Pico's Crush

by Carol Van Natta

  He swore under his breath and froze.

  Andra glanced at him, then came back around to him and held out her hand. He carefully gave her the cap, which she put in her jacket pocket.

  Pico had already disabled the safety and slid aside the access plate on the umbrella’s shaft. They were lucky it was a good quality umbrella, intended to be serviced, instead of the cheap tourist kind. She stared at the exposed circuitry for a moment, then her eyes drifted a little, signaling she was using her talent. He was pretty sure she was out of practice, since she’d made the decision to hide it, or more accurately, deny it. He knew she’d deliberately failed CPS talent testing, and why, and it broke his heart that the result wasn’t what she’d hoped.

  From behind him, two women came up carrying the fourth table Andra had asked for. She directed them and the others where she wanted them, explaining her plan to corral the bot.

  Jerzi saw that his position was a problem. “Put the table behind me,” he said. “I’ll jump over.”

  “You won’t make it,” said Andra. “That thing’s fast.” She glanced at the rigged umbrella in Pico’s hand, his position, and the robot. “If you’re willing, I’ll use you for a scaffold to hit it from above. I mass about sixty kilos these days.”

  He shook his head. “Give me the umbrella and I’ll do it.” He didn’t want Andra or Pico anywhere near the plasma loop.

  Andra rolled her eyes skyward. “Caramba, deliver me from white knights.” She took a deep breath and blew it out testily. “I know the bot, and I know how to use the stick. It’s too dangerous if you miss.”

  Damn, but he hated that she was right. With bad grace, he nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

  She kicked off her shoes. “Lift me up to your shoulders, Commander Crush.” She reached across and tapped his right shoulder, smiling. “I’ll try not to step on anything important.”

  “Thank you,” he answered with a reluctant grin. She’d have to come at him from the side, or the bot would detect her motion. He slowly flexed his knees as much as he dared, watching to see if the bot noticed, then held out his hands.

  “Tables up,” she ordered, her voice carrying easily. “When I say go, put them down in front of the people in the robot’s view. As soon as the tables are in place, duck as low as you can behind them, and make sure the tables stay upright.”

  “Pico, hold the umbrella for me here.” She moved Pico’s arm into the position she wanted it, then turned back to him. “Ready?”

  He tensed his leg muscles as she moved back two steps, then launched toward him. He grabbed her waist and lifted her onto his shoulder. She spun her legs across his upper shoulders and twisted. He fought to stay rock solid and absorb the momentum.

  She grabbed the shockstick from Pico’s outstretched hand as she straddled his shoulders. “Go! Tables go!” she yelled.

  At the flurry of movement, the bot spun, and the damp plasma loop crackled with power. One of the men holding a table dropped his end too fast, leaving several people vulnerable.

  The bot started to glide toward the movement, swinging the plasma loop forward.

  “Jerzi,” warned Andra, but he was already moving. He grabbed her ankles and lunged toward the bot. He felt her weight shift as she took her shot. The bot spun toward the original threat—Jerzi’s nearest leg—and lashed out with the plasma loop.

  Andra’s shockstick delivered a satisfying arc of power directly to the bot’s foam-logged power port, but it wasn’t in time to stop the charged loop from hitting his calf muscle.

  He grunted with the burning pain but held his position and hung onto Andra’s legs. The bot momentarily hissed and glowed blue, then with a loud thunk, went dark. A weak cloud of smoke rose, accompanied by the acrid stink of scorched circuitry.

  “Down, Jerzi,” said Andra, patting his left arm. He let go of her legs so she could slide down the side of him. He supported her hips to help steady her as she hit solid ground and bent her knees to absorb the impact.

  Ragged applause sounded, and Jerzi looked around in surprise.

  The people behind the tables, both students and older men and women he took to be POGS, were focused on Andra, but he was apparently included. Andra gave him an amused smile as she stepped forward and bowed once. “Good work, everyone. Leave the tables, and let’s get out of here.” She pointed toward the exit with the blackened, warped umbrella.

  Jerzi surreptitiously examined his aching calf, wincing when he saw the pant leg was singed and burned into his flesh. Probably better to leave it as is until he could get to a medic. He hoped they were waiting outside as Vestering had promised. He’d make Andra go first, though. The flame-red skin on her hand from the wild energy discharge probably hurt a lot worse than his leg.

  Chapter 3

  * Planet: Nila Marbela * GDAT 3241.142 *

  Andra knew it was crazy, but she felt like the afternoon’s events had been the start of something. She wished to hell she knew what, but she was no minder forecaster, able to predict the future from seemingly random facts. Most likely, it was just that the familiar, reassuring presence of Jerzi Adams reminded her of the countless intelligence missions they’d been on, where her instinct for trouble had saved their asses more than once. It hadn’t saved Da’vin Quillier, though, which is why she’d stopped paying attention to that nonsense.

  She wiped the accumulated mist off her forehead as she watched the medic fishing through the hole in Jerzi’s ruined pant leg to firmly apply a large burn patch. Jerzi was seated and chatting amiably with his animated daughter, as if they were in a body-shop spa. He was still better at hiding pain than anyone she knew, including elite Jumpers who ate pain for breakfast. She remembered asking once if it was because he didn’t feel it. He’d laughed and said of course he felt it; the trick was to focus on the things that didn’t hurt. She’d never gotten the hang of it, and she’d really tried.

  The commons area between the buildings was filled with students, faculty, parents, and a respectable number of emergency response personnel who insisted on seeing every single person who had been in the Chemistry building at the time of the explosion. Five floors’ worth of students, staff, and faculty was a lot of people, even on a light class day. At least they hadn’t had to evacuate the Materials Science, shared labs, or Math buildings, too. The manmade ovoid floater was only one and a half kilometers wide on its long axis, and in Andra’s opinion, overbuilt.

  Unsurprisingly, the responders and uniformed security personnel all appeared to be Optimal Polytechnic staff. O-Poly was fanatical about maintaining its reputation as the perfect paradise school, and keeping internal problems private. The downside was that it was taking forever to get everyone reassured, treated, and/or released, depending on what they needed, and gently pressured to sign a liability waiver.

  Andra checked her wristcomp. It was only late afternoon, but it already felt like it had been a very long day. She’d lucked out and snagged a spot on one of the benches that ringed the tall sculpture in the center of the floater, next to an older man and his wife. Her back was sore from helping carry dozens of tables inside earlier because of the rain, and despite the medic’s burn patches, her left hand still ached from the energy backlash from the rigged umbrella when flatlining the rogue bot. Pain patches were better than nothing, but she missed the talented minder healers who’d been on call after military operations.

  After they’d gotten out of the building, she’d entertained herself with thoughts of dismantling the damned bot piece by piece, which had kept her from growling at the steamy weather or the soggy turf that overwhelmed her sensible heels. She envied Jerzi and Pico their boots. Father and daughter may not have looked like they shared a gene pool, but their mannerisms and habits were strikingly similar.

  Ordinarily, Andra would have slipped away to visit the gym or sparring studio to work off her current bad attitude, but Vestering had pinged her to see him before she left, and she hadn’t found him yet. First, she’d wanted to make sure Jerzi got
treated, and the stubborn man had insisted she go first. She couldn’t pull rank on him anymore, so it had been easier just to comply, but it hadn’t helped her temper any.

  Jerzi stood and thanked the medic, then looked around until his eyes lit on her, and she waved. He and Pico threaded through the milling people. He was carrying his jacket, and his thin, white undertunic was plastered to the exquisitely sculpted muscles of his chest and shoulders. It looked like he’d erased most of the body art he used to wear with such pride, but he’d added a close-trimmed beard along his jaw and under his chin. It wasn’t the prevailing fashion, but it added maturity to his boy-next-door face. The tiny banded diamond earrings, high on his ears, were new and suited him. She was wryly amused to see that he was still blind to the admiring looks from both men and women. Including hers, a sly little voice in her head pointed out. She ignored it for the nonstarter idea it was. She didn’t mess around with married people.

  Just as he and Pico got close, Romila Chakravarthi appeared out of nowhere, making a beeline for Andra. “Thank the stars above I found you. Can you believe it? Another ‘accident.’” Romila squeezed herself onto the bench, oblivious to the annoyed grunts from the bench’s other occupants. “Are you all right? I heard you got hurt.” She put her arm around Andra’s shoulders and hugged tight. “You poor thing. Come home with me, and I’ll share some really good chems that will make you forget all about this.”

  Andra laughed. “Thank you, but no, I like my brain cells.” Romila, her Chemistry Department colleague for the Practical Applications class, had contacts in the chems and alterants industry and often had exotic, and sometimes untested, samples. She patted Romila’s knee and stood up. “I’ll be fine.”

  Being fussed over made Andra twitchy. She’d had enough of that from her four older brothers who’d tried to appoint themselves as her protectors, jailers, and relationship arbiters. It had, however, taught her skills in getting out of inconvenient custody situations.

  Romila stood as well. “I could give you a ride…” She trailed off when she noticed Jerzi. She smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Romila. May I help you?” Her provocative tone suggested she’d like to help him into her bed.

  Jerzi blinked, then glanced toward his daughter.

  “He’s with me,” said Andra. It was easier than explaining.

  Romila made a surprised sound. “Well, then, I won’t keep you.” She left quickly, and Andra sighed. She’d somehow hurt Romila’s feelings, and would have to grovel tomorrow.

  Their little group stepped off the walkway onto the soggy permaturf to make way for a grounded medical evacuation capsule.

  “What was that about ‘another accident’?” asked Jerzi.

  Andra started to say she’d tell him later, but she knew him well enough to know he’d worry about it. She tilted her head to suggest they step farther away from the rest of the crowd. Pico followed. They ended up under a broad canopy tree, where it was muddy, but private.

  “Ms. Adams, pretend you’re deaf for the moment. In the last month, the accident rate in the Chem labs has increased significantly. I asked Romila’s opinion, because she knows the Chem labs better than I do. I figured she’d tell me it was nothing, but instead, she put together a pattern that seems more than random. Outside of the usual student experiments that go awry, big equipment suddenly needs recalibration, small appliances fail, and an entire storeroom of organic scaffolding kits went bad. Last week, eight ortho-phase replicators went missing all at once. I can’t imagine there’s a huge blackmarket for them.” A heavy drop of water splashed down Andra’s neck. No wonder they had the tree to themselves. “Most of it seems to happen to the labs on the third and fifth floors at night, when the labs should be empty. Today is probably just an ordinary accident. Romila would probably tell you it’s sabotage, but the woman loves drama.”

  “What does campus security think?” asked Jerzi.

  Andra frowned. “Security is handled remotely. Romila and I brought it up at the joint faculty meeting last Friday, because Lavong—he’s the manager for all the labs on this little floater—was ignoring us. He said he’s handling it, and said no one would get a lab if they were shut down for security investigations.” She snorted. “Romila thought he was trying to intimidate us. I think he was gassy.”

  “Uhm, Professor De Luna,” said Pico, “I think Mr. Vestering is looking for you.” She tilted her head toward the man who was bearing down on them. He looked dyspeptic, but that was his usual expression when dealing with her. When he saw who she was with, he frowned and stopped a few paces away, on the edge of the permaturf.

  “Did all of your Practical Applications students make it out of the hall?” His sharp tone implied it was her personal responsibility to track all twenty-five of them, and never mind the dozens of students from her various Materials Science classes. She forced her tense shoulders to relax.

  “I haven’t spoken to the emergency commander yet. Have you?” He was the administrator in charge; she was the lowly professor, as he so often reminded her.

  His lips tightened in annoyance, and he started to speak, then glanced again at Jerzi. His gaze dropped down to Jerzi’s burned pants. “I heard you were involved in trouble with an uncontrolled homemade combat robot.”

  Jerzi started to answer, but Andra cleared her throat loudly and shot him and Pico both a look telling them to stay out of it.

  “It was nothing,” she interjected firmly. “It was taken care of.” The last thing she needed was Vestering tormenting the young woman who’d built the robot, or asking about the improvised shockstick.

  “I’d hate to have a guest or a student bringing unwarranted injury claims against the university,” he said, eyeing her burn-patched hand. In other words, keep their mouths shut, or he’d make trouble.

  “I’m sure it won’t be an issue,” she said calmly. She was less worried about Jerzi and Pico than she was about whatever story Romila would soon be embellishing. Her wealthy family background insulated her from some of Vestering’s power games. Andra still had to work for a living. “Is that all you needed to see me about?”

  Vestering frowned. Someone behind him in the crowd called his name. Andra couldn’t see who it was, but he was clearly happier to see whoever it was than her. His smile lit up as he rapidly left and headed toward the crowd.

  Pico turned to watch him go. “Somewhere,” she said acidly, “a stinking goat is missing its misbegotten male offspring. Or not missing him.”

  Andra snorted and tried not to laugh. It was bad to encourage Pico’s antipathy toward the head of the department. “We’d better get out of here while we can.” She turned to Jerzi. “Commander, do you have a way off this little slice of paradise?” She circled a finger to indicate the whole campus floater.

  “I rented a flitter.” He smiled as he shook out his jacket. “Better than I have at home.”

  Pico made a rude sound. “That’s because he takes the metro when he’s at home. Etonver traffic eats hot death.”

  Andra laughed. “Nothing wrong with public transport.”

  As Jerzi struggled to pull on his damp jacket, Pico suddenly looked alarmed and activated her percomp. “I totally forgot the time. I have to meet Valenia at six and go with her to Hospitality Services class.”

  Jerzi nodded. “I’ll fly you…”

  “It’s on the mainland campus. We’ll never make it. It’ll be faster if we take the water taxi. Traffic control gives them priority.” She keyed something on her percomp’s holo display. “I’m sending you the apartment access codes so you can get in.” She jumped up and kissed Jerzi on the cheek. “We’ll be home by eight.” She took off toward the east like she was fluxed for interstellar transit.

  Jerzi laughed as he smoothed his jacket. “I guess I’ll have to trust the planetary satnav not to send me on the scenic route.”

  They began walking toward the main east-west path on the commons. The crowds were starting to thin out at last. As a small blessing, the misty rain had s
topped, but Andra didn’t trust it to stay that way. She wanted dry clothes, a beer, and to put her feet up, but she felt bad about leaving Jerzi to fend for himself. “This is what passes for winter here, so it’ll be dark soon. How about you give me a ride, and I’ll help you find Pico’s apartment before you drop me off?”

  Jerzi looked up at the stormy sky. “If it won’t be too much trouble, I’d appreciate that.”

  The Jerzi she’d known eight years ago would have refused the help, still determined to demonstrate his competence. To be fair, back then, she’d not only have refused help, she’d have taken offense that someone had even offered. She guessed they both had less to prove these days.

  They moved around the clumps of people at a purposeful pace, and soon arrived at the far east corner of the Materials Science building, where he’d stacked the flitter. They rode the lift to the airpad, then used the control kiosk to tell the stacker which flitter slot was his. Once it delivered his flitter, Jerzi unlocked it with his biometric and passcode.

  “Ooh, a Pazorbaal DF.” Andra stroked its sparkly, lava-red exterior and whistled. “The security business must pay better than I thought.”

  He keyed the doors open. “I wish. Oh, it pays better than the military—what doesn’t?—but the nice woman at the rental counter gave me a free upgrade because they ran out of the compacts.”

  “Lucky you,” she said as she slid into the wide front passenger seat. She liked riding in luxury when she had the chance. “The professor business doesn’t pay enough to afford flitters, either.”

  He powered on the console, sent their destination coordinates from the percomp he pulled out of his coat’s chest pocket, then fiddled around with the controls while they waited for the traffic control system to sync. He grinned at her. “This will be a novel experience, letting the TCS do its job. Etonver allows everyone to operate manually, so they do, meaning ground and air traffic are hell, even in the dead of night.”