“You think this was EUA’s plan all along?” asked Martin.
“Induced xenophobia to reduce inter-species cooperation?” asked Nettie.
“I just want to know why my parents are acting so weird,” said Terrhi. “And I want them to stop.”
“We’re working on it,” I reassured her.
“Stay brave for Spike,” said Poly.
Spike looked at Poly quizzically, not sure why she’d mentioned his name. I turned my focus to the adult members of the group.
“Chemically induced xenophobia makes sense,” I said. “EUA has always been anti-Galactic and Terran chauvinist. Why not induce the same feelings in others artificially?”
“But why be so blatant about it?” asked Poly. “Wouldn’t it be more effective if the prejudices were more subtle, leading to a slow breakdown in galactic trade?”
“The drugs and brainwashing techniques EUA used are not precise instruments,” said Marty.
I was glad she felt comfortable enough to insert her perspective into the conversation as necessary. We’re an intimidating bunch to outsiders, I’ve heard.
“If even half of the victims didn’t manifest overt symptoms, they could do a lot of damage to galactic commerce and technology exchange,” she continued.
“And EUA could take advantage of the licensing agreements they got the CEOs to sign…” said Nettie.
“…to insert their own ripped off tech loaded with Trojan horses into the off-planet technical ecosystem …” said A.J.
“…making other planets across the galaxy easier for EUA to conquer,” said Martin.
I could always count on Martin for the military perspective.
“Those licensing agreements will never stand,” said Lizzie. “They were signed under duress.”
“How long do you think it will take the courts to resolve that if EUA appeals?” asked Poly. “EUA could have years to exploit them before they’re ruled invalid.”
“Isn’t there some sort of fast track process when the facts of the cases are so blatant?” I asked.
“That is the fast track,” said Nettie.
Crap.
“What can we do to help deprogram our friends?” I asked.
“We could throw Tomáso, Diágo and Queen Sherrhi in Lake Mead,” growled Shepherd.
I think he was taking their unkind talk about mongrels personally. That was worth a shot, as far as I was concerned. It had helped when the Dauushans were hopped up on grajja, after all.
“Mom has an acupuncturist she says can cure anything,” said Lizzie.
“Except her homeopathic delusions,” said A.J.
“Hey!” said Lizzie.
“If they’re homeopathic, wouldn’t they be dilutions?” I asked, feigning innocence.
The Obi-Yu siblings glared at me, then looked away in mutual solidarity. I did get a smile from Poly, though.
“Back home,” said Mimi, “a sex change usually does a full reboot for altered personalities.”
“Say what?” Martin exclaimed.
“How much do you know about Pyr genders and sexuality?” Mimi asked the lieutenant.
“All that I want to,” Martin answered, “but I expect you’ll tell me more anyway.”
“You’ve got that right, law man,” said Mimi. “Male Pyrs have three sides to their bodies and female Pyrs have four.”
“Everybody knows that,” said Martin. “So?”
“So, Pyrs are built from segments,” said Mimi. “Three segments are needed to make a sentient individual.”
“Though some female Pyrs would say it takes four,” said Poly in a stage whisper.
“Words of wisdom, sweetcakes,” said Mimi. “Pyrs change sex by donating or receiving a fourth segment.”
“And that restarts their personalities?” I asked.
“Or a reasonable facsimile thereof,” said Mimi.
“I kind of like Roger Joe-Bob the way he is,” said Poly.
“Me, too,” I added.
“I’m rather fond of my Honey Bear, myself,” said Mimi. “And I enjoy being a girl.”
“Woman,” said Nettie.
“Girl,” said Mimi. “I was quoting from Flower Drum Song. If it was good enough for Rogers and Hammerstein, it’s good enough for me.”
Nettie just shrugged and smiled.
“We can save that option as a last resort, for Roger Joe-Bob, at least,” said Poly. “Any other ideas?”
“One of Dad’s grand-uncles back in Nigeria is a shaman,” said A.J. “A babaloa. Maybe he could help?”
“Now who’s delusional,” said Lizzie.
“Excuse me,” said Dr. Kent, in a voice loud enough to capture and hold everyone’s attention. “The latest research on deprogramming recommends using cryogenic therapy. It’s had good results across species boundaries.”
“You mean you want to freeze my parents like Walt Disney?” asked Nettie.
“That’s an urban myth,” said Lizzie.
“But wouldn’t it be cool if it were true!” said A.J.
“Cool would definitely be the word for it,” I said. “Close to absolute zero cool.”
I was thinking how long it would take to freeze a Dauushan all the way through. That would be a mammoth undertaking.
“No,” said Marty. “I don’t mean freezing them solid. I just mean putting them in a very cold chamber for a few minutes to shock their systems.”
“How cold is very cold in this context?” asked Poly.
“A moderately bad winter in northern Minnesota,” said Dr. Kent.
“That’s nothing,” I said.
“I’m from Georgia,” said Martin. “You’re not putting me in a cold chamber.”
“Of course not,” said Marty. “Just the brainwashing victims.”
“Wait,” I said. “Do you mean putting them all in the same chamber together? Dauushans and humans?”
“And a Pyr,” said Mimi.
“Yes,” said Dr. Kent. “Proximity to individuals from different galactic species will help eliminate the preprogrammed antipathy as they all huddle together to share warmth.”
“You want to put my mom and dad and Diágo in a freeze box?” said Terrhi. She shivered involuntarily. “Dauushans don’t like cold.”
“Because Dauush has a much smaller axial tilt than Earth and receives slightly more heat from Rauu, its star, temperatures on the planet are similar to the Terran tropics and sub-tropics. Ice only forms at the poles,” said Poly.
“Have you been talking to my phone?”
“No,” she said. “I was just remembering the climate section of Keen’s Guide to Dauush. I helped Mom with her second draft.”
That explained it. It also helped me understand why the Dauushan consulate in Atlanta was larger than the planet’s embassy in New York City. I’m lucky they didn’t decide to put it in Orlando or Miami.
“We just need to find a temperature-controlled place big enough to hold everybody,” said Marty. “Any ideas?”
“On Long Pâkk planets, we send our young to the arctic to practice their survival skills,” said Shepherd. “That doesn’t seem practical here.”
“Not at all,” said Poly. “And we don’t want to risk teleporting them, because their brains are in a precarious state already.”
“You can say that again,” said A.J.
Lizzie whacked him on the shoulder.
I paced back and forth on the platform and looked out the window when I got close to Roger Joe-Bob. I saw the ad I’d originally seen while hanging off the end of a banner trailing Cornell’s shark-shaped dirigible last Monday. A giant video screen on the side of a hotel a block down the Strip flashed The Siberia Experience—Can You Survive?
A few phone
calls and some snarls from Shepherd later, we had the use of the facility for the next three hours, as long as we were out of the place by six o’clock. Shepherd and Martin led our strange procession down the street—ten humans, four Dauushans, a tri-sabertooth, two Pyrs and a Pâkk. We were lucky that the hotel housing the Siberia Experience had an entrance large enough for Dauushans. It could have even handled Tōdons. The entrance to the chilly amphitheater housing the sub-zero environment was similarly large.
Spike did his part by running inside the cold chamber. Terrhi coaxed her parents and Diágo into the chilled space by telling them Spike was inside and needed to be rescued. I gave my toothy buddy a big hug and wrapped him in a heated blanket after he’d made his escape, artfully avoiding the trunks of Queen Sherrhi, Tomáso, and Diágo. Dr. Obi, Dr. Yu, and Mr. Crispos were herded inside by Shepherd, with help from Martin. The Obi-Yu siblings were looking trepidatious about the whole thing. I think A.J.’s comment about Walt Disney unnerved them. Roger Joe-Bob wouldn’t go inside at first until Mimi told him she wanted him to get some frozen sausage out of the freezer at his Waffle House. Then he entered eagerly. A heavy insulated door locked behind him.
The current temperature in the Siberia Experience chamber was only twenty below zero, Fahrenheit. Dr. Kent took the controls and started to adjust the target number down as we all looked through an insulated, triple-paned observation window. The brainwashed individuals slowly came closer together as the temperature fell to minus thirty, then minus forty. I knew humans couldn’t handle those kinds of temperatures for long without protective clothing, and the EUA victims were only dressed in formal suits and dresses. I felt especially bad for Dr. Yu. She was wearing a mostly backless dress and didn’t have much mass to preserve heat. Dr. Obi stood close behind her, sharing his warmth.
The Dauushans were huddled together on the floor, trunks to tails, almost in a trance, with unmoving expressions that looked as unhappy as Terrans with toothaches. The humans and Roger Joe-Bob leaned against each other, then sought protection from the cold against Queen Sherrhi’s flank. After two or three minutes, frost formed on the humans’ eyelashes and the tips of their ears started to turn a Dauushan shade of pink. They’d been chilled long enough.
Dr. Kent adjusted the thermo-controls, switching rapidly from cold to heat. Soon the chamber was a relatively balmy forty-eight degrees and rising. Nettie, Lizzie and A.J. opened the door and rushed in with heated blankets for their parents and George. Mimi pressed her own body against a nearly frozen Roger Joe-Bob and wrapped a heated blanket around them both. Queen Sherrhi, Tomáso, and Diágo remained in their circle-the-wagons positions longer than I liked. I had to discourage Terrhi from running to them, since Marty said it would be better if they came out of their cold-imposed trance on their own. To my relief, they soon stood and shook themselves. They involuntarily quivered like unbalanced washing machines on a spin cycle. Once that motion restored circulation to their outermost layers, the Dauushans approached the rest of us.
Queen Sherrhi and Tomáso hugged Terrhi with parental joy while Diágo rubbed Spike affectionately.
“Thank you, daughter, for getting us help,” said Queen Sherrhi, lifting her head while her trunks were still wrapped around Terrhi. “And thank you, Dr. Kent and our good friends for your efforts. I believe we are no longer under the influence of EUA’s brainwashing.”
That was good news indeed.
“Please forgive us for what we said,” said Tomáso, who paused from hugging his daughter. “We pride ourselves on our appreciation for the infinite diversity of species across the galaxy and are truly sorry for any pain our words may have caused. We’re glad to count you as our friends.” Tomáso looked at everyone, then focused on Shepherd. “Except for you, you old reprobate.”
“You are not the best influence on the young, yourself, my friend,” said Shepherd. “Some would call us both scoundrels.”
“And they’d be right,” said Tomáso.
“My daddy is not a scoundrel,” insisted Terrhi.
“Shush, little one,” said Queen Sherrhi. “Context is important. Let them show their connection in their own way.”
“Yes, Momma,” said Terrhi. “I like princess lessons.”
“Me, too, dear.”
Poly and I stepped aside from all the family reunion fuss to talk to Dr. Kent.
“What’s the verdict, Doc? Did the cold treatment do the trick or is this one more layer of EUA subterfuge?” I asked.
“I’ll need to check their pupils, capillary responses, and a few other indicators to be sure,” she said, “but the research on cryogenic therapy for brainwashing showed a similar rapid reversal, especially if administered within thirty-six hours.”
“Good to know,” I said. “You realize these are Very Important Personages, right? Having them be of sound mind is important. A lot of people depend on their good judgment.”
“I’m not a naive farm girl from Kansas anymore, Jack,” she said. “I know who these people are—Queen Sherrhi, especially, but the founders of GalCon Systems and the owner of the Grand Pyridian aren’t exactly anonymous.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m just concerned.”
“So am I,” she said. “I’m recommending we readmit them to the base hospital for a few more days of observation.”
“Maybe it would be better if they stayed out of the hospital and you cared for them in their suites at the Royal Dauushan, the SLN Capital hotel and the Grand Pyridian,” said Poly. “We don’t want their subjects or stockholders more alarmed than necessary.”
“I can do that,” said Dr. Kent. “I’ll take a few weeks of vacation. Goodness knows the Air Force owes me the time off.”
“I’m sure you’ll be well compensated for your time,” I said.
“That’s another plus, since more money will help me with my research,” said Marty.
“What about all the other CEOs and bigwigs?” asked Poly. “Some of them are probably showing overt symptoms of xenophobic prejudice.”
“And the ones that aren’t are going to need treatment and follow-up care, too,” said Dr. Kent.
“You may end up taking a longer leave of absence than you originally planned,” I said.
Marty paused and ran one hand through her hair. I think she was realizing what it would take to provide discreet long-term observation and treatment for several hundred corporate leaders.
“I guess I was underestimating the problem,” she said.
“Challenge,” said Poly. “I’m sure Nettie can help you get the funds and facilities you’ll need to do the job, given how important it is that it’s done well—and quietly.”
“Thanks,” said Marty.
We left her in a pose like Rodan’s The Thinker, perched on the arm of a chair near the entrance to the Siberia Experience.
“Do you think Cornell and Sally are still in their castle?” asked Poly.
“Neighborhood cameras reveal that a personal vehicle is now leaving the castle-home’s garage,” said my phone.
“On screen,” I said.
A large, silver Mercedes-Kia sedan was pulling down the castle driveway. Camera angles made it hard to see clearly, but it looked like Cornell was the only person in the vehicle.
“We need to get out there ASAP,” said Poly.
“Seconded,” I said. “It’s four thirty. Maybe he’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“If he comes back,” said Poly.
“Sally’s still inside, I think. It seems like a nice domestic scene, with his lover waiting in that big house. She may be a gourmet cook for all we know.”
“Remember, Sally almost cooked your goose last time,” said Poly. “Maybe he’s getting take-out?”
“It’s too early for that,” I said. “Maybe he’s the gourmet cook and is going to the market for kale?”
/> “Whatever,” said Poly. “Blimp or autocab?”
“Autocab, I think. Less easy to spot.”
“Autocab it is,” said my phone. “It will be waiting for you outside.”
Chapter 41
“True love is worth waiting for.”
— Anonymous
“Alone at last,” said Poly, snuggling against my shoulder in the back of the autocab as it drove away from the Siberia Experience.
“Uh huh,” I said, feeling warm, comfortable, and uncharacteristically non-verbal.
“We don’t know when Cornell’s coming back, right?”
Poly could feel my chin gently tap the top of her head as I nodded.
“Instead of heading out to their castle-house, I’ve got a better idea,” she said.
“It’s too late to go back to GALTEX,” I said. “They’re only open for another half hour.”
“I’ve given up on GALTEX,” said Poly. “The universe is conspiring to keep us from seeing much of it this year.”
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it? But there’s always tomorrow.”
“And next year and the year after that,” said Poly. “Maybe Xenotech Support will have a booth.”
“Then you’ll never get to see the show. You’ll be spending all your time in client meetings and shaking hands.”
“Our employees can do that for us,” she said, “while we walk around looking for opportunities.”
“Like Hu Zahn Fierst?”
“Yeah,” said Poly. “Exactly like Hu Zahn Fierst.”
“What are we going to do about them? Their telepathy-inducing nanoparticles are as dangerous as nuclear weapons.”
“I don’t know and I don’t care right now,” said Poly. “It’s spring, and my thoughts are turning in other directions.”
“Do you want to take Tropicana instead of Flamingo out to Cornell and Sally’s place?” I said. “Flamingo is faster.”
Xenotech What Happens: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 3) Page 33
