The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

And all thanks to you.” He drew back his heavily-booted right foot and delivered a vicious kick to the man’s midsection, causing him to grunt and roll over in pain. He punctuated his next words with four similarly violent blows to the man’s head, chest, and back. “Thank! You! Very! Much!” Talok’s body was literally pushed across the floor with each kick. After the second, he was vomiting blood. By the fourth, he was mercifully unconscious again. Satiated, Sazar wiped his bloody boot on the man’s trousers.
    Pan-Li and Lucinda watched this macabre performance in silent horror.
    “I doubt that Trooper Talok will act quite so impulsively next time,” Sazar said, looking at the slowly growing pool of blood under the man’s head. “If indeed there is a next time.” He turned to face his captives. “Unfortunately, the code of treatment for Federal prisoners is somewhat more restrictive than that for troopers under one’s command, or I’d be happy to give you a sample as well.” He looked them over and snorted disdainfully. “But you probably wouldn’t survive it.”
    “And I’m sure that would greatly displease Lokus, your lord and master,” Lucinda snapped. “Squad Leader Lackey,” she added mockingly.
    Suddenly furious at her insolence, Sazar drew back to strike her, but noticed Pan-Li’s hands instantly unclasp and stiffen, fingers slightly curled and separated. Pan-Li’s gaze met Sazar’s and spoke silent volumes.
    Sazar dropped his hand. “You’re not worth the reprimand,” he scoffed at Lucinda. “Jalin!”
    “Yes, sir?”
    “Please recall the other troopers. Have one of them place the prisoners in restraints and escort them to the cruiser. The others are to attend to this—” He nudged Trooper Talok with his boot; Talok made neither movement nor sound. “—this idiot.”
    “Sir.” She turned and strode purposefully down the corridor as Sazar surveyed the wrecked control console and shook his head slowly.

    * * *

    Kelly barreled her burgundy Honda Accord through the night, high-beams on, across the 10 west toward the 405 as fast as she dared, weaving in and out of traffic like a mad woman. Beside her, Steve—securely buckled up—gripped what he called the “oh shit” handle above the passenger door with both hands. In the back seat, Arty sat, unbuckled, in the middle so he could see out between the seats and watched the spectacle with genuine interest.
    “Jesus, Duncan,” Wheeler cried as she cut off a gigantic fire-engine red F-150 and got the driver’s horn and middle finger in response. “If you keep this up, Arty’s friend Lokus won’t have to kill us. You’ll do it for him.”
    “Relax,” she replied, swerving across three lanes to make her exit, “before I went into med school I raced stock cars as a hobby. First in my class at O’Neill rally school in Boston.”
    Wheeler looked at her, wide-eyed and incredulous.
    She shot Wheeler a quick wink. “Gotcha!” she laughed. “Are you kidding? I don’t drive like this. I have no idea what I’m doing.” She swerved into the exit lane and took the cloverleaf way too fast.
    “I wish you hadn’t said that,” Wheeler said, holding on for dear life. “I liked it better when you were a stock car driver.”
    As Kelly and Steve bantered in the front seat, Arty’s arm unit suddenly came to life. It began to vibrate, and the screens flashed streams of incomprehensible data. The empty space directly above the unit began to shimmer, then sparkle, like a thousand tiny fireworks. As he watched, a shape materialized before him, a flat, rectangular object slowly revealing itself as the sparkling lights diminished. The shape became distinct, then solid, and then lightly dropped onto his arm unit and tipped over into his lap.
    He picked up the object and examined it. Half an inch thick, eight or ten inches square, gray and featureless on this side, apparently made of the same not-metal as his callback unit. He turned it over. On the other side were a few small buttons and controls, and in the middle a large, smooth, white writing surface of a different material altogether, upon which a terse message was scrawled in three lines of handwritten block letters.
    DENES, AURORA LOST
    RELOCATOR SEIZED
    GOOD LUCK ARTY
    He read the message and stiffened. As he read it again his arm unit blinked twice and went dark. No lights, no buttons, no display, nothing. There could be no doubt: Pan-Li and Lucinda had been discovered and