Else, Part II

Bear with me, I'm massaging post lengths, so this one is a bit shorter. I'm thinking about making the standard post smaller, but putting them up more frequently. Anyway, no cliffie's here, just solid plot obfuscation. New post should be up in a few days.
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Even though he couldn’t feel the movement as the flyvan swooped towards the dull dome surface, Else’s stomach fluttered at the sight of the world suddenly twisting and spinning. Like a kaleidoscope. Up in the cockpit, Jep grimaced, his eyes glued onto the nav monitor. A big white blip was pulsing there, representing the National Police craft tailing them. Routine checkup was what the NPs claimed, according to Jep. Else certainly did not believe that.

The National Police never did anything ‘routine.’ They were the sole appendage of federal enforcement; stalwart defenders of America and New Socialism, and an incredibly paranoid passel of assholes, Else had heard.

Jep’s radio bleeped, and a deep resonant voice sounded out. “CV-10, please put down at the north end of Node 11. Curtail your speed to under forty miles per hour and remember to remain at least three hundred yards distant from the Node at all times.”

“Copy that NP-145, I will comply now,” responded Jep through his headset. “As if I’d ever get closer to a fucking Node,” he added after.

Not one minute later a huge bump showed up on the dome’s surface, still way off. It appeared as if the metallic skin had swollen up to form a huge steel boil, but any little kid could tell you what they were. Nodes were the hallmark of the New England Mall, and the basis for missile shielding technology. In the past, grouping millions upon millions of people together was a huge nuclear bull’s-eye for any rogue state or terrorist group who’d shopped Russian, but that was not a fact any longer. Shielding was an incredibly expensive, limited luxury, but it meant security, and that was all people really wanted in Else’s experience.

There was more to it than that, of course. So much more; twelve years of study would not have been enough to learn all about the geopolitical ramifications, scientific underpinnings and millions of other interesting statistics. What was most pertinent boiled down to this; it was death to go too close to a Node, fly too fast in a Node's general area, or even to sneeze around one. The military types guarding them took almost anything as a potential terrorist threat and fired accordingly, so Else was nervy about getting so close. He supposed it was the NPs trying to get them off balance, for whatever reason.

Jep glided the flyvan down safely though, his forehead only slightly slick with sweat. There was a jolt when they contacted the dome surface, the flier tilted at an angle on the slope. Else reached for the door, but Jep reached into the cab and slapped his hand away. “Are you crazy?” he nearly shouted, “NPs might toss you into lockdown if you get out first. The pricks love making people sweat, and hate it if you try to grab the initiative like that.”

Further discussion was silenced at the hum of anti-grav engines from overhead. A small flier was the sound’s origin, diving down on a corkscrew trajectory. It decelerated suddenly, floating to land soft as a feather next to them. Cyan and sleek, the craft looked to be a two-seater; the type of ship intended for rapid pursuits and air-traffic patrol. Jep regarded it quizzically, and started talking to himself as if forgetting his passenger. “Strange there’s only one if it’s just a patroller. NPs try to surround you, make you nervous. Guess that’s why they had me land so close to a Node.”

Else was about to ask about that too, but was silenced by a roar from two massive gunships swinging in from the south, from the Node. They didn’t land, however, just circled overhead emanating menace from their characteristic bullet shapes. Their underbellies flashed red lights into the expanding darkness while the National Police ship’s cockpit opened up and two officers emerged. White Kevlar with three horizontal red slashes made them instantly recognizable. They were big men – not as big as Else – with close-shaven heads and bluff jaw lines. The biggest, bluffest approached the flier first and pulled open the cab door. Wind burst in, its howling combining with that of the gunships to scratch and tear mercilessly at eardrums.

The NP though, he demonstrated no discomfort. Blue eyes – not like ice or sky, just plain blue – rolled over every detail calmly – from the stained seats, to Jep, and finally to Else. The languorous pace broke then, and the officer flicked a glance at his dreadlocks before the sheer size of this man struck him, and he drew back slightly. One hand came to rest on a holstered pistol, the other pointed to Else. “Step outside the flier, please.” It was a deep, resonant voice; the same which had ordered them down.

Keeping his eyes on that gun, Else complied quickly as he could, and the NP led him several meters off to the side. His peripheral vision picked up the second officer as he clambered into the van, but he forgot all about that when the NP stepped up close to him, so they were barely a foot apart.

“Corporal Else of MSS, my name is John. And that’s all you need to know.” ‘John’ spoke at a conversational volume, forcing Else to strain, even close as they were, to hear over the noise. “We’ve got something for you.”

“A bullet?” Else asked, looking pointedly to John’s pistol, then to the circling military units. “It’s a grand show after all, I’d hate for it to be wasted.”

A scornful smile scurried across the man’s face, but apparently found it an inhospitable place. “Yes, you’re a real comedian, Corporal. A job. You’re going to do a job for the National Police.”

Else opened his mouth, but John ignored him. “Go to Champlain Tourval’s house, like you planned to, and search it high and low. PDAs, minicomps, note tablets; anything that might have something of interest, you grab it. Then you go to 902 Singh Avenue and drop it all off. You’ll receive further instruction there. Tell no one about this – even your pilot just thinks this is a check.”

Long seconds passed after his pronouncement, with Else and John staring at each other while the wind screamed. That, and the blinking red lights from the gunships made it an eerie scene. John spoke first. “Do you understand, Corporal?”

“No!” shouted Else, his head boiling over with bewilderment “are you fucking joking right now? Is this some kind of terrorist sting?”

“Tourval’s. Get there and do what I said,” repeated John, “I can’t tell you why; national security reasons. Just know that if you find enough, we might be able to solve Ellen Dietrich’s murder and discover why your partner was attacked, maybe solve a hell of a lot more.”

“How’d you –?” But Else was cut off by the officer brushing past him, leaving little choice but to follow after. The other officer was exiting the flyvan – leaving a pale Jep quavering inside – and exchanged nods with John. There were a million questions thrashing for attention, screeching to be heard over what now had picked up into a gale, but Else couldn’t pick just one out. He helplessly watched the NPs stroll back to their flier through what was becoming an inky blackness, blackness impenetrable as the situation had grown to be.

There was nothing for it, he supposed. The Police ship’s engines sparked blue and the vessel began to ascend. Else got back into the flyvan, waving off Jep’s inquiry, “They just wanted to know why we were out dome-top so late, tried to put the fear of God into us, that sort of thing. Let’s push on out of here.”

“Alright, hold on to your panties,” Jep said, regaining a little bit of his strut with the NPs’ departure. “I gotta clear our takeoff with the big boys sailing around up there.”

It was a minute’s work before he got the okay from the gunships, and soon Else was back on his way. The flight’s remainder was absolutely humdrum – would have been, if it weren’t for the swirl of confusion making Else’s thoughts thoroughly disjointed. It made no sense, National Police soliciting aid like that. If it were a larger case, or even slightly more interesting, then maybe Else could have bought it, but he smelled something wrong. Maybe Dack was rubbing off on him.