Caveat Fuzzy

by Wolfgang Diehr

  “Is all this necessary?” Gerd inquired. “I think either of the forces is sufficient. No disrespect to your security personnel, but your average space marine is worth three good civilians in a fight.”

  “Oh, I agree, up to a point. Don’t forget who trained my security force, and Chief Steefer is a retired army major. Still,” nodded Grego, “this is overkill in the extreme, which is just how I like it. To quote an actor from one of those old 2-D westerns that Diamond likes so much, ‘with this ostentatious display we might be saving some poor miscreant’s life’.” Grego did a passable impression of the actor he was referencing.

  Diamond, hearing his name, looked over from the portal he was using, then seeing that Pappy Vic and Pappy Gerd were not speaking to him, returned his attention to the aerial display outside.

  Gerd laughed. “Big Jake, right? My mother was hopelessly in love with John Wayne when I was a child. We couldn’t afford a Tri-D set, so we watched all those old Hollywood films.”

  “Hollywood in New Zealand?”

  “No, the original in, um, California, before World War Three. We were able to download the films from a public domain data stream.”

  Grego nodded again. “Yeah, for my mother it was Clark Gable and Mickey Failer…”

  “Failer?”

  “Second Century A.E. heartthrob. Even my daughter liked him.”

  Gerd nodded, then something struck him. “Wait…your daughter?”

  “By my first wife.” Grego noted the surprise on Gerd’s face. “Gerd, a man of my position and affluence could hardly be expected to live like a monk. I’ve been married three times. My first wife died in an accident, the other two divorced me. The consensus was that I am too married to my work to properly maintain a stable home-life. Thank Ghu I had the sense to get a pre-nup each time.”

  “Mr. Grego?” It was the yacht pilot. “Major Lansky and Lieutenant Commander Taylor want to know if you are ready to proceed to Alpha Continent, sir.”

  Taking one last glance out the portal, Grego took in the dig site with the prisoner work detail, the barge holding the rocket secured with fibroid straps and magna-clamps, and the sky full of navy craft. “The word is given. Second star on the right and straight on ’til morning.”

  “Sir?” Anga looked back, confused.

  “Tell them to proceed, Mr. Anga,” Grego said as he wondered if anybody read the classics, anymore. He quickly grabbed up Diamond and set him in his specially designed seat and harness. “Gerd, we need to strap in.”

  “We do?”

  “We most definitely do. Mr. Anga is an excellent pilot, the best, in fact, but I question his sanity when he’s at the controls. Trust me; you’ll want a harness on for this trip.”

  Later, Gerd said the flight back to Alpha Continent wasn’t so bad, though he white-knuckled his armrests the entire trip.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Jack had just finished his lunch and was about to return to his office when two aircars landed outside his cabin. He mentally flipped a coin and decided to follow doctor’s orders, for a change, and use the contra-gravity chair instead of walking out to meet his guests. Morgan was off surveying Epsilon Continent and Major Lunt was up to his badge dealing with trespassers, so Jack assumed it had to be his new assistants.

  From the first vehicle stepped out two attractive young women; Akira O’Barre and a young lady Jack had never met. From the second came Ruth van Riebeek and a girl in her early teens who looked familiar but Jack couldn’t place her.

  “Hi, Jack,” Ruth said. “I have a summer assistant for you.”

  Akira looked over at Ruth with a look of surprise on her face. “What? I thought I was the assistant.”

  “You are,” Ruth replied. She went on to explain that Ben had told her and Gerd that Jack needed some help while recovering, and two assistants, one experienced and one in training, might be better than one. “I’ll admit I twisted the Governor’s arm, a little.”

  Jack knew Akira worked for Victor Grego at the Charterless Zarathustra Company and would be highly qualified in her field. He suspected they would be doing more baby-sitting for the little blonde girl than getting any useful work out of her. He tactfully refrained from saying as much. “Well, I think a few introductions are in order. I am Jack Holloway, Chief Commissioner of Native Affairs.” Jack extended a hand to the woman with Akira as she was closest.

  “Betty Kanazawa, Mr. Holloway. I just gave Akira a lift over.” Betty took the hand and shook it warmly. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay the night and return home tomorrow.”

  “Uh…not at all. You two can take the guest room.” Jack was a little flustered by the young woman. Was she hitting on me? I must be old enough to be her grandfather. Jack turned to the blonde girl who introduced herself as Lolita. “Lolita? Wait—Lolita Lurkin?”

  “Yeah. Dat was me onna TV when dose Fuzzies got loose,” said Lolita. “I’m rilly sorry if dat wuz a prob’lem, Mistah Holloway.”

  Back when Jack was being tried for the murder of Kurt Borch, a few crooked cops on the CZC payroll tried to smear the Fuzzies as vicious brutes by claiming that they had attacked Lolita Lurkin. The truth that her own father had beaten her while drunk soon came out, exonerating the Fuzzies and putting the girl’s father in lockup.

  “Lolita has been in the foster system for the last two years and I thought a little work experience would be good for her,” Ruth explained. She added that Lolita’s mother had passed away five years earlier and that she had no other family on planet to stay with.

  “Why not? I had my first job at thirteen passing out flyers for the local stores. As long as Akira doesn’t mind training her.” Jack nodded to Akira, who smiled. In a near whisper he added to Ruth, “I suggest you butter her up but good since that isn’t what she signed on for.”

  Jack looked around at his cabin, the office building in the distance and the barracks a little further down. “But where will she stay? I only have so much room in the cabin, and the barracks is no fit place for a young lady—”

  “Oh, that’s not a problem,” Ruth interrupted. “She’ll stay with Gerd and me. Id, Syndrome, Complex and Superego will love having another Big One around.”

  Jack noticed a group of Fuzzies running over. “You like Fuzzies, Lolita?” She nodded. “Well, here’s a chance to introduce yourself to a whole mob of them.”

  The Fuzzies, Jack’s family and a large group of un-adopteds from the res, swarmed the newcomers. They were especially interested in Lolita as she was the smallest Big One most of them had ever seen.

  “Akira, maybe you would like to take a look at the office while I have a chat with Ruth. I’ll be along in a moment to help you get settled.”

  “Sure, Mr. Holloway. C’mon, Betty.”

  Jack turned to Lolita Lurkin who was still being mobbed by the Fuzzies. “Little Fuzzy, show Lolita around, and then bring her to the office, okay?”

  “Hokay, Pappy Jack. Lolita, come.” Lolita followed along as the Fuzzies led the way. Jack idly recalled a time when all the domestic Fuzzies spoke a mish-mash of Fuzzy and Terran. Now many of them spoke Lingua Terra almost as well as humans.

  Jack turned to Ruth. “Now tell me the real reason for the kid.”

  Ruth sighed. “Gerd said you would see through my story. Well, since Ivan Bowlby died there have been a lot of new prostitution rackets popping up to fill the void he left behind. Junktown girls Lolita’s age are especially preyed upon. I’ve been trying to find legitimate employment for all the foster girls who were thirteen, hoping to keep them off the streets. I’ve just about run out of workplaces in Mallorysport and at the CZC, so I was hoping you wouldn’t mind an extra hand. I cleared it with Ben. He says the budget can handle a few extra bodies on the payroll….”

  Jack held up a hand and Ruth stopped talking. “I would have liked a little heads up,” he admitted. “Oh, Nifflheim, the more the merrier. The kid can do gofer work and help around the office. The Fuzzies seem to like her, so I guess she’ll be okay. I’ll
even take one or two more if it will keep them away from the predators...provided they are prepared to earn their keep. Ghu knows where I’ll put them, though. Hey, if you have any teen boys in foster care, I could use one or two for the heavy lifting.

  “They can be put in the barracks with the NPF police. Spending time with a bunch of cops might steer them towards the right path. Plus, it might get Morgan off my back about letting him hire a household staff.” Privately, Jack thought Ben would pass kittens when he got the bill for the extra bodies. “But no more surprises, Ruth. We old folks don’t adapt to sudden changes all that fast.”

  “Well, I do have one more surprise,” Ruth said with a smile, “but I’ll have to wait awhile before letting you in on it.”

  Jack rolled his eyes and turned his chair towards the office building. If it’s what I think it is, I hope they don’t name it after me. Too many Jacks and Johns as it is, already.

  VII

  Ivan Dane winced as he reviewed his earlier live editorial. He had been trying to appear fatherly, but instead looked a bit like the eccentric uncle that kids like and parents try to avoid. He would have to work on that. Dane scribbled a note as Brandon Murdock swaggered in.

  Dane looked up and said, “Is there something wrong with your hands, Mr. Murdock?”

  Murdock quickly glanced at the aforementioned appendages. “Naw. They’re fine. Why?”

  Dane nodded towards the door. “Because you failed to use one of them to knock before entering.”

  Murdock took a step back and rapped on the door three times with his knuckles. It sounded like he used a hammer. “Happy?”

  Dane exhaled, then asked, “Was there something you wanted?”

  “Nope. But Doc Quigley does. Says he’s got somethin’ ya should come see.”

  “Tell him I’ll be right there.” Murdock turned on a heel and left the office. Dane scribbled another note, then followed. On the way out he noticed the fresh indentations in the hardwood door where Murdock had knocked. Shaking his head, he went down the hall a ways, then adjusted a picture frame. A partition in the wall opened and Dane went down a set of stairs.

  Back when Ivan Bowlby was still alive, he’d operated a number of illicit enterprises. Among them was a drug operation that he ran out of a lab in the secret basement. The drug-producing gear had since been gathered up and stored and replaced with different equipment. There, a dark, bald man was adjusting something on a large device.

  Dane took in the lab before addressing its lone occupant. “Dr. Quigley, Mr. Murdock informs me that you have something to show us.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” Dr. Quigley indicated an apparatus to his left.

  To the layman it looked like a giant ray-gun from a low budget space opera aimed at a glass box. In reality it was a gamma ray projector typically used to sterilize lab equipment. Similar models were used to irradiate foodstuffs for sale, since they destroyed harmful bacteria, as gamma radiation dispelled instantly and left no harmful residue. This model had been slightly modified to serve a different purpose. Dr. Quigley opened the glass case and dropped in some pebbles as Professor Darloss, Dr. Rankin and Mr. Lundgren entered the lab.

  “Gentlemen, observe what happens when I subject these jellyfish fossils to a five-second burst of gamma radiation.”

  Before he could activate the device, Murdock shouted in protest. “Hey! Shouldn’t we get behind some lead shieldin’ or somethin’? I wanna have kids someday. An’ I don’t want them with two heads or flippers.”

  Quigley shook his head and chuckled. “Mr. Murdock, this is not one of those clumsy and inaccurate X-ray machines from the dark ages,” the scientist said. “The gamma beam will strike only what it is aimed at. Nothing more. I could stand right next to the target and not receive a single milli-rad. Now, if I may continue…?”

  “Please, proceed, doctor,” Dane said.

  Quigley nodded, then set a dial on the projector and flipped a switch. For five seconds the invisible gamma rays bathed the pebbles, and then the machine shut down automatically. The pebbles inside the glass case appeared unchanged.

  “Nothing happened,” Lundgren observed.

  Quigley extracted a handful of stones from the case and said, “Wait for it.”

  As the three men watched, the pebbles developed a dim glow. Within seconds the brightness doubled, then tripled until the stones glowed like tiny little stars.

  “Hey, ya made sunstones!” Murdock exclaimed. “For real?”

  “These are not true sunstones, Mr. Murdock,” Dr. Quigley explained. “Unlike the real gems, which are thermofluorescent due to some quirk in the chemical composition, these stones possess a slightly different character in their chemical make-up that can be activated by gamma bombardment. As such, they will glow for an indeterminate amount of time and then revert to their normal state. I do not know how long that will be, as yet. I will have to measure the luminescent decay for several days to get a solid estimate of their half-life. This batch, I would hazard to guess, will remain active for about two weeks, but we’ll need a number of trials to be sure. I will also need to use alternative forms of radiation, possibly in various combinations, to see what gives the stones the longest active periods….”

  “Are you saying these stones are radioactive,” Dr. Rankin asked, taking a step back.

  “Oh, no more so than that antique wristwatch you are wearing. I wouldn’t advise sitting in a room with, say, several tons of radiated stones, but these are certainly safe enough to handle.” Dr. Quigley held out a large blue gem easily two centimeters in diameter and tossed it to Murdock who jumped back and let it fall to the floor.

  Dane picked up the stone and inspected it. “We could get quite a price for this if we market it right.” Dane thought about the possibilities and a slow smile spread across his face.

  Quigley shrugged. “I still have to analyze more true sunstones and determine what chemical interactions cause the thermo-fluorescence. We are a step closer, I think, than we were before. I believe that the jellyfish who were exposed to radioactive deposits in the oceans while still alive were the only ones that fossilized into sunstones, while the unexposed did not. That might explain why deposits in the flint are varied instead of uniform.” Quigley noticed the confused look on Murdock’s face and clarified. “Some are sunstones and some are just pebbles, Mr. Murdock. That gives me a starting point for my analysis.”

  Quigley moved to a cabinet and extracted something from a drawer. “These stones were given a longer burst of gamma radiation combined with beta particles. Notice that they glow without being exposed to a heat source. I daresay that there could be a market for these, as well.”

  “We could undercut the legit stone sales…at least here on Zarathustra,” Murdock observed. “Ya figure we could get maybe two hundred sols a karat for these things?”

  “I was thinking of giving them to the CZC, actually.”

  Murdock, Darloss, Rankin, Lundgren and Quigley stared at Dane quizzically.

  “Not these, the heat activated ones. Doctor, we will need many more of these faux sunstones, but only the ones with the very limited lifespan. You can still work on making true sunstones from the fossils, but these here will do nicely for our immediate plans.”

  Dr. Quigley looked confused for a moment, and then his expression cleared. “Limited…oh, I see—”

  Dr. Rankin interrupted Quigley. “Gamma rays leave no residual radiation. So where is it coming from?”

  Quigley started as he realized Rankin was correct. “Hmm…that is a very good question. We should check the true sunstones and see if they emit anything. It might be endemic to the thermo-fluorescent make-up of the stones themselves….”

  “Or the gamma emitter is faulty,” cut in Rankin. “This model also projects alpha rays and X-rays, yes?”

  Quigley nodded.

  “I suggest we have this machine serviced. The shielding may be damaged. This is a less expensive model, as I recall, so it might use lead instead of collapsium shiel
ding. Normally sufficient to the need, but there have been cases where the lead would crack or even degrade from constant exposure.”

  “I’ll have it sent out for servicing as soon as I can think of a way to do it on the sly,” Dane interjected. “An entertainment company has no valid reason for owning such a device. We’ll need to arrange for a cut-out to take it in. A few hundred sols in the right hands should take care of that, well enough. In the meantime, since the radiation levels are safe enough, we’ll need to make some more faux sunstones….”

  * * * * * * * * *

  Red Fur carefully examined the dead Koo-wen. The body still rested on the zarabuck hide used to drag him closer to camp. Red Fur had ordered the strange not-fur removed, then wrapped the headless body in grass and vines just as they would for one of their own who had made dead. Now came the hard part.

  “What we do with dead Koo-wen, Bal-f ’ke,” Makes-Things asked.

  “We give to Koo-wen who dig in the dirt and see what they make do,” Red Fur replied.

  “What? Koo-wen might be angry,” Climber argued. “Come with noise things and make us dead.”

  “When Koo-wen killed Sun Fur, they wrapped her like this,” Red Fur pointed out. “We do same, see what they make do.”

  “And if they come to make dead?” Climber demanded.

  It was a fair question. As leader, Red Fur had to be willing to take risks for the benefit of all. Red Fur looked very serious as he said, “We hide. If we have to, we fight.”

  * * * * * * * * *

  Ismet Runako knew there was going to be hell to pay. He and Niyol Fintan had searched the camp from hell to breakfast and failed to produce one Jeffery “Small Eyes” Manson. There was no way the child molester could have gotten out past the perimeter with the explosive collar around his neck, yet he was gone just the same. It was possible the other cons executed their own brand of justice since many of them had children of their own and didn’t like the idea of Small Eyes being released after his prison term was up, but if so, where was the body?