Xenotech Rising: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 1)

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Xenotech Rising: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 1) Page 20

by Dave Schroeder


  “But at what price, Jack? Being a management trainee with a shot at running GalCon Systems in thirty years after decades of corporate infighting and ass kissing? Being required to take orders from people who don’t understand the intricacies of Pâkk dominance hierarchies or how to tell when a Nicósn is lying? Being told to just ‘make it work’ when some tech spec violates the laws of physics just because bigwig corporate suits think galtech is so much magic?”

  I squeezed her hand to acknowledge her frustration. I’d been there and didn’t want any of that either.

  “Dammit, Jack, I want to build a company and have fun doing it. I’d planned to put in a few years on the management track at a multi-stellar megacorp and then start or join a small company, but now I’m thinking ‘Why wait?’ Look at what’s happened over the last two days—you can’t say your business is boring. And you told me you were ready to add employees.”

  It was my turn to tilt my head and let the gears turn. Poly saw my thoughtful expression and gave me time to process. I mapped out dozens of decision trees and weighed hundreds of variables in my head. Poly had more and better skills than anyone a small company like Xenotech Support had a chance of hiring. She was too high powered to be a subordinate and I certainly didn’t want her reporting to me. That would lead to all kinds of problems, business and romantic. But the two of us, together, could build the company twice as fast. I consulted my heart and my gut, too. Then I spoke.

  “I’m not going to hire you.”

  Poly looked hurt and tried to pull her hands away. I held them tight. “Your qualifications are too strong for you to be just an employee. I’d like you to join me as a full partner in XSC.”

  “I accept.”

  “Great,” I said. “Partner.”

  We released our hands and shook on it with exaggerated formality, then I walked around the table and gave her a hug. Her eyes were shining. I remembered the last box from Pierre and continued the conversation.

  “Can we have dessert before we discuss terms?”

  “Terms?” said Poly, carrying her dishes, silverware and empty take-out containers to the kitchen. I followed her with the equivalent items from my side of the table.

  “And conditions.” We bumped sides and hips as we stood at the counter looking at take-out box #6.

  “Conditions?” said Poly. “What do you have in mind?”

  I put my arm around her while we cuddled vertically and considered what might be in the box.

  “Terms,” I said, “like the value you bring to the partnership based on your skills. You can earn-in against the equity I’ve already built up in the business. I think a three year vesting schedule would work well with, say, ten percent in year one and twenty percent each in years two and three. That way you don’t need to provide any cash.”

  “Decisions would still be made fifty-fifty from the start?”

  “Of course. We also need to work out what to do if we decide to end the partnership or bring in another partner.”

  “That makes sense.” Her hand found mine at counter-top height. It felt quite nice.

  “Which brings me to another key point.”

  “Can it wait for a minute?” said Poly. “I’d like dessert and am dying to know what’s in the last box.”

  “Sure,” I said, trying to keep enough presence of mind to remember all the things we needed to talk about despite the distraction of her warm hand and her body touching mine at hip and shoulder. I held the bottom of the box which was shaped like a dumbbell, two circles joined by a rectangle. Poly removed the lid. Inside were two bowls at the circle ends and some odd-looking utensils in the middle. The bowls were labeled “A” and “B” and a small card in the center section read “Pour A into B and stand back.”

  “What have Pierre and Françoise got up their sleeves?” said Poly, taking the foil cover off bowl “A” and revealing a clear viscous liquid. I took the cover off bowl “B” and saw it was filled with tiny grains of what looked like multicolored sand.

  “You pour,” I said. “I’ll stand back.”

  “My hero,” she said. I took a step back but to Poly’s amusement ended up standing behind her with my arms around her waist. She cuddled into my embrace and poured. I took three steps back and pulled Poly with me. I wasn’t sure what the proper safe distance would be. The mixture in bowl “B” seemed to bubble for a few seconds and then erupted into dozens of different colored stalks like Styrofoam worms nearly a yard tall. Each stalk bent outward and they collectively smelled like ginger and cherries and galberries and lemon and a dozen other pleasant fruits with terrestrial and GaFTA origins. Poly disengaged from my arms and looked in the middle section of box #6 again. There was a roll of some sort of soft edible ribbon and two pairs of tongs with slicing blades like scissors just behind the grasping part. She unrolled the edible ribbon and used it to control the stalks so they were all pointing up instead of falling in every direction.

  “Let’s enjoy this in the living room,” I said, putting bowl “B” on a plate and carrying it to the coffee table. Poly followed with the tongs.

  “Pierre and Françoise have outdone themselves,” said Poly. “I’ve never seen anything like this at the Teleport Inn, but I’m not often there at dinnertime.”

  “I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”

  I settled in on my faux leather sofa. Poly nestled next to me under my right arm, making me glad I was left-handed.

  “You would,” she said.

  “Would what?”

  “Have a sofa covered in faux leather.”

  “I couldn’t resist.” Faux were a quadruped herbivore species native to Tigrammon.

  “Let’s see how these work,” said Poly. She used the scissor parts of one of the pairs of tongs to cut most of the way through a two-inch section from the top of a red stalk. With the grasping part of the tongs she held the section and snapped it off, then offered it to me. “You first.”

  “If you insist.” My teeth bit into the offering and I slid it into my mouth. The flavor of ginger and cherries exploded on my tongue. It tingled like a highly carbonated soft drink. It was almost all flavor, not substance. I could see why Pierre and Françoise would make the dish for us. They must be romantics, too, since this dessert was sweet, sensual and sharable, but not filling. I cut off a few inches of an orange stalk and fed it to Poly. She closed her eyes and savored the flavors. I could smell the scent of Mandarin oranges.

  “Mmmmmmmm….”

  “You like it?” I said. Poly cut off an orange piece for me and dangled it over my mouth.

  “Taste for yourself.” I opened wide and lunged up for it.

  “Double Mmmmmmmm…” It tasted like the distilled essence of the Platonic ideal of a Mandarin orange, puffed and carbonated.

  “This stuff is seriously addictive,” said Poly.

  “Mmmmmmmm….” I said.

  “You said something about another key point?”

  We leaned back on the sofa. Poly curled into my shoulder and looked up at me with a dreamy expression in her gold-flecked green eyes. It was a challenge not to just turn my brain off and enjoy the moment. But she was right—we had to talk. I sat up, slowly, and helped her sit up as well. We faced each other.

  “This is what we need to talk about,” I said, holding Poly’s hand.

  “This?”

  “Us. This.” I leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. We closed our eyes and held the kiss for just a beat.

  “This.” Her eyes opened and her expression reluctantly changed from dreamy to intent. “You first,” she said.

  “I’m incredibly attracted to you,” I said. “You’re smart, competent, talented, driven and an all-round amazing person.” Her face lit up from my compliments and she leaned closer to me. “If we’re going to be business partners I want to make sure that’s not going to make things weird for you, or for me. If it is, we can decide which is more important, our personal or professional relationships.”

  “My turn. I�
�m incredibly attracted to you, too. Everything you’ve said about me applies to you. You’re one of the few men remotely near my age that I’ve met who’s not intimidated by me.” Poly squeezed my hand.

  “I can understand that,” I said.

  “Shush.” She playfully put a finger to my lips. “I expect to be working eighty-hour weeks to help grow Xenotech Support, at least for the first few years. I want to be able to talk shop over dinner without boring the person on the other side of the table.”

  “And I want to be with someone who will appreciate my trilingual puns—when two of the three languages are from off-planet.”

  Poly grinned. “Exactly. We seem well matched.”

  “And compatible physically and emotionally as well as intellectually.”

  “Very,” she said, and kissed me. It was a struggle to reconnect my business brain.

  “I’ll get started on a first pass on the partnership agreement for your review…”

  “Since I’ll be focused on completing all my coursework over the next six weeks…”

  “And we can take it slow and figure out the extent of our personal chemistry…”

  “While we work out the terms and conditions of our professional partnership,” said Poly. She looked thoughtful. “Could you email me financial details on XSC to date, please? I’d like to know what I’m getting into.”

  “I think you’ll like what you see,” I said. “It’s a low expense, high margin business.”

  “But not that easy to scale,” she said, her brows furrowing. “We’ll have to be creative when we map out our growth strategy.” I kissed her but her mind seemed to be drifting away on a tangent. “Hmmmm… I could use XSC as a case study for one of my final M.B.A. projects.” I shifted one of my hands enough to cut off a few inches of orange-colored stalk from Pierre and Françoise’s dessert and popped it into her mouth. Her look of concentration softened and her eyes closed as she shifted from business to sensual mode.

  When Poly’s eyes reopened I raised one eyebrow as if to say “Better?”

  “Uh huh,” she said, then looked at the tasty polychromatic bush in bowl “B.” “And there are so many more colors to try.” A note of glee appeared in her voice.

  “In a few minutes,” I said. “Delayed gratification is good for you.”

  “Not for too long, though.”

  “No. But I have a present for you.”

  “A present?” I passed her the aluminum foil wrapped shirt box I’d put on the coffee table earlier.

  “Is this what I think it is?” she said, pointing to the pink object on the package.

  “A rabbot’s foot.” I said. “For luck!”

  “I love it.” She leaned sideways and gave me a peck.

  “I hope you like what’s inside as much.”

  She carefully removed the foil from the box and opened it then lifted the translucent long-sleeved shirt from its nest of tissue paper. It was lighter than a t-shirt and softer than a well-loved pair of jeans.

  “Orishen pupa case silk?” Poly said, running the shirt fabric between her fingers.

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s very soft but stronger than Kevlar when hit. It will stop most bullets and knife blades. Try it on, I’ll turn my back.”

  “You don’t have to.” Poly stood up and pulled her blouse over her head. She was wearing a thin, sexy bra that left very little to the imagination. I smiled in appreciation but I’m not sure if she noticed since she now had the Orishen shirt over her head and was straightening it around her torso. “This feels really comfy,” she said.

  I picked up a pair of tongs and wrist-snapped them hard at Poly’s midsection. The shirt fabric went rigid. It felt like I’d hit a steel plate, minus the clang.

  “Wow!” said Poly. “I barely felt that. Do it again.”

  “Smack it yourself,” I said. “I have something else to get for you.” I walked over to my project alcove to see how my 3D printer was doing and was pleased to note that the belts and hilts and sheathes had finished fabbing. I put a dab of high strength adhesive in each hilt and inserted Spike’s incisors, then put both newly made knives into their sheathes and threaded them on their belts. I could hear Poly whacking herself with her fists as she tested the capabilities of her new present.

  “This is great, Jack,” she said as I returned to the living room. “It would be amazing for martial arts practice.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that but I’m sure you’re right,” I said. Note to self—new product idea.

  I stood in front of her and got very close as I buckled the belt around her hips. Then I stepped back. She looked like a warrior goddess incarnate.

  “This is beautiful,” she said as she removed the knife from its sheath.

  “It’s one of Spike’s baby teeth,” I said.

  “Terrhi’s pet?”

  “Yep.”

  She gently tested the edge and point against her abdominal muscles and was pleased when the shirt resisted the sharpness. “What’s in that?” she said. Poly pointed to the other box on the coffee table.

  “That’s my Orishen silk shirt.”

  “Put it on, please.” She was hefting the knife and spinning it on its guard in her hand. I was pleased to see I’d gotten the balance right.

  “Okay,” I said. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me with my shirt off before.”

  Poly smiled watched closely as I took my saffron shirt off and replaced it with the silk one. She put her knife back in its sheath and charged me, jumping to smack her chest against mine. Both shirts went rigid and we bounced apart. “That was fun!”

  “Ooof,” I said. “Was that some sort of martial arts move?”

  “No. That was me being playful,” said Poly. She put her green blouse back on over her pupa silk shirt.

  “Duly noted,” I said, sticking my head into my saffron colored shirt. I sat back down on the sofa, found her hand and pulled her down with me. She nestled into my shoulder and nibbled my ear. It tickled.

  “What would you say to testing the point where our Orishen shirts shift from soft to rigid?” I said. She put a hand on my knee.

  I feigned exasperation. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant,” said Poly. She left her hand where it was. She was clearly teasing me but then looked thoughtful as if she was finally remembering something she’d filed away in her head. I wonder if I looked that way when I made mental notes. “Hey, what did you mean about conditions? We never got to those?”

  “I was thinking about agreeing on key corporate policies as one of the conditions of our partnership.”

  “Oh?”

  “How do you feel about partners fraternizing?”

  “I’m for it,” said Poly, sliding her hand a few inches higher. I distracted her by kissing her. She tasted like Mandarin oranges.

  “Are we moving too fast?” I said.

  “Of course we are. Are you complaining?”

  “No,” I said, “but this is too special to risk ruining.”

  “Jack,” she said, sitting up and facing me. “You may have noticed that I’m driven and goal directed.”

  “Uh huh,” I said, “but lazy.” She smacked my shoulder and immediately regretted it as my Orishen silk shirt hurt her palm. I kissed it to make it better.

  “When I find something I want, I do whatever it takes to get it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “When I find something I want I like to make sure that it’s worth having.”

  “Do you have any doubts?”

  “No. But I really want my partner and my lover to be my best friend.”

  “I understand,” said Poly. “Have you ever had a best friend?”

  “No. I moved around too much.”

  “Me, too. My mom dragged me around on her book tours and travel guide research. My best friend was a stuffed Teddy Pâkk with an AI set for a five year old.”

  “Mine was my phone.”

  “Aren’t we a pair?” She kissed me on the tip of my
nose and smiled. “Friends, first?”

  “Friends first,” I said, and hugged her.

  “With benefits,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Delayed gratification is good for you.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  So I did.

  Every so often Poly and I would take a break to feed each other segments of flavor bush, which made the kissing even more enjoyable. Between kisses we talked about the future of XSC and our non-standard childhoods. Poly talked about the academic challenges remaining before she could graduate and I told crazy client stories. We were sharing the sort of intimate memories that build strong friendships. We were also kissing and cuddling and kissing. A lot of kissing. We were sharing a particularly lovely kiss that tasted like carbonated galberries and honey when a hyper-loud boom like a cannonball hitting my front door levitated us three feet off the sofa and nearly gave us both heart attacks. “Boom!” It happened again. Poly and I were both on our feet and straightening our clothes when it happened a third time. What the hell was going on? Was this a raid? An attack?

  A voice outside my door brought enlightenment.

  “Uncle Jack, Uncle Jack,” said Terrhi’s little girl piping soprano. “Daddy wants to talk to you. He says it’s urgent.”

  Chapter 21

  “Do not reveal what you have thought upon doing, but by wise council keep it secret being determined to carry it into execution.” — Chanakya

  “Come in, Terrhi,” I said, opening my front door and getting out of the way. Dauushans, even juvenile ones, take up a lot of space.

  “Ooooo,” said Terrhi. “Are you Poly? Are you Jack’s girlfriend?”

  “Yes, and you sent the lovely flowers for dinner tonight, thank you,” said Poly. “How thoughtful.”

  “Did you like the Orishen orchid necklace, too?”

  “Orchid necklace?” said Poly, looking at me.

  “For your date,” said Terrhi.

  “It was beautiful,” said Poly. I smiled sheepishly and kept my mouth shut.

  “Daddy helped me pick them since we didn’t know what you’d be wearing.”

  “I’ll have to thank him, too,” said Poly.

  “You can do it at the meeting,” I said. “Now that we’re partners you need to be fully informed.”

 

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