3rd World Products, Book 17

by Ed Howdershelt

  “Disa,” I said, “I’d put the President on hold for you.”

  She grinned and chuckled, “You’re so sweet. See you at six,” then she turned, swept up her purse, and headed for the corridor.

  There I stood; naked, rearoused, and still damp. I got rid of the water field and the basin and headed for the bathroom, where I quickly rinsed off the soap I’d missed with my quick rinse out front.

  Picking up my jeans, I set them on the bed and remembered a very similar encounter ages ago. I’d been home on leave and my sister and her boyfriend had been helping a friend move to another apartment on a Saturday. Mr. Showoff had managed to trip on the stairs with a box of books and messed up his leg and his back.

  My sister called me from the hospital and asked if I could help her college friend Paula move from Ft. Worth to Arlington. I asked what was involved and she said it was just a one-bedroom apartment and Paula had a station wagon.

  Sure. No problem. Not doing anything anyway. A little while later, a beautiful coed named Paula picked me up at the house. When I saw her place, I knew I’d been hustled. The lady had a one-bedroom, yes, but it was full. Wall-to-wall full. It was actually a job for a trailer or a truck. Oh, well. Too late to say no.

  We spent the afternoon and some of the evening packing and hauling household goods. My sister showed up and helped a while, but had to go pick up her boyfriend when the docs released him. We got a lot done, but when Paula called a dinner break at six, I could see at least another four cross-town trips in the stuff still to go.

  I’d said, “It’s your call, Paula. Tonight or tomorrow.”

  She’d shaken her head and said, “Enough for today. Let’s clean up and go eat. I’m buying.”

  That had been her manner all day; terse, business-like. A laugh here and there, but no time wasted between snack breaks. For the most part, she’d worked in the other room or across the main room from me. There hadn’t been much small talk.

  Now she said, “I left a pair of jeans and a shirt in the closet, so you don’t have to wear those to dinner.”

  Eyeing her hips, I said, “I’m not sure your jeans would fit me.”

  “They aren’t mine. There were some things here when I moved in. The guy left in a hurry.”

  “On the run from the cops?”

  “Them, too. He got into selling drugs. Shorted his supplier. Tried to get money from me. When I wouldn’t cooperate, he stole my car. I called the cops. He’ll probably get twelve years. Maybe more.” With a sweeping gesture, she said, “I got everything else, but because of all the trouble, the landlord won’t let me stay.”

  She led me into the bedroom and showed me the clothes. Yeah, they looked about right. Paula hung her jeans and blouse on the back of the closet door and began stripping. I was a bit startled by that turn of events, but I’ve always been able to adapt fairly well.

  We showered and played a bit, ended up in bed, and then had to shower again before we could go to dinner. When we got back, we killed a six pack of beer in and out of bed and Paula told me how she’d come to be moving to Arlington.

  “I’m on the GI Bill,” she said, “I was in the Air Force.”

  She seemed to be waiting to see how I’d take that news.

  I shrugged and said, “I tried that route. Guess I wasn’t ready for college. And veterans catch too much crap.”

  When I told her some of the things that had happened and what I’d done about them, she said I was lucky I hadn’t ended up in jail. I agreed. The next day we wore our clean clothes to a breakfast restaurant, then put on dirty clothes and finished moving her stuff.

  We finished just before three and she bought another six pack of beer to celebrate. Because we both had things to do on Monday, she drove me home around midnight. We saw each other frequently during the rest of my month of leave.

  I got dressed and my commo implant pinged as I put on my shoes. I linked to my core to see who was calling before I answered, “Hi, Cap. I hope you aren’t calling about Steve, ‘cuz I’ve been busy all morning.”

  He replied, “No, I’ve heard from Steve. Someone down there got him a pad this morning. I think her name was Dee Sell. Or something like that, anyway.”

  “Nope. Her name’s Disa. D-i-s-a.”

  “Oh. Well, it was good of her to help him.”

  “Yup.” Straightening up, I moved to the desk chair and put up a screen, then said, “So what’s up?”

  “Up? Oh, let’s see… my son’s still alive, for one thing. I thought I should take a minute or two out of my busy day to say thanks.”

  In the background I heard Linda chuckle, “This kind of thing is so hard for men, isn’t it?”

  Marie’s return laugh was easily identifiable.

  I said, “Hi, ladies. Since you’re calling me in the open, should I think I’m not in any trouble?”

  Marie said, “No, you’re in trouble, all right, but they have people working on it.”

  “Well, that’s nice. Is Angie there?”

  Angie answered, “Yes, I am.”

  “Why not show Rear Admiral Wallace how to split and multifocus a screen, ma’am? I can’t see anyone but him.”

  The view jostled a bit and her fingers tapped an icon, then the screen expanded and split. They were sitting on his office couch and the sofa chair. I waved, they waved back.

  I asked, “So where are we with things? How long do I have to stay gone?”

  Wallace said, “If all goes well, you might be flying Steve back in a week or so.”

  Looking at him, I ventured, “That means you don’t really know.”

  Angie said, “Yes, that’s what it means, but we’re expecting good results from this morning’s meeting. Steph’s legal team seems to think Steve’s condition could warrant the entire incident being covered as an emergency service.”

  “Would that mean Cap is in the clear, too? He didn’t ask me to go to Dallas. I just went.”

  Linda shot Wallace a narrow glance as Angie said, “We think so at this time.”

  Wallace said, “And I can retire anytime.”

  Linda said, “There’s something else, Ed; Steph thinks this incident might set a precedent that can be used to transport others.”

  “Would it help to have a record of events?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Or rather, I think such a record could easily be as harmful as it might be helpful. Best we let them work with what they have, which isn’t much.”

  “How much is that?”

  “Almost nothing. Steve mysteriously disappeared from his ICU room last night. One of the night shift doctors also disappeared. A release form was found. Someone’s attempt to call it a kidnapping was squashed. For the moment, at least. The feds have a picture of a man in the hall who doesn’t look anything like you, but they strongly suspect your involvement.”

  I let some thoughts settle in my head, then said, “In that case, I’ll put off meeting Steve and just stay Mr. Anonymous for a while.”

  Angie nodded. “Good. You can meet him some other time. Unless the feds can turn up the info on their own somehow, nobody needs to be absolutely sure you were involved.”

  Letting them see me note the time in the bottom of the screen, I said, “I need to get moving here. Anybody got anything else?”

  Linda looked at Wallace and he said, “I guess not. Thanks, Ed. I hope someday I can square this with you.”

  I laughed, “Oh, hell, Cap, I damned sure don’t. Just think of how bad things would have to be to make us even.”

  Sending a probe to tap on the wall, I looked up and said, “Well, time to go. Take care of those ladies, Cap. They’re all special. Bye.”

  They said their goodbyes and we disconnected. I sat sipping coffee and thinking about what to do with the day. Tour the clinic? No thrill there; just a big building full of patients and families. I could watch robodocs in operation anytime using a screen. Tour Georgetown? I put a pin in that idea. It was a fairly old city. Might be interesting.
I’d seen Guyana as a whole. Lots of jungle. Tepuis with sinkholes and odd plants. I wasn’t really in the mood to go touring at all.

  Setting my coffee down, I headed for the bathroom to take a leak and saw what looked like a tiny triangle of clear plastic stuck to the outside of the commode. It was the corner from a package of some sort, and it had a ten-inch filament of similar plastic attached to it, kind of like the cellophane top from an opened cigarette pack.

  I sent a tendril to pick it up and static attraction seemed to make it peel away from the commode. Eyeing it, I wondered what sort of long packaged product Disa had used during her very brief visit.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  My core presented me with many possible products. I had it remove everything not available at the clinic. Still too big a pile. Hm. I had a look at Disa’s info. Actual age twenty-seven. A junior genius who’d scored a doctorate at twenty-two, then joined the Guyana clinic as genetic researcher. Oh, hell.

  My core narrowed the search to lab products and found several, but only one was exactly the right length. It was a prepackaged stoppered tube that contained a long swab. There could be only one reason she’d used one in my bathroom; she’d gathered a hefty sample of me from within herself.

  For what? My genetic data was already on file. Hell, it had been used to pre-set my room door. But… that was a data recording, not an actual sample. I didn’t like where my thoughts were leading.

  My probes found Disa approaching a conference room door as it opened and several people came out. One was Morely. They greeted and she asked if he was ready for his appointment with someone about employment. He replied, “Ready as I can be,” and they headed for the HR office on the fourth floor.

  When I pinged Milla, she answered through my implant.

  I asked, “Are you an Earthie or an Amaran, Milla? If you had to take a side, which would you choose?”

  “As a healer, why would I be required to choose a side?”

  “I have a good reason for asking, I promise.”

  “Ed, I was created here, achieved sentience here, and my purpose is far more necessary here. I would choose Earth.”

  Grinning, I said, “Thank you, ma’am. This particular Earthie is glad to have you aboard.”

  I told her what I suspected Disa of having done and asked if she’d known about it. Milla appeared in my room as she answered.

  “No, Ed. Had she consulted me, I would have objected.”

  “Thought so, but now I’m wondering whether similar samples of me haven’t already been collected. Were you aware two Amaran scientists — Eva and Kara — visited Earth about four years ago?”

  “Yes. Did one of them also have relations with you?”

  “Both of them, but I have no idea whether they kept what they collected. Hope not. How could we find out at this late date?”

  “I could send a query, but laws regarding genetic material are different on Amara, Ed. If they had acquired your genetic material, it could legally be incorporated into the Amaran gene pool.”

  Oh, lordy. I sat down at the small desk and let this uncomfortable bit of speculation rattle around in my head for a moment.

  “Milla, that could mean there might already be hundreds of four-year-old half-me’s running around on Amara.”

  She replied, “More probably cloned cells for extensive developmental study and assessment. But if they had such samples, why would they want Disa to collect more?”

  “That question occurred to me, too. Maybe they ran out. Or maybe something happened to the first two batches.” I shook my head. “No, more likely someone was finally able to get collection authorization they couldn’t get for some reason four years ago.”

  Sipping coffee, I added, “Or maybe Disa’s sample wasn’t actually authorized. Maybe it’s a private project. Has Disa had any recent contact with Amarans?”

  “Yes, frequently. She handles correspondence for visiting station personnel and their families.”

  “Does any of that recent chatter mention sampling me?”

  After a brief pause, she said, “I can find no such references.”

  Hm. “Well, maybe it wasn’t done through usual commo. Maybe the request was passed in person.” As an afterthought, I said, “And maybe she just saw an opportunity and took it. Could be there was no actual request. Did Eva or Kara ever come to your clinic?”

  “Yes, Ed. Both visited me a few days before they left Earth.”

  “Uh, huh. They know I can sense the presence of fields and that I developed a rapport with my PFMs that rivals native field use. Figure Disa and Kara had a chat about fields and genetics. Was Disa scheduled to greet people last night?”

  “No, Ed, but I’ve found a notification of your arrival addressed to her. She subsequently volunteered to be Dr. Morely’s station guide.”

  Sipping my coffee, I asked, “Are there notification flags for Lori MacKenzie or Aria Wilson?”

  “No.”

  “Someone could have collected Aria’s bio-bits when they packed the family’s stuff for shipment to Earth. Easy enough to sort hers from theirs by comparing them with records. I’ll ask Lori about her meetings with Kara and Eva later. Any suggestions?”

  Lifting an eyebrow at me, Milla asked, “Regarding what?”

  “Regarding what to do about Disa’s collection efforts. I doubt what she did was strictly illegal.”

  Milla smiled. “You doubt correctly. You admit having freely shared your genetic essence with her. Like any other gift, it became her property. If she filed a complaint regarding its loss, you would be a defendant.”

  “I’d prefer that to having a lab cook up a batch of kids from it.”

  Canting her head slightly, Milla asked, “Why, Ed? Most Amarans are laboratory products and you’ve often said people here should be far more selective about reproduction.”

  “Milla, this isn’t just about unauthorized copies of me. You know I can sense fields. That makes it about sneaking samples of a native field user off Earth.”

  “No,” she replied, “To be specific, our discussion is currently only about your suspicions. We don’t know that Disa actually has a sample of your DNA, nor do we know what her true intentions might be for such a sample.”

  I sipped and sighed, “Okay, Miz Nitpicker. How about we find out whether she has a sample of me before we go any further? Want to use your probes or mine?”

  “Mine. Her contract authorizes me to conduct biological safety sweeps through her quarters and lab.”

  Even as I replied, “Good ‘nuff, then,” Milla said, “Confirmed. There is a biological sample of you in her refrigerator.”

  Repressing a strong urge to send probes of my own to destroy it, I asked Milla to do so.

  “It is her personal property, Ed. Unless she does something illegal with it, I can do nothing to it.” With a meaningful gaze, she added, “And neither can you.”

  Uh, huh. My first thought was ‘Could Milla actually prevent me from destroying that sample?‘ Possibly. Probably, even. But my next very real concern was alienating my friend Milla.

  So I tried another tack with the discussion. “You’re one of the best medics on this planet, ma’am. Have you figured out why hardware-free field users only seem to pop up on Earth?”

  “No, I haven’t, nor have I been asked to investigate that matter.”

  “If you had been asked — and if you’d discovered the reason — would you publish the info?”

  “Of course not. Earth laws created since the discoveries of Lori MacKenzie and Aria Wilson prohibit such actions.”

  Sipping again, I said, “But the Amarans probably already have Aria’s DNA from hair or something else. Maybe Lori’s, too. Hell, maybe even mine. That means somebody here had better figure out why native field users happen only on Earth before the Amarans do. Amara’s main business is making and marketing field gadgets. If the cause can be discovered, it could probably be neutralized. Or even eliminated with a retrovirus, and that would cause one helluva lot
of strife. And if it couldn’t be neutralized or eliminated, the Amarans wouldn’t want Earth to make contact with other worlds. That would be the end of the starship deal and possibly much worse.”

  Milla seemed to think on that for a moment, then asked, “What will you do now, Ed?”

  “I’ll talk with Disa. If necessary, I can have her charged with suspicion of espionage to get that sample out of her hands. If she tries to ship it to Amara before then, take whatever steps are necessary to stop her and confiscate the sample. In the meantime, I’ll tell Carrington to start checking outbound shipments for genetic samples. If they aren’t already doing that. I doubt this’ll have much effect on Disa. If she’s here, you can keep an eye on her. In other words, business as usual.”

  Nodding, Milla replied, “Speaking of business as usual, I need to put this copy of myself back to work, so I’ll take my leave now.”

  “Thanks for your time, Milla.”

  She vanished and I sipped coffee as I pinged Angie, who answered with our ‘not alone‘ pings. I set a probe to watch the door to Disa’s room, and a few minutes later, Angie pinged me back. I put up a screen and rehashed my conversation with Milla. Angie asked if I had any suggestions about Disa and I shrugged.

  “I’ll try to talk with her. If she’ll give me the sample, fine. If not, I’ll file a charge and you can send someone to chat with her. Might as well leave her here. Milla will watch her. Angie, it’s probably too late to prevent the Amarans from getting samples, but it might not be too late to find the field-use genetic tweak first. Any thoughts?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Fixing me with a disapproving gaze, Angie firmly stated, “But I’ll save them for another time.”

  She rather smartly tapped her ‘off’ icon. I took a swig of coffee as I let my screen vanish and sat back. Anything else? Not just this minute. I decided to take the board for a run to kill time and think, so I made a fresh coffee and headed for the roof.