13
Hotdogs and Pizzas
What happened after the crowd of affluent guests was herded from the gallery was like any good sci-fi story.
It was odd that while Jo and Branson had just lived through a few hours of wanton elitism, that at this moment the sizable group reverted to eight-year-old school children and quietly filed after one another in an orderly fashion.
Through one corridor and down a wide staircase that led to what may have been basement level.
They gathered in a cavernous underground concrete warehouse devoid of any lavish appointment.
Along one wall was a bank of what looked like oversized stainless steel elevator doors.
Written above the doors was their allocation numbers, and even though these elites were used to having their whims catered to with private transport, they showed clearly that they were able to organize themselves without being waited on if their incentive was strong enough.
The doors opened and as if possessed, the flock divided themselves into their allocations, making their way unquestioningly through the doors and the three-foot thick thresholds, into the transport vessels like good little sheep.
Stragglers were ushered in behind the others by escorts.
"C'mon everybody, you don't want to miss your ride!"
The doors slid shut behind them in sync with the second set of doors belonging to the vehicle, which was much more in tune with the patron's more usual taste.
Branson and Jo were offered a glass of champaign.
After thanking their server, they glanced around the interior and found themselves taking in the lavishly appointed space that looked for all intents and purpose, a luxury lounge car from a nineteen twenties train, complete with a bar up on end and a bathroom at the other. There were no windows in the space, but there was a monitor on one of the walls that depicted footage of what the view ahead from outside, which was currently what looked like a railway tunnel minus the tracks. Super imposed on the image was a digital dashboard akin to a simple cockpit layout with a ground speed indicator, a depth indicator, a GPS map of their region and their location in it indicated by a red dot.
It gave the vibe of the novelty screens in modern jets that served to distract the passengers from the boredom of a long flight.
A flashing "Please be seated" sign replaced the cockpit image on the screen.
And just like other passenger travel, there was a familiar intercom alert that usually preceded an announcement.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Crew Chief speaking. Welcome aboard the Underground Express, the oldest and most exclusive Maglev Train in the fleet. While today's journey won't be long enough to reach our usual speed of Mach one, our trip to Catalina Island shouldn't take more than ten minutes after pressurization, for your safety please remain seated until we have entered the vacuum tunnel and have stopped moving."
Another alert in a different tone sounded before the same voice ordered "crew crosscheck seals" whereupon the staff behind the bar flitted through the cabin to check the entry doors and a couple of hatches marked "emergency exit."
The train moved so smoothly that it was barely felt, only making a low frequency humming noise similar to that of Airwolf's standby mode.
Through their underground agents eyes, the crew on the Dolphin tried to piece together the rapidly deteriorating visual information before it went dark.
Thanks to Airwolf, they did manage to track the transporter from the Gallery to the Island's underground port as it joined the same line that the previous vessel had followed about two thirds across the channel, which was an ascension point back towards the surface.
The contact lenses started to send signal again, the monitors flickering before visual was increasingly restored not long after.
As the patrons disembarked, the terminal was just like a regional airport, this was clearly a regularly used area complete with electric vehicle transportation that picked up the guests to take them to their next destination.
They were ferried speedily in an almost silent glide up the slopes of an underground tunnel back towards the surface.
Jo and Branson felt the atmosphere change as they exited from a hidden crevasse in the rocky hillside into the moonlit night and the secluded landscape of their island surrounds. It wasn't a long drive before they arrived at the village, hearing the waves break on the beach beyond.
The place was lit like a movie set - all very dramatic and what stood out the most was an amphitheater, making a half circle around an ominous looking alter surrounded by satanic statues set with the ocean behind it, under the fullness of the rising moon, it's light reflected off the water, like a staircase showing the way from the shore to the pale sphere rising above.
But that wasn't where they were heading, not yet anyway. Instead they veered off onto another path and then stopped at the Grand Hall.
To which they were escorted and given a choice of refreshments.
The interior was noticeably… odd.
Red light emitted from strategic angles and the place depicted the inside of an ancient stone building with crossbows, swords, daggers and other old world hunting weapons hanging on the walls.
A Banquet had been set up on a long table and instead of fine dining or a medieval feast that would have looked the part, the table was set up with all manner of junk food like burgers, fries, hotdogs and pizzas.
There was a giant kids' play area set to one side with slides and monkey bars and a ball pit – all very out of place, very confusing and very creepy.
"Attention Everyone!" an authoritative voice cut through the melee of murmurs.
A lady who Jo and Branson couldn't place in that moment, strode into the room with a well-practiced theatrical air. She had a haughty accent dressed in a red leather skintight outfit and had black color on her lips and nails.
"My name is Marina, and I am the Ring Mistress. Please choose your weapon and then meet at the altar where you will start our game of Babylonian hide and seek. You have fifteen minutes. Those that do not attend will forfeit their place here and will be made famous."
There, that was the classic honeypot reminder.
"The next time you come back to the Grand Hall, your purchases will be fed, placated, ready for your entertainment till dawn." She said, her words evil, but her tone strangely normal if not a little theatrical.
Jo and Branson looked at one another – simultaneously dreading what was to come. Their timing was everything and they both agreed with a nod of understanding.
Giving the signal to the crew on the Dolphin. It was time for the crew to activate and for Jo and Branson to find a moment to sneak away and find Angela.
Gathering a crossbow and a sword, the couple joined the crowd and exited the building to head down to the altar, only to deviate into the darkness of a garden area.
There was no way to know where Angela could be, they'd have to wait in the shadows until the children were brought to the hall.
Meanwhile, on the Dolphin, Airwolf's crew was being briefed by Chapman.
"What?" Dale asked in horror, Nash placing a calming hand on her knee. equally perturbed but not outwardly affected. "What about Angela, what about the other kids?"
"It's Jo and Bransons job to locate Angela, if they come up empty handed, that would be unfortunate, but your job is to recover Jo and Branson, with or without the girl. That's an order!" Chapman said resolutely.
"What's the point of it all then?"
"The point is to get our agents out alive with all the information they have gathered."
"So, you just used the kids, used Angela as an incentive?" Dale's voice rose an octave.
"This is a war, Dale! There will be casualties, but the intel we gather from this will help stop the cycle! Do not kid yourselves, the two of you and one Super copter can't save them all, you need to stay focused!"
Dale had to calm herself, she didn't have the vast military training that Nash had to separate her emotions from the mission and that was her greatest weakness.
She knew Chapman was right, more could be lost than gained if they didn't follow his directive. Even so her heart ached for the little ones that would be left behind as collateral damage. She nodded reluctantly.
"Yes Sir." she said, catching her breath.
"But you will have back up." He continued, more calmly, giving Dale a pointed look.
Dale felt slightly embarrassed for her premature outburst although she was still mad that Angela was not level priority with Jo and her Uncle Bran.
Nash continued to give Dale strength through his touch, his beautiful strong girlfriend would make an equally tough Mumma Bear one day….. he shook his head lightly to get it back in the game and his spirit further lifted when Chapman briefed them on who their support team would be.