DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. If you are offended by 
sexually explicit material or are under the age of 18, stop reading 
now. This material cannot be reproduced for commercial purposes 
without the consent of the author.

John Carter
By
Lazlo Zalezac 
Copyright (C) Lazlo Zalezak, 2003


Part 1: Shield, Staff, and Compass
Chapter 12

John looked around the laboratory satisfied with himself. It had 
taken him almost a week to clean the optics and realign them. He 
only had to balance the lasers and then he would be able to take 
data. Balancing the lasers would take most of a morning. That 
would leave the afternoon for him to take the data. He would start 
with that tomorrow morning. Today was Tuesday. He would take 
data every day of the rest of the week. It would be exactly the same 
data, but that would allow him to verify that the experiment was 
reproducible.  Actually, the data would have some variance from 
run to run, but the differences should be statistically insignificant.

He sat at his desk and looked over the papers that he had collected 
there. The majority of them dealt with the mechanics of fluid 
deformation. These papers covered the effects of applying pressure 
to a fluid; making measurements of deformations on surfaces; and 
formation of droplets of specific sizes. For most people, this kind 
of material would be as boring to read as a telephone book. To 
John, there was an entire world of amazing concepts and 
possibilities in locked up in a single droplet. 

When hiking, he often came across waterfalls. The rainbows that 
he had seen from various locations around the falls had fascinated 
him. He had seen simple rainbows, inverted rainbows, circular 
rainbows, and double rainbows. While studying physics, he had 
learned how rainbows were produced. He had come to understand 
the impact that droplets could have on light. Then one day, he had 
asked himself the question concerning what impact light had on the 
droplet. He hoped this experiment would help him answer that 
question.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ring of his telephone. It 
surprised him. This was the very first call he had received the 
entire time he had been at the university. He answered it to 
discover that it was the department secretary. She stated that he 
had a visitor and wondered if she should bring him to the lab. This 
had become normal procedure since a visitor had once set back an 
experiment by almost six months by breaking some equipment. 
Most researchers were very careful about inviting visitors into their 
labs, usually meeting visitors in their offices. Since John's office 
and lab were the same room, this presented a problem.  John 
looked at the table and decided that it was far enough to the side 
that a visitor wouldn't have much chance of hurting it. He told her 
that it was okay to bring his visitor down to the lab. 

While waiting for the visitor to arrive, John cleared the stack of 
papers that he had set on the second chair in the room. He wanted a 
place for his visitor to sit. He had just finished that when there was 
a knock on the door. He opened the door and greeted the secretary, 
"Hello, Jane."

The gentleman standing behind Jane was tall and solidly built. He 
appeared to be in his early fifties. He looked like a business 
executive. His hair was perfectly grayed at the temples and dark 
every where else. Jane answered, "Hello, John this is Director 
Mike Holden of the FBI. He has a few questions to ask you."

John stepped back to make room for the man to enter the lab. He 
replied, "Thank you Jane. Sir, do you want to come in and have a 
seat?"

Mike entered the room and looked around. The room was tidy 
except for a couple of small stacks of photocopied papers placed 
on the desk and on the floor next to the desk. The table on which 
the experiment was laid out was extremely neat and well 
organized. There was no mess of any kind. Mike answered, "Sure."

John sat in the chair at his desk and turned to face the FBI agent, 
"I'm sorry, I've never dealt with the FBI before. How am I 
supposed to address you?"

"You can call me Mike. This is an informal visit," replied the 
director. He studied John trying to correlate the description of his 
actions with his appearance. The mostly white beard looked rather 
strange. The longish hair gave him the appearance of a sixties 
reject. He was slender and didn't look that strong, but he did have 
an air of fitness about him. The light blue shirt and denim jeans 
made him look like any other graduate student. There wasn't 
anything about his appearance that set him apart from others, 
except for a kind of charismatic glow. 

"So what can I do for you?" asked John. He was trying to figure 
out what the FBI might want with him. Perhaps they were 
investigating one of the other people in the university, but the 
intensity with which he was being examined suggested that he was 
the target of an investigation.

The director studied John for several minutes. The directness and 
intensity of his gaze made John rather nervous. He finally broke 
the silence, "I was visiting a friend on the police force here and 
your name kept coming up in conversations. I was curious, so I 
came here to see you for myself."

John frowned, "I know a number of people in the police force. I'd 
be very surprised if they said anything negative about me."

"Oh, they didn't say anything negative. In fact, they claimed you 
were some kind of hero; that you went around saving people from 
life threatening accidents." The police officers had all said amazing 
things about this young man. He heard stories of the guy 
interrupting robberies, running into burning buildings, and 
covering others with his own body in drive-by shootings. The soft-
spoken young man did not suggest such heroic tendencies.

"I'm not any kind of hero. I'm just happy to be able to help 
someone when I come across a situation that I can fix."

The agent stared at John for another minute. He had seen many 
people perform heroic deeds in the past. Most had that same kind 
of modesty, almost an embarrassment at the attention they were 
receiving. The silence unnerved John, but he was more confused 
than bothered. Finally, the agent stated, "Yes, they said that you 
would say that. They also said that they had assigned an uncover 
cop to follow you around."

"Pardon?" asked a very surprised John. He had no idea that he had 
been followed. He wondered when that had happened.

"Yes, everyone thought that it was weird that you just happened to 
show up at the scenes of so many accidents, mishaps, and medical 
emergencies. They followed you to see for themselves. After two 
weeks of following you around they decided that it was just a 
bizarre coincidence."

John cocked his head, "They could have asked me and I would 
have told them that."

Mike laughed, "Well, it was possible that you were setting up these 
situations so that you could be a hero. You think they would have 
believed you if you said otherwise?"

"Sure, why wouldn't they?"

Mike shook his head. This guy was too trusting to be a crook. He 
decided to tackle the real reason he was there. He asked, "May I 
see it?"

John's heart seemed to stop in his chest. The medallion was the 
only thing this man could mean by his request. He asked, "See 
what?"

"The medallion."

John took a deep breath before asking, "What do you know about 
the medallion?"

"Show it to me."

John unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out the medallion. He lifted it 
in the direction of Mike. Mike leaned forward and examined it. 
John stated, "I can't take it off."

"I know that," Mike countered.

"You don't have one."

"How did you know that?"

John shrugged, "I don't know exactly. You've been touched by 
magic, but that sense of magic that comes with the medallion just 
isn't around you."

Mike nodded in agreement. He had heard that statement before 
from various psychics. He stated, "You also won't tell me how you 
got it."

John nodded, "That's correct. How do you know about the 
medallion?"

Mike sat back in the chair and stared across the room. He 
answered, "It's a long story."

"I have time."

Mike turned to look at John and proceeded to tell his story. "I was 
a simple soldier in Vietnam. Our unit had one of the lowest 
casualty rates in the whole theatre of war. You see there was a guy, 
Pete, in my platoon that would get some weird feelings and tell us 
what we should do. Sometimes, he'd say we should all hunker 
down and prepare for a skirmish. Other times, he'd say we should 
get out of that area and go in that direction. Occasionally, he'd stop 
our patrol and tell us to change our direction to avoid an ambush. 
Our Lieutenant listened to this guy as if he was some sort of 
prophet. The thing is, this guy was always right. In Vietnam, you 
learned to trust people with a sixth sense. It usually meant the 
difference between life and death."

"Well, one day we were on leave and the Lieutenant broke his leg 
in a freak accident. The army sent out a guy just out of the 
academy to take his place.  This guy didn't listen to Pete at all. 
First patrol out, Pete starts jumping around like a rat is chewing on 
his private parts. He keeps telling the Lieutenant that we need to 
get out of there. The Lieutenant ignores him at first and then after 
ten minutes of Pete's continuous jumping about threatens to shoot 
him. By this time, we're all nervous and jumpy as hell. You see, 
we'd been around Pete for a long time and trusted his instincts. 
Well, about five minutes later we find ourselves face to face with 
the enemy. All hell breaks loose and bullets start flying in every 
direction. We end up with one dead and seven wounded. It could 
have been worse, but we had been ready for action because of 
Pete."

John listened to the story carefully. He had an idea of why Pete 
acted the way he did. There were times when the urge to get 
somewhere was so intense he couldn't sit still. He had never been 
in a position where he couldn't leave when the urge came upon 
him.

Mike continued his story, "You would think that after that 
experience the Lieutenant would have listened to Pete. He didn't. 
Our second patrol started out like our first. Pete started jumping 
around and saying that we needed to get out of there. The 
Lieutenant threatened to shoot him. This time, Pete got even more 
frantic. Let me tell you, we were really spooked. We continued 
moving through the jungle for about a hundred yards and Pete 
almost goes catatonic. I was standing next to Pete and when he 
collapsed, I knelt down. At that moment, bullets start flying at us 
from every side. We were surrounded. Next thing I know, there are 
only three of us left alive. Pete, Harry, and myself were taken 
prisoner by the Vietcong."

"The first thing they do is search us and remove everything. Pete 
has this medallion hanging around his neck. It's just like yours only 
it says something to the effect of 'A Life To Save.' They try to 
remove it, but it sticks to his skin. They wrestled with that 
medallion for an hour to no effect. Finally, they decided they've 
been in the area too long and we were marched to a camp."

"There is nothing pleasant about being a prisoner of war. You are 
feed shit to eat and treated like dirt. What I experienced was 
nothing compared to what they were doing to poor Pete. They 
would beat him unmercifully and drag his broken body into the 
bamboo cage they used to hold us. He usually felt pain, but it was 
no where near what he should have been feeling. A week later, 
Pete would be back to normal. I've never seen anyone heal so 
quickly. No matter what they did though, they couldn't get the 
medallion off him. They also couldn't get him to tell them anything 
about it. It was unnatural that anyone could be treated so harshly 
and act so normally through it all."

"Things went on like that for a couple of months. Then they 
noticed that Pete reacted when Harry or I would be punished. They 
decided on a different tack. One day they dragged me into the 
interrogation area with Pete. They hung Pete from a rafter using a 
rope tied around his wrists. They tied me down in a chair facing 
Pete. Then the torture started. They would ask Pete a question and 
when he wouldn't answer, they would hit my feet with a bamboo 
cane. Soon, Pete told them everything he knew about the 
medallion. You could tell that telling his story was hurting him 
more than any torture they could have inflicted upon him."

John shook his head in sympathy with Pete. He could see how that 
torture would have a greater effect on him than getting hurt 
personally. He wondered how he would have stood up to that kind 
of abuse. With that thought, he hoped that he would never be in a 
position to find out.

Mike paused as he thought back to that day. He continued, "Well, 
the story didn't come out in a coherent fashion. I've reconstructed 
what happened from his answers to their questions. It seems he 
was in a park and encountered a woman. She pointed out the 
medallion to him and he went to get it. Along the way, he found 
someone bleeding to death. In another half a minute, that person 
would have died. He knelt down and gave first aid by tying a 
tourniquet around the arm. He carried the person to the medallion 
using a fireman's carry. On getting the medallion, the person 
turned into the woman and she placed it around his neck. He 
apparently fell asleep and woke up to find that two days had gone 
by."

John nodded his head at all the similarities between Pete's 
experiences and his own. A major difference was that Pete hadn't 
been raped. Of course, there may have been more to the story than 
his interrogators had gotten out of him. He cautiously added, "It 
sounds familiar."

Mike nodded his head. "Well, the story about the medallion doesn't 
end there. You see, they decided that they really wanted it. Since 
they couldn't get it off his living body, they decided to see what 
would happen when Pete was dead. I was still tied in the chair 
when the commander stepped up and shot Pete in the head. He 
died instantly. The medallion just evaporated. However, I went 
berserk. Somehow, a super human strength seemed to flow into me 
and I broke the ropes they had used to tie me into the chair. I went 
on a killing rampage. By the time I was rational again, every 
Vietcong in the camp was dead. Harry was standing beside what 
was left of the cage with a terrified look on his face."

"We made our way back to the American troops and told our story. 
We were both promoted and shipped out of Vietnam. Harry would 
never voluntarily stay in a room alone with me. He later killed 
himself."

John nodded, "Your story makes sense to me. I'm sure the Lady 
would respond to the death of her agent with wrath. Did Harry ever 
say what he saw?"

"A mutual acquaintance told me that Harry once got drunk and told 
him about that night. He said that I came out of the interrogation 
area glowing with a light that was red. I have no idea what a red 
light looks like, but that was how he described it. I was carrying a 
blazing sword and moved around the camp like an avenging angle. 
Nothing could stand against me. He said they shot at me the whole 
time and I was unhurt. He said that I was able to avoid each bullet 
that came at me."

John asked, "So what is it that you want from me?"

Mike sat there silently for several minutes. He was reliving his 
experiences in Vietnam again. Finally, he stated, "The fact that you 
are an active researcher helps my cause. I have many contacts in 
Washington. I can help you get funding for your research and 
support you in all that you need to do."

"Why would you do that?"

"Let's just say that I feel a debt to Pete. Somehow, I think we need 
people that carry the medallion in this world. I don't think you 
should have to worry about holding down a job where you can't 
leave when the need arises. Who knows who you might save. It 
might be the next Einstein or a future president. I don't know, but I 
think that if you don't save them the world will be a worse place 
than it is."

John thought about it for a moment. He knew that his time in 
Austin had already given him too much recognition. He was going 
to have to stay until he got his degree, but after that, he was going 
to have to keep moving. He didn't like the notoriety that he was 
getting. He stated, "I need to finish my work here. Then I need to 
move around. Too many people are aware of my activities here."

Mike nodded, "I noticed that. I can get you all the funding you 
need, but I suggest you keep your needs low key. That way, we can 
keep it going for the rest of your life. For now, I would take 
frequent breaks in your research so that you don't over expose 
yourself."

"I agree."

"Good, I'll go to Washington tonight. You'll have your funding in a 
couple of days. I figure 100K per year for your salary and 
overhead and another 100K a year for experimental equipment, 
travel, and other such expenses. That should be sufficient for your 
near-term requirements."

John couldn't believe what he had been hearing. This was a dream 
come true. He was so excited that he felt the need to walk. He 
suggested, "Mike, would you like to walk with me for a bit?"

"Feeling a little restless?"

"Yes."

"Okay, let's go."

The two men left the lab and walked down the hall. John carried 
his walking stick. As they passed the chemistry lab, there was a 
loud explosion. A toxic cloud boiled out through the door. Without 
thinking, John took a deep breath of fresh air and ran into the lab. 
On the floor was one of the chemistry graduate students. There was 
no one else in the room. The fumes were burning his eyes and John 
knew he wouldn't be able to stay there very long. John picked him 
up and ran out of the room. Somehow, he managed to carry the 
student and his walking stick at the same time. 

While John was in the laboratory, Mike rushed down the hall 
searching for a fire alarm. Finally, he came across one and 
activated it. Sirens started blaring and lights started flashing. 
Within moments, everyone was evacuating the building. Mike 
helped John carry the unconscious student out of the building. The 
closer people were to the laboratory, the faster they seemed to 
rush. 

They had hardly stepped outside when the fire department arrived. 
As the firemen rushed to get into the building, John shouted, 
"You're gonna need a HazMat team. It was a chemical explosion."

At a faster pace then they had approached the building the firemen 
backed up. One of them ran to John shouting, "Do you know what 
it was?"

John answered, "I don't know. There was an explosion in a 
chemistry lab. It produced a huge cloud of chemical vapors."

The fireman helped them carry the student further away from the 
building. They were well distant from the building by the time an 
ambulance arrived. The fireman waved the ambulance over to 
where they had set the student down. On the arrival of the 
ambulance, John shouted, "This student was in the explosion."

The first man out of the ambulance was Harry. Harry smiled as he 
saw that John was there. As he rushed over, he shouted over his 
shoulder, "The hero has another one. Get the oxygen."

John and Mike quickly got out of the way of Harry so that he could 
treat the student as quickly as possible. The driver came up with 
the oxygen and started assembling a mask unit. Within a minute, 
the student had been stabilized.  The driver brought out the gurney 
from the ambulance. Harry looked up, "See you later, Hero. You 
saved another one."

"Thanks Harry. Take good care of him."

Harry laughed as they loaded the student into the ambulance, 
"Don't I always? I've never lost one of your saves."

Mike stared at John. He had never seen anyone act so cool under 
pressure and he had seen many professionals at work. He had been 
so busy carrying the student that he didn't even think of warning 
the firemen about the chemical accident. As the ambulance drove 
off, Mike turned to John and asked, "Is it always like this?"

"Mostly, a moment of excitement and then my work is done. I go 
on my way," replied John. He looked around calmly as though 
nothing had happened. He added, "Do you feel like a cup of 
coffee?"

"I guess I could use one about now," replied Mike. His heart rate 
had almost returned to normal. Probably less than ten minutes had 
passed since the explosion. The HazMat team hadn't even arrived 
yet.  

John arrived home a little after nine. There was a strange car in the 
driveway. He went to unlock the door and found that it wasn't 
locked. He didn't feel like anything was wrong, but this wasn't 
normal. Mrs. South had been acting strange the last week or so. 
She was always watching him out of the corner of her eye and 
smiling secretively. He carefully adjusted his hold on the staff and 
entered the house quietly. He called out, "Mrs. South, are you okay 
in there?"

The old woman's voice came back, "I'm just entertaining your 
friend, John. Come into the dining room and have some tea and 
cake."

John was very puzzled. He didn't really have any friends here. He 
entered the dining room and almost dropped his walking stick 
when he spotted Betsy. He grinned, "Betsy, I had almost given up 
hope!"

Mrs. South stated, "Why John, you never told me that you had 
such an attractive lady friend. She's lovely. Have some of the cake 
she brought over. I've got a pot of tea here too."

Betsy smiled at John, "I heard that a young man really gave Betty a 
hard time the last day he was in the hospital. It seems he kept 
asking if she had gotten in contact with me every ten minutes."

"Well, I … I … You know." John didn't know what to say. He had 
tried hard to get in touch with Betsy. Nurse Betty was adamant that 
Betsy be allowed to make the contact.

"I don't know," replied Betsy smiling at his discomfort. 

"Dear, you've got him blushing. I couldn't imagine this strong 
young man is as shy as a schoolboy at his first mixed social." Mrs. 
South was positively beaming. She could see young love 
developing right in front of her eyes. In her opinion, Betsy was a 
fine young woman practicing one of the few respectable 
professions for a single woman. 

Betsy laughed, "Almost every time I see John, he just stands there 
and blushes. He's so cute."

John frowned, "I'm not sure men are supposed to be cute."

"You're cute. Definitely, cute."

Mrs. South poured a cup of tea and put a slice of cake on a plate 
for him. She didn't want to come out and say anything, but she had 
been worried that John wasn't dating. It wasn't normal for a man 
his age. She had been very surprised last week when Betsy came 
over the first time. They had chatted for two hours about John. She 
was shocked when she learned the extent of John's injuries that had 
put him in the hospital. John had treated it as if he had the flu or 
something. 

Betsy was surprised to learn how simply John lived. She had been 
afraid that he was only interested in seeing her to have sex with her 
again. Mitigating that fear was the knowledge that he had 
remembered her from when he had donated blood during one of 
the campus blood drives. She was pleased to learn that he helped 
Mrs. South with errands around the house and occasionally helped 
baby sit her grandchildren.

John accepted the cake and tea from Mrs. South. He decided that it 
was time to ask Betsy out. His voice betrayed his nervousness, "Ah 
…  Betsy. There's something that I've been wanting to ask you."

Betsy smiled knowingly at Mrs. South, "What could you possibly 
want to ask me?"

Mrs. South interjected, "He couldn't possibly think that you would 
be interested in dating him. He's a monk and you're such a lovely 
vibrant young lady. I really doubt he has honorable intentions 
towards you."

"I know. I've heard that he was a womanizing cad."

John stuttered, "Huh?"

The two women tittered. Mrs. South enjoyed seeing her renter 
acting his age. Betsy had told her how much effort John had 
expended in tracking her down so that he could ask her out. The 
romantic nature of his search had touched her heart. Betsy enjoyed 
the attention he was giving her. She was amazed that this 
handsome young man was actually interested in her.

The two women had come to an agreement about dating. Mrs. 
South, despite her age, had been very understanding about the 
possibility that John and Betsy might want to spend the night 
together here in the house. She had surprised Betsy with a 
revelation that when she was younger than Betsy; she had posed in 
the nude for her boyfriend. She had actually shown Betsy the 
pictures he had taken of her.  The two had really become fast 
friends, talking about life and love. 

John was still stuttering incoherently. He didn't know how to react. 
Mrs. South was usually a very prim and proper woman. He didn't 
know where Betsy had heard that he was a womanizing cad. He 
protested, "I'm not a monk and I'm not a cad."

Betsy laughed aloud, "We know that. This guy is so cute."

Mrs. South laughed, "If I were fifty-five years younger, I'd be 
chasing him myself. God knows I had the body for it back then."

Even though he knew they were teasing him, John was shocked, 
"Mrs. South!"

She turned to John and stated, "You don't think I was always 
seventy-five years old, did you?"

"Of course not."

Betsy stated, "You should have seen her then. She was gorgeous."

John realized that these two had been talking with each other for a 
long time. He asked, "You know each other?"

"I came over here last week and met Mrs. South. We've been 
gossiping about you almost everyday."

"Oh." He didn't know what to make of that information. He 
guessed this was the cause of Mrs. South's strange behavior over 
the past week.

Mrs. South interjected, "So stud, are you going to ask her out?"

"How can I? I can't be a man of mystery anymore. You've told her 
all of my secrets." He was smiling at the look of consternation on 
Betsy's face. 

"Oh you are so mean!" laughed Betsy. 

"So would you like to go to dinner?" asked John. 

Mrs. South looked surprised, "Dinner? Isn't that kind of old 
fashioned? What about a nightclub?"

John shrugged, "I don't drink and night clubs are too loud for us to 
have a chance to talk. I really want to know her."

Betsy blushed, "You're so cute. Of course, I'll go with you."

John smiled, "That's great. How about Friday?"

Betsy nodded, "Okay."

John was quiet for a moment and then stated, "Betsy, I know this is 
highly irregular, but would you mind if Mrs. South went to dinner 
with us? I was going to invite her to dinner because I have a little 
something to celebrate."

Mrs. South frowned, "You don't want to drag me along on your 
date."

Betsy shrugged, "Sure why not."

John explained, "Today, I learned that I'm getting my research 
funded for life. It means that I never have to search for funding 
ever again."

The two women looked at each other in surprise. Neither one of 
them had ever heard of such a thing. Finally, Mrs. South spoke up, 
"Dear, you have to grab this one and never let go. Not only is he 
handsome, he's also smart."

Betsy smiled. "What do you think I should do to keep him?"

"Oh, I definitely think that you're going to have to give him lots of 
sex. The kinkier the better."

John had been taking a sip of his tea and almost choked on it. He 
decided that he wasn't going to take another drink, if they were 
going to keep surprising him like this. 

Betsy asked, "What do you suggest?"

"Oh, I think threesomes, foursomes, and a little swapping now and 
then would be a good idea."

"Sounds like fun."

"Oh, and you'll need to walk around naked in the house. I might 
even suggest a little role-playing. My husband and I used to play 
Tarzan and Jane all of the time." Mrs. South was talking in such a 
matter of fact voice, that neither of the two doubted that she had 
done all of those things at one time. Of course, Betsy was a little 
more prepared for the revelations than John. The two women had 
shared many personal details over the past two weeks. 




