by Tom Dublin
"A what?!" cried Adina and Ecaterina together.
"I didn't mean it like that!" Tc'aarlat said hurriedly. "It's just that, there's an awful lot of heavy lifting involved."
"Most of which is done by computer operated machinery," Jack pointed out. "How are you with tech systems, Adina?"
"Great," Adina replied. "I've been working in the research and development labs here for just under six years now, both on hardware and software projects."
"In fact, it was Adina's recent upgrade to the automatic docking program that facilitated the unloading of your own ship just a few hours ago," Nathan disclosed.
Jack crossed his arms. "Well," he said with a smirk in Tc'aarlat's direction. "I'm impressed."
"As am I," protested the Yollin. "I'd just hate for anything bad to happen to someone so..."
Adina raised her eyebrows. "Someone so what?"
"Yeah," agreed Ecaterina. "I'd be interested to hear this."
Tc'aarlat's eyes grew wider as he scrambled desperately through his vocabulary for an adjective that wouldn't be rewarded with a slap in the face. "...dainty?"
Adina had twisted Tc'aarlat's arm up behind his back before he even saw her move.
"How is this for dainty?" she growled.
"Ow!" he yelled, his mandibles clicking in agony. "OW! Get off me, woman!"
But Adina held firm.
"Mist!" Tc'aarlat barked. "Do something!"
Ecaterina took an involuntary step forward as the Raal hawk leapt off her perch - only to land on the shoulder of Adina's leather jacket. The bird cooed and nuzzled her new friend's ear with the side of her beak, cawing softly.
"Well," said Jack after a moment. "Looks like Mist has cast her vote, and I make it two to one. Welcome aboard, Adina."
Adina finally released Tc'aarlat's wrist and the Yollin quickly stepped away, rubbing at the aching muscles in his arm. His eyes narrowed as he glared at his feathered sidekick.
"Traitor!"
Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Main Laboratory
Yan Mil brushed his long, unkempt hair from his eyes and peered down into the microscope on his desk. Holding his breath in eager anticipation, he focused on the single nanobot hovering, almost motionless at the center of a small, glass box.
"Syringe," he said flatly, holding out his left hand. Zeb Lok, the white-coated figure sitting beside him, passed over a tiny hypodermic needle then turned back to watch the view from the microscope's lens on his own monitor.
"Introducing the graviton now," announced Yan Mil.
Gathered behind the pair of scientists, a clutch of laboratory assistants held their collected breath as their boss inserted the syringe into a pre-drilled hole on the side of the box and carefully pressed the plunger with a trembling hand.
A tiny, spinning particle shot out from the tip of the fine needle and began to sink through the air towards the bottom of the container. But, before it could reach the lower glass plate, a light flashed on the back of the nanobot.
"The bot knows the graviton is there," hissed Yan Mil. Everyone else continued to watch the experiment in fascinated silence.
Moving at an incredible speed, the bot darted forward extending a pair of crab-like pincers from the front of its minuscule body. It snatched the graviton from its downward trajectory and drew it back inside its body, the claws re-angling to keep the particle from escaping.
"OK," breathed Yan Mil, "here's the part we're waiting for..."
The nanobot rotated 180 degrees, revealing a collection of tubes and pipes extending from its undercarriage. From several of these openings fired a fine mist of chemicals which rose mixed together near the top of the glass box, forming what appeared to be a small cloud.
There was an almost inaudible crack of thunder, and then the cloud began to release a tiny torrent of rain.
Everyone gathered in the laboratory cheered and launched into spontaneous applause. Everyone except Yan Mil, that is. He simply continued staring into the eyepiece of his microscope, the relief that many months of endless hard work had culminated in the result he had predicted so long ago.
He did, however, allow himself a brief smile when a bolt of lightning no thicker than one of his own silver hairs shot out of the cloud, striking the end of the syringe's needle, creating a burst of light similar to that of a camera flash.
"It's a complete storm!" he proclaimed proudly. "Zeb Lok, pass me the connecter from the particle barometer..."
He held out his left hand once again, expecting his assistant to comply. Then he frowned. Whatever had just been placed in his outstretched palm was certainly not the barometer cable he had requested. Whatever it was, it was round, soft and felt smooth to the touch.
Lifting his head from the microscope, he stared at the object now sitting in his left hand. It was a parsel fruit.
"Zeb Lok…” he began, staring at the piece of fruit in surprise. "Why have you given me a-"
"Because you skipped lunch again, dear," interrupted a female voice.
Finally, Yan Mil lifted his gaze higher, his eyes widening even further. There, sitting in the seat where Zeb Lok should have been, was his wife, Vix Mil. He looked down at the parsel fruit, then back up at his wife.
She leaned in, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"Er..., hello darling," Yan Mil said, still confused. "I... I wasn't expecting..."
"You weren't expecting me to be here," Vix Mil finished. "I know. Just like I know you haven't eaten today, hence the parsel fruit."
Yan Mil carefully placed the fruit onto his desk, beside the glass case he'd been working in. "But, how did you..." He sighed as what must have happened sank in.
"Zeb Lok has been telling tales on me again, hasn't he?"
Hearing his name mentioned, the scientist's assistant hurried to the other side of the laboratory to discuss the results of the experiment with another of his colleagues.
"Yes, Zeb Lok was the one who told me that you'd missed your lunch again," Vix Mil admitted, "but he only did so because he wants to help."
"By calling my wife to snitch on me?"
Vix Mil chuckled. "Actually, I was the one who called him," she said with a smile. "So, if you decide to blame anyone for keeping a close eye on you, blame me."
"Yes, but-"
"But nothing," replied Vix Mil, her expression becoming more serious. "If you don't remember to eat regularly, you won't have the strength to cope with all the late nights you've been pulling over recent weeks.
"You haven't been home in three days. I should never have allowed you to set up the apartment upstairs for when you decide to work late. And if I don't see you, I can't make sure you're looking after yourself.
"Now, are you going to eat that parsel fruit, or do I have to cut it up and feed it to you like a naughty child?"
Yan Mil did his best to ignore the sound of suppressed laughter coming from his subordinates. "Yes, alright dear..." He took a large bite from the treat, using the cuff of his lab coat to wipe an errant dribble of juice from his chin.
"Mmmm!" his commented as he chewed. "That's a ripe one."
"I brought two," Vix Mil said. "I made you some of your favorite soup." She tapped a nearby piece of scientific equipment. "I trust you'll be able to heat it up in one or other of these weird looking science gizmos."
“Yes,” said Yan Mil before taking another bite of his fruit. “But not that particular gizmo; that’s a mass spectrometer.”
Vix Mil shrugged, smiling. "They all look the same to me," she said, patting the device with her hand.
“You’re hurt,” exclaimed Yan Mil, gesturing to a dressing on one of his wife’s fingers.
Vix Mil shook her head. “I slipped and cut myself chopping vegetables for the soup. It’s nothing."
Looking around the lab's other equipment, she added: "I presume you do have something you can use for heating food here somewhere, or are they all magical homes for families of fairy imps?”
“Nah, we keep the imps in th
e basement where they can’t escape,” said a voice.
Husband and wife looked up in unison as a tall man with hair styled into a high quiff approached. He held a glass of bubbly liquid in each hand, which he handed to Yan Mil and Vix Mil respectively.
"Thank you, Jon Rey," said Yan Mil, setting the drink down on his desk.
"What's the occasion?" Vix Mil inquired, first sniffing the contents of her glass, then taking a sip.
"Yan Mil hasn't told you?" inquired Jon Rey, surprised. "He's done it. He's finally been able to upgrade one of his original nanobots to be able to execute two functions at the same time."
"You have?" cried Vix Mil excitedly. "That's wonderful!" Jumping down from her stool, she wrapped her arms around her husband and hugged him tightly. "I'm so happy for you, my darling; I know how long you've been working on this project."
Yan Mil hurriedly extricated himself from the embrace, his eyes flicking across the lab to the group of assistants. "Not in front of everyone, dear..." he hissed.
"Oh hush, Yan Mil!" scolded Vix Mil with a smile. "They won't mind seeing their boss being congratulated by his own wife. You've achieved something wonderful, after all. You've successfully turned a plain, old nanobot into a fully-functioning female."
Yan Mil's mouth opened and closed for a few seconds before he could find his voice. "I've... I've done what?!"
Vix Mil winked conspiratorially to a chuckling Jon Rey. "Well, you did say you'd been able to upgrade one of them to the point where it could multitask, didn't you?"
"Yes, but-" Yan Mil sighed, allowing himself a smile as he finally got the joke. "You can tease all you want, but this is a big step. Once I've reprogrammed all the nanobots with this updated software, we won't have to split them into two separate flocks any longer - one half for maintenance tasks and the other to manage meteorological issues.
We'll be able to dedicate the entire swarm to control the weather over much larger areas of land and sea. Perhaps even the entire planet."
"It's a huge step forward," added Jon Rey. "This is the first time the nanobots Yan Mil created for our journey to Alma Nine have been able to operate this way. For a while, we thought we'd have to start again from scratch. The government has allocated a huge budget for the development of an entirely new swarm. Now, that money can be used elsewhere."
Vix Mil threw her arms around her husband again. "Well done, my love!" she exclaimed proudly. "I always knew you would change the world one day - and now you've done it twice!"
Jon Rey took the opportunity to leave them to their embrace, crossing the lab to rejoin his colleagues.
"If only my day had gone as well," she sighed.
Yan Mil pulled back, studying his wife with an expression of concern. "Why?" he asked. "What happened?"
Vix Mil looked around to check what she was about to say wouldn't be overheard. Like her husband, her job was connected to the government, and required a certain amount of secrecy.
Their careers differed in that, while Yan Mil focused his talents on emotionless microscopic robots, Vix Mil worked with real people. In particular - offenders who had recently been released from prison. It was her job to help assimilate former criminals back into everyday society.
Technically, she wasn't allowed to discuss the cases she handled away from the office, but it was accepted that everyone in her department needed to blow off a little steam from time to time in order to avoid an unhealthy buildup of stress.
So, those in charge understood that staff would share details of their work day with their significant others, and were happy for them to do so, so long as that information went no further.
Vix Mil shook her head slightly as she began to explain. "For the past week, I've been working with Hen Wic. He was released early for good behavior, and I'd already managed to find him an apartment, and arranged for him to attend a job interview."
Yan Mil shrugged, blank. "Hen Wic?"
"You remember. He was caught threatening jury members in that big fraud case a few years back. The one that resulted in the resignation of half a dozen government officials."
"Oh, yes. Of course," said Yan Mil, the memory making itself known from the recesses of his mind. "This thug hasn't been menacing you, has he?"
"No, not at all," Vix Mil reassured him. "He's been nothing but polite since he was released, and seemingly full of remorse for his actions."
"I sense a 'but' coming..."
"I'm afraid so," said Vix Mil. "He was seen lurking near the home of the judge who passed sentence on him. That's a clear violation of his parole, and so I had no option but to report him to the relevant authorities, and he's now back behind bars ready to serve the remaining seven years of his sentence."
"And you're upset by this turn of events?"
"Of course," replied Vix Mil. "I really believed he'd turned over a new leaf and was ready to make a fresh start. It saddens me so much to have to arrange for him to be incarcerated once more."
This time, it was Yan Mil who initiated a warm hug. "It sounds as though this Hen Wic brought everything on himself, my sweet," he soothed. "You just did your job. A job, I might add, that you do extremely well. You help a great number of people piece their lives back together. You cannot blame yourself for those felons who do not wish to change their wicked ways."
Vix Mil sighed again. "I know," she said. "It's just such a waste of potential."
Yan Mil took his wife's chin in his fingertips and turned her face so that he was looking deep into her eyes.
"Do not concern yourself with this wrongdoer, my cherub," he soothed. "You did your best to assist him with his chance for rehabilitation, but he did not want to be helped."
He leaned in and kissed his wife softly on the lips.
Vix Mil closed her eyes, and kissed back.
And then the pair realized that everyone in the lab had fallen silent. As Yan Mil and Vix Mil looked up from their kiss, the staff members erupted in cheers and awarded the pair with a round of applause.
"Yes, well..." mumbled Yan Mil, clearly uncomfortable. "I really ought to be, you know... getting back to, er..."
"I should be going, too," giggled Vix Mill, planting a final peck on the end of Yan Mil's nose. "I know you still have a lot of work to do."
She stood from her stool, and retrieved her purse from the counter. "Don't work too late," she insisted, wagging her finger in a mock scolding gesture. "I'll pick up a bottle of something far too expensive for a work night on my way home, and we can celebrate your latest achievement over dinner later tonight."
Pausing only to wave girlishly to the weather control assistants, she hurried out of the lab. By the time the door swung shut behind her, Yan Mil was already peering back down the eyepiece of his microscope.
Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Main Entrance
Mak Git stepped further back into the shadows beneath the trees as the woman appeared in the small lobby of the weather control center. He watched as she pressed her thumb against a device held out by a uniformed security guard, then she stepped out into the early evening air.
Hurrying down the building's steps, she glanced briefly to her left. But Mak Git was certain his black clothing he was wearing would ensure she didn't spot him.
He took the opportunity to pull a crumpled photograph from his pocket and study it in the dim light. He looked up at the woman as she turned and set off down the street away from him, then back down at the picture.
That was definitely her. The woman he'd been sent to find.
That was Vix Mil.
Slipping the photograph away, Mak Git produced a short, gleaming blade from a different pocket. Then he stepped out from his shadowy hiding place, and began to follow his prey.
10
Federation Base Station 11, Guest Quarters
"Good morning Captain Marber, this is your 6am alarm call. You have a hand to hand combat training session scheduled to begin in half an hour."
Jack sat up in bed and groaned. Ever
y muscle in his body throbbed, including several he had completely forgotten he owned now he was no longer undergoing military level exercise.
"Thank you, Turing," he said to the station's E.I.
Swinging his legs off the bed, he padded over to the suite's bathroom and stepped into the shower, turning down the controls in an attempt to soothe his aches and pains with a blast of ice cold water.
The past two days had passed in a blur. Once he, Tc'aarlat and Adina had agreed to undertake intelligence gathering missions for the Etheric Empire, an intensive period of preparation had begun.
The trio had each been given a brand new weapon - a high-tech pistol known as a 'Modified Jean Duke's Special'. Like most people with military training, Jack was aware of Jean's reputation as an excellent gunsmith in addition to her work as an armorer and creator of attack and defense systems, but these pistols were beyond incredible.
Hand-crafted from the finest materials, each gun featured a dial which would allow the user to choose a setting from one to eleven, ensuring just the right amount of destructiveness for any given situation. These custom mods also included the ability to stun on the first three settings. It didn’t launch a projectile until the number four setting, after which it became more and more deadly.
The first three levels would allow the user in order to send a wave of energy against a target. The projectiles fired were called pucks, that were accelerated at railgun speeds, with the top setting, level eleven resulting in the annihilation of something as big as a building, providing the user was powerful enough to hold the weapon at that setting.
Plus, the guns were isomorphic, with each individual weapon coded exclusively for the designated owner's DNA. No-one else would be able to fire these weapons if they somehow managed to get their hands on them.
Jack suspected something vastly more unpleasant than the frustrating click of a misfire would be the result if anyone ever had the opportunity to put this feature to the test.
His skin began to burn as the freezing water flowed over his body, easing his muscle cramps and jolting him awake more than any dose of caffeine ever could.
