CHAPTER 4

After a while, West discovered Smith had probably been right after all and they began to venture in an easterly direction.

There were more and more beings on the streets as the humans headed toward a more well-lit area. The aliens sported a variety of clothing or nothing at all, depending on the culture's desire for propriety or not. As they began to cross paths with these aliens, none of them paid the humans any attention. The temperature was more than comfortable, perhaps a bit too warm and muggy, so they stopped bothering about obtaining appropriate clothing.

Signs appeared on street corners with arrows similar to what humans used to identify facilities such as hospitals, arenas and airports. And airports, so to speak, was just what they needed.

Flagging down a pedestrian, wasn't hard. Communicating with it was. The creature wobbled as if a bit tipsy and a long skinny, glistening tongue kept flipping out of a small orifice in its pudding-like face. Sludgy plates over its eyes raised up enough to reveal opalescent orbs. "Yesh, can I hel—help huu?"

Smith looked like he was fervently praying the thing didn't need assistance staying upright because clearly he wasn't going to volunteer. And his thin lips were almost touching the bottom of his nose as if he thought the thing smelled bad, nauseatingly bad, which Don had to admit was an accurate assessment. But Smith, ever the smooth talker took the initiative to engage in conversation.

"We apparently have become lost and are seeking the space port, my good sir. Would you be kind enough to provide assistance?" His eyes began to water but he held it together.

"Whu—" the thing began, sending out further wafts of putrescent odors.

The doctor, not wanting to offend, didn't back away. It wasn't like he hadn't been around corpses in his pathology rotation, some of them forensics cases. However, this creature's scent most assuredly rivaled them all…and then some. So he repeated his question, more succinctly this time.

"The space port? Where is it?"

"Can-can't you re-re-read?" It swung its oozing face at the nearest rectangular placard.

"Not Vedanian signs."

"Oh, um, 'kay then. Yeth, yesh, uh, that way!" Runny looking protuberances rolled out from its side and gestured before it hobbling down the avenue in a rolling gait. The direction he indicated had matched the road sign's arrow.

As soon as it was out of ear shot, Smith made a few feigned gagging noses. "Oh, there isn't enough air freshener on the whole planet to remove that stench."

"Well, dead bodies are your thing," Don retorted irritably. It had been a long night after all.

"That was cruel, Major. Need I remind you, death and destruction was your career choice, not mine." As his ire cooled, he gestured at the nearest sign and added, "At least we are going in the right direction. As I said right from the start."

For the next ten minutes they trudged along, noting the signs with the same symbols and arrows. Then suddenly, from nearby, there was a loud volley of booms and clanging followed by screeches of something that might have been a siren.

The Major stopped dead in his tracks. "What the hell?"

"Don't even think about investigating. My spider sense is tingling. My calamity alarms are ringing—"

"Take it easy, Smith. I don't want to be involved in whatever this any more than you do."

Releasing a huge exhalation, Smith practically gasped with relief. "Oh, thank God. I don't think I can contend with any additional stress this evening."

Before they could even reevaluate where to go, several floating vehicles whizzed by, strobing orange and green lights warning everyone out of their way. Similar sirens emanated from within those egg shaped conveyances. Everything converged on a building not more than 200 feet from them. Screaming beings were fleeing into the streets as fast as whatever limbs, wings, cilia or blubber could propel them. Then a pair of neon pink daddy long legs sprang onto the street bearing what looked like two bodies in their elongated legs. They vaulted over the 'cop' cars, squeezed into a hovering craft and zooming off before anyone could stop them.

"Come along, let's double back and go up another block," suggested Smith. But Don wasn't moving. In fact he looked alarmingly concerned. The doctor couldn't help but notice. "I know I'll regret inquiring, but is something amiss?"

The Major was already clasping Smith's bicep in a powerful grip. Enough to make his companion flinch, but the doctor uttered no sound. "Did you see the victims carried off?"

"No, did you? They were too far away to discern much. My visual acuity isn't poor for a man of my years but—"

"Well, my eyesight is better than average for my years. And I saw lavender and yellow clothing on one of them. Purple on the other." Before even finishing his sentence he was sprinting toward the building. Smith, worried about being abandoned, charged after him, putting on a surprising burst of speed although he didn't quite catch up to his companion.

The authorities weren't giving out any information but apparently they had sent at least two vehicles in hot pursuit. And Don didn't need any confirmation who the hostages were. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. Just as Smith's intuition skills concerning doom and gloom were usually on the money, Don's instincts about danger was also well honed. And those same instincts were screaming at him.

"I need to go after them." Don was already running in the direction of the escape vehicle.

Panting loudly, Smith wheezed, "After…who? And…why?"

"The hostages were Maureen and Judy." He kicked up his speed a notch even though he knew he'd never catch up.

"Are you," he gasped for breath, "absolutely positive?" Smith's lungs were telling him it was time to stop but something drove him on.

"Absolutely!"

"Wait, wait."

"No way, Smith. You can give up if you want to but I won't."

Obviously you aren't thinking clearly, Smith thought. We'll never catch them this way. "Cease and desist, Major! There's a better way to go about achieving your objective."

The relatively dispassionate tone in the doctor's voice did bring West to a complete halt. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath. "What do you propose?"

"Those."

Confused, Don looked up to see what Smith was referring to. There across the street were vehicles that looked surprisingly like Imperial Speeder bikes from the Star Wars movie. Only these were real, not movie magic.

Don waved him off. "Great thought, but I can't fly those"

"Neither can I, but how hard can it be?"

"You plan to learn on the fly?"

"Spouting pitiful puns at a time like this won't solve our problem." He was already walking over to inspect the machines. Looking surreptitiously around, he climbed aboard and started familiarizing himself with the controls. "Get on," he advised almost immediately.

"You're going to get us both killed, Smith." Then he had another thought. "Why don't you let me try. I am a pilot after all."

"For my plan to work, it's imperative that I 'drive'. Climb aboard and I'll explain in words even your simian brain can comprehend."

The insult went by without a retort. He knew Smith was seriously stressed when that happened and Don didn't have time to argue. Reluctantly, West did as he was told, all the while praying to God that they didn't end up mangled on the pavement.

To both their surprise, Smith got it started. And to Don's utter amazement it started to hover and began to pivot in the direction where they'd last seen the get-away car. "Hurry," he said realizing rescue might be possibility.

Then Smith gave it the 'gas', twisting the throttle mechanism. The bike jerked and careened toward a building. Both men had to stick their legs out in order to keep from colliding with the structure.

"SMITH!"

"Calm yourself, Major," the doctor said, more shrilly than he intended. "I got this. I got it."

Before West could dispute that assertion, Smith again twisted the controls and they were off at a break-neck speed. As he gained more confidence, Smith leaned low to reduce drag. Following suit, Don did the same, ignoring the fact that he was hanging on for dear life to a hairy stomach and pressing his unclothed chest against a bare back that was clearly not female in design. He sure as hell hoped John didn't see this.

As they gained height and momentum, Smith tried to outline the plan. "It's going to take some real heroics to pull this off, but I'm reasonably certain you are equal to the task."

Seriously, Don wasn't so sure about that but rather than argue the point, replied. "Can you hear any sirens?"

"Ahead. Already headed in that direction."

"No, no! Not the tunnel!" Before them two enormously high structures towered overhead. Between the buildings was the mouth of a tunnel and unless Smith came to a screeching halt, there would be no avoiding it.

"Oh my God, you're really crazy, you know that?"

"Of course. Didn't you know the reason doctors become psychiatrists is precisely because they are in serious need of counseling themselves?"

He had barely finished his sentence when they zipped into the semi-darkness. Below them vehicles of varying sizes where speeding along closer to road level. The Speeder, with passengers pressed together and bent low, barreled along. With some creative weaving around larger vehicles, they managed to squirt out the other end like a cigar shaped spit ball through a straw.

Outside again, they zig-zagged through the streets, trying to home in on the sirens. And then an incredible stroke of luck occurred. They saw the orange and green strobe lights ahead of them and barely beyond that was the getaway car, hovering about 15 feet off the ground. They careened around a corner as Smith overtook the authority's official conveyances. Closer, closer.

"Hold it steady," Don advised unnecessarily. They had come this far without a need to state the obvious. "Almost there"

"See any way to gain access?"

"Aren't you looking?"

"Not really. I'm concentrating on what's in front of me and dealing with the fact that their tracking is a bit erratic."

That much was true, Don saw. The 'car' was swaying left and right. He didn't know if the spider like creatures were having a hard time controlling it or if they somehow saw the pursuers and were attempting to bump them into a building. Either way, this problem only made rescue tougher.

"Higher," ordered Don. "Let me see how that thing is designed."

Doing as commanded, Smith elevated the speeder to just above and directly behind the larger car. "There, a sunroof of some kind. Check to see if any of the compartments has a solid metal object."

"Already on it."

Smith felt cool air wash over his skin as Don twisted away to look their speeder over. The escape vehicle made a sudden upward movement, almost colliding with the bike. Somehow Smith's reaction time hadn't suffered from the repeated assaults on his body and he managed to avoid contact.

However, Don wasn't concentrating on anything but his search. He started to topple sideways. Yelling his companion's name, he saw his life flash before his eyes. 25 feet up and riding at what was probably 100 miles per hour was going to leave little more than a smear on the road if he fell.

Plunging overboard, he tried to wrap a hand Smith's waist, but the skin was slick with perspiration. Arms flailing, he attempted to grab something else. Anything else. And then he felt a hand clamp on his wrist. "We aren't going to go through this again, are we? Now heave!" Working together, Don managed to regain his seat.

The vehicle below them wasn't showing signs of stopping but the speeder was too quick and agile to be driven from the pursuit. They stayed the course. That gave Don time to continue his search.

"Eureka," he hollered, flourishing what to Smith's peripheral vision appeared to be an adjustable spanner wrench. Thick and heavy. Perfect.

"Now's the time. Get me into position."

In seconds, the speeder was over what looked like some kind of glass covered sunroof. He hoped it was breakable because if it wasn't, he was probably going to die. There was a possibility of grabbing on to what might have been a communications antenna mounted to the windshield, and he hoped it was sturdy enough for his purposes.

"Get ready. On three." He moved into position, counted aloud, then slid off the speeder onto the roof of the car. The surface was as slick as it appeared and he felt himself slide but the hand not holding the tool managed to snag the antenna and he simultaneously swung the tool into the glass roof panel with all his strength. Fortunately for him, it broke immediately, shattering into many small jewel-like bits, and in one smooth motion he slid into the vehicle. Then wrench was still in hand, when one of the daddy long legs whirled on him and tried to stab him with those long, spiny feet. Again, he swung the wrench, as if to hack off the leg. It didn't do that exactly but had the desired result. The creature let out a string of words that the translator couldn't understand but were probably foul in nature. It tried again with the other leg and ended up with the same result.

"Pull over," Don yelled. "I don't give a damn about whatever you stole. I just want our women back."

The appeal fell on deaf ears or rather deaf auditory organs, whatever and wherever they were. This time, as the less aggressive one came at him, he shifted and whacked the creature at the controls squarely across its dome. The thing slumped forward, apparently hitting both the throttle control and altitude adjuster. They dropped to the pavement and slid a great distance before coming to a complete stop. The injured attacker manipulated the door latches and tried to hobble down the street. Still unconscious, the other thing just lay flopped forward.

No longer concerned about either assailant, Don whirled around and went to the two bodies in the back. He sighed with relief. He hadn't been wrong. The hostages had been both Maureen and Judy, but they appeared unharmed though still very frightened. Trussed up like bugs in a cocoon, and gagged to boot, they turned such grateful eyes upon him that he felt embarrassed. He wouldn't have done anything different, nor made any other choice. But he enjoyed the love he saw in Judy's blue eyes and the unadulterated happiness on Maureen's face. He quickly unbound them both.

"Oh Don," Judy said with a breathy sigh and she hugged him so hard it almost hurt. Almost. Maureen joined in a few seconds later. "We were so scared; we never thought we'd get out of this alive." Then she glanced up at the broken roof. "However did you manage it?"

Before he could answer, the porcine figures of several officers arrived and began yanking out the driver, who still wasn't moving. Don heard pounding footsteps and realized others were hot in pursuit of the fleeing felon. Apparently the officials hadn't taken an interest in him, probably because they saw the whole chase. If he'd have been in cahoots with the criminals, he wouldn't have pulled the stunt he had, trying to get inside.

"As soon as you are sure your females are able to be transported, you will all need to come with us for a statement. I've already told the other one," a curvaceous rust colored officer stated in a very sexy feminine voice. The irises of her eyes, surprisingly, were a vivid pink, with black slitted pupils, and she watched him intently. "Do you have any idea how many laws you broke today. Vehicular theft, operating a vehicle without a license, speeding, reckless driving, property damage to one of the buildings." Don had the good sense to look thoroughly abashed.

"Okay, what happened? Why are you shirtless? And theft, reckless driving? And what did she mean by 'the other one'?" Judy gave a hard look toward him then toward Maureen and finally back at him. "What did you do?"

"Everything she mentioned." He chuckled softly. "Although to be fair, the theft wasn't my idea and I wasn't driving. And the shirt got ripped up after a fight at our 'job'."

"That is going to be one interesting tale to be sure," Maureen smiled. "But I thought you and Dr. Smith were supposed to be working together."

This time Don did laugh heartily. "Who do you think stole the speeder and broke every driving law on the books to get me here? All I did was drop in to say hi to you both."

Outside, there was more clumping of booted feet. "Time to go," the female officer called. "Are they fit enough to leave now or should I call an ambulance?"

"No, no, they're fine. We're all coming out." Hand extended, he helped Maureen and Judy to the door, hopped down first and then assisted them to the street.

"'bout time, you loquacious lothario. How could you leave me out here to shoulder the burden of recounting what occurred? And they aren't even done with us yet. Oh the pain, my back will never forgive me for what I did to it today, nor will any other muscle, that much is certain." The doctor was rubbing his back with one hand and his face with the other.

Despite all the dried blood and dirt, Judy and Maureen walked over to him and together gave him a long group hug. He blushed slightly, a rare sight to behold for sure. Then he looked down at himself and called, "Will somebody please find me a shirt!"

After a rather prolonged interrogation, each one done individually, the authorities decided catching the bank robbers far outweighed any crimes committed by the humans in their attempt to rescue loved ones, and all charges were dropped forthwith.