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| Lpnet3-100 Day of the Mystikon Chapter 1: The Martian Landlords Chapter 2: The Post Neutronic Era Chapter 3: The NYC and the EMDA Chapter 4: Stranded at Toyland Chapter 5: A Gem for a Raygun Chapter 6: An Isotope for an Engine Chapter 7: A Sublime Portent Chapter 8: A Hard Rain Chapter 9: Against the Wind Chapter 10. The Monster Tank Chapter 11: The Secret Agent Chapter 12: The NDX Unit Chapter 13: Fort Granite Chapter 14: Contact with the Natives |
Day
of the Mystikon
5. A Gem for a Ray-Gun My MIT tavern friend got the parts I needed without any trouble, and seemed very relieved when I handed over the 1600. Apparently, he was afraid I’d not keep my side of the deal, but after he counted the 16 one-hundred dollar bills, he shook my hand and smiled. I checked the parts closely, they seemed in order, and drove away to find a motel. In the motel, I constructed the laser and sighed with anticipation as I noted the empty compart where the gemstone was to be inserted. The next day, I went to Boston and checked out all the jewelry stores. Around 2 pm, I located a small ruby, no more than 4 millimeters in diameter. As small as it was, it would serve the function in the laser, but the price was 23,000 bucks. So I admired it shortly, made a wide scan of the store, noted two security monitors, and decided to give it a shot. I pulled out the .357 magnum, stuck it in the jeweler’s face, and instructed him to hand over the ruby. He did so, with fearful shock, and I quickly snatched it and ran. An alarm went off as I burst out the door onto the street. A security guard ducked inside a doorway as he saw me headed his way. I put my trust in the EMDA and confronted him. “Stop right there!” he said, as he stepped out in front of me and pointed the gun at my chest. I quickly made a step to one side, spun about, and kicked the gun as it went off. As he fell back and tried to recover his aim, I took another quick step, and threw another kick to his head. He went down then and I continued on my way back to the car. After I hopped into the car, I quickly took out the laser, inserted the ruby, and tightened it in place. I started the engine, and quickly drove away. The guard was on his feet again, spotted me, and fired. He put a hole in one of the side windows as I drove away from the scene. As I speeded through an intersection, headed for the highway, a police car got on my tail. I decided it was time to test the laser. Holding the steering-wheel steady with my left hand, I quickly aimed the laser out the window, and fired at them as they tried to pass me on the left. A thin red ray shot from the gun and struck the front of the car. The ray burnt a hole through its grid-work and the radiator exploded from a sudden release of pressure. They continued to pursue, leaking water and coolant, so I shot again. The ray bounced off the front hood, sliced through the windshield, and caused the driver to lose control. They went off the side of the road and crashed into a fire-hydrant. I sped onto the highway, headed west, and managed to lose the heat somehow. Later that day, I switched vehicles in a parking lot and hoped that would confuse them. It did, and that evening, I ditched the stolen car, and rested easier in a motel, safely secure for the time. As I lay back, considering my next move, I thought about what the Martians said about being able to pick up Lisa anytime. Would the EMDA and the laser be enough to fight them? It had to be. Presently, however, I was in need of transportation, and under the circumstances, the more nonpublic the better. I couldn’t afford to buy another car. There was a motorcycle shop less than a kilometer along the road, however, the cheapest bike they had was over 5,000, and it was too small for my purposes. I checked the shop out and got my eyes glued to a 750 Zephyr, but it was priced at 6,000. With less than 11,000 left and no ‘legal’ way to get it safely registered, now that I was a suspicious felon, I decided to make a late night call, with the laser-gun. Around 6 pm, I packed the briefcase, put on my jacket, and checked out of the motel. I crossed the street and followed the walkway west several hundred meters, had dinner at a restaurant, then walked to a nearby gas-station. There, I purchased a small 2 liter container of gas, crossed the street again, walked to an area close by the motorbike shop, and ducked into the cover of some trees. I found myself in a patch of woodland, which led to a ravine. I followed the edge of the ravine, until I reached the trees at the rear of the bike shop, and suited, with the briefcase and gas by my side, until late at night. I cleared a place by a tree, put down some newspaper, and sat, with my back against the tree, in meditation. At 3 am in the early morning, my wrist-alarm went off and awoke me from meditation. It was time to make the move. I looked at the briefcase, realized it wouldn’t fit the saddlebags of the motorbike, and opened it. The notebook, along with the story I was writing and the skems for the EMDA and the laser, fit snuggly under my vest, between the armor and an undershirt. Nothing else was important, so I just left the briefcase by the tree and carried the 2 liters of gas to the edge of the woodland. The shop was still, cold, quiet. There wasn’t a single conscious person anywhere. I walked carefully to the rear door of the shop, at the right side of a large metal, garage door. There were no windows, it was all stone walls. I took out the laser, pointed it at the heavy metal lock, and shot the thin red ray. It burnt slowly through the lock as I used it as a cutting edge. After the lock was cut all the way through, I sliced it along the edge of the door, through the crack, and around the knob. As I forced the door open I was aware that a silent alarm had probably been triggered, which meant I only had minutes to complete the task before the law got nosey and things got messy. So I shone a flashlight ahead of me and moved quickly to the show-floor in the front, where most of the motorbikes were on display. I found the 750 Zephyr, pried open the cover of the gas tank, unscrewed the cap, and filled it with gas. Then I walked the bike out of the show-room to the rear garage, stuck a little universal ignition-key gadget into the ignition and twisted it. There was a spark, but it didn’t turn over. I tried again, it still wouldn’t start. I looked under the gas-tank, located a little gas-line valve, and turned it. I tried the key again, and it started. I checked the time, and drove out, through the back door. It was still quiet out there, so I took my chances and went for it. I zoomed westward, quickly away from the scene, out on the road. As I sped away into the distance, I noticed the flash of a police car, in the rearview mirror. It had only just arrived on the scene, and since I didn’t have the lights on, it didn’t see me speeding away. Minutes later, I was on route 192, headed west, and there wasn’t a cop car in sight. Of course, it was just a matter of time before the call got around, so I took it to 100 kph and hoped everyone was deep asleep. When I reached Springfield, I slowed down to 75, then 60 kph and eased around the curve onto route 91, southbound. I increased to 75 again, and left the city in the dust. In a matter of minutes, I crossed over the south-end bridge to Mawaga, and felt like I was in the clear. Interstate county local law, fortunately, tended to get tied up in trivial codes with cases as minor as a vehicle theft. It was unlikely there was any serious communication, especially at this twilit hour. I drove down the ramp, slowed to 50, and flew around the rotary, to route 57. Minutes later, I turned off the highway and slowed to 35 kph. Still driving without lights, I took the Zephyr into the driveway, into the back yard of the house I was renting. I parked the bike behind the house, where it could not be seen, and removed the helmet. I looked at the house, still, dark, and silent, and wondered if it was still vacant. As I calculated, I hadn’t been gone for more than a month, as if on vacation, even though from my own peculiar viewpoint, it had been years. Carefully, I walked around the side of the house, to the porch leading to the kitchen. I had to use the universal-key to unlock the door, but once I was inside I flashed the hand-light, looked around, found a lamp, and turned it on. It had not changed; it was still the same as I had left it. With much relief, I shed the EMDA and laid myself down to rest, on the couch. |
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