Pico's Crush
Page 1
Table of Contents
Description
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
ABOUT THIS BOOK
EXCERPT from Jumper's Hope
Pico’s Crush (Central Galactic Concordance Book 3)
© 2016 Carol Van Natta
All Rights Reserved.
Published by Chavanch Press
ISBN: 978-0983174134 ebook
DESCRIPTION
Trouble comes to paradise when a serial killer chooses a galaxy-famous college campus for his hunting ground.
A galactic security specialist expects a quiet vacation visit to his daughter's college campus. Instead he finds himself in battling for the safety of the students, with old friends and an ex-military squad-mate fighting at his side. Can they find a cunning serial killer before he finds his next target?
When ex-military sniper and current personal security specialist Jerzi Adams visits his daughter Pico's quiet college on the paradise-like planet of Nila Marbela, he doesn’t expect emergency evacuations and rogue robots. Nor does he expect to renew a friendship with former squad-mate.
Explosions, sabotage, and assaults used to be Andra De Luna's daily routine, but she gave it up for a professorship at a prestigious university. Now she's flung back into that world, with an entire floating campus of students to protect.
When the hunt for a cunning serial killer leads Jerzi's old friends Luka and Mairwen (Overload Flux) to town, there's trouble in paradise as the body count starts to rise. Either the world of academia has gone from merely cutthroat to downright deadly, or more sinister forces are in conflict, with the campus as a battleground. Without an improvised miracle or two, no one’s going to make it out alive.
- - - - - - - - - -
Pico’s Crush is a complete story. It can be enjoyed without having read the series, but your experience will be enhanced if you’ve read the previous books in the Central Galactic Concordance series: Overload Flux, Minder Rising, and Zero Flux (novella).
Chapter 1
* Planet: Nila Marbela * GDAT 3241.142 *
For paradise, it sure as hell rained a lot.
Jerzi Adams hunched his shoulders forward and tried to keep the warm, torrential rain from drenching every square centimeter of his new corporate suit as he half ran toward the huge, rounded entrance to the lecture space in the Optimal Polytechnic Chemistry building. It was supposedly the tallest building of the four clustered on the anchored ovoid disc that made up this part of the famous floating campus, but he couldn’t see anything but gray shapes. The only available parking for his flitter had been on the east end of the floater, on top of the Materials Science building.
The wind drove the drumbeat of rain in waves of white noise. The remnants of the late-season typhoon hadn’t been expected to extend so far west, and he hadn’t brought rain gear. The permaturf walkway was so waterlogged, it felt like slogging through a shallow swamp. He was glad he’d fished his all-terrain boots out of his luggage, even if they didn’t go with the corporate look.
A quick glance at the building name above the oversized, half-round doorway confirmed he was finally in the right place. The doors irised open on his approach, and he hurried through them. He was immediately assaulted by a wave of sound even louder than the rain.
The student event was supposed to have been held outside in the central commons area, where everyone could enjoy the famous tropical ambiance that drew students like a magnet to the city of Tremplin and the O-Poly University. The unexpected rain had forced the school to move the exhibits and scientific demonstrations for visiting parents and sponsors into the lecture hall. It was a frenetic bazaar of human voices and whirling technology, of chaotic motion, and bright kaleidoscopes of clashing colors demanding attention. Display tables were jammed into haphazard clusters with no obvious order. Despite the heat and humidity, or because of it, he detected whiffs of smoke and chemicals, from sulfur to cloying citrus and everything in between. Easily several hundred people were squeezed into a space intended to hold maybe half that.
Somehow, despite the oppressive din, he heard his daughter Pico’s voice.
“Dad! Dad!” From the swell of humanity, a petite figure emerged and ran up the wide ramp toward him, waving. She was wearing a sleeveless, fitted white-and-red jumpsuit and matching boots, reminiscent of a combat mech-suit liner, and her midnight-blue hair with silver tips was in pigtails, but he’d know her energetic grace and wide smile anywhere. “You found us!”
He grinned and started to open his arms, then changed his mind and stepped back. “You’ll get wet. I’m soaked.”
She laughed and threw herself heedlessly into his embrace, squeezing tightly. “We’re all wet. The rain surprised everyone. That’s why they made us move everything in here.” She pulled away and grabbed his hand. “Come on, the solars are over here. Nice suit, by the way. Earrings, too.” Turning back to the pandemonium, she shouted, “Valenia! He’s here!” Several people turned to look. Her voice was surprisingly loud for someone who looked so dainty.
Pico led him into an alcove that had a bank of a dozen solardry units. He tapped the control panel, and the unit began evaporating away the moisture at an alarming rate. It was airfoil-loud and too warm, but it was efficient. He smoothed his hair so it would dry flat. Pico crowded close, using the edge of the field to dry the front of her. The industrial-strength solardries made sense, considering Nila Marbela was a watery planet and the sprawling O-Poly campuses were on natural islands and man-made floaters in the equatorial zone.
The dry cycle finished just as Pico’s roommate and best friend, Valenia Tamheurre, joined them. She was a head taller than Pico, and dressed like a fashion designer’s prototype tester, all rippling pastel pink ruffles and winking fairy lights, but Jerzi knew she had a good brain hiding under her poof of pomegranate red, waved hair. She was carrying a cheap, nova-bright orange umbrella, the kind tourists bought as souvenirs.
He greeted Valenia, then put his arm around Pico’s slender shoulders. “Did I miss your team’s presentation?” He knew she’d collaborated with several other students for their exhibit, but she’d been secretive about the details. He’d missed too many of the milestones in her life.
“Yeah,” Pico said, “but so did everyone else.” She sighed disgustedly. “Apparently, there’s a rule against launching rockets in the lecture hall.”
Jerzi tried to keep a straight face. “How shortsighted of them not to have designed the space for such harmless activities.”
Valenia laughed. “That’s what Professor De Luna said, except I think she used the words ‘crazy stunts.’” She glanced at the huge, ornate clock on the wall. “I’ll be late if I don’t leave now, and the kid pawners will complain. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Adams.” Her precise diction and accent-free Standard English were a credit to her private education, because he knew her wealthy family’s primary language was Afro-French.
“I’ll be there at six,” said Pico. “I’ll bring your long coat if it’s still raining.”
“You’re the best friend ever,” said Valenia wi
th a smile. She took a deep breath, powered the umbrella to full, then headed out through the door and into the rain. He hoped her umbrella lasted longer than his had.
He frowned as the doors irised closed. “Maybe I should go with her.”
Pico shook her head. “It’s daylight, and she’s just going to the other end of the floater. She’d have asked if she wanted company.”
She grabbed his hand again and started leading him down the ramp into the crowded hall. He was comforted by her easy affection. It had been a lonely nine months only seeing her on delayed holo.
“Kid pawners?” he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the sudden rising whine of a miniature toroidal engine, fortunately tethered.
She veered closer so he could hear her. “At the childcare where Valenia volunteers, some parents drop their kids off like they’re boats to be docked. She calls them ‘kid pawners’ because they’re always pawning their kids off on someone else.”
Jerzi hid a wince. Dhorya, Pico’s mother, had accused him of that more than once. His military service as a ground-pounder gunnin and civilian private security career had kept him away, leaving Pico and Dhorya alone to deal with her nasty Sankirna family for long periods. He and Dhorya had both been too young and so very naïve about what it would take to raise a child, even one as remarkable as Pico.
“Hey, P.A.!” A slender young man whose hair and skin were so pale, he was nearly albino waved his arms frantically. “We got the Decas-Yee reaction to work above three hundred K and in full G!” He pointed to a floating holo display. “We already won a POGS prize. Do come see!” His accent said he’d been raised on Albion Prime, or close to it. Few could outdo the exclusive planet for over-the-top pretentiousness.
Pico smiled but didn’t stop plowing forward through the crowds. “Can’t, Sully. Places to be, rockets to launch. I’ll see it later.”
“We could stop…” began Jerzi.
Pico shook her head and increased her pace. “No, or we’d be there the rest of the afternoon. Let’s find Professor De Luna, then see if she’ll let us escape this madhouse.”
Jerzi couldn’t agree more. Even though he had plenty of experience with crowds, he didn’t care for them. Give him a nice, high vantage point above the fray any day, like the almost invisible ledge high on the north wall. Probably a support for the room’s audiovisual functions, though he couldn’t see where to access it.
He had no idea how Pico, who took after her short, slender mother of Asian descent, could see where she was going, but she’d always had a superb sense of space. She’d never gotten lost, even when she was a child, barely able to walk. He was content to follow, using his larger physique to help part the crowds for her. He saw almost nothing of himself in his daughter’s appearance, but they thought very much alike. She was a lot smarter than he was, though, enough to get into a prestigious school on a scholarship. If it hadn’t been for the military, he’d have no advanced education at all.
As they rounded a table with a clump of chattering students gathered around it, he saw a flutter of a holo displaying a green and gold prize seal, like the one Sully had been bragging about. “What’s a POGS prize?”
The crowd thinned for a bit, and Jerzi consciously relaxed his shoulders. It was hard to remember he wasn’t there to provide personal security for a public figure. He was just on vacation, visiting his kid. Adult kid, he reminded himself.
“POGS stands for Parents, Obligates, Guardians, and Sponsors.” She gave him a cheeky grin and squeezed his hand. “Since you’re a ‘P,’ I’ll send you the ping ref so you can vote for my team’s excellent project.”
He started to tell her to send the code to her mother, too, but thought better of it. Pico didn’t like the reminder that Sankirna money was the only reason she could afford to share an apartment near campus and eat without needing a food service job. It didn’t thrill him, either.
“The POGS prize is mostly a popularity contest, and faculty votes get extra weight.” She pointed a thumb back over her shoulder. “Sully sounds rich, but he isn’t, he’s just brainy. His experiment partner’s family is name-on-a-building rich, and she’s brainy enough to let Sully do the work. Funnily enough, they win something every time her family makes an appearance.”
Jerzi detected a bit of defensiveness in her tone. “Scholarship students don’t win very often, I take it.” She shrugged a shoulder as if she didn’t care.
He assumed a mock enforcer look as he leaned in and whispered, in his best heavily menacing Slavic accent, “Tell me who is in your way. Zajmę się tym.” He flexed his arm and shoulder muscles, as if he was the evil crew enforcer in a thriller.
Pico snorted with amusement. “I’m pretty sure the school has a rule against ‘taking care of it.’”
Jerzi crossed his arms, pushing out his triceps with his fists, then shrugged with elaborate carelessness. “Accidents happen.”
Pico put her small hands around his left biceps and kneaded, a throwback to when she was a child and fascinated by his well-developed upper arm muscles. “I miss you. I’m glad you could come.”
“Me, too.” They edged around a group of people standing in front of another student table. It felt like they were going in circles. “Are we there yet?”
She rolled her eyes. “Creaky, Dad.”
“Wait until you have children,” he said archly.
Pico grabbed his wrist and pulled him around more tables. He found himself cataloging the distance and paths to the nearest exits out of habit, and sternly told himself to stand down. He really needed to get a life outside of security work and time at the gym.
Finally, Pico stepped up to a table pushed up against a two-meter wide, square pillar.
“Voilà!” She opened her arms at a wide diagonal, presenting the display, entitled “Domestic Launch.” The carefully arranged items looked like they’d been salvaged from the recycle bin, but he realized after a moment that was the whole point. Everything on the table was commonly found around the house, but combined correctly, made an effective propellant for the rocket, which was a simple sink hose caged with rigid screen mesh, with a flat-bottomed cone for a fuel chamber and a standard wirekey for ignition energy. The direction was controlled by adapter wings from a child’s rocket ship toy, and didn’t rely on anything with motors or anti-grav tech.
“It’s really clever. How did you come up with it?”
“The projects on the ‘recommended’ list were boring, but none of us could afford to buy the materials for something more fun. We kind of made this up as we went along.”
A pretty, dark-skinned woman approached Pico from the other side. “Ms. Adams, have you seen… oh, pardon the interruption.” She smiled at Jerzi. “I’m Professor Chandravarthi, in the Chemistry Department.” She pointed to the temporary nameplate pinned to the shoulder of her sleeveless, multicolored top that stopped at her flat midriff and gave a slight bow, then turned to Pico. “Do you know where Ravlenko’s and Bando’s teams ended up?”
Pico started to point, but was interrupted by what sounded like an overstressed teakettle and a flurry of conflicting orders. It sounded close.
“Kill the power!”
“Flood the chamber!”
“Duck!”
Jerzi stepped closer to Pico and put himself between her and the noise. The earsplitting, rising pitch whistle abruptly cut off. He waited for an explosion, but none came. A cloud of bluish smoke billowed out and dissipated. After a tense moment, everyone nearby seemed to relax.
Chandravarthi heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Mr. Ravlenko’s team, I presume.” She set off toward where the noise had come from, muttering darkly as she left. “Everything will be fine inside, they said. Mustn’t disappoint the POGS, they said.”
Pico poked his chest twice. “Hovering.”
“Sorry,” he said, backing up, but he wasn’t, really. Protecting her was in his DNA.
A frown crossed her face as she ducked away, but it quickly transformed into a smile. “Professo
r De Luna! Come meet my dad.”
Jerzi turned to see the famous professor of materials science who had inspired Pico to declare a study focus for her certificate. The woman was a little taller than mid-height, conservatively dressed in a long-sleeved, high-necked, dark jacket with half-tails, and her dark hair was scraped back away from her striking face. If she wore makeup on her light brown skin, it was subtle. She seemed familiar, somehow.
“Professor Andreina De Luna, this is my dad…”
“Commander Crush,” she said with a lopsided smile. “It’s a small galaxy.”
It was the use of his old unit nickname and her soft Spanish accent that finally sparked his memory. “Subcaptain Lightning. It certainly is.” Delight bloomed in him, and he grinned and held out a fist to her, thumb up. She bumped his knuckles twice with a fist of her own, once straight up and once turned sideways.
Pico looked back and forth at them, owl-eyed. “You know each other?”
Andra nodded. “Five years together as gunnin in the CGC Ground Division, Command’s Forward Intelligence Unit Zulu Six Echo.” She winked at him. “Your father was the best sniper we ever had.”
Jerzi felt himself redden, as if he was suddenly twelve years old. He ducked his head to hide it. “Thanks.”
He looked at her more closely, trying to reconcile the brash, volatile, very unconventional officer he’d known in the military with the sedate, contained woman in front of him. She was the picture of a dedicated academic, though her straight pants didn’t quite hide her muscular legs, and he suspected her shoes were more practical than they looked.
She’d apparently been thinking along the same lines. “You sure clean up good, Adams. Nice suit. Must have given the designer fits with all those extra muscles.” She winked at Pico, who smirked back.
He had no idea why women were interested in what he wore, but no way in hell was he getting into a discussion about clothes. “Materials science, huh? That’s what they’re calling boom-down these days?”
Andra’s eyebrow twitched. “Claro que sí. Of course. Sounds more dignified in the college brochure.”