18.
 Sparto thought of the woman he loved. “Korinta made us swap off-cycle so I could help Rodney. I can’t keep this up much longer...I will change back and when I do, the dying will be finished. Korinta and I will be gone forever, and with us the child given to us by Rodney.”
“Not so fast,” Lance said, as he pulled off his gloves to expose green hands. “I happen to be an emergency tech, and I’ve called for backup.” He readied a triple-barreled syringe, which he held up to squirt a few drops toward the galaxy that was their common home. He injected Sparto. “Here, this will hold you until help arrives.”
Already, the dark shapes of wormhole bullet trains were arriving, painted in black and yellow emergency stripes and covered with flashing lights.
Lance rose. “Here!” he yelled, and waved to people like himself, with scaly green skin, who wore long white coats in the universal symbology of medicine, and came running with little black bags.
Lance knelt down, so that his powerful gun-handle stuck out bravely and authoritatively to one side. He held Sparto’s hand, and squeezed gently. “We’ll have you in an ambulance in a few minutes headed to the best hospital in this sector. You and Korinta and little Rodney Jr. will be just fine!”
Sparto nodded weakly and gratefully, holding Lance’s hand while the night was filled with flashing red and blue lights and the chatter of police and fire radios, not to mention the figures of galactic news persons running toward the scene followed by multi-legged green pack animals with call signs in large letters on their sides, loaded down with recording equipment. Within nanosphecters the entire region would know that the strategically vital Earth introsector had been saved, just barely, and criminals everywhere were on the run tonight, looking over their shoulders and missing vital sleep. “For what it’s worth,” Lance told Korinta as she flickered into wakefulness and Sparto faded away, “I thought you played a darn good game on the way in. Almost had me fooled into thinking you weren’t who I thought you were.”
Korinta grinned and mouthed weakly: “I even took your photograph. What kind of traffic stop was that?”
He whispered back: “I got to meet you, didn’t I? By the way, I don’t have a sister in college in Boston. I live there, and I’ll invite you up for some cream pie some night when the moon is full and the galaxy isn’t looking.”
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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