Chapter Seven
The Base's Intel department had everything Rudy needed to fashion tracking devices for Jaime and Steve. They'd decided against wearing wires, since they'd be found too easily and transmission might have proven impossible on the post-quake air-waves. The trackers would be able to pinpoint Jaime's location immediately, and she'd insisted that Steve wear one, too.
"After all," she said sensibly, "Callahan wanted you."
"But she's only psychotic," Steve argued, even as he was extending his arm so Rudy (assisted by Jaime) could implant the device. "Marchetti is the violent one."
"Only psychotic?" Jaime had to laugh at the irony. "Isn't that enough?"
His implant finished, Steve wrapped an arm around his wife and kissed her, knowing that when Jaime's mind was made up, it was pointless to argue.
"Sit down, Steve," Rudy requested, "and look straight into my penlight. Good – now follow it with your eyes but don't move your head. Great." The doctor clicked off the penlight and nodded to Oscar. "He's fine. He'll have a nasty headache for a day or two, but everything seems normal." He looked back at the Austins. "I want you to watch out for each other out there; you both may be weaker than you realize. Don't forget that even bionics need a break every now and then."
Oscar clicked off the datacom and set it on the bedside table. "Is he ok to fly the chopper, Rudy, or do we need a pilot?"
"I'll be fine," Steve assured them. "And I'm not lying, because I'll have Jaime on board – you know I'd never jeopardize her safety."
Oscar nodded. "Alright. You'll be taking the Medivac over to NSB Headquarters, or whatever's left of it. Deputy Director Paar will meet you there with a working datacom for each of you, and I expect you to use them. Check in and let me know what's going on, even if everything is fine."
Steve and Jaime both nodded, understanding how hard it was for Oscar to be laid up in a hospital bed when there were urgent matters to attend to.
"Good luck," Rudy and Oscar told them, almost in unison. When the Austins were gone, the two men looked at each other and sighed. This time, there were two silent prayers.
- - - - - -
"Steve?" Jaime began tentatively, once the chopper was airborne.
"Yeah?"
"Are Oscar and Rudy...ok?"
Steve had never been able to lie to Jaime. "Rudy's got a couple of simple fractures; he'll heal alright, in time."
"And...Oscar?" Jaime hadn't really seen his legs.
"I don't know, Sweetheart. His legs are...pretty bad, but he'll have the world's top surgeons working on him, so we have to stay positive."
Jaime nodded, feeling flooded by emotions: Oscar's injury, on top of what she was seeing out of the chopper windows, was almost too much to handle. Steve saw her chin quiver slightly as she struggled to be brave, and he wished he could take her in his arms and hold her close but he was piloting the aircraft, so for the moment all he could do was reach out and hold her hand.
- - - - - -
The NSB's complex was even more devastated than the OSI's building had been. Steve could barely find a clear area to set down the Medivac, but as soon as he did they saw Paar. Good to his word, the Deputy Director handed them each a datacom. "These are pretty hot commodities right now, but Goldman assures me you both need them."
Jaime eyed Paar a bit nervously; they had not been on the best of terms in the past (he'd once tried to have her jailed), but hopefully that would stay a distant memory and not affect what happened now. "Where would you like us to start?" she asked, seeing a need virtually everywhere and not a whole lot in terms of actual help.
"Take your pick," he told them. "We're grateful for any help you're willing and able to give, at this point."
"Where are the holding cells?" Steve requested.
"They used to be right over there," Paar said, pointing to an area just beyond a huge pile of unidentifiable wreckage.
"Is that where you found Chris Williams?"
Paar nodded. "He had the cell closest to the main building, so they found him almost right away. He was crushed beyond -"
"Thanks," Steve said, cutting him off before Jaime had to hear the gorier details. As they made their way to what used to be a small, underground jail, Steve kept one hand protectively at the small of Jaime's back, hovering like a guard dog and determined not to let her out of his sight. The first thing he noticed was that the building had crumbled inward; the walls of the holding cells were solid concrete reinforced with steel plates, and they'd held firm although the benches had fallen and the doors were rippled and broken from the sheer force of the structure above them coming down. The ceiling of Chris's cell had completely collapsed, filling it with large pieces of concrete, metal and wood. The middle cell was damaged but filled only about waist high with smaller bits of junk and the end cell was virtually intact, with no sign of its occupant.
Steve knew from his visit with Peggy Callahan that she'd been in the smallest cell – the one in the middle – so that meant Marchetti had been on the far end. Unless he'd been struck by falling debris, Steve realized with a sinking heart that there was a strong possibility Michael Marchetti was still alive...and free.
"Let's head over there, Sweetheart," he suggested, guiding Jaime toward what used to be the main building. "It looks like they're still pulling people out."
As they headed in that direction, Jaime suddenly stopped short. "Oh, God, Steve – Mom and Dad! Are they...ok?"
"There's no way to find out yet," he answered, as gently as possible. "But their ranch is further south than most of the damage, so hopefully everything is fine." Steve and Jaime looked at each other with sad, knowing eyes as the identical thought occurred to both of them. Their own ranch, further to the north, might not have been so lucky. Without needing words to express the depth of their emotions, they shared a tender, comforting embrace before joining the rescue team.
Jaime was the first to remember there were two worried men back at Edwards, anxiously waiting to hear from them. "Oh! I'd better let Rudy and Oscar know we got here ok."
Steve nodded, scanning the horizons for any sign of looming danger as Jaime pulled out her datacom. Well-hidden in the back of an NSB van, there was someone Steve didn't see (and Jaime didn't hear, since she was talking to Oscar) – someone who had a datacom of his own.
"They're here," he said quietly into the device. "Yes, both of them. I didn't have to pull any strange maneuvers to get 'em here, either – Goldman sent them. Wasn't that considerate? You know," he continued, watching while Jaime finished her call with Steve right next to her, "you owe me big, Marchetti."
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