Embrace the Passion: Pets in Space 3

by Smith, S. E.

“They may not eat while someone large is glowering at them,” Ankari said.

  “I’m not glowering; I’m observing.”

  “From what I’ve witnessed, the two aren’t mutually exclusive for you.” Ankari prodded him in the ribs with an elbow. “You can even glower effectively while you sleep. I wouldn’t have thought that possible.”

  “That’s a survival mechanism to keep enemies from harassing me when my eyes are closed.”

  Chanda, seeing the cable didn’t interest the quashis noticeably, went to the counter where a couple of apples remained. As she reached for one, along with the scalpel turned into a paring knife, the trilling in the shuttle intensified, coming from all the cages.

  “How can they tell she’s preparing an apple?” Mandrake asked as Chanda sliced off pieces. “They don’t have eyes, do they?”

  Chanda placed a piece in each cage, similarly to the way Mandrake had placed the cable. Quashis swarmed to the front, nudging and bumping each other in their eagerness to climb atop the fruit so their mouths could reach it.

  “Like asteroid goblins fighting for a gold coin,” Chanda murmured before remembering she was in the company of non-gamers.

  Neither Mandrake nor Ankari remarked on her comment. They were watching the quashis devour the fruit. The cable fell out of the cage as one of them bumped it aside in its eagerness to reach the apple. Ankari gripped her chin and eyed it on the deck.

  “You say your engineers have placed traps with apples for bait, Captain?” Chanda asked.

  “So they tell me.”

  “Then the escaped quashi is either too smart for the traps or… it’s not a quashi.”

  Mandrake’s eyes narrowed. “What else would it be?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s clear that apples are the preferred food.” Chanda reached between the bars to stroke one of the furry backs. The creature trilled and laid one of its flexible tendrils on the back of her hand.

  “How smart did Dr. Blackthorn’s article say they were?” Ankari asked.

  “I don’t remember IQs being discussed,” Chanda said. “Perhaps Dr. Keys could run some intelligence tests on them.”

  “Uh, I don’t think that would be of interest to her. She’s quite vociferous in her objections to doing things that aren’t related to her research.” Ankari looked at Mandrake. Not expecting him to do intelligence tests, Chanda presumed.

  Mandrake, his eyes still narrowed to suspicious slits, eyed the blob on that tablet display and didn’t notice the look. Abruptly, he lowered the tablet and slapped his comm patch.

  “Dr. Blackthorn, meet me in Engineering.” Mandrake strode out of the shuttle without looking back.

  “Is he always so… abrupt?” Chanda asked.

  “No, he usually offers some explanatory grunts. Just be glad he didn’t glower at you.”

  Chanda wiped her hands on a cloth and set down the scalpel. “Should I go help?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t ask for help.” Ankari tilted her head. “Or are you looking for an excuse to see Dr. Blackthorn again?”

  Chanda flushed, though she couldn’t guess why Ankari would think that. She had only been there once when Chanda and Kor had been in the same room together. There weren’t rumors going around the ship, were there?

  Making a face at that bleak thought, Chanda said, “He likes network games.”

  “Normally, I would think that would be a turnoff to a girl, but I’ve been reading up on you. You, this time, not your mother.” Ankari lifted a single eyebrow.

  Chanda shifted her weight. Did that mean Ankari knew Nature’s Wrath was her baby? If so, would she wonder why Chanda had accepted a job offer when she already had work that occupied most of her time? Did Ankari worry her new assistant would be busy tinkering with the game instead of working? Ankari couldn’t have guessed Chanda’s true reason for coming, could she? How much research had she done?

  “Oh?” Chanda asked carefully.

  “I must say that coming to work for us seems unrelated to your current field. And a demotion from CEO and founder of VineLaunch.”

  “Er, trust me, that’s just the name—the business entity—I had to create for legal purposes.”

  “Nevertheless, your company owns what appears to be a very successful network game.”

  “But I don’t make any money,” Chanda said. “I mean, very little. I have to pay the team and pay for servers to run the game. There’s not much left at the end of every month.”

  Ankari tilted her head, as if she couldn’t believe this. Chanda wished she were lying, that she were rolling in money from the game’s profits. At the least, having enough to pay for food and a flat would be nice.

  “Less than a tenth of our subscribers pay a subscription fee,” Chanda explained. “And that’s more of a voluntary donation, in truth. In order to get the game out there as wide as I could and help it grow quickly, I made it free. After starting out like that, it was tough to instigate a monthly fee. People like free.”

  Ankari snorted. “No doubt. But why not explain the situation, that you can’t afford to run it for free, and start charging now? Yes, some people would leave, but wouldn’t having a smaller player base—a paying player base—be easier to manage?”

  “I suppose, but I always thought growth… Well, all the business books say how important growth is if you want to be acquired by a larger company.”

  “And that’s your goal?”

  “I thought it was. I’m not sure. I’d hate to give up the creative control—all the control—but if I can’t figure out how to make more money, I have to do something.”

  “I would focus on the subscribers who are willing to pay and be willing to jettison the rest. Create a business that’s profitable enough for you and your employees to live comfortably and continue doing what you enjoy doing. Don’t worry about being acquired. Not every business has to be a behemoth with that end goal. Alternatively, you could implement some in-game advertising. That’s how the free model typically works with software, isn’t it?”

  Chanda grimaced, imagining ads for beverages and chips coming up while the scientist-avatars were tramping through the virtual jungle, fighting enemy soldiers and eluding wild animals. She’d had the thought before, many times, but always rejected it.

  “Think about your options,” Ankari said. “In the meantime, yes, go help the doctor, please. I think he likes your help. He also strikes me as a man who could use a good butt squeeze.”

  “I—er.” Chanda didn’t know what to say to the change of topic—or the butt-squeeze suggestion.

  “If you’re interested in him, you don’t have to hide it. It wouldn’t hurt for you to be in a relationship, not on this ship. It would likely keep the other mercs from propositioning you on a daily basis. That worked for Jamie.”

  “Jamie is dating someone?”

  “The ship’s assassin. He has a fearsome reputation considering he’s actually quite the gentleman, at least with her.”

  “I’m not sure if a ship’s doctor’s reputation would be so fearsome, nor that anyone would believe… He said he was a monk, and others said… I’ve been assuming he’s celibate.”

  “You might want to ask him before believing everything the miscreants around here say. As for the rest, Viktor told me Blackthorn was once Crimson Ops. If the rest of the crew knows that, they shouldn’t rush to cross him. More than that, he’s the one who’s going to sew their arms back on if they’re blown off in combat, so that’s another reason not to cross him.”

  “If I need a bodyguard, I guess I’ll look him up.”

  But what about if she wanted someone to chat games with? And maybe about Ankari’s suggestions. What would a player think of them? All this time, Chanda had thought that growing the business—the subscriber base—was what she needed, was what would solve her problems, but was it possible that weeding out those not willing to pay and shrinking the subscriber base would actually make everything better all around? All she would have to do was start charg
ing a few aurums a month, and those who left… so be it. Those who remained and paid would be true fans of the game, willing to support those who worked on it.

  “Or someone to satisfy your womanly urges?” Ankari asked.

  “Uhm.”

  Ankari smirked. She seemed to have no problem talking about business and romance in the same breath.

  Her pocket beeped, and Ankari withdrew her comm unit. Good. Chanda didn’t want to chat about her urges.

  “Is Jamie down there?” Mandrake asked. From Engineering?

  “No,” Ankari said, “but I’m sure I can find her.”

  “Send her to Engineering to help Sparks.”

  “Aw, sir,” came a distant call. “I don’t need a girl to help.”

  “We’re going to have to get creative,” Mandrake said, then closed the comm line.

  “That sounds ominous.” Chanda was glad Roberta was safe in a cage and not roaming Engineering. Not that she wanted to see any quashis harmed. If that was what they were truly dealing with.

  Was it?

  “Viktor will be less likely to grouse at his men if someone brings them coffee,” Ankari told Chanda.

  “Is that someone me?”

  “Yes. Consider coffee retrieval the price for free advice.” Ankari’s eyes glinted.

  “Er, right. Thank you.” Chanda hustled out of the shuttle, certain that Ankari had figured everything out and realized that Chanda’s appearance here hadn’t been a “mistake” after all. At least not on their end.

  Chanda chose to feel heartened that she’d still been willing to give that advice.

  7

  Kor was back in Engineering. He’d spent more time there this last couple of days than he had in sickbay. But when things went wrong in Engineering, the entire ship and its crew were at risk. If Mandrake thought he was useful down here, he couldn’t object.

  “About to deliver your wad, Doc.” Sparks whistled as he swiped his finger through the virtual display hovering about his tablet. It served as a remote control for the compact robot he and Jamie Flipkens had created.

  “That’s disgusting,” Jamie said from her knees next to the bulkhead. She was peering into the duct where their wheeled bot had disappeared. The vent cover rested next to her on the deck. It was the only one that had been removed, at least here in Engineering, so it was the only way out if the quashi deep within decided to run.

  “The doc’s wad is the only way we’re going to knock out this bugger,” Sparks said, winking at Kor. “At least that’s my understanding.”

  Kor, observing the goings on from several steps behind them, stuck his hands in his pockets. He looked over at Mandrake who had also spent more time than usual in Engineering lately. The captain alternated between pacing and glowering. Sometimes pacing and glowering at the same time.

  “To think,” Kor said, “I voluntarily came to work for your company.”

  “I figured you lost a bet,” Mandrake said. “Or couldn’t afford the rent for your cell on Paradise.”

  Sparks cursed, and Kor looked back at him instead of replying. Sparks shook his tablet. The display had gone dark. He thumped it against the side of the console.

  “It’s a pleasure seeing your engineers employing their superior intellects, Mandrake,” Kor said.

  “Something happened, sir.” Sparks glanced back.

  A thrum went through the deck, and the lights flashed.

  “So I see,” Mandrake said. “Was the doctor’s wad responsible?”

  “Really, sir,” Kor murmured.

  “Uhm,” came Commander Borage’s voice from across the room. “We’ve got six alarms going off. A bunch of damage was done in the spot where we believe the creature to be.”

  Mandrake and Sparks looked at Kor.

  “The drug I concocted is purely biological, designed to knock it out with a sedative,” Kor said. “It wouldn’t have done anything to the equipment. Even if your wad-flinging engineer missed.” Kor waved a hand at Sparks.

  A few clunks and clanks came from the duct. Jamie shone a light into it.

  “The delivery bot is coming back,” she said. “Uh, sort of.”

  “What does that mean?” Sparks asked.

  Jamie made a face but didn’t answer. The clunks grew louder, so Kor trusted the bot would be visible to all of them soon.

  The door to Engineering opened, and Chanda walked in with a carrier holding six mugs of coffee and a green beverage in a clear plastic cup. She walked toward the captain first, but she met Kor’s eyes, and a little charge went through him.

  He’d been tempted to look for her yesterday when he’d been doing nothing besides catching up on immunizations for the crew, but he hadn’t wanted to pester her. She hadn’t answered his invitation for her to come visit him in his cabin to play games, and he worried that she had found it too forward. Or had assumed he had ulterior motives. He should have suggested the computer stations in the rec room on Deck 2. Of course, then they would have had to endure comments from whichever mercenaries were lurking there, playing cards and dice.

  “Compliments of Ankari, Captain,” Chanda said, switching her gaze to Mandrake as she stopped in front of him.

  “She must be enjoying having an assistant.” Mandrake plucked the green beverage out of the carrier. No question of which drink was for him.

  “I imagine so.”

  “I hope you’re getting something out of it.”

  “Besides the honor of the job?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll see if I make it through my probationary period.”

  As Chanda headed toward Kor, the clunking and clanking robot rolled out, and everybody’s attention shifted to it.

  “Uh,” Sparks said, “why is it noticeably charred? We didn’t send it in that way.”

  “Did the quashi attack it?” Mandrake asked.

  “Not unless it can wield a blowtorch.”

  “Its antennae are capable of limited prehensile movements,” Kor murmured.

  The bot wobbled to a stop, clinked, and slumped to one side, the wheels no longer properly aligned.

  Jamie prodded it with a screwdriver and then her finger. “It’s not warm. It wasn’t caught in a fire. Let me see what I can figure out, assuming Sparks’s control display is still out.”

  “Yes,” Sparks said as Jamie started disassembling the robot. “Not only did the program crash, but the reset for my tablet is taking a long time.”

  Kor noticed that the vials he’d placed in what had been a launch mechanism on the front of the robot were gone. The launch mechanism itself hung limply, looking like it would clatter to the deck at any moment.

  “What’s going on?” Chanda whispered to Kor, standing close enough that her shoulder brushed his.

  He took one of the coffees, wondering if that had been an accidental brush or… not. “Thank you. We’re attempting to nullify the quashi.”

  “Nullify? Kill?”

  “Actually, the drug I put together after researching everything I could find about their anatomy was specifically designed not to kill it. Just to knock it out. I’m a healer, not a killer.”

  Kor supposed he should have added a qualifying now to the end of that sentence. Mandrake looked over at him. Fortunately, he didn’t point out all the people that Kor had killed back in their Crimson Ops days.

  “I know what happened,” Borage said from the control station. “Both to our remote control bot and to cause all these alarms to go off.”

  “I’m not sure about the exterior charring, but I think its circuits were fried by an EMF pulse.” Jamie held up a smoking circuit board.

  “Which was launched by a furry animal?” Mandrake asked mildly.

  “Uh,” Jamie said.

  “That seems even more unlikely than it wielding a blowtorch with its antennae,” Sparks said.

  Mandrake looked at Chanda. “I’m thinking of your earlier suggestion.”

  “That coffee is superior to green sludge?” Borage asked, coming over and
plucking up one of the steaming mugs.

  “That the creature terrorizing our ducts may look like a quashi,” Mandrake said, “but I don’t believe it is one.”

  “I don’t either, or my drug would have knocked it unconscious.” Kor made his tone dry when he added, “Also, the encyclopedia entry didn’t mention the creatures having the ability to throw EMF pulses around.”

  Chanda finished handing out drinks and returned to Kor’s side. He smiled at her, glad she wanted to stand next to him instead of Mandrake or Borage. Not that the rumpled and stained engineer was known to attract women. And Mandrake was… fierce. Even when he wasn’t trying to be. Ankari had to be a woman who liked a challenge. Not that his own visage had teddy-bear qualities. Kor ruefully touched the nose that he’d broken numerous times in his youth.

  “Which begs the question,” Mandrake said, “were those animals truly a mix-up or did someone deliberately set us up?”

  “By sneaking a fake one into the batch?” Kor asked. “A fake one programmed to escape and—”

  A fzzzt sounded, and the lights went out again.

  Mandrake sighed. “Sabotage my ship.”

  “I’ll get on it, sir,” Borage said.

  “Why would someone want to sabotage the ship?” Chanda asked.

  “I can give you dozens of reasons and dozens of possible people,” Mandrake grumbled. “I’ve made a lot of enemies over the years. I’m going to the bridge to get intel on this, see if they can figure out who dropped the box of rodent substitutes off at our airlock. Maybe threats delivered to the company Keys ordered her lab rats from will yield some answers. In the meantime, Borage, get the lights back on, fix everything that’s broken, and figure out how to destroy our saboteur.”

  “Yes, sir.” Despite the prompt reply, Borage sounded daunted.

  Thumps and clanks sounded as people got to work in the dark. A groan-hiss announced the door opening—being manually forced open—and Mandrake stomped into the equally dark corridor outside.

  “How do we destroy it if we can’t get to it?” Sparks asked.

  Kor didn’t know if he was speaking to him, Jamie, or the room at large.

  “We can’t use an electromagnetic attack of our own,” Sparks added, “not without risking damaging our own systems. Further.”