Chapter 16, Part 3: Pick Up

        Marsha stepped quickly around the desk. Antoinette’s shoulders were trembling. “No, I don’t think so.” She took hold of one of Antoinette’s arms, prying loose her grip around Tracker’s neck.
        Antoinette raised her head and looked into the concerned face above her. “Marsha?” Her hopeless whisper raised goose bumps on Marsha’s neck.
        ”Antoinette. What happened to him?”
        ”He drank…” she said dully, gesturing towards the credenza.        ”… drugged. His mind; gone…”
        ”Come on, honey,” Marsha said, pulling gently on her arm. “Let’s get him back to the airbus and see what’s wrong.”
        Jay crouched down to investigate the body of the General. Then he stood, glancing at Tracker. “Well, now I know where all the blood came from,” he observed.
        ”Louis, pick Tracker up and let’s get back to the airbus,” Marsha said.
        Louis held up one hand. “Just a moment, Team Second.”
        He turned to Antoinette, who was standing, shoulders slumped in despair. “You say he had a drink?” She nodded. “How much did he drink?”
        ”One of those glasses full.”
        ”And he’s never had liquor before, has he?”
        ”I do not think so. Louis, do you know what is wrong with ‘im?” she asked. Her hand crept to her throat.
        ”I’ve got a hunch,” he said. “Marsha, I want to try something.”
        She nodded. “Hurry it up.”
        He turned and went out into the hall.
        Antoinette watched, biting the side of her clenched fist, as he returned, carrying the tank from a water cooler. Ripping open the reservoir, he dumped the icy water over Tracker.
        Tracker gave a gasp and a convulsive shudder. “Huh? What?” he spluttered.
        ”Tracker!” Antoinette cried with a sob and flung herself into his arms again.
        He held her, patting her shoulders clumsily. “‘S all right, shweetheart. Th’others ‘ave come ‘n we can g’ home now.”
        Marsha caught Louis’s eye and touched one finger to her forehead in a brief salute. “Good job, Louis.”
        He grinned, pleased. “Seen it happen over and over while I was in the Rangers. Green recruit, trying to prove he’s tough, socks back several drinks all at once, then bang! Instant mental deep-freeze. You soak his head, then let him sleep it off.”
        Antoinette was on her feet, pulling Tracker’s arm. Tears streamed down her cheeks, turning red as they mingled with the spattered blood. “Come, Tracker. Let us leave this evil place. Now!”
        ”That’s an excellent idea,” Marsha said. “Louis, Jay, make sure we’re clear.”
        Jay went to the door and stood, watching. Louis strode heavily down the hall to the corner, looked around it, then waved to Jay.
        Jay stepped back inside the room. “Marsha, coast is clear.”
        ”Captain Jones, how soon can you make pickup?” Marsha said into her radio.
        ”On call, Team Second. We’re secure.”
        ”Team Leader? Ready to exit.”
        ”Come on.”
        Tracker came to his feet, weaving unsteadily. Antoinette guided him towards the door, but he pulled free and staggered towards the wall behind the desk. “Gotta get m’ stuff,” he mumbled. He groped after a pair of objects hanging on a hook.
        ”Permettez-moi,” Antoinette said, reaching up and unhooking the set of Valani toe-claws. She pressed them into his hand, then took his valtan from the desk and gave that to him as well. Then, pulling his left arm over her shoulders, she half-led, half-carried him towards the door.
        He paused once, looking down at the body of the General. “You don’ always win, Gen’rul. Not thish time, an’way,” he said, then let her guide him down the hall to the airbus. Broken glass pressed against the ceiling where Jay, mindful of Antoinette’s bare feet, had used a negative-gravity beam to clear the floor.