NEITHER TEREL NOR Ferris had ever seen Dr. Metmuri completely lose it. Seen him stressed, demanding, cranky—yes. Touchy from too much mentaid or pissed at imperfections in others’ work—yes. But always his temper was understandable.
He went nova about the Hinanos, though. It was a singular and unsettling event.
“What do you mean, they’re gone?!” were the last coherent words he shrieked before launching into a fit of rage. Had any part of the warehouse been furnished, it would have stood demolished around him in moments. Datapads would have flown, furniture been overturned, fixtures ripped off walls: but that had all been done already, and cleared out of the room, too, in the renovation work that left the place half gutted. Esimir could do little but rant and scream in place, banging his fists once heartily against an unyielding pillar, then cradling his injured hands to his chest while he cried tears of anger and pain. Still he flailed and raved.
His assistants first stepped back to give him space, then finally left the room to get out of the way.
If he could have reached it, he might have ripped the ceiling cam out of its socket. But he couldn’t, so FlashMan had a front-row seat for the whole affair. When Metmuri eventually wound down and collapsed in a sobbing heap in the corner, back to wall, head cradled against knees, Terel and Ferris crept back into the room.
Flash gave a low whistle. “And I thought I could throw a tantrum,” he said admiringly.
The pair tried to comfort Metmuri, and Flash fell silent for a time. When he came back on the line, his words tore attention away from the doctor.
“Hey, guys,” he announced. “There’s a priority-one want out for you all over the planet. Were you, um, expecting something like that?”
The only answer was Metmuri tipping his head back and giving another primal roar of frustration and rage.
“I’m guessing that’s a yes.”
Only Ferris looked up to the ceiling cam, chastising him with a frown. He looked at the trio beneath him, like two children comforting their raging, somehow heartbroken father.
I hope the Goddess knows what she’s doing with these people, he mused. And I still need to look at that research station.
Flash did some quick calculating. He had never reneged on a contract, and he would see this one through, too. He didn’t know exactly what was going on here, and maybe he didn’t want to know, seeing as he was technically a Bug himself, while working off his community service sentence with IntSec. On the other hand, if they were trying to avoid the authorities, well, that’s what FlashMan did best, and thoroughly approved of in principle.
“Tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “Not one of you can set foot outside this building or you’ll be snapped up like that. So until something changes, consider this your very secure home. I’ll beef up security and get whatever you need delivered: food, gear, bedding. Make me a list, and I’ll just open the loading docks for a window of time.”
“We can’t pay for anything right away,” Terel fretted, “except with cash.”
“Keep it. I know some untapped accounts that will confuse the backtrail, and they’ll never miss the money anyway. You want to start up a lab? Add that equipment to the list.”
“Doesn’t matter now.” It was Metmuri’s voice, strained and low.
It was probably just as well they couldn’t see his sim rolling its eyes. “Make a list anyway. I’ll get these orders placed tonight. Right away. After that I need to give RS 207 some undivided attention.” He hesitated a moment. “You do still want me to go poke at it, don’t you?”
That drew Metmuri’s eyes to the ceiling again. “Yes. Yes, very much. Maybe Prevak can still make things right.”
“Sure, whatever you say, Doc.” Flash resisted the Smear taunt; it would be too much like kicking a baby. Instead he simply asked, “Anything else?”
To his surprise, it was the doctor who spoke again. He looked up, drying tear streaks with the back of his sleeve, one skinned knuckle leaving a bloody smear on his cheek. “The twins,” he said. “Can you look after their security, too? Do what you can to keep them protected?”
“I don’t think so,” Flash said reluctantly. He hated to admit there was something he couldn’t readily do. “They could be anywhere by now, and out there, on the streets—it’s almost impossible to keep someone out of surveillance scope. Really impossible to keep two undercover. Not if they’re moving around.”
“Perhaps they’re not. They may have gone to ground somewhere. Could you look for them? See that they’re safe?”
He sounded like a plaintive little boy, but for once Flash did not mock. The bioempath really seemed to care about his companions, even though they’d clearly had enough of his company.
Against his better judgment, Flash gave in.
“I’ll see what I can do, Doc,” he conceded, and left the channel.