From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus)
Subject: Re: Deuces and One-eyed Jacks (Oct. 13) (part 2 of 2)
Organization: Data I/O Corporation
Date: Wed, 14 Oct 1992 00:09:26 GMT

     The Spirit of the Sound deposited Saraquael against the piling of a
dock.   It didn't do it gently, either.  Barnacles scraped gashes onto her
face, hands, and left scrapes on the red leather, turned even redder with
her blood.  She *was* glad she was in full leathers.

     Hanging onto the piling, she still managed to thank the Spirit, even
as it laughed within her mind with a sound like water running through
pebbles.  It pointed out the ship next to the dock and turned away.  She 
held her breath until she felt it leave.

     When she finally breathed in, a wave slapped her in the face anyway.
She spit with a hissing sob, and tried to get most of the stuff out.

     With a couple of breaths well above the surface of the water, Sara
looked around to find that the piling with the ladder on its side was a
good 20 feet through the water.  Luckily, it was nearly dawn, and there
was starting to be enough light to see.  Trying not to think of what was
getting into her wounds, she swam the distance, for once glad of the
lessons Crystal had forced on her as a discipline.

     The climb up the rungs left more blood on the barnacles that grew up
to the high tide mark.  The Sound seemed to lick against the pillar, and
then fall back as she reached the smoothness of the wood above the water.

     The rest of the climb was fairly easy.  Saraquael took it slow, not
wanting to give the Sound another chance at her if she happened to fall.
When she reached the top, she took a look above at the deserted, pre-dawn
dock.  There were a few machines wandering about.  If there were machines,
there might be triggers and alarms.  For a while, she panted and dripped on
the dry dock.  As she rested, she looked at the empty ship.  There was
obviously, no one there anymore.

     With two fingers on the hard wood, she tapped a rhythm out to
herself and chanted under her breath...

     "when i feel high post don't you play me close, a dig 'em smack
      a get you back and i'll hit with a dose of oaktown power
      and charge you by the hour.  i'm shakin' like a quake and punks
      get devoured. I choose to abuse, misuse and confuse
      competitors who think they're makin' up all the rules, fools
      in the game lame and insane it's a shame I gotta do this but
      i remain the same, unchanged gettin' better, never known
      as a sweater kickin' it at the top 'cause I got myself together
      so roll with a gal who's physical and fit, knows the time
      and too legit to quit..."

she disappeared.  A soft laugh of exhaustion, and a series of wet
footprints started forming themselves along the dock.  They got fainter
and fainter, and an alarm started wailing in the distance as a warm body
walked by it.

     Sara trusted that the idiot machine-dependent men would trust their
cameras instead of their warmth seeker, and walked on.  She started looking
into the containers.  The Sound had taken the bag as payment.  She didn't
have anything to look with, so she just walked along, peering into
containers.  Most of them were full of a thin layer of garbage, things better
left alone.  

     The sun rose, and Saraquael was tiring steadily with having to hold the
illusion.  Other alarms suddenly started sounding.  And Sara spotted a
figure running through the corridors.  A figure with big blonde hair.

     Saraquael moved to the entrance to the holding yards and found men
watching with sharp eyes.  She hid in the shadows until there were cries that
the other had escaped over a fence.   All but one of the men followed, so
Sara came out and went for the controls to the big fence.  She managed to
trigger the open and slip out before the one left yelled at the opening,
and looked with misgivings at the uncontrolled door doing its own thing.  

     As soon as she was out of line of sight of the yard, Sara dropped the
spell and dropped to the concrete to just sit, shivering in a doorway. 

     Blackjack needed to know, soonest.  But it could wait five minutes.

     Once she stopped the worst of her shaking she started looking for a
'phone both.  It was only a grey zone, so the third phone booth she found
had a unit still in it.  She dialed the number of her Ranger, and then
sat, singing ditties to herself on the corner until it came.  By the time
it reached her, she was smiling.

     She and the Ranger drove by the storage yards to note the address on
the Ranger's internal map, and then they roared towards the Chatsubo.  On
the way, Saraquael leaned over the brute bike's handlebars and slept as it
used it's internal AI navigation system to get her there.

-----
Copyright 1992 by Phyllis Rostykus.  All rights reserved.

Storyline is Jim Gaynor's <gaynor@agvax2.ag.ohio-state.edu>.  Sara and her
Ranger are only the hired help, but they're mine.