Jim Baen's Universe Volume 1 Number 3 October 2006

by Baen Publishing

  Josh had just bought a chelo plate and was heading to an out-of-the-way spot to meet Doosam when he saw the pretty blonde girl from the bus sitting on a wall that circled one of the mounds. She was contemplating the inside of her lunch bag and frowning.

  "Hi," Josh said nervously, holding the chelo in one hand and a choco-cola in the other. "Posh, Jime Arker . . ." He paused and cleared his throat. "I mean, Mime Posh Jarker . . ."

  "You're Josh Parker," the girl said, smiling shyly.

  "Yeah," Josh said. "That. Uhm . . . don't like your lunch?" he asked. "I've got chelo. We could trade. And a choco-cola . . ."

  "Thanks," the girl said. "I accept. Want a seat?" She pointed at the one next to her.

  "Sure!" Josh handed her the plate and bulb.

  "I hate doing this to you," the girl said, setting the items down and handing over her lunch bag with a sigh of gratitude. "My mom thinks I like dorank sandwiches."

  Josh contemplated the sandwich, which was spread with something purple, and then slipped it back in the bag as his stomach rumbled.

  "I'm not all that hungry," he said, lightly. "So . . . what's your name?"

  "Charli," the girl said, taking small bites of the chelo slice and following them with a bite of the steamed grains. "Charli Wright."

  "That's a nice name," Josh said. "Uhm . . . I saw you on the bus . . ."

  "Yes."

  "And I noticed that you don't get dropped off at your house . . ."

  "There are three kids that live on my street," Charli said softly. She had perfect, white teeth, Josh noticed as she nipped at the chelo. "The other two live on the east block but we all get dropped off on the corner. I only live a few houses up."

  "I was . . . hmm . . . " Josh said, his voice suddenly cracking. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like somebody to walk you home?"

  "Then you'd have to walk . . . well blocks home," the girl said, looking up at him shyly. And bright blue eyes. She had the brightest blue eyes Josh had ever seen in his life.

  "That's . . . that's . . . that's . . ." Josh cleared his throat again and broke away from the hypnotic eye contact. "That's okay. I'll be fine."

  "It's really cold out," Charli said dubiously. "I mean, it's just cold under the force-screen but it's really cold out there. The wind and all . . ."

  "Not a problem," Josh said blithely. "By the way, why a force-screen?"

  "Kidnapping," the girl replied in a scared little tone. "Some of the kids that go here, their parents are pretty rich. Or they're in the government and there are terrorists. So . . . force-screen. And armed guards."

  "I've never noticed them," Josh said, his eyes goggling. "Are your parents . . . ?"

  "No, silly," Charli said, smiling. And dimples. Just the cutest little dimples. "My mom's a systems engineer for Sclock-Buren. We're okay but we're not rich."

  Just then there was a ping for the end of lunch and Josh stood up, holding out his hand.

  "Thank you," Charli said, taking it as she stood up.

  "You're welc . . ." Josh cleared his throat again. "You're welcome . . ."

  ****

  The evil Nari terrorists had captured the painfully beautiful Charli . . . Charli Wright and were holding her to force secrets from her mother, the vital systems engineer for . . . some company.

  But Josh Parker had figured out a way in through the air-ducts. Using his small size he was squeezing through the ducts and had just about gotten to the point where he could line up the evil Nari and blow them all away with his forty-watt plasma rifle, rescuing the bound and helpless Charli, when . . .

  "Mister Parker!" Miss Hissberger snapped, slamming her meter stick on the desk with a sound like a plasma shot. "Vat are te factorsss of thisss eqvation?"

  "I have no idea?" Josh said, trying not to cry. He used to like math.

  ****

  Josh was sitting at the back of the bus when Charli boarded. He had run there from class and had already driven off one Nari with bared teeth.

  "I saved you a seat," he said, waving at the center seat at the back as the bus took off.

  "Okay," Charli said shyly. "But I usually sit where you're sitting. Would you mind?"

  "No, not at all," Josh said, sliding over. As she slid past him her leg brushed his and he felt like the contact was liquid fire.

  "Why do you sit there?" he asked curiously as the bus cleared the force-screen.

  "Because this seat has a grab bar," Charli said quietly, reaching between her legs with both hands and wrapping them around the tube of metal. "And that one doesn't."

  Josh felt himself lifting into the air and for a moment he hung there, perfectly balanced in zero gravity. That couldn't last, and it didn't, as the driver climbed upwards and Mr. Newton took over, slamming Josh into the floor of the bus at slightly more than one earth gravity.

  He had the wind knocked out of him but his flailing arm wrapped around one of the legs for the seats and clung like a limpet, pulling him in to where he could wrap both arms around the anchor. Despite that his lower body was being flailed up and down and side to side, but it was better than flying through the air.

  "This . . . isn't . . . oof . . . so . . . bad," Josh said, looking up at Charli. Nice legs, too. "Might just be the best seat . . . oof! on the bus."

  "No," Charli said, her perfect brow wrinkling in perplexity. "This one is better. I'm not being flopped up and down on the floor."

  "No," Josh admitted. "But . . . argh . . . I sort of . . . ooof . . . like it. Not . . . ow! . . . bad . . ."

  When the bus grounded to drop off the first kid, Josh scrambled to his feet and regained his seat.

  "Mind if I share your grab bar?" he asked. There was a curve of metal visible under her right thigh.

  "Sure," Charli said, sliding over slightly.

  He could just get two hands on the grab bar, his left wrist in contact with the outside of her leg. Again, his wrist seemed to be on fire. Which was weird since the bus was pretty cold.

  They finally reached Charli's stop and he gestured courteously for her to lead, then followed her down the aisle.

  "MOGROMP TOM TOW DAY!" the driver said angrily.

  "I have no idea what you are gabbling about," Josh said, darting past an outstretched arm and jumping to the ground.

  The driver gestured at him in a fashion Josh suspected was rude but the bus lifted into the air again. Josh thought about what his mother would say and checked his plant for her location. She was downtown, shopping, so he left a note to trigger when she got back, saying that he'd dropped by a friend's house around the corner and would be home right away.

  The wind was bitterly cold and puddles were frozen on both sides of the street. There wasn't any traffic, though, so they walked down the street side by side.

  "Are your hands cold?" Josh asked. His were freezing.

  "Yes," Charli said holding one out.

  When Josh took it, he knew what "freezing" really meant. Charli's tiny hands were so icy cold he was sure she was on the edge of frostbite.

  "Christ," he said, worried. "Give me the other one."

  "My house is just here," Charli replied, but she held out the other hand.

  Josh wrapped both of them in his and they walked like that to the iris. Charli whistled at it and they both went into the entry foyer.

  "Your hands are so cold," Josh said. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes," Charli replied quietly.

  "I'm worried about them," he said distractedly. "You should wear gloves, Charli." He held one of her hands in both of his, switching back and forth. The entry foyer was bitterly cold as well but at least it was out of the wind.

  "I keep losing them," Charli said, her brow wrinkling again.

  Josh suddenly untabbed his environment suit and thrust her right hand under his left armpit.

  "There," he said. "I heard about this in a survival meme. It's the warmest place—" he suddenly stopped as he realized the motion had brought her exquisite face to within centimeters of his. Her eyes were wide an
d her lips parted. They stayed locked like that for just a moment and then Charli slid the other hand under his arm, inside his jacket, and pushed her lips up to his.

  His nose was in the way and he twisted his head to one side. Charli twisted the same way and they bumped noses again with a muttered "'scuse me" from Josh. Twisted again, another nose bump. This was harder than it looked. Finally, Josh took her face in both hands, held it straight, turned to the side and kissed her.

  The butterflies went berserk. While he'd been worrying about Charli's hands and where noses went they'd bunked off for a quick smoke but they were back and they'd brought lots of friends. His stomach dropped, his body went hot and then as cold as Charli's hands. The latter seemed to be warming up nicely and her arms were tracing a path of fire around his sides.

  A delicate tongue flickered against his lips and he opened up his lips slightly. Her tongue pressed against his lightly and he suddenly was consumed by a need to explore the inside of her mouth in the most personal fashion possible. He wanted to know the inside of her mouth better than he knew the inside of his own.

  He suddenly realized they were on the ground, grappling like a fight in the school yard, her arms and hands moving, his arms and hands moving, rubbing up and down each other's backs. Their tongues were having a fight, too, and Josh decided that something that he'd heard described one time was anything but gross. It was . . . unbelievable. More fun than . . . anything.

  He couldn't tell how long the grappling, kissing, exploring, whatever it was, went on. They'd moved out of the entrance corridor and into a small fresher just off of it at one point. And both their coats had disappeared. But Charli suddenly broke away and frowned.

  "My mom will be getting home soon," she warned, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

  He checked his plant and realized that they'd been out of school for an hour. If his mom was home she was going to be going nuts despite the note he'd sent. But there wasn't a message for him and she hadn't tooled him so he was probably okay. He stood up quickly, offering Charli his hand. Hers had gotten very warm. He could understand why; he still felt like he was on fire.

  "Charli . . . uh . . ." he said.

  "We'll . . . see each other again," she said, smiling shyly. "You're . . . really nice, Josh."

  "Thanks," Josh said. The coats were in a small closet on the other side of the foyer. He got his and shrugged. "I don't suppose I could . . ."

  "Mom won't let me have guests unless she's home," Charli said. "You'd better get out of here before she catches us."

  "Oh!" Josh shrugged on his coat hurriedly. "I'll . . . see you tomorrow, Charli."

  "Yeah," she said, tooling the iris and giving him a peck on the cheek. "Tomorrow."

  Josh stepped down to the street whistling. The air was freezing, the clouds were a solid overcast, dust and trash filled the air. What a perfect day.

  9: Of Tooleck and Men

  "Josh, we're having company for dinner."

  Josh opened his eyes and frowned. "Who?"

  "Some people I've met through the Heteran Woman's Club and a Tooleck couple. The male is a friend of your father's."

  "Okay," Josh said.

  "Josh," Jala said uncomfortably. "Among certain groups there's a phrase that . . . children are seen but not heard. Don't . . . pester them, all right?"

  "Of course, Mom," Josh said in exasperation.

  "They'll be arriving at nine. Take a shower before then and change clothes. Good clothes, it's semi-formal."

  "Yes, Mother," Josh sighed.

  "And brush your hair," Jala finished as the iris closed.

  He had two hours. If they weren't even getting here until nine, that meant they wouldn't eat for days. It was just not fair. He closed his eyes and brought the book up again. In an hour he could probably just about finish it . . .

  ****

  "JOSH!" Jala shouted. "Are you ready yet?"

  Josh checked his plant and blanched, jumping to his feet. It was a quarter till nine. Hopefully the guests would be, as Mom put it, fashionably late.

  He hurried to the fresher and pulled off his clothes, carefully setting the shower to ensure he got water and not one of the fifteen other substances it was capable of spurting. He took a fast shower, threw his robe on and darted to his room just as the iris pinged.

  Two minutes later, in a pair of dress shorts and a polo shirt, he was out in the foyer, greeting the guests.

  The first couple to arrive were the Tooleck. His mom was just taking their inevitable rellas and setting them on the couch.

  "Josh, this is Grobney and Anoj Sveldonas," Jala said.

  "Greetings," Josh said, bowing and offering the top of his head.

  "What a charmin' boyo," Anoj, the female, said, bowing her head and bouncing her eyes on Josh's hair. Anoj had a thick accent, something like Norky but with more clipped vowels.

  "Hello, Josh," Grobney said, holding out his three-fingered right hand. Grobney's accent was pure Fordoss, very high-class Tooleck. "I met your father in Basadab and told him I'd drop by and keep an eye on you and your mother. Since I've got five, seemed easy enough," he finished, giving a whistle of amusement.

  Tooleck didn't normally shake hands, it was a Terran custom, but Josh took it and shook it politely. It felt like holding a bundle of mobile sticks.

  "Would you care for a drink?" Jala asked, leading the way to the bar. There wasn't a bot so Josh stepped up and prepared to mix.

  "The boyo's your bartender!" Anoj said delightedly.

  "He can handle . . . simple mixes," Jala replied. "I'll take a Re'as Tsoonor on the rocks, Josh. Anoj? Grobney?"

  "Sounds good," Grobney said. "Got used to Re'as whiskey on Melshop, don't you know? Only thing around. No rocks for me, Josh, I'll take it straight. Just a drop of a thimblefull."

  "Here," Anoj replied. "I'll mix my own. I was a bartender when I met Grobney. I still remember him in his commando patterning. What a delight! Such a gentleman! Not that he was as much of a gentleman once I got off work!"

  Josh mixed the two Re'as whiskeys and then watched in bafflement as Anoj picked up a highball glass and began pouring in a mixture that could be used as rocket fuel.

  "Cheers!" she said when she was finished. The glass was full to the brim with a complex series of layers. She clinked glasses with the other two and then downed the contents of the tall glass in a single gulp. "Ah! That's hit the spot!"

  Grobney had also downed his and held the glass out for a refill.

  "A bit more than a thimbleful if you please, Josh," he said, waving his eyestalks. "It's a figure of speech, not a measurement. More . . . more. That's it," he finished, handling the glass that was nearly full to the rim. "To new friends!"

  Anoj had topped her glass back up with AldeBasadab brandy. It was called "brandy" only because "Oh, My God!" was already taken. It wasn't pure alcohol, since then it couldn't have included all the byproducts that made it so . . . refreshing.

  Jala led her guests into the livingroom and sat down, holding her still half-full glass in front of her like a talisman.

  "You were down in Basadab when you met Steve, I believe, Grobney?" she asked politely.

  "Oh, yes," Grobney said, whistling a tune. "Grand fellow. Fine engineer. Not my line, you know, foundations and stuff. I'm a geologist by training, though, and a mining engineer by profession. At the moment. Done a bit of this and a bit of that."

  "Mining?" Josh asked curiously. He'd gotten a choco-cola bulb and was sipping on it. "Basadab is on an alluvial plain. There's . . . not much mining in the area."

  "Deposits, old salt," Grobney said, bringing all five eyes around to consider Josh carefully. "Washed down from the Zaborg mountains. All sorts of veins and bits around there. Even found a bit of gold, what? Mainly looking for thoramite, of course. Planet's lousy with the stuff."

  "They do most of that mining in the Zaborg, don't they?" Jala asked. "Not my area, of course, but that's what Steve told me."

  "And mucks of it has run of
f over the aeons," Grobney replied, waggling his fingers. "Gets all over the place. Problem is finding pockets that are worth setting up to mine; that's why I'm having a look all over. Find a good pocket of thoramite and the company's in isardi, aren't they? Could be a pocket right under Steve's project, ey? Wouldn't want that to happen! We'd be all day trying to figure out which was the better portion."

  "Oh, yes," Jala said. "Of course, I suppose they could move the project . . ."

  "Not after they'd put all that time and money in," Grobney said. "That's why I had to have a look at the area. I'll be back as they move the dirt, of course, got to keep making sure."

  "Bit like an archaeologist is our Grobney," Anoj said, waggling her eyeballs. "He knows about all these sorts of things. He even worked on the hypermissile project during the war!"

  "Just a bit, deary," Grobney said, patting her carapace. "Non-technical, of course, physics is a bit beyond me. Not worth mentioning. So you were in Papua, were you, Mrs. Parker?"

  "Yes, before we moved back to Bowan . . ." Jala said as the door pinged again. "Oh, I'd better get that . . ."

  "You're in . . . fifth grade, Josh?" Anoj asked.

  "Yes," Josh said, making a face.

  "Don't enjoy it, much, ey?" Grobney said, waving his eye-stalks.

  "Most of it is okay," Josh said. "But some of it I've had before and some of it is a couple of years ahead of what I'd be taking on Terra. And my math teacher . . ."

  "Miss Hissberger?" Grobney said. "Bit of a Zimbot, ey? Good for drilling quadratics into young minds, though. Can't just use a plant, gotta understand what you're doing on those, what?"

  "You know her?" Josh gasped.

  "Say rather I know about her," Grobney said, waggling his eyestalks as two humans came into the room.

  "Grobney knows everybody," Anoj said, standing up.

  "Dirdja, as I live and spicule," Grobney said, extending his hand.

  "Grobney, you old crab," the male of the two replied, shaking the Tooleck's hand, "you do get around, don't you? But I don't think you've met my wife?"

  "The most wondrous Siti," Grobney said, taking the slight woman's hand and bowing over it. "Your husband has told me of your many fine attributes . . ."