The Stolen Gospels by Brian Herbert Page B

forward bulkhead, and Dixie Lou stood over the hole, looking down. Holding her black transmitter, she pressed buttons on it. Each time she did so, the plane moved a little like a big toy, first forward, then to the right, then back.
    “OK,” Dixie Lou said, finally, and she pressed the transmitter once more. The jet engines shut down.
    Lori heard men’s voices, coming from beneath the craft.
    “Hurry it up,” Dixie Lou said to them, a tone of command. She stepped back from the hatch, and moments later four large men poked their heads through and looked aft toward Lori. The men boarded gingerly, and Lori saw that they were muscular Caucasians of around thirty, in pale gold uniforms that bore green-and-orange shoulder patches with the sword-cross design on them.
    “Medical assistance is required, M’Lady?” one of the men inquired, looking at Dixie Lou. He bowed to her.
    Dixie Lou pointed toward Lori, and the men moved to her side. Lori saw her slip a handgun into a pocket of her dress. “The girl’s mother is back there,” Dixie Lou added, pointing toward the rear. “On life support.”
    Carrying a medical kit, the shortest of the men leaned over the tilt-back seat where Lori sat. He cleaned the injuries to her forehead and temple, causing her to grimace in pain, though he said they appeared to be only superficial. Then he opened a package and removed what looked like a flat white sponge, which he placed against her head. It stuck there, covering the injured areas. Lori felt soothing coolness, but she was a little dizzy. She heard the other men behind her, talking in low tones.
    “How are you doing?” the man asked Lori. “A little better?”
    Lori nodded.
    “That’s good,” he said. “We knights live only to serve.” He smiled, stepped back.
    Knights ? The comment intrigued her, but she didn’t ask about it.
    She looked back toward the rear compartment, saw her mother lying in the midst of medical equipment, and heard the men say they were preparing to move her. Lori made a sudden move and tried to go back there, but was restrained by the knight with her.
    “You can see your mother tomorrow,” Dixie Lou said, as she looked on. “But not now. She needs to get better first.”
    “Are you a doctor?” Lori wanted to know, struggling unsuccessfully to free herself from the man’s iron grip. “What qualifies you to say I have to wait?”
    “I outrank you.”
    “I’m not even in your organization.”
    “Just do as I say. I don’t have time to argue with you.”
    “What if she dies before tomorrow?”
    “She won’t. Her vital signs have stabilized.”
    The knight escorted Lori down a metal staircase that took them out of the aircraft and through a rock-lined opening at ground level. Dixie Lou followed, and the three of them reached a metal platform which joined another staircase that led underground, to a second platform. Here Dixie Lou tried to take Lori’s arm, but the girl shook her off and stood on her own. A tubular railing ran along one side, and beyond that was a narrow gauge train track with dark tunnels at either end. Overhead, Lori saw a network of steel girders and struts.
    “We’re a mess,” Dixie Lou said, gazing in a small mirror she had brought from her pocket. She wiped dried blood from the cut on her cheek, arranged her braided hair. “We’ll get you a room where you can rest and clean up.”
    Dixie Lou handed the mirror to Lori, who accepted it with a scowl and attempted to do something with her own long hair. It wouldn’t settle down, and stuck out at the sides. The medical patch looked silly on her head, but she was feeling a little better, no longer dizzy.
    “My mother was shot in the head. How can you say she’s going to make it through the night?”
    “Medical science can work miracles now.”
    “I hope you’re right.”
    Two blocky female guards in pale gold uniforms moved from behind them to the front, and stood on the platform by the tracks. They pointed small