be a hospital, unless the realm of Hades her grandmother had told her about had been somewhat misrepresented. She was tired, and feeling like a wet blanket. Which she supposed was better than being dead. Her quickening heart rate had apparently attracted attention, as it wasn't long before a nurse entered the room, and began to check the various readouts from the console next to her bed. Ortega watched the nurse sleepily as it (The nurse was an A.I.) called for a Doctor.
A few minutes passed and a thin man wearing the fittings of a medical doctor arrived at Ortegas' bedside. He noticed her awake, and spoke; "Nice to have you with us, Miss Mason. You've had a rough time of it." He smiled and added; "[font=Courier New]My name is Doctor Anthony Erbass."
Apparently the medics had taken her ID card at face value. The use of the false name told Ortega how to proceed. "Kelly Mason" was officially a freelance messenger pilot who worked for a variety of interplanetary firms based in Liberty. It gave her an excuse to be in a hurry, and also to be found in unusual places at unusual times. Kelly paid her taxes, had a very complete and orderly resume, and unknown to any monitoring authority, had died in an asteroid field five years before. Ortega had assumed the womans' identity, one of several, after obtaining the services of a man some knew only by his working name, but fewer still knew of as Casper.
The only problem, was that Kelly Mason wasn't as clean as she used to be. A few jobs had forced Ortega to commit what Liberty Authorities would term violent crimes, in addition to quite abit of theft, and she was quietly wondering how well reported her crimes had been. The shootings had probably stayed within the small unlawful communities they had occurred in, but the rest...
The Doctor had been eyeing her, his clinical gaze fading a moment, replaced by something more instinctive as his eyes lingered on the shape of her hips beneath the thin sheets, and traced up to her chest, where they stayed longer then perhaps they ought have. He realized she had caught him staring and cleared his throat nervously.
Ortega filed away the Doctors' lust as a possible future advantage and spoke; "What is my condition, Doctor?" She looked up at him weakly, wishing she could shake off the fog.
"Well Miss Mason, when you arrived, you had suffered fatal stage four hypovolemia. We...I was able to successfully revive you, and my colleague Doctor Remis repaired the neural damage that resulted from your blood loss and heart failure. You had a severe stab wound to your left leg, which we've repaired, and a broken arm, which I treated, though you will need to rest for several more days. We found destroyed stereocilia in your inner ears, and regenerated damaged sections as we found them. Overall, I expect you'll make a full recovery."
She gazed at him with what she hoped was an innocent smile. "Oh Doctor, that's such great news! I'm really in your debt. Thank you."
He smiled, apparently pleased with her reply. "We've sent a message to your father, but we haven't received a response yet. Is there anyone else that we can contact? Your employer perhaps? Any other family or friends?" He was sort of leaning towards her, clearly awaiting a detailed reply.
Esperanza became a bit more tense. Kelly Masons' father was not someone she was worried about, as all of Kellys' immediate family was dead, just like her. There wasn't any next of kin data on her card. Which is why the Doctors mentioning of sending a message to the dad didn't make any sense. The ID was a good one, purchased at considerable expense, but even the best personas could have a weak point, that once discovered, could unravel a cover completely. Can't use this one anymore She would have to respond carefully.
"I'm afraid you won't have much luck Doctor. My father passed away six years ago. I'm the last of us."
"Oh, I'm so sorry." The Doctor replied, he relaxed slightly, her reply apparently in line with whatever information he had. "Well, you will need to rest. I'll return to check on you in awhile. It looks like you'll be able to be moved to one of the regular rooms soon." He turned and left the room.
Ortega realized her being brought here had attracted attention. Someone apparently suspected her identity, but possibly wasn't sure of the paticulars. She had to get out of here, but a dramatic escape would only invite more interest in her. One of the Pryce people, at least one of which was an MD, would have come in handy about now.
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