Times Like These

"Shit. Shit!"

Dove turned away from the phone sharply, closing her eyes. Lucas reached out, shakily, concerned.

"Do you think - ?"

"Shh!" she hissed, still with her eyes tightly shut. She was trying to make contact with Shadbolt's CICI. She imagined it, as she always did, as a sleek, but solid metal door. Shadbolt wasn't keen on letting people into his thoughts, or even his confidence. The door loomed towards her as she approached. It dwarfed her, stretching high into the darkness of fakespace.

"Shadbolt?" she asked quietly. Mentally she took a step forward, so she was standing directly before the door. "Can you hear me?"

There was silence for a moment, and then a reply drifted through the air.

"I'm fine," said Shadbolt's voice. Distant. And then, in the same tone, "I'm fine."

"What happened?" asked Dove, raising her voice. "Do you need help?"

Silence.

"Shadbolt? What's going on?"

Silence.

"Answer me, damn you!"

She brought her hand round as if to rap at the steel façade. But a stinging blow to her face snapped her back to reality. She stared blankly into Lucas' eyes. It took her a moment to realise where she was.

"Um, you weren't answering me. And you were shaking."

Dove's gaze flicked over him, as if she were having trouble focussing.

"I can't raise Shadbolt on his CICI." Her mouth was dry, but more than that, she felt a trickle of panic down the back of her neck. She did not know why she had got the first reply and no other. And there was something creepy about the echo. CICI feedback was possible, given the right circumstances, she tried to muse calmly. She swallowed painfully. Mei always said she worried too much, she thought ruefully.

"Lucas, can you ride?"

Lucas stared into her face. Her hair hung mournfully about her cheeks, framing her scared expression. He blinked.

"I couldn't steer."

"But you could hold on?"

"Yeah. I think."

Dove nodded, lips tightly pressed together. She moved quickly to a desk in the corner of the room, and pulled out a antique gun, polished and well-kept. She pressed it into Lucas' hand.

"We have to go. I'll drive the bike. You hold on. And keep hold of the gun."

"But I don't know if I can fire it straight."

Dove opened the door.

"Yes, well, they don't know either."

As the two of them made their way down the stairs, Lucas leaning heavily on Dove, her breathing was shallow and quick. She was trying to push aside the thought that had occurred to her when she had taken the gun.

What if they were walking into a trap?

Mich Sampson, 29/08/01

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