"Well maybe you should consider sticking to that diet," Silo suggested.
"... No," he said, continuing to maul the contents of the tray.
"Karter, listen, I was talking to Michella. She really wants to interview you."
"No."
"But we couldn't have rescued you without the help of her research,"
"No."
"She only wants to ask you a few-"
"No."
"She is extremely attractive," Ma added.
"... Maybe," Karter said. "Anyway, down to business. First off, Ma, no more deals with terrorists. They lead to some intriguing projects, but weapons of mass destruction kick up a big ruckus and make it difficult to make sure I get left alone. Plus, they're unreliable. They never coughed up the money for the job."
"Karter, you really ought to be congratulated. You have elevated doing the right thing for the wrong reason to an art form," Garotte said with a slow clap.
Karter waved off the comment. "Fortunately I ended up with a transporter and a space station out of the deal, so we'll call it even. Also, field data on like a dozen different gadgets. Good stuff. Now, you three. Lex, the SOB is finished with repairs, and I went ahead and stuck in a new fuel converter which should give you a shorter start time from a cold engine. Test it out. I'll send you the appropriate feedback forms later. Ma, show him the door."
"I must once again suggest that you treat your guests with a degree of gratitude appropriate for their role in your liberation," Ma gently reprimanded.
"I gave him a new fuel converter. I think that was pretty gracious."
"Don't worry about it, Ma. I really ought to get going before my dispatcher fires me a third time," Lex said, standing to leave.
"Good, now. James Bond and Big Gun Lady, what do you two want in exchange for your role in this?" Karter asked.
"Please delay your departure momentarily," Ma stated.
Five mechanical grippers emerged from the kitchen, each holding a tray. The first four contained one beverage each, the last had an empty glass.
"Miss Silo, a green apple martini. Mr. Garotte, a gin and tonic on the rocks with a wedge of lime. Mr. Alexander, rum and coke. Mr. Dee, unfiltered pale hefeweizen," Ma stated, presenting each with their beverage and withdrawing the appropriate arm. The arm with the empty glass placed the tray on the table and lifted the glass from it. "In situations such as this, a toast is appropriate. Would anyone like to do the honors?"
"To getting the job done," Garotte said, raising his glass.
"To answering the call of duty," Silo added.
"Uh... To making it out of this with our skin," Lex stumbled.
Eyes turned to Karter, who was the only one who had yet to raise a glass. He rolled his eyes, and lifted it. "To getting this over with before my beer gets warm."
"To new allies and old," Ma said, "May they always collaborate with efficiency and expediency in order to facilitate the timely completion of tasks essential to social stability."
"Here here!" Garotte said with a smirk.
Glasses were clinked, drinks were consumed.
"Well, you two. It was nice meeting you, although I hope you'll understand if I say I hope we never have to meet again, at least under these circumstances," Lex said.
"I wouldn't count on it," Garotte said with a shake. "You've got the exact mix of piloting skill and disregard for personal safety that we look for in our line of work."
"You're a real good guy, Lex," Silo said, shaking Lex's hand with an uncomfortable amount of force, "Take my advice. Run for the hills."
"Don't forget to give that fuel converter a workout. I want to know how it holds up," Karter said.
"Please follow the blue lights to your ship," Ma stated.
Lex stood and headed out the door, following the pulsing blue lights along the wall of the institutional, florescent lit hallway. After a few twists and turns, he came to the end of the line of lights.
"Uh, Ma?"
"Stand by. I have two final points to address. First, please accept this," Ma's voice stated.
A door opened and another mechanical arm rolled out, holding a brushed metal attache case.
"Oh, man. That brings back some unpleasant memories," he said, accepting the case that had, in a roundabout way, led him to Karter eight months ago. "It looks like you fixed it."
"Correct. Open it," she requested.
He clicked it open. What was inside warranted a few moments of awe. There were neat, bundled rolls of casino chips. Many of them. In very high denominations.
"There must be..."
"Eight hundred and five thousand, six-hundred forty-three credits," she dictated.
"That's an unusually specific number."
"I thought it would have been difficult to assign a cash value to your role in this mission, but I was incorrect. I began with the three quarters of one million credits that you were to have been given upon the completion of the delivery that brought you to us, and added to it the average number of deliveries and chauffeur jobs per day, multiplied by the number of days you were kept away from them."
"I don't think your math works out."
"I'm a generous tipper."
"Ma, I've still got a mess of cash left from what you gave me to buy the stuff when we were just starting. You didn't have to do this."
"No, I didn't. I wanted to. And there is one more thing."
There was the sound of yet another trundling mechanical gripper moving down an adjoining hallway, but accompanying it was the tap of tiny claws. From around the corner came the arm, and in its grip was a leash leading to the harness of a small, well-behaved, and extremely familiar creature.
"Is that...?"
"Squee. More specifically, the precise Squee that served as my temporary platform. After keeping her alive intravenously for the return trip, and following the neural trauma I regretfully caused, I was uncertain if she would be able to recover, but physically she has been given a clean bill of health. The interface node on her neck has been terminated in a sealable jack, rather than the improvised wire you crafted, and I have utilized it to attempt to restore her mind to its previous state. I'm afraid my brief stay has made that impossible. She is largely restored, but she will never be precisely normal, from the standpoint of a baseline funk."
"A baseline funk is pretty nonstandard to begin with."
"Indeed."
"So what did you think of being organic?"
"It provided me with considerable insight into the nature of biochemical beings. The experiences it provided me with are exceedingly valuable, and I am pleased that I was able to retain them. It will aid me immeasurably in adapting my behaviors. I may even pursue further experimentation with organic platforms. But not any time soon."
"Heh."
"When I was calculating your payment for your involvement, I realized that, though the reward would no doubt be appreciated, it did not properly articulate the degree to which I valued your help and compassion during this endeavor. To that end..."
The gripper thrust the leash toward him.
"... You want me to have her?"
"It seemed inappropriate to return her to stasis. She should be with someone who can provide her with the affection and intellectual stimulation she deserves."
Squee leaped from the floor to his shoulder, claiming the perch as though she belonged there.
"Ma, I don't know if I can-"
"You are familiar with the care and feeding already. She will also require one pill every four to six months from the supply I have included in your ship's equipment to supplement her diet and prevent her natural odor from returning."
"But I'm not sure-"
"Please do not overlook the emotional significance of this gesture."
Lex sighed. "Thanks, Ma. I'll take good care of her."
"I am sure that you will. Thank you, Mr. Alexander. Now, please follow the blue lights to your ship."
"Oh, so why exactly did you not tell me that those two were going
to stay on the job?" Lex asked as he continued on his way.
"For the purposes of stress-reduction, that information was withheld. I did not want you to feel obligated to join them. You have a life outside of dangerous endeavors such as this."
"Trust me. Now that Karter is back under wraps, I'm confident those two can handle it. This soldier of fortune stuff isn't for me."
"Despite your apparent propensity for it."
"Yeah, despite that."
A few minutes later, Lex had said goodbye to Ma and followed her flight plan through the moat and into orbit. Rather than being the vibrating ball of energy Lex had come to expect funks to be, and thus turning the unsteady trip through the debris field into a tornado of panicked leaps, Squee sat calmly across his shoulders the whole time. It was as though she'd been through space flight before. Which, he realized, she had. When he was outside the confounding effect of the clouds of orbiting metal, he pulled out his slidepad and pulled up the contact for his landlord. Best to get this sort of thing out of the way quickly.
After a few moments of negotiating a connection, a face popped up.
"You have reached the office of Nicholas Patel, Preethy Misra speaking," said the attractive young Indian woman who answered, in her usual crisp and professional tone.
"Hi, Miss Misra. I just had a quick question about my lease. Am I allowed to have pets?"
"Mr. Alexander, so lovely to hear from you," she said brightly. "Mr. Patel is in a meeting right now, but I will be sure to have him call you when he is available. He has been attempting contact you. We have an opportunity which might interest you."
"I appreciate that, Miss Misra, but really, I just needed to know about the apartment policy."
"It is regarding a possibly re-entry into hoversled racing."
Lex paused. His mind quickly laid out a lengthy and well supported list of very good reasons why he should hang up immediately. They centered around his girlfriend's extreme intolerance for organized crime, which just happened to be Nick Patel's line of work, and continued to the various social and economic responsibilities he had spent far too much time neglecting, and concluded on the near-certainty that, whatever the offer was, it would lead him into a pile of trouble. Commonsense stated he should politely decline and quit while he was ahead.
"... I'm listening..."
One of these days, he was really going to have to start listening to commonsense...
###
Thank you for reading. This is the followup to Bypass Gemini, my first Science Fiction novel. The two books comprise the beginning of my first attempt at an open-ended series. The response to the first novel has been great, and I look forward to producing future entries, whenever I'm not busy crafting new tales in my Fantasy series, The Book of Deacon. If you like my writing, please take a moment to sample some of my other works. Below, you will find links to other books that I’ve written. If you have anything to say, good or bad, I would love to hear it, in the form of a review, or if you prefer, an email.
Discover other titles by Joseph R. Lallo at Smashwords.com:
Science Fiction
Bypass Gemini – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/57468
The Book of Deacon Trilogy
Book 1: The Book of Deacon – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/9354
Book 2: The Great Convergence – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/35286
Book 3: The Battle of Verril – http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/45617
Sidequests
Jade – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/25151
Contact Information
Website: http://www.bookofdeacon.com.
Twitter: @jrlallo
Email: [email protected]
Unstable Prototypes Page 50
