Infinite Regress 1e: Relative Distance: Part 6
by Anne Clements
"My cousin was investigating your organization when she disappeared," Captain Lochley continued, "and unless you produce her immediately, I'll have reporters from every tabloid in the country here so fast your head will spin."
Part of her -- Colonel Lochley's by-the-book daughter -- was aghast at what she was doing. Pretending to be an actress, barging into a civilian office where she had nothing vaguely resembling jurisdiction, and using the same kind of high-handed, steamrolling tactics she had borne the brunt of so many times as CO of a space station that served as an intergalactic crossroads -- what was she *thinking*? Well, as a matter of fact she was thinking she needed to get *home*, and unorthodox as they might be, these tactics might just work. And then there was that other part of her, which was enjoying the hell out of this. She grinned viciously as the receptionist cringed back against her desk, unobtrusively pressing a button on her console.
Smelling blood in the water, Cordelia jumped in. "Plus, Ms. Scoggins is scheduled to appear on Oprah *and* Letterman this week," she added. "So you people will really be in trouble!"
"What is going on here?"
The speaker was a statuesque blonde in an elegant business suit. Behind her stood a thin man of middle height in slate grey.
"Ms. Blain, I presume? Tracy Scoggins. I have reason to believe you or your associates are holding my cousin, Detective Lockley..."
Involuntarily, the woman glanced back toward her office. Angel and Doyle exchanged a look.
"Ms...Scoggins," the sleek man interrupted. "Ms. Blain and I are most concerned by your...misapprehensions. Why don't we step into the office?"
"And you would be...?" asked Lochley. The man smiled and handed her his card, which she passed back to Angel. John Q. Smith, junior partner, Wolfram & Hart Legal Services. Angel raised an eyebrow and passed the pasteboard on to Doyle.
They all trooped back to Ms. Blain's office, where Jerry hung back, making sure the door stayed open a crack. Blain moved behind her expansive acrylic desk, while Smith lingered by the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"Now," he said smoothly. "Let's just make clear what's going on here -- what's *really* going on..."
"What's *really* going on?" snapped the Captain. "As in kidnapping innocent young people who are new to the big city and selling them as slaves to your alien clients?"
"Demons," amended Angel.
"Whatever," she acknowledged. "And when Detective Lockley got a little too close, you decided to get rid of her. But it didn't work, did it? You got *me* instead, and I can assure you I can be every bit as dangerous as your famous LAPD!"
"I gather you are *not* Tracy Scoggins," observed Smith.
Lochley took a deep breath, but Angel jumped in before she could speak.
"No, she's not. She's Captain Elizabeth Lochley, from more than two hundred and fifty years in the future. We need Detective Lockley in order to cast the counter-spell and send her back. Plus...she's a friend. Detective Lockley, that is, although..."
"Assuming this makes any sense at all," the lawyer cut in, "What makes you think we have her here?"
"She's here," Angel said flatly. "Are you going take us to her, or do we find her ourselves?"
"Smith," said Ms. Blain. "Do you know what these people are talking about?"
"Let me handle this, Elondra." the sleek man replied. "Angel, isn't it? You know, you're making quite a name for yourself in...certain circles. And regrettable as I find this mixup, and much as I would like to help you out, I'm afraid other interests preclude it. If Detective Lockley were to leave here at this point, I'm very much a fraid she would take with her an...unfortunate set of misapprehensions about our business and the very nature of some of our clients. And, quite frankly, I find it quaintly optimistic of you all to assume that you will be allowed to leave here yourselves."
Jerry and Cordelia looked somewhat dismayed, but Angel just smiled. Lochley started pacing.
"I don't think you'd be able to keep us here, Mr. Smith," she said. "And trying will buy you a lot more publicity than I think you want to deal with."
"We weren't kidding about the tabloids," chimed in Jerry. "I know some pretty unscrupulous people in the business."
"And you are?" said Blain.
"Jerry Doyle. I really *am* an actor," he clarified. "Also..." he looked at his cousin, "family."
"The police are going to be looking for Detective Lockley too, and we'd have no compunction at all about telling them where to look," added Doyle.
"And if we *do* hand over the Detective, she and her colleagues will be all over us," Smith pointed out.
Angel whispered something in Lochley's ear. She frowned, then nodded reluctantly.
"Apparently, there is a 'memory-erasing spell' that can be performed on the Detective, which will ensure that she remembers nothing of what happened to her -- and I'm assuming here that nothing too drastic *has* happened to her. If she were to agree to this 'spell'," Lochley went on, unable to hide her distaste for the unscientific word, "that would give you time to dismantle your operation here and move on. That's the deal, Smith. Are you going to take it, or do we get to play rough?"
The attorney looked at them all for a long moment. Then he moved to the desk and made a call.
"Wow," muttered Cordelia. "That was quick."
"That's why *she's* the Captain," said Jerry.
A few minutes later, there came a knock at the wall near the door. At a nod from Smith, Elondra went over and opened the hidden door, allowing two men in maintenance coveralls to propel a bound and gagged Detective Lockley into the office. Angel moved quickly to her side, ripping off the gag and attacking her bonds.
"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously, "Did they hurt you?"
"No," the blonde woman shook her head, "no more than a few bruises. What..." She looked up at Angel with fear and deep disorientation in her eyes. "What *were* those...things, Angel? Did you see them? Do you know..."
He nodded ruefully, and Doyle and Cordelia exchanged looks. "Yeah, but it's a long story," he replied.
As he explained the situation, Liz watched Kate's big blue eyes get bigger and rounder as she struggled to wrap her brain around it. She also noticed that Angel managed to leave out the part about being a vampire himself, but under the circumstances she could hardly blame him.
"Wow," Kate said at last. "That all sounds pretty crazy. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I know," Angel replied.
"But these guys..." the blonde cop shook her head. "They definitely weren't human...I mean, I don't go down easy -- you know that. And the...the *horns*...they weren't some kind of a mask?"
"No, they were demons, all right," said Doyle.
"And they work for this guy?" she directed a piercing glare at Smith. "I guess I was getting too close, huh? So you...tried to send me back in Time? Why not just shoot me, or beat the crap out of me? Why the fancy stuff?"
Smith spread his hands. "My...associates and I run a clean organization. No mess, no overt threats, just discreet efficiency."
"I wouldn't call getting the spell *backwards* all that efficient," cut in Captain Lochley. Kate looked at her, really registering the auburn-haired woman for the first time.
"And you're my..." she hesitated, at a loss for the appropriate term.
"Great-great-nine-or-ten-more-greats niece. Or something. We think," said Lochley helpfully.
"There is definitely a blood tie, or the spell wouldn't have worked," Smith assured them.
"And both of you have to be together to do the counterspell, which we should really be getting on with," put in Cordelia. "Not that I'm trying to get rid of you or anything, Lizzie, but..." she glanced over at Smith and Elondra Blain, who glared back at her over her nail file, "...I *really* think we should be leaving soon."
"Wait a minute," said Kate. "You mean we're going to do this... 'counterspell' now? Here? And they're just going to *let* us?" Now Kate's credulity sounded truly strained.
"Yes, we have to, and...well, yes, but there is one more...factor involved," Angel said, answering all three questions.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?"
Angel told her, and she *didn't* like it, not one little bit. At first, she refused point-blank to undergo the memory-wipe spell, citing the fact that she could *not*, as a police officer, effectively erase evidence of crimes being committed, and potentially hundreds of innocent people being kidnapped and sold into slavery -- or worse.
At that point, Captain Lochley stepped in.
"In principle, I absolutely agree with you..." she began, but Kate cut her off angrily.
"...But I suppose 'principles' are a lot more flexible in the 23rd Century or whenever it is you're from?" she snapped, to be echoed by a soft "woops!" from Jerry's corner of the room.
Lochley's eyes blazed, Kate's narrowed, and Cordelia's widened as the two older women flared at each other like twin suns. ("Now *they're* related," Doyle pointed out to his step-cousin, who nodded sagely.)
"My principles are those of an Earthforce officer," the Captain snapped. "One who is personally responsible for the lives and well-being of a quarter of a million people -- many of whom are every bit as alien as the creatures that attacked us. Granted, most of them have better manners. Principles are what we live by, Detective, but putting those principles into practice requires *strategy*. Neither your principles nor mine will do us a damn bit of good if we get killed trying to fight our way out of here -- or if we get one of these civilians killed." She moved closer to the detective, lowering her voice.
"Even if you forget the past twenty-four hours, you'll still have your notes on the case, and Angel and the others will be there to help..."
"But by the time I reconstruct what happened, they'll be long gone," Kate protested.
"Maybe, maybe not," Lochley replied. "In any event, we will have put a serious crimp in their operation -- perhaps permanently. And..." she sighed. "I *really* need to get home. Not just for the station's sake, but there's a crisis coming..." she shook her head, then looked searchingly -- almost pleadingly -- at Jerry, who chewed on the inside of his lip in a distinctly non-reassuring gesture of commiseration. "I need to be there," she finished quietly.
Kate looked down at her hands. "I understand that. But...having my memory erased...it's like being violated somehow."
Again, the Captain and the actor exchanged looks, but there was nothing Jerry could offer, here, either. He'd played Garibaldi's anguish at Bester's mind-rape, but for him it had been only an act.
Angel stepped forward and clasped Kate's anxiously twisting hands in his own.
"I promise, I'll tell you everything," he said earnestly, "just as soon as it's safe. I've been wanting to tell you for weeks, but," he laughed softly, "I was afraid you'd think I was crazy."
The detective smiled in spite of herself. "No great loss," she said, "I thought that anyway." She looked into his eyes for a long moment.
"You promise?"
He nodded solemnly, not breaking eye contact.
"I promise."
Kate closed her eyes and drew a deep breath -- then looked at Lochley.
"Captain, tell me something. Why did you join...Earthforce, was it?"
Lochley was taken aback. "Well, I...that is, my father was in Earthforce, and his father...our whole family has been career military or in law enforcement since...forever, as far as I know..."
Kate sighed. "I was afraid of that," she said ruefully. She took a deep breath. "Okay. What do I have to do?"
A few minutes later, Lochley came out of Elondra Blain's private bathroom in her Earthforce uniform, to find Angel and Doyle making a design on the gold carpet with some kind of purplish powder. Blain had disappeared, and Smith was locking the door. Cordelia came over and gave the Captain a light but firm hug.
"You take care of yourself out there in space, Cap'n Lizzie," she said, flashing all those teeth, " and *don't* forget to have *fun* while you're about it!"
"I won't!" the Captain laughed, "and, hey, tell Dennis thanks for helping with the coffeepot."
"I *knew* it," Cordy grinned. She looked up at the large presence looming tentatively over her shoulder. Smiling archly at the actor, she stepped back toward the others. Jerry cleared his throat, and Lochley instinctively shifted into her at-ease stance, which made the actor smile.
"When you see Garibaldi," he said, "tell him I said to watch his back -- and quit smokin' those damn cigars. They'll stunt his growth."
Lochley returned his grin, then, moved by an impulse she didn't even want to try to understand, she stepped forward, grabbed the back of his head, and kissed him, quickly, on the lips. She stepped quickly into the center of the diagram, ignoring the bemused actor, and nodded to Angel. With the wisdom that comes with great age, the vampire kept a straight face as he began the invocation.
As the other two chimed in, the vampire fed bits of unidentifiable material to a small brazier on the desk. The light coming through the closed blinds seemed to dim, and the purple diagram on the gold carpet began to shine with its own, black-light glow. Suddenly the glow coalesced around Kate -- Cordelia cried out in protest as it looked as though the wrong Lochley might be getting transported, but then the light streamed across to Elizabeth, wrapping both women in a violet cloud.
There was a brilliant purple flash, and when it faded the Captain was gone and the Detective had crumpled onto the carpet.
Angel moved quickly to the fallen woman, pulling a small velvet bag out of his pocket. "Doyle, help me with this -- I want to do it fast, while she's out," he said.
Before Doyle could join him, Smith knelt beside the vampire. "Are you using the Nigellian Codex? I'm familiar with that one -- I'll do the responses, and make sure it's done right." The smile he gave Angel held no trace of friendliness, and was returned in kind.
Not long after, they trooped out of the offices of Talent Connection, oblivious to the stares of the waiting applicants (who were all subsequently turned away), with Kate's unconscious form cradled in Angel's strong arms.
* * *
Later that evening, Jerry made a phone call.
"Tracy? Hey, this is Jerry again. About yesterday -- it wasn't what it sounded like, honest. Look, it's a long story, and one I'd really like to tell you -- I don't know what you're schedule's like, but I've got this dinner party to go to tomorrow night. It's a local thing: I'm thinking of running for Congress next year, so I need to start networking...you know how these things go. Anyway, I was thinking, if you went with me, we could stop somewhere for drinks afterward...oh. Okay. Sure. Sure, I understand. No problem. Another time, maybe..."
"Well, hell, it was worth a try," he muttered after he hung up. His gaze fell on the greenish-brown splotch on the carpet. Now where on Earth was he going to get nail polish remover?
* * *
"What on Earth is that *stench*?" demanded Doyle as he flopped into a chair.
"Nail polish remover," replied Cordelia, swabbing at her fingertips with a pungent cotton swab. "Hey, you think your cousin got that stain out of his carpet?"
"Hell, he probably bought himself a new one," the young man replied, picking up a tattered magazine.
"I thought 'Cousin Jerry' was your hero," the girl taunted.
"Oh, he's a nice enough guy -- you didn't seem to like him much, though."
"He's not all that bad, once you get to know him. He said he could help me with my career, you know. And the...you know..." she waved a half-lacquered hand at her head, "it's really sorta cute, in a Yul Brynnerish kind of a way."
"Yeah, well, don't get too carried away," Doyle grumped. "You know how those celebrities are..."
"I do, and I have every intention of being one of them, thank you very much. So, has Angel told her yet?" she asked, switching gears in midstream.
"What? Oh...um...not exactly, not yet. I mean, he told her about the 'Talent Connection', but not the other stuff."
"He's going to have to tell her sooner or later, especially the part about going all *rrr-rrr* again if they get too cuddly...I'm gonna do it." She sat up and reached for the phone.
"Don't!"
"Not Kate -- come on, stay with me, here. I'm calling your cousin Jerry."
Doyle's mouth opened, then closed again, as Cordy settled back with the phone by her ear and a smug smile on her face.
"Mr. Doyle? Hi, this is Cordelia Chase...riiiiight, Frankie's little friend." She glared at her colleague, who was innocently leafing through a magazine on the couch across the office. "I was just wondering -- you'd mentioned something about being able to give me some advice on my acting career? Would it be too, like, pushy or something of me to take you up on that?"
Her face fell. "Oh," she said, disappointed. Doyle blew out a sigh of relief -- then froze as her megawatt smile lit up again. "Oh!" she cried. "Of course, I knew that...of *course* I would! Tomorrow? Eight o'clock? That's *perfect*! Let me give you my address..."
Doyle sank back in his chair, then lurched back out of it. Maybe he could talk Angel into heading down to the pub for a drink or seven.
* * *
In another century, in another timeline, Captain Elizabeth Lochley typed a query into her datapad, as the Rocky Mountains marched in stately splendor outside the shuttle's window. The massive network of servers that was the Earth Alliance Historical Database had no trouble with two of the references she gave it (and the images that went with them were, indeed, unnervingly familiar), but the other four...
Dozing passengers stirred and glared at the Earthforce Captain whooping with laughter in Row 3.
THE END
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