Black that’s not what I do at all.”
When Jet woke he was in another hospital bed, but an entirely different one with a glowing yellow cover enclosing his entire body from his lower Jaw down. He went to move but couldn’t: his body wouldn’t respond; panic welled inside him, and he gasped out in fear. “I can’t move; help me?”
An alien came over and gently touched his forehead. It almost sang; a sweet chirp that somehow reassured him.
The alien was still caressing his brow when KeltPic loomed over.
“I can’t move,” Jet said in alarm.
“Mr. Black, don’t you remember; I did say you wouldn’t feel a thing?”
“I thought you meant the pain?”
“I did, but also that the compounds require you to be perfectly still until they are hardened.” The other alien was handing KeltPic a small machine, he attached two electrodes to either side of Jets temple. “I understand the treatment can be distressing depending on an individuals personality, so I’ll give you something to…”
Jet didn’t hear; everything went black: he didn’t even dream.
When Jet woke again the cover had gone and he felt reinvigorated. Looking under the sheet he saw that from below his groin to past where his toes once were, was enclosed in what appeared to be of all things, a quilt. The material was gossamer light, he couldn’t feel it on his flesh; it brought the realization to him he could feel his skin. Not exactly feel it but he knew it was there. He remembered the doctors on the Glorious Twenty Sixth telling him it was common to feel he still had the leg; the brain could still think it was there when it wasn’t, but it wasn’t just his brain, he knew the leg was there. He was confused: was it imagination or reality?
“I know this sounds stupid...” Jet said to KeltPic, in a slightly embarrassed voice. “But I’ll swear I can move my toes.”
KeltPic made a noise that Jet couldn’t understand as he placed a gauze over Jets head. Jet felt it tighten and then tingle. “What’s this?”
KeltPic made a hissing sound that Jet assumed was telling him to keep quiet.
The tingling continued until the gauze went slack. KeltPic took it off. “Well that’s all fine; so you can move you’re toes Mr. Black?”
Jet didn’t feel so confident now. “I thought I could.”
KeltPic was removing the quilt.
Jet looked down in amazement; he was whole again. He had his leg back, but it wasn’t his leg he had, had a scar where a projectile had gone through the calf muscle a long time before; it was an injury he had come to live with that sometimes let him down, but now it wasn’t there.
KeltPic was gripping both Jets ankles, the original and the fake. He swung them over the bed and let them hang. Jet looked down and then at KeltPic.
“Its worked?” Jet asked dreading what keltPic may say.
“Yes Mr Black; did you think it wouldn’t?”
“No... It just seems unbelievable.”
“Everything depends on your level of belief Mr Black. If you believe you have your old leg back you are wrong; if you believe you have a perfectly serviceable prosthesis that with do all you want it to; and maybe more, then that’s what you have.” KeltPic looked at him. “I must warn you Mr. Black human minds are fickle things yours may accept what I have done, and then again it may not. If your brain rejects the prosthesis it will cause you much mental anguish, and I will have to remove the limb; but hopefully that won’t be the case, and your leg will outlive you, as for now I can do no more for you Mr. Black; now you must learn to live with your leg all over again.”
Jet was waiting in the Galaxy Layby’s coffee lounges when the Silver Flyer arrived back. It pleased him to see the starship put down, and know that it was theirs again: at least technically; it was after all the property of the Three Galaxies Insurance Alliance. Jet had contacted James Rackham after it had been confiscated and returned to the insurance company, offering to buy the ship, and had put a good portion of the gold dust towards the spaceships purchase. Though as Rackham reminded him, until the last payment was made the ship was only on loan, and then only if he agreed to ‘do the odd thing’ for them. Rackham wouldn’t specify what an odd thing was, but Jet had little option but to agree.
Besides the pain and discomfort to Jet himself his injuries had caused problems for the crew, as with continuing treatment he couldn’t fly away for any long trips: that was solved when James stepped up. Apparently he had some leave due and offered to replace Jet until he was ready to come back, but Jet didn’t like it at all. James was okay as a person, but he was also a rival, and since their brief intimacy James seemed to have wormed his way back into Rosie’s attention. Chub wasn’t happy either, he was sure James was a Galactic Militia agent spying on them, and considering how James acted he did nothing to dispel those thoughts.
Rosie was first to come over when they cleared the formalities.
“Jet; how are you?”
“Fine; no problems,” he replied, though for some inexplicable reason he feigned a slight limp. “How were the deliveries?”
“Same, its good to have the Flyer back though… Oh, Selian has been trying to contact you?”
He knew exactly who she was, but pretended not to remember. “Selian?”
“From the Water World?”
“Oh, that Selian?”
Rosie gave him a look that indicated she knew, he knew.
“Why: what does she want?”
“She wouldn’t tell me; she wanted to talk to you.”
Once back at the hotel Jet went to the bistro for a bite to eat. He would contact Selian, but he wanted to think for a while and through the meal he went over what had happened at Paleria, but his mind couldn’t help thinking more of what happened after they left.
He never discovered why: after their escape, Rosie had become very quiet. She wasn’t the most extroverted of people at the best of times: Chub was enough for them both in that department; but Jet had missed Rosie’s sharp wit and always-ready one-liners.
She never spoke of her time apart from them on the planet, and it undoubtedly would have been frightening having three armed mermen corner anyone in a small room, so he never pushed her to tell.
If Rosie being unusually quite hadn’t been enough, Chub had acted strangely as well; although Chubs change could be explained: he had seemed to be getting quite fond of Thea, but the woman literally walked out of his life; probably something that if it didn’t pull his heart it certainly crushed his pride.
Still how could he judge the others, Selian had penetrated Jets own shields and yet she had literally used him: not that he begrudged her doing that; in fact having a woman use him as he occasionally used them was at the very least an interesting experience. Jet raised his hand for the waiter.
"Sir?"
"Can I get the bill?"
"Room charge sir?"
Jet nodded and looked around the pool area. A brunette was looking directly at him across the sparkling clear water. It reminded him that he had had enough of water and strangely enough of women. He stood and went back to his room. To his annoyance his call to Selian didn’t connect.
Chub was working on the Silver Flyer when Jet entered the hangar.
"I thought I would be back first?" Jet said in surprise.
"That depends on if I had been away," Chub replied.
Jet was a little concerned. "What happened?"
“I don’t know what those idiots did to when they took her away, but we desperately need to a full refurbishment, I can keep repairing but sooner or later she’s gunna let us down.”
Jet didn’t like to even think of that happening. Jet felt guilty. “You should have called me; I’d have given you a hand?”
"Yea, maybe; but you’ve got your own problems, and I could manage so why."
"Still you should have… So where's Rosie?"
"Haven't seen her: why?"
"Nothing."
"She isn’t due back till evening,"
"No."
"You expected her back early?"
"No; it's just I thought she was acting a bit reticent."
Chub smiled in a sympathetic kind of way.
Jet decided to ignore the implications. “Any new contracts turned up?" he said, not expecting the positive.
"Yup; pickup and delivery; A.S.A.P, that’s part of why I decided to work through on the Flyer."
Jet’s mood lifted. "Great; what is it?"
“Actually its not so great; its come through that James guy.”
It didn’t really surprise Jet; James seemed to have a lot of contacts. “It’s income coming in.”
“Yes but from where?”
“You still think he’s with the militia?”
“And being financed by them.”
Jet smiled. “Your being paranoid Chub: whatever reason would they do that for?”
“I don’t know; but me being paranoid doesn’t mean he hasn’t got some ulterior motive.”
A thought struck Jet. "We're not going into any forbidden or hostile zone?"
"No, no, no," Chub hesitated. "Pick up is at Peglaria."
“Peglaria?” It couldn’t be coincidence, or could it; Jet wasn’t sure, but he suddenly felt his own paranoia. “If I remember correctly we're wanted criminals there?”
“Yes I said that to him and he assured me that we were cleared of being part of the mermen's plan?’
“I’d make sure of that before we land.”
“We will.”
“Besides that isn’t it still as good as a war zone?"
"Again according to James the conflict has been downgraded to skirmishing; and that happen all the time. Apparently it’s more or less peaceful?”
Jet wasn’t