It was time.
The assistants at Riverview helped Alec don a hazmat suit. The airlock was a two-door system, typical for its function in keeping contaminates out...l but more importantly, for keeping them in. The first door opened to an accompanying flash of red klaxons, allowing the journeyman to pass into the DECOM chamber. There was a hissing sound all around him as sterilizing gasses filled the chamber. A light in front of him changed from red to green, and the second door opened. He stepped into the quarantine room.
It could have been any intensive care room that he had seen on Earth. Monitors were hooked up to the patient. Steady beeps were emitted, showing a more-or-less stabile heart rhythm. The O2 monitor clamped to her left index finger kept a watchful vigil over the patient's blood oxygen. It was pronouncing a low reading, but nothing immediately life-threatening. Respiration, as was to expected....low. An IV was inserted into her right arm, delivering a steady dose of fluids into the patient's bloodstream. Alec approached her until he was standing at her bedside, his hazel eyes gazing down at her through the visor-shield of his hazmat helmet.
"Mira....what have you gotten yourself into?"
Alec knew what he had to do. He also knew that it would be a major breach of quarantine protocol....but if this mystery had any hope of being solved, it would have to be done. He twisted his hips a little so that he could look through the clear panel into the observation room. Three technicians were present, keeping a watcful eye on the events unfolding inside the room. Presumably they had their own telemetry monitors in there, as well, so that they could see for themselves Mira's vitals without having to enter the quarantine zone. It was with a rueful sort of humor that Alec imaginated the sort of hell that was about to break loose in there, once he started what it was he was about to do.
Reaching over with his left hand, he broke the airtight seal that held the glove on his right hand. The resulting hiss of oxygen told him that the job was done. Alia ipsa est, he thought. The die is cast. He pulled the glove off his hand, exposing it to whatever poisonous contaminants were present in the room. As expected, the techs in the adjacent room were all going ape. There might not be much time. Alec touched his thumb to a point on Mira's chin, his pinky finger just above her lips. The other three fingers splayed out across the appropriate neural contact points along the right side of her face. Already the poison that was blackening and blistering Mira's skin was attempting the same affect to his fingertips....luckily, his Ippon antigens were fighting off the poison to no affect on his physiology. His biofeedback had analyzed the molecular structure of the poison and committed it to memory. It could come in handy later on. With practiced ease, and with the unconscious Mira unable to give resistance, Alec slipped into the mindtouch.
Neural signals bridged the gap between his nervous system and her own until eventually he felt the familiar sensations of his mind interfacing with her's. He now began a cursory sifting through her memories, a constant blue of mental imagery whizzing through his consciousness. Alec didn't intend to commit any of it to memory. He was looking for one memory, and one memory only. And there it was. The journeyman dove into it.
Inside the memory, Alec stood in Mira's place. He knew the full extent of the physical and psychological pain that was about to take place. Now he would feel it himself, having shunted all the neurological processes to his own mind to spare Mira having to relive it herself. Alec had collected his flower basket from the office at the Outback and now was on his way to his first stop that evening, when a cloaked figure appeared from the shadows. A rusting within the cloak. A kind of armor. Chainmail, perhaps...
"Excuse me, Miss?" Alec began committing that voice to memory.
"Good evening, Ma'am," the journeyman replied. "How can I be of help?" She seemed unalarmed, being hailed on the street was a not entirely uncommon occurrence. The flash of a smile from under the hood put Mira further at ease. He waited politely. The woman would tell her at her own times what she hoped to buy from her or to ask for directions.
The cloaked figure extended a pitch black hand in greeting. "I hope I did not alarm you. My name is Terra." Most likely a pseudonym, the journeyman thought within the scene. A true professional would not give her real name.
"Good evening Ms. Terra. I'm Mira." He shifted her flower basket into his left to take the offered hand with her right for a brief clasp. The blending of identities could make for a seeming discongruity in gender pronouns.
"Yes, I know." Keeping the hand in the shake for longer than might be cordial. Alec could already sense the contact poison taking hold....though it seemed that Mira was as yet oblivious to her situation. While she was starting to feel its effects, she had written it off to simple hunger.
"Mira..." Her hand falling inside the cloak once more, her voice like silk, but with something dark and sinister roiling beneath that silk, something unplacible and threatening. "You have made someone very anxious....someone that needs you to know that you are in a very precarious position." She smiled and the hand made a second appearance, gently taking one of the flowers from her basket and bringing it to her nose to gently sniff.
"Yes, Ma'am?" Her professionalism as the candy and cigar girl helped her keep most of her discomfort from her features, but she felt increasingly more sick. "I have" Who?" The dizziness made for a delayed reaction to everything. Then she noticed the rose having been selected. "One silver please, Ma'am." Poor girl....she still doesn't understand.
The flower in the cloaked-woman's hand was beginning to die. Outside the mindtouch, back in the quarantine zone, Alec arched a slender Ippon eyebrow. She is excreting a poison through her skin....a deadly one, judging by how quickly it affects the flower she holds. "Yes..." Her other hand flashed out from the cloak's inner volume, this one sheathed in a barbed and bladed gauntlet, whipping out a backhand slap toward Mira's face, and not a gentle one either by any definition. Had it been Alec, this would have been a fight. As it was, he was forced to feel the sting of it across his face as it made contact.
As Mira sank to the ground, the cloaked woman spoke to her. "Do you even know why you are important' I certainly don't, but then, I wasn't paid to care." A paid mercenary. So she had no personal stake in this. "I will tell you one truth though, Mira...do you want that' The next few minutes are going to hurt....more than anything you have ever experienced. I wont kill you...but by the end...you will be begging me to."
"Why?"
"Well, for the most part, because you have something someone else wants...and for the second...because not only was I paid to...but because it is going to be great fun." So....we're dealing with a sadist. Somewhat personal after all. I can't wait to find you, woman.
She drew out a fine, elven blade, but against all legends, this blade did not portray light and love and delicacy, it was hooked, pitted and ugly, in a dark way, but the edge was as fine as any scalpal. "Not in my pay grade to know, sweet human...not at all.." And she closed in, her grin growing. Another clue. She probably isn't human. And that weapon....not elven design. Possibly Drow" That jibes with what they already knew about the poison that was coursing through Mira's veins.
And so it began, and true to her word, it was pain like nothing Mira had ever experienced before. Even Alec had never felt anything quite like it in his time. This woman was a professional pain-bringer....and Alec made himself endure the entire session. Somewhere along the way, the woman left a brand on the back of Mira's neck. Alec made a point to memorize its design. When it was over, he broke the mindtouch, staggering back away from the bed. He wanted to vomit, doubling over with his hands on his knees just as a pair of hazmat-suited figures barged into the room to drag him into the DECOM chamber.
Once he had been subjected to the sterilization gas, he was shuffled along wordlessly into his own quarantine room. Blood samples were taken, as well as swabs of his fingers where they had come into contact with Mira's skin. While they were at it, Alec described the exact chemical structure of the poison that was affecting Mira's body. Hopefully that would help them come up with an effective antidote. Test were run on his blood and, in the few hours it took to thoroughly examine his blood, it was determined that he was carrying no contagions.
"Because there are no contagions beyond the poison," he proclaimed to the techs that came to turn him loose. "Deal with the poison....and she can start to heal." That said, he stood and made his way out of the clinic. Somewhere along the way, he drew a picture of the brand that was left on the back of Mira's neck. It warranted further investigation.
The assistants at Riverview helped Alec don a hazmat suit. The airlock was a two-door system, typical for its function in keeping contaminates out...l but more importantly, for keeping them in. The first door opened to an accompanying flash of red klaxons, allowing the journeyman to pass into the DECOM chamber. There was a hissing sound all around him as sterilizing gasses filled the chamber. A light in front of him changed from red to green, and the second door opened. He stepped into the quarantine room.
It could have been any intensive care room that he had seen on Earth. Monitors were hooked up to the patient. Steady beeps were emitted, showing a more-or-less stabile heart rhythm. The O2 monitor clamped to her left index finger kept a watchful vigil over the patient's blood oxygen. It was pronouncing a low reading, but nothing immediately life-threatening. Respiration, as was to expected....low. An IV was inserted into her right arm, delivering a steady dose of fluids into the patient's bloodstream. Alec approached her until he was standing at her bedside, his hazel eyes gazing down at her through the visor-shield of his hazmat helmet.
"Mira....what have you gotten yourself into?"
Alec knew what he had to do. He also knew that it would be a major breach of quarantine protocol....but if this mystery had any hope of being solved, it would have to be done. He twisted his hips a little so that he could look through the clear panel into the observation room. Three technicians were present, keeping a watcful eye on the events unfolding inside the room. Presumably they had their own telemetry monitors in there, as well, so that they could see for themselves Mira's vitals without having to enter the quarantine zone. It was with a rueful sort of humor that Alec imaginated the sort of hell that was about to break loose in there, once he started what it was he was about to do.
Reaching over with his left hand, he broke the airtight seal that held the glove on his right hand. The resulting hiss of oxygen told him that the job was done. Alia ipsa est, he thought. The die is cast. He pulled the glove off his hand, exposing it to whatever poisonous contaminants were present in the room. As expected, the techs in the adjacent room were all going ape. There might not be much time. Alec touched his thumb to a point on Mira's chin, his pinky finger just above her lips. The other three fingers splayed out across the appropriate neural contact points along the right side of her face. Already the poison that was blackening and blistering Mira's skin was attempting the same affect to his fingertips....luckily, his Ippon antigens were fighting off the poison to no affect on his physiology. His biofeedback had analyzed the molecular structure of the poison and committed it to memory. It could come in handy later on. With practiced ease, and with the unconscious Mira unable to give resistance, Alec slipped into the mindtouch.
Neural signals bridged the gap between his nervous system and her own until eventually he felt the familiar sensations of his mind interfacing with her's. He now began a cursory sifting through her memories, a constant blue of mental imagery whizzing through his consciousness. Alec didn't intend to commit any of it to memory. He was looking for one memory, and one memory only. And there it was. The journeyman dove into it.
Inside the memory, Alec stood in Mira's place. He knew the full extent of the physical and psychological pain that was about to take place. Now he would feel it himself, having shunted all the neurological processes to his own mind to spare Mira having to relive it herself. Alec had collected his flower basket from the office at the Outback and now was on his way to his first stop that evening, when a cloaked figure appeared from the shadows. A rusting within the cloak. A kind of armor. Chainmail, perhaps...
"Excuse me, Miss?" Alec began committing that voice to memory.
"Good evening, Ma'am," the journeyman replied. "How can I be of help?" She seemed unalarmed, being hailed on the street was a not entirely uncommon occurrence. The flash of a smile from under the hood put Mira further at ease. He waited politely. The woman would tell her at her own times what she hoped to buy from her or to ask for directions.
The cloaked figure extended a pitch black hand in greeting. "I hope I did not alarm you. My name is Terra." Most likely a pseudonym, the journeyman thought within the scene. A true professional would not give her real name.
"Good evening Ms. Terra. I'm Mira." He shifted her flower basket into his left to take the offered hand with her right for a brief clasp. The blending of identities could make for a seeming discongruity in gender pronouns.
"Yes, I know." Keeping the hand in the shake for longer than might be cordial. Alec could already sense the contact poison taking hold....though it seemed that Mira was as yet oblivious to her situation. While she was starting to feel its effects, she had written it off to simple hunger.
"Mira..." Her hand falling inside the cloak once more, her voice like silk, but with something dark and sinister roiling beneath that silk, something unplacible and threatening. "You have made someone very anxious....someone that needs you to know that you are in a very precarious position." She smiled and the hand made a second appearance, gently taking one of the flowers from her basket and bringing it to her nose to gently sniff.
"Yes, Ma'am?" Her professionalism as the candy and cigar girl helped her keep most of her discomfort from her features, but she felt increasingly more sick. "I have" Who?" The dizziness made for a delayed reaction to everything. Then she noticed the rose having been selected. "One silver please, Ma'am." Poor girl....she still doesn't understand.
The flower in the cloaked-woman's hand was beginning to die. Outside the mindtouch, back in the quarantine zone, Alec arched a slender Ippon eyebrow. She is excreting a poison through her skin....a deadly one, judging by how quickly it affects the flower she holds. "Yes..." Her other hand flashed out from the cloak's inner volume, this one sheathed in a barbed and bladed gauntlet, whipping out a backhand slap toward Mira's face, and not a gentle one either by any definition. Had it been Alec, this would have been a fight. As it was, he was forced to feel the sting of it across his face as it made contact.
As Mira sank to the ground, the cloaked woman spoke to her. "Do you even know why you are important' I certainly don't, but then, I wasn't paid to care." A paid mercenary. So she had no personal stake in this. "I will tell you one truth though, Mira...do you want that' The next few minutes are going to hurt....more than anything you have ever experienced. I wont kill you...but by the end...you will be begging me to."
"Why?"
"Well, for the most part, because you have something someone else wants...and for the second...because not only was I paid to...but because it is going to be great fun." So....we're dealing with a sadist. Somewhat personal after all. I can't wait to find you, woman.
She drew out a fine, elven blade, but against all legends, this blade did not portray light and love and delicacy, it was hooked, pitted and ugly, in a dark way, but the edge was as fine as any scalpal. "Not in my pay grade to know, sweet human...not at all.." And she closed in, her grin growing. Another clue. She probably isn't human. And that weapon....not elven design. Possibly Drow" That jibes with what they already knew about the poison that was coursing through Mira's veins.
And so it began, and true to her word, it was pain like nothing Mira had ever experienced before. Even Alec had never felt anything quite like it in his time. This woman was a professional pain-bringer....and Alec made himself endure the entire session. Somewhere along the way, the woman left a brand on the back of Mira's neck. Alec made a point to memorize its design. When it was over, he broke the mindtouch, staggering back away from the bed. He wanted to vomit, doubling over with his hands on his knees just as a pair of hazmat-suited figures barged into the room to drag him into the DECOM chamber.
Once he had been subjected to the sterilization gas, he was shuffled along wordlessly into his own quarantine room. Blood samples were taken, as well as swabs of his fingers where they had come into contact with Mira's skin. While they were at it, Alec described the exact chemical structure of the poison that was affecting Mira's body. Hopefully that would help them come up with an effective antidote. Test were run on his blood and, in the few hours it took to thoroughly examine his blood, it was determined that he was carrying no contagions.
"Because there are no contagions beyond the poison," he proclaimed to the techs that came to turn him loose. "Deal with the poison....and she can start to heal." That said, he stood and made his way out of the clinic. Somewhere along the way, he drew a picture of the brand that was left on the back of Mira's neck. It warranted further investigation.