From: kat@bacchus.esa.oz.au (Kathryn Andersen)
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: Re: The UN Patrol
Summary: Jack Mills follows Colonel Crane and Boswell
Keywords: aliens Crane Boswell Mills
Date: 21 Jul 92 00:24:39 GMT
Organization: none

<< If the ball is still in my court, here's my return!
Sorry that Boswell didn't say anything, but I didn't know how
he would react.  Please feel free to correct that oversight,
Dave, if you want to.  And apologies in advance if you feel I've
taken liberties with Jenna Crane, Melanie.  Hey, do you like B7 too? >>

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Jack stepped cautiously down the street after Boswell and Crane.
Where were they going?  Out of the maze and into the brighter
lights, it seemed.  His pupils opened wide to soak up what little
light there was, gazing at those he followed.  Their stride was
easy, untroubled.  They talked, not happily, alternatively facing
each other, looking ahead, and hunching up against the rain.  A
portrait of unconcern, a deceptive veneer to gull the unwary, a
warning to the wise.  Jack was wise enough.  It didn't feel
right.

They turned a sudden corner, and he lost sight of them.  Damn.
That's what comes of being impatient.  Planning is the corner-
stone of success, and he hadn't planned this one at all.  Not one
whit.  You are walking straight into trouble, Jack.  If so, so be
it.  He stepped up to the corner.

Trouble came in the form of a Genoan Hand Laser pointed at his
chest, held by the unredoubtable Colonel Jenna Crane, frowning.
"Okay, Mills - why are you following me?"

If planning was the cornerstone, improvisation was the mortar.
Jack put up his hands in surrender, but his voice was light.
"Hey, Colonel, no need to get lethal.  I wouldn't harm a fly.
I'm not that kind of fellow."

"Answer the question." She was not amused.

The phrase 'might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb' sprung
to his mind.  Problem was, he'd rather not be hung at all.  "Why
don't you put that thing away?  It's most uncivilized."

Crane didn't move.

The rain beaded on Jack's face like sweat.  He chose his words
carefully.  "I have a *personal* interest in things extra-
terrestrial."

"Why don't you join the local UFO society?"

"Because they don't know anything.  You do."

Her face could be made of stone, for all the reaction she gave to
that.  "You never had a *personal* interest in anything, Jack -
anything but money, that is."

A reputation was a two-edged sword, and this one seemed to be
turning in his hand. "The exception proves the rule."

One single twist of the mouth to show how much she thought of
that idea.  "Who's paying you?"

"My consicence."

She stared at him.  It was the veritable truth, but did she know
that?  He started putting his hands down, but stopped when Crane
jerked her laser up, pointing unerringly towards one pale brown
eye.

"Killing me will get you nowhere.  Or worse than nowhere."
Of course, she might be planning something less fatal than death,
but that was an assumption he couldn't afford to make.  One good
threat deserves another.  "The Piper could owe me a favour.  And
you know how good he is.  Are you willing to take that chance?"

Jack spent the next five seconds praying that she wouldn't call
his bluff.  He breathed an inward sigh of relief when she
holstered her gun.  He smiled.  "Besides, it's very uncomfortable
talking in the rain.  Even more so than a pub.  And you never
know who might be listening."

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(c) copyright 1992 Kathryn Andersen
Jenna Crane is the creation of Melanie A. Miller.
(And the ball must surely be in your court now?)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=--=
Avon: Doesn't it make you feel good to be wanted? 
Vila: I've been a wanted man all my life.  What I need now is to be unwanted.
			(Blake's 7: Countdown [B9]) /?/
-- 
 _--_|\		Kathryn Andersen 	
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Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo