Lois & Clark Forums Forums Fan Fiction Original Fiction FDK: Vector 6-8

That does it!" Dagmar spun about and headed down the hallway. "I don't care, anymore! I don't care what Papa Powell does and I don't care if I lose everything! I'm leaving him, now! Tonight!"

He followed her. "Where are you going?"

"To pack! And to break all of Harold's toys before I go!"

He smothered a grin. "Honey, it's not worth it. Besides, it'll just make him madder."

"*Good*!" She entered the bedroom and there was the sound of some small object shattering against the wall. The odor of expensive cologne filled the air.

He followed her into the bedroom. Dagmar was yanking expensive suits from the closet and throwing them on the floor.

"Dagmar, we don't have time for this ...."

"Two minutes is all I'll need." She left the room at a run, to return less than ten seconds later, a bottle of spaghetti sauce in one hand. She snapped the lid off and emptied the entire contents into the pile of suits and threw the jar on top. "Okay, you're right." She yanked a few articles of clothing from the closet and a suitcase from beneath the bed. "Selena's room is next door. Run get her some clothes. It doesn't matter what. I'll be done here in a minute."

"Just bring your personal items. I'll buy you both all the clothes you want. I don't want you to have to wear anything Harold provided, anyway."

She stopped. "You're right. Of course you're right!" She tossed the clothing on the floor and turned to snatch three holographs and a jewelry box from the dresser. She emptied the box on the bed and fished among the contents to remove two rings and a bracelet. "My mother's," she explained briefly. She had removed her wedding ring, he saw. It lay half-submerged in the spaghetti sauce on top of the clothing.

"I guess Harold will get the idea," he remarked.

I hope so. Will you marry me?"

Her laughter increased. He watched her with a sinking heart, waiting for her to say no.

But she reached out, caught him by the ears and kissed him hard on the mouth. "You are the most unconventional man I've ever known, Squadron Commander Mombasa. No moonlit gardens and white roses for you, huh? You prefer a storm on the beach for your proposal setting."

"I ..."

"With your woman soaking wet and covered with sand."

"But --"

"Yes, I'll marry you."

"Old Winston's gonna birth a trenchcrawler!"

It was the man who had come aboard his ship just prior to his leave -- the tall, muscular fellow who had carried the cage full of Lord Frexvor's "pets". What the hell was *he* doing here?

If you give me any trouble, I'll stun you," he said. An idea hit him. "I'm with the Terran Underground," he added. "I can't let you see my face."

"Where were you going?"

"To my future in-laws' house. They're having me over to dinner tonight ... or were." His voice trailed off.

"You're going to get married?"

"Next week -- I hope."

"Don't change your plans," Mombasa told him.

A faint grin tugged at the man's lips. "Okay."

For the first time the “pet keeper's” voice betrayed emotion. "It ain't nothing you want to get; take it from me. First you think you have the flu, so you go to bed and drink fluids. Then your kidneys cut out on you -- actually, they sort of rot away. You fill up with fluid -- lungs, heart, everything -- and end up drowning in your own secretions. Happens fast: less than twelve hours, usually. And if you manage to get to a doctor, and they patch on a syntha-kidney, the next step is for your blood to quit clotting. You start to bleed from everywhere. Spots all over you from broken blood vessels under the skin and what pee you got comes out as pure blood. So they give you clotting factors to stop it. Then the nervous system goes. The paralysis starts in your toes and move up. Takes about a week before it hits your lungs. That usually finishes you off. If you survive that --"

He dumped both hat and sunglasses into a waste converter at the shuttle stop, pulled up his hood and waited,

second classer named Paine