When Harry Met Chunglie Box Set

by Jack Q McNeil

  “This whole building,” the marshal looked around quickly, “is an elevator?”

  “Yes, the Investonidia are thoughtful of guests who can’t climb walls,” I said. I took two reels of tape from a pouch on my harness. One was pink, the other white. “Couldn’t find red tape at such short notice.”

  “You only looked in the one drawer,” LB said.

  “I searched the whole kitchen.” I wrapped the white tape around my front left claw, with two claws, while winding the red tape around my second left claw. Having fourteen limbs can save a lot of time. Before the elevator reached our floor, I’d done the same thing to my right front leg and second leg.

  “Can you feel that?” Marshal Harry said, putting her hand against the wall. “There’s a beat, like rat-tat-tat, coming through the walls and floor.”

  “That’s the Hive members communicating,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Do I look worried?” LB asked.

  “You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

  “Rubbish. I was in the war, I—” The doors slid open and an Investonidia scurried in across the ceiling. That meant her nine eyes were on a level with the marshal’s. LB leaped sideways behind the marshal.

  “Well,” Harry said with a gulp, “that is definitely a spiderform. And as I said, most of the people on this planet are larger than I am.”

  “They’re bigger than I remembered,” LB said.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “She makes one wrong move, I’ll wrestle her to the ground and sort her out. They claim they are sexless drones, but I can cure that.”

  Harry winced and LB turned pale.

  “I know you like a long leg,” he said looking up. “But that thing is nine metres across and has hundreds of sisters somewhere round here.”

  I couldn’t stop wagging my tush brush. “I know.”

  “Business,” Harry said, crossing her arms. “Let’s stick to the business at hand. Do the introductions please, Chunglie?”

  I started signalling with my red and white-taped legs. She answered with her long, slender, hairy, yummy legs.

  “They don’t use cybernetic translators or add-ons,” I explained. “They believe it sullies their perfect forms.”

  “So how do they communicate with people who don’t have eight legs?” Marshal Harry asked.

  “To question suspects and so on? They send in a holo-bot.”

  I watched the answer to my introduction.

  “The Hive is surprised by how small you are, Marshal,” I said. The Investonidia moved into a corner. “Oh dear.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Nothing at all. But can you get through the questions quickly, they’d like us to leave soonest.”

  LB slapped a hand over his eyes.

  “It’s the baldness, isn’t it?” he said, crouching behind the marshal.

  “Get on with it.” I wound a claw round in the air. “And you are supposed to be guarding Harry, not the other way round.”

  “I fell into a Whariwhai nest when I was a kid, okay? And they are not as big as that thing,” LB admitted. He moved carefully around the marshal, keeping his hand over his eyes.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, please,” Marshal Harry demanded.

  “The Hive finds your tiny, bald form creepy. Sorry. I was trying to spare your feelings.”

  “I appreciate that, I’m just struggling to see how a spider nine metres across could be backing away from me.” The Investonidia began drumming on the wall with her rear legs. A distress call to the rest of the Hive.

  “It takes all sorts, and this is her Hive, so best get on.”

  “Right. In that case, I want to talk to the detectives who questioned the witnesses.”

  “You are talking to her,” I said. “This is a Hive mind. Talk to one, you are talking to all.”

  Harry scratched her chin.

  “But there is no mention of the robot questioning anyone in the report we have.”

  I made that point to the Hive. She signalled back.

  “But the witnesses are listed in the report,” I reported, with a sudden feeling that this interview was not going to end any better than the last one. “And when questioned by the holo-bot, they had no salient facts to add.”

  Harry sighed and slumped against the wall. The Investonidia crushed herself into the corner and tensed to spring. I reared my entire front half and waggled the grip of Trembling Bob with one claw, while signalling. Calm down, hot stuff, or it will get a lot hotter in here.

  “Chunglie, there are hundreds of them and three of us,” LB pointed out as he put a hand on his sidearm.

  “Stop this.” Marshal Harry held up a hand and raised one eyebrow. The Investonidia froze for a moment then slowly pulled itself in as if about to spring. Harry gave that dip of the chin which translates in every language as “I have another eyebrow”.

  The Investonidia relaxed. Marshal Harry stared, stock still until the spiderform uncoiled from the corner and slunk down the wall.

  “How do you do that?” LB asked. “Is it some form of telepathy?”

  “It’s just something I learned from my mum,” Marshal Harry said. “Ask her to send in the holo-bot,” Harry continued in a calm quiet voice. “Point out that means she can leave.”

  I passed the message along and the Hive agreed. The individual hurried across the wall to the exit.

  “Hey! Hey!” I shouted and signalled. She stopped at the door frame and spun round.

  “Chunglie…” LB whispered hoarsely. “It was leaving, what are you doing?”

  “Asking for her number.” She threw her front legs in the air, spun round, and galloped off.

  “I’m guessing that was no?” Harry said.

  “That was maybe,” I said. “By the way, the Hive apologises. It is ashamed of its overreaction. It has dealt with other apeforms over the years and never suffered like this.”

  “Oh… Well, that makes me feel all kinds of better. I– am— not— bald!” Harry shouted into the corridor. I ignored the sound of running feet.

  The holo-bot flew in minutes later. It was the size of a beach ball and black with cool silver highlights.

  “Nice paint job,” I said.

  “Thanks, I chose it myself,” it said.

  “You know, I could have my carapace painted,” I realised. “Silver and black would go nicely with my red tush brush.”

  “Off topic,” Marshal Harry claimed.

  “My tush brush is never off topic.” That earned me the pre-eyebrow raise. I mimed zipping my mouth with a claw.

  “Do you have a name I can pronounce?” Marshal Harry asked the holo-bot.

  “I have a designation in invest— sign language,” it said. “But you can call me Tee.”

  “Okay, Tee. So you questioned the witnesses to the car crash?”

  “There were none,” Tee said. “But I questioned the people around the offices who saw Mr cruisOVO and the lawyer getting into the car.”

  “And?”

  “It was considered unimportant by my superiors because all they saw was two people getting in a car. Let me try this.”

  The ball disappeared in a haze of light, which reformed into the figure of a human woman. She wore a dark blue suit with a silver silk scarf tied around her neck. Harry gawped.

  “That is very realistic,” she said. “Now why do you look familiar?”

  “The only reference I have for human figures is one of the news channels,” Tee said in a throaty voice.

  “That’s it.” The marshal pushed a finger through the figure. “You look solid.”

  “I’m top of the line,” Tee said.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “You are not a bot.”

  “No, but I’m still top of the line.” I would have grinned if I had lips and teeth.

  “But look, I had a suggestion for a line of enquiry that the Hive would not let me take.”

  “What was that?” Marshal Harry asked.


  “The compound the lorry was usurped from… they wouldn’t let me go question the owners. There are a lot of lorry parks in that area, and there might be a reason the killer picked that one.”

  “Interesting point,” Marshal Harry said. “Can we have your record of the interviews you did of those witnesses?”

  “If it were up to me,” T Bot said, “I’d give you the recording.”

  “We can get a court order, since this is part of an ongoing investigation.”

  “Won’t help. The Investonidia erased that portion of my memory once they decided they had no use for it.”

  Marshal Harry staggered as if she had been struck. I started infrared scans in case the Invisible Man had escaped again.

  “They destroyed evidence?” she said. “How very dare they?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” holo-bot said. “I’m just their top-of-the-line translator.”

  “Okay, in that case, we will be heading out before your mistress becomes upset again.”

  “Please don’t call them that,” holo-bot said. “Mistress makes the relationship sound kinkier than it is. They are just the owners.”

  Holo-bot walked out, but as the doors closed and the elevator started up the shaft, I thought I heard a stampede of eight-legged cows.

  “I used to think they were glamorous,” I said. “I’ve rather gone off them now.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Can we break for lunch?” I asked as we arrived back on the street. The early afternoon traffic was non-existent.

  “For some reason, I don’t feel hungry,” LB said.

  “When is the last time you ate?” Harry asked.

  “Thursday… or Wednesday. Come on, Uncle Pops’ opened up. You know you love his pizzas, LB.”

  “But I’m thinking we could do the interview with this last lot and then call it a day,” Harry said.

  “You know, if we want the real background on the OVO family since they arrived on Smuds, there’s only one place to go.” LB pointed a thumb at the open shutters across the street.

  “Okay, I might manage a nibble, and to be honest the avianforms are always so arrogant I don’t mind putting off that interview,” Harry agreed. She led the way across the street. Pizza is the one human invention that conquered the universe, but for some reason it is always sold by Ytols.

  Inside the shutters was a wooded glade with a bonfire in the middle and a Ytol tending it. His four tusks were a full two metres long and his barrel chest was a full tonne. I placed two claws on a stool, hauled my head above counter level, and used my fourth pair of claws to hold me there. It was all-you-can-eat day at Pops’, my favourite day.

  “Knock off the show, we need to talk to Pops,” I said.

  The Ytol stood, stretched to his full height, and in a bass voice down about G-7 announced: “I am Pops. What can I get you?”

  “Get Pops. Stop pratting around.” The glade and fire faded, revealing an ordinary kitchen with a stainless-steel sink and cookers.

  “Chunglie, what do you want?” the old Ytol said without looking up. He was seated next to the sink on a stool while the automatic kitchen cooked the food. His tusks were thirty centimetres long and his shoulders were stooped with age. Pops had been around since the first days of the port, and even the best anti-aging meds give up eventually.

  “First, I want—"

  “You read my sign, right?” He pointed a thumb at the sign attached to the wall next to the shutters.

  “All you can eat except Chunglie,” I read. “Wise choice because I’m tough to chew.”

  “Very funny,” Pops said. “You ate me out of a week’s profits last time, so I’m banning you from the deal.”

  “Hey, you can’t do that.”

  “Done it already.”

  “But—"

  “Getting back to why we are here,” LB interrupted. “Am I right in believing you would know about the doings of the OVO family on this planet?”

  Pops choked and leaned forward in his chair, spluttering.

  “That old swindler is dead,” he said eventually. “And you are best leaving his secrets buried.”

  “So his business empire is not on the square?” LB asked.

  “No, and you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “Could we have some details?” Marshal Harry asked. “What was he up to, and could it have gotten him or his grandson killed?”

  Pops looked pointedly at the menu.

  “Three Neapolitans with sliced wahoo,” I said. “And a coke.”

  “And what are you two having?” Pops asked, looking at LB and the marshal.

  “Hey, I wasn’t finished ordering,” I complained.

  “You eat that, you pay for it, then you can order some more,” the old grouch said. He knows me too well.

  “I’ll have the same, but can you make mine with purple wahoo?” LB said.

  “I’ll have a small Neapolitan and a coke,” the marshal ordered. Without mentioning it, Pops slipped a little pineapple onto the marshal’s pizza. Personally, I think this is why humans are so small; they eat weird shit like pineapple. The automatic systems delivered the pizzas. As I reached for that first hot, round mix of perfection, the metal arm yanked it out of reach.

  “Apologise to the kitchen,” Pops said.

  “What for?”

  “You were rude and hurt its feelings. You know this is the best kitchen money can buy.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry and you are the best pizzamaker in the star system.” The pizza was slipped back within reach and I pushed it down my throat whole. I have taste buds in my crop.

  “Now, can you tell us about Grandpa OVO?” Marshal Harry asked. Pops held out his empty hand and looked pointedly at it. We handed over currency.

  “Okay,” he said. “You may have heard rumours that I worked for the Auld Gowk Cabal when I was younger and my bones less brittle?”

  “Sure,” I said. “They called you the Muscle from Pussle, although I never heard why.”

  “Those rumours weren’t true,” Pops said hurriedly. “Let’s just say that I knew some guys who knew some guys.”

  “Okay,” Marshal Harry said. “You realise this isn’t a formal interview, we are just looking for a bit of background?”

  “Sure, I know that. But look, berOVO was the real deal. Place at the high table. Not a leg breaker, more like he handled the cartels money. Made the ill-gotten gains disappear from, like, over there.” Pops pointed to the middle distance and then made a fist. “And reappear as nice clean cash from respectable businesses here.”

  “Could that have led to his untimely demise?”

  “You want a lot for the price of seven pizzas, huh?”

  “I’ll have another round of pizzas,” I said. “With chocolate ice cream and custard for topping.”

  Harry slapped a hand over her face and rubbed it.

  “Warn me before you start eating that,” she said. “I want to turn my back and stick my fingers in my ears.”

  “Your loss.”

  “Okay, then I’ll tell you, that… ah… that guy I knew that knew some guys?” Pops said. “It was common knowledge that berOVO was out. The high table found out how much he was skimming and they were pissed.”

  “Did they get the money back?” Marshal Harry asked. “Because that gives the cartel a motive to assassinate cruisOVO.”

  “Suddenly,” LB said, “I don’t feel hungry anymore.”

  “If they did, I wouldn’t be selling pizzas in my old age now, would I?”

  The marshal and LB walked off and left me to slurp down my dessert. I caught them up outside a booth shop.

  “Oh no,” I said. “I hate these things.”

  “The Avioles HQ is off world and we don’t have the budget to visit them in person,” Marshal Harry said. “This is all that was available.”

  The outer wall was a glass panel that showed a large room with doors against the inner wall. The marshal entered and we followed. The walls were cream coloured, the carpet was cream col
oured, and the doors were cream coloured.

  “I could nod off just looking at the décor in this place,” I said.

  “Right behind you,” LB said.

  “Good evening sirs and… gender of choice?” A hologram appeared, changed from Moordanaap to centipoid to a male wrestler in a blue mini dress and boots as it tried to work out who was paying the bills. “How may I be of assistance this fine morning?”

  “It is late afternoon, raining,” I pointed out. “And only the female humans wear dresses.”

  “My apologies, I have had no maintenance for some months.” The hologram changed to a woman in the blue dress and boots. “You may call me Helpful… Oh, I do not seem to have a human name ready, my apologies.”

  “Ma’am, I appreciate the effort you’ve made, I know there are not a lot of humans in this star system,” Marshal Harry said politely. “We have a booth booked under the name Ward?”

  “Ah yes, but that’s this afternoon and it is only—"

  “Late afternoon. I already said,” I pointed out.

  “And I already pointed out I have had no maintenance for years, damn it,” the holo-suit barked back. “Right, this booth is vacant. When you are ready to make your call, just enter and press the red button.”

  I scurried through an open door. The room was as bland and empty as the outer room.

  “There’s no red button,” I pointed out.

  “When you close the door, the room activates and the red button will appear.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us that, smart ar—"

  “Chunglie, there’s no need for that kind of language,” Marshal Harry interrupted. “Let’s get on with making this call while Helpful gets on with her work.”

  I shrugged my front segment. There’s no point arguing with the marshal; she’s too good at it. Still don’t see the point of being polite to machinery, except bar staff, though.

  “Are you sure you want to talk with Nixtom Agency?” LB said as he followed us into the room and closed the door. “The last two interviews didn’t go well, and the Nixtoms are known for their arrogance and smugness.”

  “You never know what you’ll find,” the marshal said. The red button appeared on a stand in the middle of the floor and she pressed it. “Until you turn over the rock.”