The Quest
Created | Updated Feb 20, 2002
CHAPTER THREE
sea frowned.
'Douglas Adams fans? What do they have to do with anything? What exactly am I looking for?'
Garius glanced around and leaned closer.
'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Radio broadcast scripts. And not just the scripts, the originals. Handwritten by Douglas Adams himself. You do realize that if we can pull this off, it will be the greatest archaeological find in the history of the universe...'
sea gaped at him.
'You've gone mad! Those are just a myth! I mean, I've heard a bit about them, and I'm sure that at some point they existed, but... they would be over a hundred years old!'
Garius shrugged, a smug grin on his face.
'Myth or not, I'll pay you to find out. Choose your crew when you have a lead. You know the drill.'
And with that, he got up and left the dining hall.
sea collected her coat and let herself out the door. She was lost in thought as she climbed into her car and pulled out of Garius's driveway. She barely paid attention to anything until she head the deadly click of a switchblade and felt its cold blade on her throat.
'Keep driving,'
growled the man in the back seat.
'Do exactly what I tell you to and everything will be fine.'
'No problem, Ace,'
replied sea.
'Anywhere in particular you'd like to go this fine evening?'
'The marina,'
he replied without hesitation.
'Keep to the speed limit, no shortcuts, and no funny business.'
'Planning to kill me and dump my car?'
sea asked conversationally.
'You're wasting a lot of money. This car will sell quick, for top dollar. Not only does it look like a prize, but I've put a lot of money under the hood, if you know what I mean.'
She tried to keep the man talking; there was something familiar about his voice. Alas, the man sat brooding over the amount of money the Porsche would sell for.
sea pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine, as directed. She stepped out of the car slowly, with her hijacker following behind. As he climbed out, sea caught the edge of the door with her heel and slammed it as hard as she could. The man yelped and fell on the ground, holding his head. sea kicked the knife away and grabbed the man by the shirt collar. She was surprised to see that the man was really a young man, no more than eighteen years old. She didn't recognize his face, but she studied it with interest. He was obviously somebody's hired thug, but he was attractive nonetheless.
'Who are you?'
sea demanded. The man remained sullenly silent, and earned a punch in the face.
'Tell me, or they won't even be able to identify you with dental records!'
'Zark off,'
the young man replied.
sea grinned.
'Thanks. That makes this lots more fun.'
sea didn't get much information from the young man, but she didn't particularly mind. She hadn't considered him to be any more than a car thief, but when she returned home to find her door standing wide open and all her windows broken, it seemed that he probably was. She activated the car's security system and pulled out the 9mm she kept strapped to her ankle for just such an occasion. She definitely preferred hand-to-hand combat to weapons, but in cases of uncertainty, she wasn't taking any chances. She ran up the walk, up the stairs, and into the house, gun ready.
At first glance, it looked much worse than it really was. Nothing was missing or irreparably damaged, but the entire house was in complete disarray. sea sighed and lowered the gun. She didn't really have much of value - that is, nothing that could be easily recognized as being valuable. Most of her things were cleverly crafted to look as though they were worthless, and the things that weren't - well, no burglar would ever find them. She picked up a chair and was setting it right when she heard a thump from upstairs.
sea readied herself and started up the stairs, gun still in her hand. She moved silently, checking each room in turn, until the only one left was her own. She put a hand on the knob and took a deep breath. In one fluid motion, she turned the knob and shoved the door open, pointing her gun at the intruders.
