Lady Jaye returned to her quarters long enough to give everyone a chance to clear out of the rooms and hallways and go to bed. She did not plan on giving Major Bludd the opportunity to 'talk' to her before she left. She was fairly certain he would not let her go.
After an hour, she got the computer disks from their hiding place and tucked them in her back pocket. There was nothing else in the room that she needed. She left, heading toward the halls where Zartan's lab waited for her. Getting in was going to be tricky, as she did not have a passcard to open the door. She thought a moment, then picked the lock again on his office door and went in. A brief search turned up the card she needed. It figured that Zartan was too lazy to keep it with him all the time, and it was a lucky break for her that he chose to leave it here.
The lab was dark, the only illumination coming from banks of small fluorescent lights set up along the counter at the back. Several rows of vials and tubes sat under the lights, along with temperature and humidity gauges. She glanced over the labels. They were well-marked, which surprised her. Zartan was at least professional in some respects.
The third short row of sealed vials had yellow labels instead of red ones. There were fewer of these, and most of them were marked with a date and a brief description of test results. She passed up a few labeled "failed" until she found two that had more positive results written out. One read "Anti-V2 serum, vaccine" and the other read "Anti-V2 serum, treatment." V2. That was the name that Bludd had mentioned in conjunction with Duke. She took both of the vials from their holders and tucked them carefully in her shirt pocket, buttoning it to make them more secure. Smallpox had an incubation period of one to two weeks; Duke was obviously starting to feel the symptoms, but if he'd broken out in a rash already she was sure he wouldn't have been the battle. That left at least three days to get him the vaccine. Once the rash appeared, the disease would be too far along for the vaccine to be effective. Supposedly there was no effective treatment after that but to keep the fever down and hope for the best… except that Zartan appeared to have developed a treatment as well as a vaccine for this strain. All the better—if it worked, that is.
She turned to leave, but on impulse, switched off the lights above the counter. Hopefully the virus samples would die out if Zartan didn't notice soon enough. She didn't dare destroy the vials, much as she wanted to. For all she knew, he had developed an easily communicable version of the virus in the last week. Exposing herself would be a bad idea.
She had almost made it to the Base's garage when Zartan stepped out of the shadows and blocked her way. "I thought you might come down here tonight," he said. "I must congratulate you on almost getting away with it. The mask was a nice touch."
Lady Jaye backed into a defensive crouch. He came at her, and she sidestepped the punch, throwing one of her own at his unprotected side. He drew in a sharp breath, but brought his elbow down at her head; she barely got an arm up in time, but the blow still hurt. She remembered what the twins had told her, and backed away a few paces, refusing to allow him to close in on her. He was not just a brawler, but a wrestler, preferring strangle holds and throws to all-out punching.
She kicked out and landed another blow, keeping far enough back that he couldn't easily reach her. Eventually, however, her movement was stopped short as she backed into the garage door. He smiled and moved in. She reached behind her for the door knob, turning it just as he sprang. She ducked, but his forward momentum knocked her back and she lost her balance.
Zartan grabbed her arm, fist connecting with her kidneys as he pulled her back to her feet. She had no room to maneuver, trying desperately to land left-handed blows anywhere that might do damage. He just threw out his fist again, hitting her hard on the face. She managed to turn her head and the blow landed on her cheekbone instead of her nose.
She heard him laugh. "I knew you were no match for me," he growled with a short jab that connected solidly with her mouth.
Tomax and Xamot had given her one more tip, however. Apparently Zartan had injured his knee some time ago, and it still gave him trouble on occasion. As he hit her again, she managed to bring her boot up between them at knee height. She quickly pushed her leg outward, feeling his joint bend and give way. Zartan cursed and fell. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and turned to run. He lunged upwards with his good leg and caught her around the calves, tackling her.
Lady Jaye twisted as she fell, aware of the precious vials in the front of her shirt. She landed hard on her left shoulder, and searing pain flew through her arm and collarbone. She kicked out, the bottom of her boot making solid contact with Zartan's face. His head snapped back, and she brought her other foot around to the side of his head. He stayed on the ground, unmoving.
She wearily climbed to her feet and checked the vials. Unbroken. She tried moving her left arm, but the throb in her shoulder made it nearly impossible. She'd worry about that later.
The vehicles in the garage were mostly Cobra jeeps, tanks, and larger machines. She noticed a line of motorcycles toward the back, shiny and well-kept. The Dreadnoks' bikes. She chose the one that looked to be the fastest and wheeled it one-armed toward the door, leaning it against her leg to hold it up as she went. She made it outside and started up the bike. It was horrendously loud; she was sure they could hear it inside.
No time to waste, she told herself. As usual the gate wasn't guarded. It was supposed to be a secret base, after all, and none of the Cobra command was likely to show up in the middle of the night for a security inspection. That and the laziness of the Cobra soldiers meant no one was there to challenge her.
Before long she was gunning along the highway, heading north. She would have to stop at some point to obtain another vehicle. She didn't trust the Dreadnoks not to have tracking devices installed on their bikes, and she planned on heading back to the Pit as soon as possible. Her own car back in Vegas had probably long since been impounded.
The ride was actually uneventful. She was sure someone had noticed her departure by now, but enough time had passed that they would be far behind if they followed at all. It was somewhat difficult to steer one-handed, but the bike was big enough that balance wasn't much of an issue.
She reached a smallish town by mid-morning, and looked for the most run-down car dealership she could find. The salesman looked at her strangely when she pulled up, and she realized that not only was she still wearing her Cobra uniform, but she was bruised, dirty, and tired.
She smiled anyway and cheerfully asked if he was willing to trade in the bike for something else.
He eyed the vehicle appreciatively. It was worth more than any of the cars on the lot, but her appearance made him think the police might be interested in the bike, too. "And why would you want to trade this beauty for one of my junkers?" he asked.
Her smile turned rueful. "Boyfriend and I had a fight. We both own the bike, but after last night… well, I'm never gonna see him again, and I sure as Hell ain't lettin' him keep it."
The man eyed her bruises and nodded. "Well, I suppose I could help a woman in distress. Don't suppose that boyfriend of yours will come looking to get the bike back?"
She laughed. "He's stranded in Vegas now that he lost all our money at the casinos. He don't know where I've gone, and even if he did, there'd be no way to get here."
He stared at the Cobra emblem on the front of her shirt. "And that?"
She thought quickly. "Hey, job's a job. Made a little money working for a coupla weeks in the desert, then took our paychecks and tried our luck at the tables. Pays better than waitressing." She scowled. "Karl thought the uniforms would get us special treatment at the casinos, what with Extensive Enterprises right there. Boy was he wrong."
The salesman shrugged. He didn't really care who his customers were, so long as he got a good deal. And she had obviously seen some rough treatment lately. He felt a pang of pity for her. "Tell you what," he said. "Take your pick of any of these cars and I'll even give you a little cash on top. You seem like you could use a good meal and you'll need gas to get wherever you're going."
This time her smile was genuine. "I thought honest car dealers were a myth," she said.
He smiled back. "Oh, I'm not gonna lose money on it, believe me," he told her. "That's a nice bike."
She looked around at the limited selection, spying a green Dodge Dart in the corner of the lot. She pointed and asked, "That Dodge run good?"
"Sure does. Check the oil when you get gas, though—it tends to go through it kinda fast."
They completed the transaction and shook hands. She thanked him for his help and for the three hundred dollars he'd thrown in. She continued her journey feeling lighter than she had in days, despite the aches she was feeling all over. Her shoulder seemed to be a little better, but she still couldn't move it much.
Lady Jaye drove until dinner time, and stopped for food and to plan. She finally decided to sleep for a few hours before completing her drive. Getting into the Pit in the middle of the day would be difficult; she needed the advantages that night afforded her.
She bought some Tylenol and a t-shirt to sleep in at a drugstore, found a motel, and crashed on the small bed. She was so tired that even her shoulder and the upcoming tasks couldn't keep her awake. The worst part was over.