Book 3: 3rd World Products, Inc

by Ed Howdershelt

  I whispered, “Control, you see me?"

  Wallace said, “Yeah, you're onscreen, Ed. This kind of imaging makes you look as if you're wearing a bright blue space suit. Are you ... Oops. Sor ... Oh, hell. Just give me a sitrep."

  "Thanks for remembering to try to remember, Control. Every floor in there is like one of Dante's rings, but they're all the same ring. There are shooters, starers, whiners, sobbers, and crazy laughers. I guess with this group, there's no real change except that they're all gonna die soon and they know it."

  "Why do you keep calling us 'Control', Ed? The intel mission was pretty much over when the canister leaked."

  "Feels right. Habit. Thirty years of it, Control, with somebody monitoring the op and me as the point man, being called 'Dragonfly'. Always kind of liked that nick, even though it makes me think of all the times we couldn't use any of our names or known aliases in Europe. And the time that dumbassed Italian paper published lists of US operatives. Those were some damned interesting times."

  "They sure were,” said Linda. “Too damned interesting."

  "Well, I see you didn't just hand the flitter over to him, boss."

  "Nope. He's still a newbie. But he's learning fairly fast."

  "He's just trying to impress you, ma'am. Ignore him and he'll think he has to try harder. Linda, when did symptoms begin showing up in the lab rats?"

  There was silence for several moments, then, “Oh, dear God, no. Not you..?"

  "No, Linda. I'm clean. I want to know, that's all. I have an idea."

  "You're sure, Ed? Very sure? Absolutely?"

  "Yes, I'm sure. Just listen, okay? I've been seeing what people do to each other for over thirty years, Linda. So have you. So have lots of people, but not necessarily the people who start this kind of shit. Not necessarily the people who send money to support 'the cause', whatever it may be, that masks and spreads hatred like this. We've always seen it, Linda. Us, the doctors and morticians, and all the other cleanup crews of the world. We need to get what's happening here on tape, from the time the first symptoms appear to the last nasty details and ugly death. How people treat each other and how they suffer at each others’ hands. The remnants of the shootout on the first floor. Every damned little thing. Then we need to edit it for maximum impact and anonymously send a copy to every nutcase preacher, halfwit racist, and any damned body else who isn't altogether for peace on Earth and goodwill toward all men, including Amarans."

  I took a breath and continued, “We can make the biggest, baddest, most disgusting snuff film ever made and beat the bastards over the head with it every goddamned day for as long as it takes. Friends and families of these particular deceased true believers should get the first copies of the videotapes. What do you think? Would it turn some of those assholes around if they could actually see the effects of what their 'preachers' advocate?"

  Linda said, “Ed, I want you to come out of there. Now. I'm bringing the flitter down for you."

  "Just hang on a minute, Linda. Are the other two flitters sentient, Steph?"

  "No, Ed. Not yet. The potential is in them, though."

  "So if they were wiped now, it would be no real loss, right?"

  "I guess that would depend on your point of view, Ed."

  "You heard what I want to do, Steph. I need one to send in probes, but I don't want the controlling flitter to suffer from the experience. Not even a non-sentient flitter should have to endure that. I'll want to wipe it afterward, because if this shit's in its memory and it becomes sentient ... What do you think, Steph? This time I need your input and advice."

  Linda said, “Ed, listen to me. Come out of there. Now, dammit!"

  "Linda, I'm trying to snag a recording deal, here. I'm not going crazy, okay? I'm looking for a way to prevent this kind of craziness in the world."

  Steph said, “You're talking about sending copies to other innocents, Ed. Human innocents."

  "These dying people under my feet came from somewhere, Steph. I'm only proposing that we send back the results of their childrens’ handiwork to try to prevent more of it. Every fundy preacher and ayatollah of every type and stripe, every right-wing rabble rouser with an agenda and a fat budget that needs fed, all of their minions..."

  Steph said, “I'll supply a flitter and probes on one condition, Ed."

  "A condition!? What kind of condition?"

  "That you do as Linda says immediately and let someone else handle distribution if that videotape is ever made."

  "How do I get their promise that it will be made, Steph?"

  "I'm not sure you can, Ed. It may not be up to them."

  Wallace entered the link on Linda's pad with, “If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you are crazy, pal, and I'll personally guarantee you no deal at all if you open..."

  I cut him off. “No! I'm not planning to open my suit, Wallace. Damn! If I have to face a goddamned psych later because of something you said on record, Wallace, you'd better hope I never see daylight again, ‘cause I'll only use it to find you. Don't be stupid. My name isn't Jesus and I don't want to be a goddamned martyr, especially when there's going to be a whole warehouse full of them right under my feet! I just want to know what it will take to get the goddamned tape made and get it out there!"

  "Do it now, Steph,” said Linda.

  Do what now? Do they think I've gone nuts?

  I felt the field surround and immobilize me, then snatch me upward and over to land on a flitter deck. Four gunshots sounded below us and bullets smacked into the air conditioning unit's slats, shattering and splintering a few. A man with one of those really big-assed pistols was hunkered behind a vent about thirty feet away from where I'd been standing, aiming precisely at where I had been standing. He cautiously stood and approached his target zone, waving his left arm searchingly ahead as he covered the area with the pistol.

  Once by the a/c unit, he knelt and searched some more, then really became unsettled when he couldn't find his supposed victim. He quickly stood and backed away, trying to look in all directions at once and waving the pistol back and forth.

  Linda said, “I don't know what tipped him that you were there, Ed. He shouldn't have been able to hear you over the air conditioner's noise."

  Knowing I wouldn't be able to see her or her flitter, I looked for her anyway as I asked, “Steph? How about visual link with Linda?” then said, “We know of at least one other person who can see me when I'm in my four suit, Linda. Maybe he could, too. Maybe he didn't think much of my movie idea, either?"

  Linda's face appeared on a field screen. “Apparently not, if he heard you at all,” she said. “How do you feel, Ed?"

  "Would you people stop asking me that? I'm okay. Fine. No problem."

  Steph said, “His bioscan is fine, Linda. All within normal. No hint of the virus."

  "He is not to get off your deck until one of our doctors clears him, Steph. The bureaucrats will have my ass if we don't do it that way."

  "Agreed, Linda."

  "Okay, then. I'll authorize the probes, but no guarantees about publication. That wouldn't be up to me, anyway."

  "I thought not. Thank you, Linda. Ed, you may wish to see this."

  Steph put up a another screen that showed six glowing dots streaking toward the roof stairwell entrance. In a tight cluster, they zipped through the doorway and disappeared.

  "Thanks, Steph,” I said, “Maybe I'm just tired, but I'll be damned if I can figure out how you schemed with Linda to grab me without my knowing it."

  "Look at the console, Ed."

  I did. On the console screen were the terse details of their planning.

  I asked, “Why the hell didn't one of you just tell me to move a few feet and tone it down some?"

  Steph said, “That didn't occur to me. My only thought was to get you aboard me."

  Linda grinned and said, “It occurred to me, Ed. I just liked Steph's idea better."

  "Wallace,” I said, “You see what I've been putting up with for thirty ye
ars?"

  "I could spare you the next thirty and take her off your hands, Ed. What's it worth to you?"

  "One gold doubloon. That's her whole dowry and you'll probably have to fight her for it."

  He said, “The beer for saving your ass is a totally separate deal, right?"

  "You oughta be glad you're getting anything, Wallace. Yeah, sure. All right. Done."

  "Good enough, then. Oh, hey, will you be available to give her away? Just to make it official?"

  "Sure. Just say when."

  Linda broke in with, “That's it. That's enough. In fact, that's more than enough. This is a business line. Clear the channel. Wallace, we'll talk later. Count on it."

  Wallace said, “Uh, oh. I think we found the line, Ed."

  "Seems so. Did we actually cross it, though?"

  "Don't know. I..."

  Linda's hand descended toward the ‘off’ icon and the screen blanked.

  I tapped the ‘off’ icon on my screen and asked Steph, “Do you think they or anybody else will take my video idea seriously?"

  Steph appeared beside me and said, “If they don't, I'll have a copy of everything, Ed. Maybe you can make your own."

  I leaned to kiss her cheek and said, “Thank you."

  My lips tingled. I looked at Steph and then looked harder at where I'd kissed her.

  What the hell...? Touching her has never tingled before.

  When I reached to verify the tingling by touching her, I saw—or should I say that I didn't see—that I was still in my four and five suits. I knew where my arm and hand were supposed to be, but they were still invisible and shielded.

  "Options off,” I said. “That was an interesting effect, ma'am. My lips are still tingling."

  "I noticed a tactile difference, too,” she said. “Well, not the way you noticed, of course, but there was a minor surface disturbance along...” She went on to describe in field mechanics what had registered on her sensors. I didn't understand more than two dozen words of it.

  I picked up my coffee mug and tasted the contents as I thought about my tingly experience with Steph's cheek. Cold—the coffee, that is, not Steph—so I pulled the top off the mug and dropped a tiny heat field into the coffee. Waste not, want not, and all that. I went back to my musings until Steph called my name.

  "Yes?” I answered, rousing and looking up at her.

  "Your coffee,” she said. “It's boiling out of the cup."

  Sure enough, it was.

  "Oh. Damn. Thanks, Steph. I was distracted."

  I don't like scalding coffee any more than cold coffee. I dipped a cooling field into it for a moment, then tasted it. Good enough.

  As I put the cap back on the mug, Steph said, “You aren't particularly tired, Ed. What's on your mind?"

  "You. That sensation just now."

  "I thought so. I found it most pleasant as a demonstration of affection, Ed, but I'm afraid that it would require extensive reprogramming to simulate sensual..."

  "No, that wasn't what I was thinking about, although I can't think of a reason in the world not to try if you ever decide to give that kind of programming a shot. I was thinking that you're the first woman I've kissed in a long time wherein some degree of lust wasn't pretty much directly involved at the time of the kiss."

  "You're sure about that? I have the face and body of your dreams, Ed."

  "And the modesty of an advertising executive, it seems."

  She grinned at me and said, “Sorry, but I know that for a fact due to measured involuntary responses. I've become your dream girl, Ed. How can you be at all sure that no lust was involved in that kiss?"

  "Oh, no doubt about it, Steph. At that moment, it was a simple thank you. As simple as such things can be. It was an 'I like you very much' kiss."

  "Many experts believe that boys stop kissing girls like that at puberty, Ed. Of course, most of them are grown women by the time they come to that conclusion."

  The comm signal sounded. I tapped the console on.

  "Ed,” said Linda. “How are you holding up?"

  "I'm fine, and I've asked you to quit asking, Linda. I promise that I'll let you know when I'm not fine. The whole building is infected. What's to be done about that? This isn't some grass hut village they can burn in the middle of nowhere in Africa."

  "Elkor says his generator is good for fifty years, Ed. I'm sure we'll come up with something before then."

  Chapter Forty-One

  I looked at the warehouse and the people on the roof. In a couple of hours, their symptoms would be...

  Linda broke that train of thought.

  "Ed."

  "Yeah, Linda."

  "This is as good a time as any to tell you. Washington says we may all be quarantined when this is over. We can't tell everybody about some of our capabilities, so we may have to go through some motions for the public."

  "Why are you saying that we 'may' be quarantined, Linda? If Washington is involved, it's a certainty. Pandering to paranoia is what politicians do best."

  "They said 'may', so that's what I'm saying, but you're probably right."

  "Oh, well. As long as we get breakfast in bed and room service during the quarantine, I don't mind."

  "Oh, sure, Ed. Just call extension ... uhm ... I think for you, it's ‘six, six, six' for room service."

  Linda and Wallace chortled briefly over her little joke. Her very tiny joke.

  "You guys aren't gonna let me up about that, are you?"

  Wallace chimed in with, “Not a chance. You used to be the Dragonfly. Now your ops name will be Devil."

  "I'm still the Dragonfly, you overpaid rust chipper. I won't answer to anything else. You told everybody aboard about the quarantine, Linda?"

  "Yes. They're nearly as nervous about that virus as Washington."

  "I'll bet they are. Steph, since you're fairly uninfectable, I guess you're elected to go for the beer."

  "Oh, yes, sir, Mr. Devil, sir."

  As Linda and Wallace chuckled, I asked, “You, too, flitter girl?"

  "I'm afraid so, Ed. I also thought that the manner in which you talked that woman out of shooting at you was rather amusing. In a macabre sort of way, of course."

  Steph's words caused another round of muted laughter, even though the people on the roof couldn't hear us through our canopy fields. I wondered briefly at how people tend to keep things quieter when either the dead or the dying were near. At least one other person also seemed to be wondering about that.

  Somebody aboard the other flitter swore viciously and said, “Those people are dying down there and you're cracking jokes! Does anybody else think there's something wrong with this picture!?” It was Pete again, this time more than a little outraged by our banterings.

  Linda said, “One more word and you'll spend this mission asleep, Pete. You can bring up your objections when we get back to base."

  Pete said loudly, “No! It's happening now and it isn't right! They're as good as dead, and whatever else they may be, they deserve some respect!"

  Now and then I've been on hand to see Linda deal with disruptions. I had a feeling that this was Wallace's first exposure to that side of her.

  "Pete,” said Linda, “Come up here, please."

  I saw Pete enter the console's immediate view. Without a word, Linda slipped her stunner out of her sleeve holster and used it on him. Pete slumped instantly to the deck and Linda requested that he be placed in the rear of the flitter and cuffed.

  "Cuffed?” asked one of the others.

  "Cuffed. Put his gear up here by the console. He'll wake up in about an hour. If he can stay cool, let him loose. If he gets loud again, he gets stunned again. If necessary, he can stay unconscious until we get back to base."

  The man asked, “Do you really think this is necessary, ma'am?"

  Linda didn't answer him. She just gazed intently at him until he waved to one of the other guys to help him drag Pete to the rear of the flitter. A few moments later, they tossed Pete's gear on the deck
near the console. I couldn't see how Wallace reacted to events and he made no comments.

  "People,” said Linda, “I don't mind explaining my orders. I don't mind having to justify them, in fact, but I won't tolerate a disruptive argument or a refusal to comply with my orders in the middle of a mission. Each of us is dealing with what's happening in his or her own way, but none of us has the right to be disruptive during this mission or any other mission for any reason."

  She took a breath and looked around the flitter, then indicated the people on the roof below and continued, “Things went to hell, people. We don't get to go in and bust a bunch of neo-Nazis, after all, because they did something terminally stupid. We're stuck up here until this is over, and things will get a lot worse for everyone before then, so it's up to all of us to keep things cool. Also, we may be quarantined together for a few days. Count on it, in fact, unless we hear otherwise. Anyone who can't control themselves will wind up like Pete. You have pads and your bedrolls. Use them. Read, play games, sleep, whatever. Wallace will assign two-man watches."

  Someone asked, “Ma'am, none of us have been on that roof since before the virus was released. Why will we have to be quarantined at all?"

  "Because some very frightened people outrank us."

  Someone else asked, “Where will they put us?"

  "Probably in hangar four. Don't worry. We won't be camping on concrete."

  When nobody else spoke up, Linda turned to face her screen and asked me, “What about you? Any questions?"

  I shrugged and said, “Elkor can feed Tiger and I don't answer my phone much, anyway."

  Linda nodded and said, “Okay, then. Want me to leave the comm link open?"

  My puzzlement at her question must have showed in my face. Before I could answer, she said, “Okay. I just thought you might like the company. Keep the link clear, though, in case anything comes up."

  With a grinning glance at me, Wallace said, “He could have hopped over here at any time, Linda. He thinks he's too good to socialize with us, that's all."