I put my hand in my pants pocket just to distract my brain and felt a square of paper. I pulled out a small white card printed with the black and red Earth First Isolationists’ logo. I looked at it and that reminded me of something.
“With all this talk about money,” I said, “do you think you might be able to talk your government or Tomáso’s into funding the Earth First Isolationists?”
“The ultra-reactionary Luddites in Fort Collins, Colorado?” said Shepherd.
“No, the senior citizens Cornell was paying to carry Isolationist protest signs in front of the Georgia state capitol building four days a week,” I said. “I’m concerned that with Zwilniki’s empire collapsing the seniors will lose their supplemental checks and their opportunities for fellowship and fresh air.”
“I am not going to authorize funding a planetary isolationist organization,” said Shepherd.
“No, no,” I said. “Just keep funding the people. We can change the name of the organization to Seniors for GaFTA or something. I don’t want them to lose out because we took down Zwilniki.”
“On that basis, fine,” said Shepherd. “I’ll connect with Oscar Mosley and work out the details.”
Was there anything Shepherd didn’t know?
Apparently, yes.
I noticed motion deeper in the shadows underneath the freighter. Was that the glint of a pistol in someone’s hand? Then I saw muzzle flashes and felt five hammer blows to my solar plexus and ribcage. Thunderous echoes struck my ears like another physical blow. I fell back. My head hit the hanger floor, then… blackness.
Chapter 34
“I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it.” ― Groucho Marx
“Jack.”
“Jack.”
“Jack.”
I was hearing Poly’s voice. Was she saying my name? My brain felt fuzzy, like a cross between a Wookie and an Ewok dipped in Rogaine. My chest felt like Tomáso had been tap dancing on my ribs. It hurt to breathe.
“Jack? Can you hear me?”
I tried to move my vocal chords.
“Huuhhh?”
“It’s me, Poly. Open your eyes, sweetheart.”
She called me sweetheart.
I lifted one eyelid, then the other, and made a loopy, lopsided attempt at a smile. Poly squeezed my hand.
“Look at me.” She squeezed again.
I turned my head very slowly and worked hard to keep Poly’s lovely face in focus.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Thursday.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Uh-huh. Three.”
“It’s two. Congratulations, you’ve got a mild concussion.”
“Thanks. Where am I?”
“Your apartment. In your bed. Shepherd and I got you here in your van after you were shot.”
“I was shot?”
“Five times. You’d be dead if you weren’t wearing your pupa silk vest.”
“Not being dead is nice,” I said. It was, wasn’t it?
“And you hit your head when you fell.”
That might explain why I hurt all over. I tried to do a physical inventory. My upper right thigh burned. Dinosaur claw cut? Dinosaur? Was that the concussion talking? My ribs and stomach felt like they’d been through six rounds of medieval combat against a knight with a muckin’ big mace. My brain, as I’d noted, was fuzzy, and the back of my skull felt like it had stopped a swinging baseball bat. Wait a second? I was shot?
“Who shot me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Huh?”
“They got away.”
I tried to test fire a few more synapses and surprised myself by coming up with an answer.
“Columbia Brown.”
“The saboteur from Morphicouture?” Poly made a rhyme.
I nodded. “I trapped her… on one of the freighters...”
“Shepherd and his people can track her down later. Right now he’s getting you a doctor.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.” She kissed me. It worked once, so I tried again.
“I’m fine.”
That got me another kiss. She put her palm on top of my hand.
“You may not be fine now, but if you can pull stuff like that to get kisses, I’m sure you will be fine soon.
“Soon,” I echoed, my eyes fluttering closed.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart. The doctor is coming.”
“Not s’p’os’d to sleep with a concussion…” I said.
“That’s been disproved, Jack. Sleep is good. Knit the raveled sleeve of care.”
The warmth of her hand on mine was soothing. I liked that. I liked Poly. From now on things were going to be a lot more interesting.
I slept, with visions of thousands of cuddly little pink rabbots dancing in my head.
Please visit
www.XenotechSupport.com
for more details about
the universe of Xenotech Support
and the Galactic Free Trade Association
Jack & Poly’s adventures will continue in
Xenotech Support: Queen’s Gambit
Sign up for the Xenotech Support mailing list
on the web site to get advance notice of publication.
You may also enjoy:
From Artifact Imprints
Communion of Dreams
by James T. Downey
www.communionofdreams.com
Dedication
To my wife, Amy Guildroy, for her partnership and support. She is my Poly.
Copyright © 2015 by Paul David Schroeder
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by Dan Paulson
Image of Spiral Galaxy M81
courtesy of NASA and the
Space Telescope Science Institute
Spiral Arm Press
1725 Carlington Court
Grayson, GA 30017
www.spiralarmpress.com
About the Author
Dave Schroeder is a retired Chief Information Officer who has done his share of tech support. He’s served as Chief Technology Officer for a Bay Area dotcom and led the commerce division of a major Internet consulting company. He also wrote the book, lyrics and music for Softwear.com, a musical comedy produced off-off-Broadway. Dave lives in suburban Atlanta where he enjoys writing and voice acting with the Atlanta Radio Theatre Company.
Xenotech Rising: A Novel of the Galactic Free Trade Association (Xenotech Support Book 1) Page 32