Johnny beamed down into a large clearing covered with a coarse black material his studies had told him was called asphalt. To one side was a large building with a loading dock attached; to the other side was a wall. In front of him was what appeared to be a road. It was dark and Johnny had some difficulty getting his bearings.
The area known as Anaheim had been destroyed and rebuilt several times during the chaos of the 21st century; therefore, no map of the area could be assumed accurate. For this reason, Johnny had replicated civilian clothing of the period and decided to ask directions. He heard music and ascertained that a nearby business was open.
Waking around to the front of the building, Johnny noticed two huge apartment blocks across the street, and another large apartment complex on the opposite corner of the intersection. Lincoln Avenue and Rio Vista Street. I'm in the vicinity at least, Johnny thought.
The sign above the door read "River View Inn - Sports Bar Dining and Cocktails." Johnny discreetly checked his tricorder and noted that a huge concrete-lined gully was approximately a kilometer away from his location. No water was in it at the moment. Some river, and some view.
Casually, Johnny walked into the bar. A sign at the door read "NO SMOKING INDOORS - NO DRINKING OUTDOORS." Johnny noted with distaste that tobacco use was still very commonplace in this era.
The interior of the bar had clearly seen better days. A viewscreen with very poor reception was showing what appeared to be a baseball game. Several rough-looking characters--probably the owners of those motorcycles out front, Johnny thought-were at the bar, being served by a waitress who looked to have seen much better days.
Johnny approached the bar. "Excuse me, ma'am. I'm trying to find 175 South Rio Vista Street," he said.
The waitress ignored him. One extremely rough looking character turned to Johnny. "Son, we don't serve your type in here, so you may as well move along," he said, his breath reeking of stale tobacco, his filthy beard stretching down to his distended belly.
My 'type'??? What the hell is this? Johnny thought. "All I'm trying to do is find an address. Once I've done that, I'll leave," he said, noting that he wouldn't be caught dead in such a fleabag even if he were welcome there.
"I said, move along, muchacho! Just point your feet south and walk your way back across that border before you get more trouble than you bargained for, comprende?" Three more equally intimidating thugs squared off behind the first.
A younger version of Johnny would have confronted them. But Johnny since coming to the Virgo had become much more circumspect in his actions. "I beg your pardon for disturbing your gathering. I'll be leaving now," he said, wondering if the forthcoming Eugenics Wars had at least managed to get these idiots out of the gene pool.
Johnny left the bar, and noted that the four thugs followed him out. Oh, terrific-ten minutes in the 21st century and already I've got to kick someone's ass!"
One of the thugs grabbed Johnny by the shoulder as the other three surrounded him. "Listen, I don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to find a friend of mine. Let's just forget I ever walked in there, okay?"
"You don't belong around here. Your kind doesn't belong here. And you're way too uppity for our liking, wetback!" a thug wearing sunglasses and a bandanna tied over his head said as he took a swing at Johnny.
Johnny grabbed the man's wrist and threw him toward the thug standing behind him. Another of the bravos was wielding a pool cue, which he attempted to use to hit Johnny across the face. Johnny ducked the blow and delivered a roundhouse kick to the man's lower back, sending him down in pain. The fourth thug pulled a knife and came at Johnny with an underhand grip. "Oh, please!" Johnny said as he relieved the man of the knife and tossed it away.
The four men were lined up in front of Johnny, advancing on him. "You fight good for a beaner!"
"Is that what you think I am?" Johnny asked. "Sorry to disappoint you!" he said as the first man rushed him. Johnny drop-kicked him, breaking his nose and knocking him unconscious. The other three thugs came at him at once. Johnny grabbed one by the filthy Harley-Davidson T-shirt and dropped to his back, throwing the dirtbag over him with a cowboy kick. He then popped back up, only to be grabbed by the other two at once. The third remaining attacker got up and attempted to hit Johnny, but was stopped by a front snap kick to his chin. He went down unconscious. The other two men held onto Johnny even tighter while one produced a sap from his belt. Johnny delivered a side kick to that man's arm, breaking it instantly. He was about to turn his attentions to the fourth man when a loud siren interrupted him.
Bright lights flashed onto Johnny. "Police! Put up your hands!" a man as he stepped out of the squad car.
Johnny immediately complied. Law enforcement in this era may or may not help him, but the odds of his coming away clean from the encounter were considerably greater if he cooperated.
"All right, anyone want to tell me what happened here?" the cop asked.
"This man tried to mug us!" the remaining coherent dirtbag said.
"Yeah, I'll believe that. One man mugging four people?" he said as he frisked the thugs, producing brass knuckles, saps, knives, and other items of mayhem. "I don't think he would have gotten very far, myself. All right, what's your story," the cop asked Johnny. Johnny told them the truth. He was trying to get directions when the four men accosted him.
The cop called for backup and paramedics. "Okay, everyone on the ground. I 'm checking for ID. Anyone have any needles on them?" None of the men did.
"Check him for a green card!" one of the thugs yelled at the cop as the cop pulled Johnny's ID wallet. Based upon information received from Jo, Krystina, and Rich, Johnny had replicated appropriate idenification documents: driver's license, tribal enrollment card, and a military ID just in case.
"Yep, he's got a green card, all right. Sorry for the trouble, Colonel," the cop said, helping Johnny up. Another squad car and ambulance rolled up. There were now three cops and two paramedics on the scene. The three cops, including a sergeant, looked over the thugs' identity papers. Johnny heard something about outstanding warrants. The sergeant came up to him.
"Uh, Colonel Chee, I'm Sergeant Frank Mendoza, Anaheim Police Department. We're having a bit of trouble tracking down your drivers' license number. Is there something you'd care to tell us?" he asked.
"If I may have a word with you privately, Sergeant, I'll explain."
"You'll have to come to the station with us."
"Understood," Johnny said, knowing that the Virgo would lock onto him and beam him up if he didn't report in for longer than one hour.
The other thugs were hauled off in a pair of ambulances and another squad car as Sergeant Mendoza drove Johnny downtown to the police station.
"Okay, first of all, we need a statement of what happened tonight," Mendoza said. Johnny gave him the bare facts he'd come to that intersection via bus and had stopped into the bar to ask directions. That's when the thugs had given him a hard time.
"It sounds like we can get them on a number of charges-assault, hate crimes, concealed weapons, in addition to the outstanding warrants they've already got," Mendoza said. "Now, do you care to explain how come your driver's license doesn't check out, and how come a Marine colonel has to take a cit bus?"
"I arrived at the airport too late for a rental car," Johnny said. "I didn't feel like waiting for a taxi so I took the bus instead."
"Okay, I'll buy that," Mendoza said. "But what about your ID?"
"This is a matter of national security. I'm attempting to locate a government employee by the name of Gary Steven Condrey living in your city. He possesses knowledge that may be of value to foreign agents, and I was sent to ensure that he arrives at a designated location safely."
"Okay, suppose your story is true. The question remains: who are you? And why didn't your agency or whoever you're working for contact this department for coordination?"
Terrific. We hacked into the Pentagon but not the DMV???? Johnny thought as he recalled the efforts made to ensure a proper document trail for him in this century. Given the nature of the threat to the crew's alter-egos in this timeline, national government records were deemed more significant than local government records. And of course I had to find the one weak link in the whole chain!
"Sergeant, that fax came in you requested," a desk clerk said, handing a sheaf of papers to Mendoza. "Hmmm.okay, Colonel, it appears you are who you say you are," Mendoza said. "Your military ID checked out. Now, I don't know who you're working for. I don't think I want to know. But whatever it is you're doing, I would advise you to get it done quickly and get out of here before too many questions are asked."
"Of that you can be assured, Sergeant."
"I'll have a squad car take you where you need to go. The address you had was just across the street from where we picked you up!"
Johnny shook his head. The whole mess could have been avoided had he just crossed the street!
The police car dropped him off in front of a large, two-story apartment building. Johnny discovered to his dismay that the complex was a secure complex. He noticed a security guard riding a bicycle on the grounds bu did not want to draw his attention. The last thing Johnny wanted right now was another encounter with the police!
A pizza delivery man solved Johnny's problems. Johnny made it in through the gate after the delivery man, then spent the next fifteen minutes roaming the building, attempting to find unit 72. Finally, he found his way to the apartment.
The apartment was dark. Johnny knocked on the door, but got no answer. Terrific! He's not home!
A bald man entered the hallway and headed toward the door to unit 71. "Hey, you a friend of Steve's?" he asked.
Johnny nodded his head. "I'm Chris Rodriguez, his neighbor. I think he left to see his girlfriend this weekend!"
"Damn! I just got out here from the East Coast. I was hoping to surprise him!"
"Do you have a way of getting down to San Diego?" Chris asked.
"Yes," Johnny said. "That won't be a problem."
"He usually takes Greyhound down there; you can probably catch him at the terminal downtown."
"Thanks! Oh-and if you see a man in a black suit come here, call the police immediately!" Johnny told him. "He's armed and extremely dangerous. Could I use your telephone for a moment?" he asked. "It's a local call."
"Sure, go ahead!"
Johnny stepped into the apartment, carefully avoiding stepping on a dog that couldn't have been more than six inches tall at the shoulder. He found the phone and picked up the receiver. Let's see.that number was 853-1212, he thought.
[Good evening. At the tone, Pacific Daylight Time will be 8:34 and 40 seconds...<beep>]
Johnny tapped the combadge he kept in his pocket. "Antilles, this is Johnny. Pick me up in five minutes, he said." Jennifer very carefully said nothing back.
"Thank you-Chris, you said?"
"Yeah, no problem. Steve's my friend. Is he in trouble?"
"He could be if I don't get to him first," Johnny said.
Johnny stepped outside and waited for the transporter beam to pick him up. He rematerialized in the Virgo's main transporter room. "I need to be transported to the following coordinates," Johnny said, calling up historical data on the Greyhound Bus Company and locating where their San Diego terminal used to be.
"Aye, sir," Antilles said as Johnny stepped onto the platform.
"Energize."
Johnny rematerialized in a public bathroom about a block away from the bus terminal, much to the surprise of the wino who was sleeping in the stall. "Sorry-didn't mean to disturb you," Johnny said as he hurried to get out of the room, nose wrinkling from the smell.
A short walk got Johnny to the Greyhound station. Johnny was amazed at the variety of individuals he met on the streets of 21st century San Diego, both in terms of their eccentricities and variation in level of cleanliness. I know in this century many people didn't have the means to maintain adequate personal hygeine, but I'll be glad to leave this behind! he thought.
The terminal was crowded, packed almost elbow to elbow with travellers. A television was tuned to the local news. To one side, a small flea market sold various odds and ends. A snack bar served overpriced entrees. Johnny' s Universal Translator strained to keep up with at least half a dozen languages being spoken in close proximity.
Two men who definitely did not fit the profile of a typical bus traveller waited in the terminal. Both were men with black suits. They got ahead of me somehow! Johnny thought. They've probably been watching Steve for months. \ Steve was, as a government employee, more subject to scrutiny than the others.
Johnny quickly mulled his options as the bus pulled into the terminal. How do I distract these people? he thought. Producing a small hand phaser from his pocket, Johnny set it for light stun and calmly walked behind the two men, stunning them as he went past. To an observer, it appeared as though the men had simply fallen asleep waiting for a bus.
Johnny saw Steve-a most unlikely sort-enter from one of the doors. Immediately he went up to the man.
"Mr. Gary Steven Condrey?" Johnny asked.
"Uhhhh, yes. What can I do for you, sir?"
"It's I that should call you sir. You are, after all, the one who created me," Johnny said as he led Steve away from the door-and away from the two agents who would wake up any moment.
"Created-what do you mean?" Steve asked.
"You know that online roleplaying game you participate in?" Johnny asked. "I'm Johnny Chee. I'm here to take you to the Virgo."
"Krys and Rich put you up to this, right?" Steve asked, immediately skeptical.
"In a way, yes. They told me how to locate you. And I need to get you out of here quickly-you're in danger!"
Steve stopped. "Okay, I want explanations, and I want them now before we go any further!"
The two men woke up and saw Johnny and Steve talking in the terminal. The agents started moving toward them, hands in their coats reaching for shoulder holsters.
"You'll get them, but we're getting out of here now!" Johnny said as he hit his combadge. "Chee to Virgo-two to beam up!" he said as he grabbed Steve and hauled him into a secluded corner.
The transporter beam had whisked them away just as the two agents rounded the corner.
Just as Johnny and Steve beamed out, the newsreader on the television was reading a news flash. "This just in-in Anaheim today local police mistakenly arrested a federal agent."
The next thing Steve saw was the interior of the transporter room aboard the Virgo, the lovely Jennifer Antilles at he controls, accompanied by someone ven more lovely. Krystina was waiting for him at the transporter room. Mr. Condrey, welcome aboard the USSVirgo," Johnny said.
For the first time in his life, Steve was absolutely speechless.